***This is a fictitious account of a man named Danny who deals with Clinical Depression. Some content in this series may be triggering. If you are easily triggered, please do not read this***
It is officially the third day since I've been admitted into this psychiatric hospital and I do not feel any better. I keep thinking to myself of ways that I can kill myself, but it is frustrating because I cannot do any of them while I am here. If I let on to these nurses what I am thinking then they will never let me out of here. It is for this reason that I need to essentially fake it until I make it. If I can successfully convince these people that I am well, then they will let me leave, and then I can fulfill my plan. However, I am so very stupid and that means that I will most likely fail at trying to convince these people. They are much more intelligent than I am. But, I have to try anyway. Otherwise, I'll be stuck inside of here until I die of old age. A male nurse says over the intercom that it is time for Breakfast right now, so I slowly get up and begin my slow shuffle to the Day Room.
As I am walking with my head down, I begin looking at the cracks in the floor once again. These cracks perfectly describe my life. Broken. Falling Apart. Decrepit. My life in a nutshell. I eventually make it to the Day Room and sit down on one of the seats at one of the round tables. A female nurse brings me my tray and I open the lid. I see pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, a fruit cup, and white milk. What a hearty Breakfast but too bad I do not enjoy eating anymore. I grab my fork and begin to slowly eat while at the same time thinking about how much of a worthless human being I am. Justin comes and sits down at my table with his tray. Today he is eating a bowl of oatmeal, scrambled eggs, and hot coffee. I used to enjoy coffee. We sit in silence while eating our food for about three minutes, but then he decides to break the silence. I hate that because I just want to be left alone.
"So, where are you from?" He quietly asks. I give him an annoyed look before telling him that I am from right here in Colorado Springs. He then tells me that he is from Denver. I wonder to myself why the heck is he here for? Are there no psychiatric hospitals in Denver? However, I do not bother asking him because I do not really care. I just continue eating my food in silence.
"Do you like drugs?" He asks me and I am surprised that he would ask me this. What the heck is this guy's problem? I just politely shake my head and then tell him that I am a Christian. He tells me that he is a Christian too but that he also likes Shrooms. Yeah, I bet he does. I do not know much about the Bible but I think it says that doing drugs is sinful, but whatever. I just wish this guy would leave me alone already. A female nurse comes up to me after I finish eating to take my tray and then tells me that Doctor Thurman wants to see me now. Finally, I have an excuse to get away from this moron. I quickly get up and begin walking to Dr. Thurman's office.
Once I am in the Doctor's office, the first thing I notice is how small it is. Shouldn't a Doctor's office be a lot bigger? I also notice that Dr. Thurman is dressed rather strangely. He is wearing a colorful coogie sweater with dress pants. He also has thick-rimmed glasses and his hair is combed to the side. He is some sight to see actually. I look around the room before sitting down and I see that he has a bookshelf full of books on Psychology. This guy may be strange but I guess he is smart. He is at least smarter than I am. Everyone is smarter than I am. As soon as I sit down, he smiles at me.
"How are you doing today, Dan? Are you alright with me calling you Dan?" He asks me and I sigh and tell him that I prefer Danny. He apologizes. I tell him that I wish that I was not here.
"I understand," He says while nodding "We just need to make sure you are safe before we discharge you. We do not want you to hurt yourself or others. Can you tell me what brought you to this hospital?" I get frustrated with this question. How many times do I have to explain this to these people? Don't they have a chart on me or something? I groan loudly, but he seems unfazed. I slowly explain to him how I tried to kill myself but that I was unsuccessful because I am stupid. He simply nods and writes something down in his notepad. I begin wondering what is he writing about me and I notice my right leg shaking. I put my right hand on it to get it to stop.
"Why did you want to kill yourself, Danny?" He seems genuinely concerned, but I do not buy it. He is getting paid to pretend like he cares for people like me. I tell him about how I lost my job and how I want to be reunited with my mom in Heaven. For real, don't these people communicate with each other about us? This is getting ridiculous how I must keep repeating myself to everyone. He asks me about my sleep patterns, eating habits, relationship with others, and what my daily life at home looks like. Then, all of a sudden, he hits me with a question that surprises me.
"What are your thoughts concerning the future?" He asks me and I pause. Why would he ask me this for? I look up at the clock on the wall. The Mickey Mouse face is telling me that it is 8:00 in the morning. It has officially been half an hour already. I sigh yet again. I don't want to be in here. I decide to be honest with him and tell him that I see myself dying shortly. He does not look surprised at my answer at all.
"Why do you think that for?" He asks and I tell him because I am going to kill myself. He jots something else down in his notepad. Boy, I just want to snatch that notepad out of his hands just so I can see what he is writing about me. After about thirty more minutes of questioning, he finally tells me that I have an illness called Major Depression Disorder. He says that it is characterized by really low moods, low energy, feelings of hopelessness, dysfunctional relationships, and a whole host of other symptoms. What he is saying actually makes sense. I knew that there was something wrong with me because nothing I did ever seemed to cheer me up.
"I know that this is tough for you to hear, but I can help you feel better" He promises me and I do feel a sense of relief. He says that he will be prescribing me about 50 mg of Zoloft, but he tells me that it will not completely cure my Depression because my Depression will always be with me for the rest of my life. However, he assures me that with the medication and the proper use of coping skills and therapy, I can learn to properly manage my Depression. I actually feel a sense of relief about this. Maybe there is a glimmer of hope for me after all. He types something into his computer and then stands up and reaches out his hand. I stand up and we shake hands. He then thanks me for my time and I walk out of his office actually smiling for the first time in a long while. Maybe it was a good thing for me to come to this hospital. Maybe finally I will begin to feel better. Right now, I have the song Every Morning by Sugar Ray playing in my head. I begin humming the tune to myself as I walk back to my room.
