Road to Admittance

It takes a lot for a person to admit they need help and for me, it took me to lose everything I knew to finally admit to myself that I needed help. I purposely pretended to be fine, denied others reasoning to be concerned and refused to seek help because I selfishly didn't want it. I isolated myself because deep down, I knew nobody around me would be able to understand exactly how I felt. The pain in my chest and my suppressed anger, hurt and confusion all joined up together and made my thoughts become somebody I didn't recognize and often feared. My best friends, Trinity and Briana, knew I was getting worse every time the school bell rang and I had to make my way back home. They knew I had finally given up fighting my depression for my sexual abuse and my mother’s neglect; 5 years was too long to keep trying after the 9 years of abuse. And unfortunately there wasn't much they could do when they looked into my eyes and didn't see the real me anymore as I told them “ I’m okay guys. I’m used to it. Go home, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Reluctantly, we would turn away from each other and walk away and I knew they knew the whispered “ Maybe ” came uttering from my mouth causing unshed tears to gather in our eyes. The sinister me was waiting to welcome me in its arms as soon as I walked in my home and trudged up the steps to the sanctuary of my room. My mental health was in shambles but I wasn't going to admit that to anyone, even myself. It wasn’t until I was alone in a hospital room where everything changed for me.

It was the day after my notebook was discovered by a fellow classmate and given to the counseling office. The book, plastered with disturbing images depicting the death of unknown faces I refused to put a face on and the words “I want to die” etched between the drawings being the culprit. Unfazed by my notebook giving me away, I attempted to assure the school counselor they were just pictures of my imagination, creativity running wild, anything to get the counselor to believe I was not actually suicidal because I didn't want her help or anyone else’s. I returned home and wrote in my diary a date that signified when I was going to run away and go through with my suicidal thoughts to avoid another unwanted interrogation and to finally escape my pain once and for all. I was determined to return to school the following day, ready to put on my perfected act of “ What do you mean? I'm perfectly fine, it's nothing! Ha ha! ”- when my mother foiled my plans.

The next morning, it was January 2015, my date looming in just mere weeks, she said “ You're not going to school today.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so. You have an appointment.” Her face remained emotionless.

“ What kind of appointment? I didn't know.. I mean you usually tell me before. ” My voice gave away my apprehension as I followed her to the car.

“Doctors.,” was all she whispered, her back towards me. I shrugged, visibly upset as I got into the car. The silent ride to this sudden doctor's appointment annoyed me, taking away my chance to clear my name at the school. As I thought of how my day late performance would affect my peers and school staff on my authenticity, a lonely gray brick building danced into my vision, breaking my concentration. I looked at my mother, confusion settling across my forehead.

“ Where are we? ” I asked. My question went unanswered and again, begrudgingly I followed her, hoping to get an answer soon. The building led us into a bright room. Several smaller rooms littered each side of the main room, kids and young teens running around oblivious. My mother walked away and returned after signing me in I presume. Minutes passed and a man walked up to me asking if I could follow him so we could talk in one of the rooms.

“ So, do you want to tell me why you think you are here? ” He smiled kindly.

“I don't know. I don't even know where “here” is.”

Shock flashed across his features, his brow furrowing, “ Ok, well how about you tell me what's been going on with you lately. Anything you want to talk about? School? Home? Friends maybe? I can help you. ” I stared at him weirdly, my refusal to answer his personal questions clear. He left and came back with another woman and man. Eventually, they broke through my walls and I answered their questions authentically. After three hours of interrogation, the three adults turning to five by the end, I was let out of the room and told to wait with my mother. The sitting game became too boring, the main room filling up and emptying and I soon found myself falling asleep with my head in my mother’s lap. The last thing I remember was my mother removing me from her lap before saying, “ I’ll be right back. I have to use the bathroom. ” I awoke some time later, my head now resting in my father’s lap.

“ Hey ma. You okay? ”

“ Where’s mom? ” I asked looking around.

“ She left, I thought you knew that? She didn’t tell you? ”

“ No.. I was sleeping cause it’s boring in here and she woke me up a few minutes ago saying she had to go to the bathroom and would be right back.” I saw my father’s face fall, his sympathy flickering in his eyes before anger accompanied his sympathy.

“ What? ” My eyes wide in childlike innocence.

