Rooms with an exterior glass wall, four beds to a room and nothing that could be used to harm oneself; the hospital was intimidating and seemingly prison like. The ward reception area sat in the middle of the ward with glass walls on all sides, there was only one entrance with two secure doors- one that you had to get buzzed in to enter.
There were designated wake-up times, meal times and quiet hours. Group therapy sessions, deviling into our issues and having those in the hospital with us help resolve our problems. Each person was from a different background and circumstance, none of us were there for the same reasons. If you have read my previous posts you know I was in the ward for depression, which escalated with suicidal thoughts.
My days within the walls of the 2 North ward weren’t easy; in fact there were some gut-wrenching moments. Like when I had to go to the padded room- I just laid on the floor and cried uncontrollably for two hours; nothing could make the tears stop. I begged for my doctor, who came and was able to calm me down and make me relax by talking to me about how crazy I was behaving- the irony.
I also experienced times of happiness; such as forging friendships within the most unusual place. Most of whom I would have never crossed paths with and all but one- who I have lost touch with. Within these walls there were no judgments; we would stay up at night and play cards and “headbandz.”
While there were really scary times, being in the ward was also eye opening. I gained a sense of humility to a degree that I didn’t have before. I became less judgmental and most importantly I was working on myself; which was worth all of what was scary at the time.