STAY TUNED FOR PART 4 OF THIS SERIES...
-David Lee Chu Sarchet
Christian Mental Health Advocate
Christ-Centered Mental Health Ministry Website
Christ-Centered Mental Health Ministry Website
As I am walking with my head down, I begin looking at the cracks in the floor once again. These cracks perfectly describe my life. Broken. Falling Apart. Decrepit. My life in a nutshell. I eventually make it to the Day Room and sit down on one of the seats at one of the round tables. A female nurse brings me my tray and I open the lid. I see pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, a fruit cup, and white milk. What a hearty Breakfast but too bad I do not enjoy eating anymore. I grab my fork and begin to slowly eat while at the same time thinking about how much of a worthless human being I am. Justin comes and sits down at my table with his tray. Today he is eating a bowl of oatmeal, scrambled eggs, and hot coffee. I used to enjoy coffee. We sit in silence while eating our food for about three minutes, but then he decides to break the silence. I hate that because I just want to be left alone.
"So, where are you from?" He quietly asks. I give him an annoyed look before telling him that I am from right here in Colorado Springs. He then tells me that he is from Denver. I wonder to myself why the heck is he here for? Are there no psychiatric hospitals in Denver? However, I do not bother asking him because I do not really care. I just continue eating my food in silence.
"Do you like drugs?" He asks me and I am surprised that he would ask me this. What the heck is this guy's problem? I just politely shake my head and then tell him that I am a Christian. He tells me that he is a Christian too but that he also likes Shrooms. Yeah, I bet he does. I do not know much about the Bible but I think it says that doing drugs is sinful, but whatever. I just wish this guy would leave me alone already. A female nurse comes up to me after I finish eating to take my tray and then tells me that Doctor Thurman wants to see me now. Finally, I have an excuse to get away from this moron. I quickly get up and begin walking to Dr. Thurman's office.
Once I am in the Doctor's office, the first thing I notice is how small it is. Shouldn't a Doctor's office be a lot bigger? I also notice that Dr. Thurman is dressed rather strangely. He is wearing a colorful coogie sweater with dress pants. He also has thick-rimmed glasses and his hair is combed to the side. He is some sight to see actually. I look around the room before sitting down and I see that he has a bookshelf full of books on Psychology. This guy may be strange but I guess he is smart. He is at least smarter than I am. Everyone is smarter than I am. As soon as I sit down, he smiles at me.
"How are you doing today, Dan? Are you alright with me calling you Dan?" He asks me and I sigh and tell him that I prefer Danny. He apologizes. I tell him that I wish that I was not here.
"I understand," He says while nodding "We just need to make sure you are safe before we discharge you. We do not want you to hurt yourself or others. Can you tell me what brought you to this hospital?" I get frustrated with this question. How many times do I have to explain this to these people? Don't they have a chart on me or something? I groan loudly, but he seems unfazed. I slowly explain to him how I tried to kill myself but that I was unsuccessful because I am stupid. He simply nods and writes something down in his notepad. I begin wondering what is he writing about me and I notice my right leg shaking. I put my right hand on it to get it to stop.
"Why did you want to kill yourself, Danny?" He seems genuinely concerned, but I do not buy it. He is getting paid to pretend like he cares for people like me. I tell him about how I lost my job and how I want to be reunited with my mom in Heaven. For real, don't these people communicate with each other about us? This is getting ridiculous how I must keep repeating myself to everyone. He asks me about my sleep patterns, eating habits, relationship with others, and what my daily life at home looks like. Then, all of a sudden, he hits me with a question that surprises me.
"What are your thoughts concerning the future?" He asks me and I pause. Why would he ask me this for? I look up at the clock on the wall. The Mickey Mouse face is telling me that it is 8:00 in the morning. It has officially been half an hour already. I sigh yet again. I don't want to be in here. I decide to be honest with him and tell him that I see myself dying shortly. He does not look surprised at my answer at all.
"Why do you think that for?" He asks and I tell him because I am going to kill myself. He jots something else down in his notepad. Boy, I just want to snatch that notepad out of his hands just so I can see what he is writing about me. After about thirty more minutes of questioning, he finally tells me that I have an illness called Major Depression Disorder. He says that it is characterized by really low moods, low energy, feelings of hopelessness, dysfunctional relationships, and a whole host of other symptoms. What he is saying actually makes sense. I knew that there was something wrong with me because nothing I did ever seemed to cheer me up.
"I know that this is tough for you to hear, but I can help you feel better" He promises me and I do feel a sense of relief. He says that he will be prescribing me about 50 mg of Zoloft, but he tells me that it will not completely cure my Depression because my Depression will always be with me for the rest of my life. However, he assures me that with the medication and the proper use of coping skills and therapy, I can learn to properly manage my Depression. I actually feel a sense of relief about this. Maybe there is a glimmer of hope for me after all. He types something into his computer and then stands up and reaches out his hand. I stand up and we shake hands. He then thanks me for my time and I walk out of his office actually smiling for the first time in a long while. Maybe it was a good thing for me to come to this hospital. Maybe finally I will begin to feel better. Right now, I have the song Every Morning by Sugar Ray playing in my head. I begin humming the tune to myself as I walk back to my room.
STAY TUNED FOR PART 4 OF THIS SERIES...
-David Lee Chu Sarchet
Christian Mental Health Advocate
Christ-Centered Mental Health Ministry Website
Christ-Centered Mental Health Ministry Website
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