“ That was hours ago, I’m sorry Ma. She had to leave hours ago because I only just got here like thirty minutes ago and you were curled up right here. She texted me like forty minutes ago saying you were here and forgot to tell me and I came right away.. ” My brain took a few minutes to wrap my head around his disheartening revelation, my heart aching as she once again showed me how she felt about me before settling on one silent thought… She left me. As my resentment burned, my hurt sheathing me, nine p.m. turned to four a.m. I was the last child in the room, just my father and I keeping the room alive when the sound of the menacing wheels of a gurney came rolling in before stopping before me. I was being transported to a nearby mental hospital they informed us and had to go by ambulance due to protocol.

Without responding, I moved closer to the device, waiting as they lowered it to my short frame, making it easier to climb abroad. I let them strap me down from neck to ankles, my eyes looking at my dad’s in silence. As they started to push me away I heard my dad’s voice scream out emotionally, “ I'm right behind you Ma! Everything will be okay, ok! ” The ambulance ride from the evaluation center ( that I came to find out ) to the actual hospital was scary and daunting, the silence mocking me. I found out by the EMTs that my mother had already signed the papers stating I was involuntarily being admitted to a mental hospital. There was nothing I or even my father could do at this point.

Upon arrival, my father and I were escorted up to the top floor, making our way through a multitude of scanners. Stopping just before the final doors, we were told to say goodbye. I didn't want to say goodbye to my dad, I didn't want to be at the hospital and I didn’t want their help. My father was the first to break apart from me, his tears hitting my forehead as he pulled away slowly.

“ I love you Ma. ”

“ NOOOO DADDY PLEASE !!! I’M SORRY, I WANT TO GO HOME WITH YOU! ” My screams assaulted everyone’s ears, I broke through the restraining arms of the staff into my father’s as he pleaded with them to allow him to take me home. Our heartbreaking display shook them but they had a job to do and my father knew the upcoming consequences that I didn't and finally gave up. “ I love you! I will see you soon okay, please get better and call me as soon as you can,” He said before turning around after another threat to get moving. My fight to get to him continued as my heart shattered again watching him walk away from me without looking back. “ Daddy! Daddy! Please daddy look at me, I want to be with you! Daddyyyy!!! ” My last attempt to get to him came to a sudden stop after I broke free again, running after him with the staff tackling me to the ground as my sobs softened and the fight left me turning into anger and hurt as he never stopped and looked back. I once again felt abandoned, first my mother leaving me alone at the center and now my father walking away from me at the hospital. I officially lost everything.

After being escorted to my room, the tag - Patient: Yvonae Dessus decorating my door, my experience in the hospital started. From no phone, daily monitoring of showers, use of the toilet, and eating, scheduled counseling sessions, no best friends, my freedom taken away and my door having to be open at all times unless I was changing clothes, I took a disliking to the place and still kept guarded against the staff who simply wanted to help me. I stayed silent during the group sessions and kept to myself. I even pathetically tried to act like there was nothing wrong with me to the other patients as if they too were not in there for their own reasons. I hated where I was and hated the world and everyone in it.

I sat in group therapy one day and the statement, “ You can't get better until you admit to yourself that something is wrong and that you need help,” came from a girl and despite my demeanor, I took her words to heart but buried it. It wasn't until the night I was held down against my bed after a temper tantrum by the hospital staff just 24 hours after seeing that same girl held down in her bed ( in which she refused to calm down and was given an unknown shot to sedate her against her will - scaring the daylights out of me ) where everything changed for me and I stopped hating everyone in the world, stopped hating my dad for having to leave me and came to the counseling session the next morning where I finally took step one, saying “ I need help but I don't know where to begin.”

As I look back on my time from the evaluation center to stepping foot into the mental hospital, I realized my father didn’t abandon me at all. I understand now that my dad had no choice to leave me or else they would have put more time on my stay and taken away visitations. My dad told me he didn’t stop and look back at me because he knew if he did he would've ran to me and ran out the building with me, making things worse for the both of us, so he forced himself to keep walking. Knowing that now, I can appreciate the love he has for me and though it hurt him to walk away, it would have hurt him more if I ever successfully went through with my suicidal plans and previous attempts.

In spite of me still resenting my mother for leaving me alone at the center and not telling my dad of my whereabouts sooner than she did, I learned to appreciate the fact that she tricked me into the hospital because if she didn't and I went through with my then plans, I would have never graduated high school and pursuing my medical field dream as I am finishing my last year of studying Biology PreMed. Through all the intense emotions and me losing everything I knew, the mental hospital taught me there are people who understand, it is okay to need help and it is okay to not be okay. The hospital brought out the better of me and it was there where I got a second chance. I will never forget my time on my road to admitting I needed help and how step one got me so far.