I’ve been lucky to have only been hospitalized twice my entire life and I feel like both times did nothing for me.

The first time being inpatient I was in 7th grade and was planning suicide, I was homeschooled at the time and the day I was preparing my attempt I was nearly there when something called to me, something like a faint voice from below the tree I was in. I look down and see someone unfamiliar to me trying to coax me down from the tree and I’m sitting there in that tree thinking to myself, “do I have any reason to trust this person?” All the While a crowd started to gather down below me trying to convince me to come down. I was still going about my preparations when I heard a distinct voice that resonated with me. An old friend I hadn’t heard from since he moved away. I looked down to see him climbing the tree towards me. As he’s climbing I’m just stuck in my tracks just thinking to myself “Is this actually real?” He gets up to me and the first thing he said was “Look, I get you’re hurting and I know how it feels to be this lost. Doing this won’t solve anything.” I sat there silently for a few minutes as he talked about his own experiences. He eventually coaxed me down and I just collapsed onto the ground shaking in utter fear. I was taken by ambulance to the psychiatric ward. Never in my life did I feel so ridiculous than I did while in that hospital. Like you’d expect I wasn’t allowed out of anybody’s sight. But the horrifying part was that at night they fully sedated me. Why that was I have no idea. My mom finally had enough after about a week and signed papers to take me home realizing that the hospital was not helping and was harming me.

The second hospital stay was rather unusual. My mother and I had been on bad terms for months during my junior year of high school. She forced me on a Disney trip during a crucial time at school where I had major tests on the horizon and teachers that did not let you make up tests under any circumstances. She nearly had me having to redo my junior year because of this. I specifically told her I wouldn’t be able to go because of school obligations yet she said to me that and I quote “I don’t give a damn about your schoolwork right now, you’re going on this trip.” My teachers even told her that I was likely to fail if she forced me on this trip. I was still forced to go on that trip and I was fuming the entire time. I didn’t participate in much of anything they did because she forced me to basically fail my classwork just for a trip that I had already experienced 10 years prior. When we get back I work my *** off at school and manage to scrape C’s in my classes. Time goes on and after me getting sick during the winter my bladder all of a sudden got weak and every so often I would leak. Needless to say I did the sensible thing and told my mother what was going on and she said that that it was impossible that what I was saying was true. I was shocked. So on my own accord when she wasn’t home I went up to my younger brothers closet and started digging around. I found a couple of leftover packages of Goodnites from when he still wet the bed at night. I started wearing those for my leaking and all was fine and well until one day I come home to my mother ransacking my room and has the Goodnites on my bed. She was fuming and we got into this massive argument. After a while I had enough and basically grabbed my jacket and walked as far away from my house as I could feasibly walk. I sat in the woods for ages just thinking my mom was a jerk for fighting me over me trying to do the right thing and protect myself if my bladder was going to do what it was. I eventually walked back home and low and behold she had called the cops and had everybody looking for me. I was absolutely fuming because she started the entire thing by not believing I had a problem when I clearly did. So I give my statement to the cops and I just go downstairs to my bed and go to sleep for the night. The very next day she had made an emergency appointment with my quack of a psychologist at the time who after hearing what my mother had to say essentially forced me into voluntarily going into that awful psychiatric ward I was on a few years earlier. That stay was uneventful as the staff couldn’t do anything for me as there was nothing wrong with me so I was discharged after a week and I’ve not been in a hospital since then.