Everyone has a story, and everyone should be heard. Some people grow up in an average happy American home, and they are told they have the right to be happy. Some people grow up with pathetic excuses for parents and a shriveled home structure, and they are told they have the right to be sad. But then there are the people who grow up somewhere in the middle and have no idea what emotions they should be feeling. I am one of those in-betweens.
Depression is something that grows inside of someone from a very young age. From the time I was intelligent enough to understand words, the nagging monster grew every day. Growing up I had very loving parents, and for that I am thankful. But just because my parents loved me does not necessarily mean I had …show more content…
The therapist began making phone calls left and right and next thing I knew I was being hauled away in an ambulance in restraints. I was transported to the hospital where I was told I would be sent to Streamwood Behavioral Healthcare System, a recovery center. Little did I know the next three weeks of my life would be hellacious. After a two hour and half hour ambulance ride, I arrived at what essentially looked like a hospital with a security fence around it. I was taken in and given a hospital gown and sweatpants because my outfit was deemed unsafe. The hoodie strings gave me a way to hang myself, the pants had buttons I could potentially turn into sharp objects, and the shoes, well they weren’t allowed period. I soon realized my time there was not going to be easy. Since it was around dinner time, I was handed a food tray and sat in a chair outside the nurse's office while they got all my paperwork together. Not even two minutes after sitting down a deranged girl began screaming inside the common room where all the patients were having a group session. Before the staff could stop her, she ran into the hall and threatened to take the chair from under me and beat me with it. That is the moment I realized it wasn’t just girls like me in there, there was a wide variety of people with mental and behavioral
Depression is something that grows inside of someone from a very young age. From the time I was intelligent enough to understand words, the nagging monster grew every day. Growing up I had very loving parents, and for that I am thankful. But just because my parents loved me does not necessarily mean I had …show more content…
The therapist began making phone calls left and right and next thing I knew I was being hauled away in an ambulance in restraints. I was transported to the hospital where I was told I would be sent to Streamwood Behavioral Healthcare System, a recovery center. Little did I know the next three weeks of my life would be hellacious. After a two hour and half hour ambulance ride, I arrived at what essentially looked like a hospital with a security fence around it. I was taken in and given a hospital gown and sweatpants because my outfit was deemed unsafe. The hoodie strings gave me a way to hang myself, the pants had buttons I could potentially turn into sharp objects, and the shoes, well they weren’t allowed period. I soon realized my time there was not going to be easy. Since it was around dinner time, I was handed a food tray and sat in a chair outside the nurse's office while they got all my paperwork together. Not even two minutes after sitting down a deranged girl began screaming inside the common room where all the patients were having a group session. Before the staff could stop her, she ran into the hall and threatened to take the chair from under me and beat me with it. That is the moment I realized it wasn’t just girls like me in there, there was a wide variety of people with mental and behavioral