My mothers hospitalization, room 232
part 1;
It was finally when I was 15 when my mom was hospitalized for her depression, anxiety, and insomnia that was associated with her chronic pain. I never told anyone, I was like that though, I didn't tell people what I thought didn't matter to them. When five days passed, and she was released, she told me about her experience. Up early at 7:30am everyday, group activities & visiting hours end at eight, then off to bed by nine. The mystery of how doctors could throw people like my mother, who clearly had no idea what she was in for, into a facility like this was still simmering. It was an okay place though, considering it was build for people who on medical terms, were not okay.
part 2;
The first night my mother stayed there, she was roommates with what she described as a beautiful 29 year old lady who had a great body, warming voice, …show more content…
I sat in the bland coloured room that I saw resembled my own far too much when you focused hard enough. Blue, how ironic that the most depressing shade in the rainbow was not only a hospital walls colour, but my favourite colour too. On the desk was a white packet boldly labeled "Depression Handbook". It talked about the normal things; what depression was, the causes, the treatments, even had daily logs to record your feelings for the day. My mother hadn't written a word in it, as suspected. She didn't care to believe that has a pen and paper could change your life if you wanted it to. Just another thing that made us different. The room was scattered with positive stickers that read things like "believe in yourself" and "you are worth it" and I think what some people fail to realize is words don't touch some people like they touch you and I. You know what I mean? You can spend your entire life telling someone you love them and they will still find a way to feel
part 1;
It was finally when I was 15 when my mom was hospitalized for her depression, anxiety, and insomnia that was associated with her chronic pain. I never told anyone, I was like that though, I didn't tell people what I thought didn't matter to them. When five days passed, and she was released, she told me about her experience. Up early at 7:30am everyday, group activities & visiting hours end at eight, then off to bed by nine. The mystery of how doctors could throw people like my mother, who clearly had no idea what she was in for, into a facility like this was still simmering. It was an okay place though, considering it was build for people who on medical terms, were not okay.
part 2;
The first night my mother stayed there, she was roommates with what she described as a beautiful 29 year old lady who had a great body, warming voice, …show more content…
I sat in the bland coloured room that I saw resembled my own far too much when you focused hard enough. Blue, how ironic that the most depressing shade in the rainbow was not only a hospital walls colour, but my favourite colour too. On the desk was a white packet boldly labeled "Depression Handbook". It talked about the normal things; what depression was, the causes, the treatments, even had daily logs to record your feelings for the day. My mother hadn't written a word in it, as suspected. She didn't care to believe that has a pen and paper could change your life if you wanted it to. Just another thing that made us different. The room was scattered with positive stickers that read things like "believe in yourself" and "you are worth it" and I think what some people fail to realize is words don't touch some people like they touch you and I. You know what I mean? You can spend your entire life telling someone you love them and they will still find a way to feel