Psychiatry Ward

In march I talked with my school counselor about some problems I was having. She sent me to a psychotherapist for two months. He sent me to my family doctor who immediately sent me to the emergency room. The mental health response team sent three people one at a time to speak with me and they were all equally intrigued. They sent me to the psychiatry ward overnight, escorting me down with two security guards.

My hospital bracelet was the type that was not allowed to leave the hospital. They took  my phone and a pair of pliers from my bag. The person who searched the bag was a moron, they missed the second pair of pliers. I was in the ward with a cannabis addict, suicide girl, a twelve year old, a guy who was tormented by demons(evil spirit kind), and an awkward parkour enthusiast. They were all nice people, the nurses too.

You are to go to your room to sleep at nine pm. The walls are bare, the furniture is sanded down, the toothbrush is designed so that you cannot fashion a shank out of it, there is nothing to hurt yourself off of except the floor which I used for pushups and bracket crunches. The doors only have the illusion of privacy. At any time a nurse can push open the door to check on you. They do not have to turn a knob, the door is weakly held in place by a roller. Doors can only be locked with a key from outside.

The courtyard is smaller than my backyard. You can play basketball, but if you start learning wall running from the local parkour enthusiast then the nurses come out to put an end to it.

I had to wait a total of 22 hours to speak to the actual psychiatrist. He asked me questions about work, and I answered entirely including a demonstration of my tentatively legendary sales skills. I asked him if I could have a day pass to work today, and an overnight for Saturday for an event that I will not describe. He told me that I would be out before then. I left the interview telling them "BTW, the person who checked my bag was an idiot". Sucks that he was late, I was not able to get out and go to my orientation to my local gym. My parents came by every once in a while out of worry. I wish they did not worry like that, it is bothersome when I am doing fine.

There were groupwork sessions where all of the crazies got in a room together, ate lunch, and learned about feelings. It was informative.

Then I was discharged. The only thing that they found that was even slightly off was my grasp of social cues, perhaps because of the "idiot who checked my bag comment". They labeled me as complex, gave me a survey to fill out and pushed me out.

I guess I am not their kind of crazy. They are psychiatrists, they look for chemistry related mental illness. Whatever may be wrong with me is strictly inherent or behavioral. At least I got a psych-ward bracelet as a souvenir.