Most people end up locked in the psychiatric ward of the hospital because they are described as a danger to themselves. That was not my situation though, I came there voluntarily and was at peace in the beginning. I was hoping for the best, as I was told by my doctor that inpatient may be the best option for trying to figure out my complex medication combination.

It was not the best option though.

We, my fellow psychiatric patients and I, were not allowed even clocks on our bedroom walls. I realized more than anything this just makes you wonder what anyone would possibly do with a clock to make it a risky option. Yes, my roommate and I did often through out possible ideas. No, we did not want to do any of them, but we were attempting to be creative with all of them empty time we had in the hospital. We were not allowed out of our ward. We were rarely ever able to be alone. Dependency was forced upon us, something that I have tried to avoid the majority of my life. Everything was controlled by the doctors, the case workers, and the nurses, even the ability to eventually leave the hospital.

I was panicking at every moment, anxiety rising in my mind from the lack of control.

I did not know what would come next, even though there was a schedule constantly on my bedside table and absolutely every part of my life was structured. I did not know when I would be able to leave, as I did not have the ability to sign myself out without severe consequences. I did not know when I would be able to see my loved ones again, along with the people most would probably not miss greatly, like their therapist.

Therapy with my therapist was one of my main goals though for why I wanted to leave. I kept seeing myself become remarkably worse in the care of the hospital, because I was removed from my loved ones and treated like a constant threat to myself and others, even though I had showed no sign of such behavior in the time of my stay. I was not able to contact the professionals I was truly comfortable with.

Which, makes me realize, why the psych ward was not the place for me, even though the people their seemed to all be happy and caring (not just because of all the medications they were placed on by the doctors). The psychiatric ward is not some scary place full of crazy people. It's a place of people who are dealing with mental illness who need a support team to give them the help that they require. The kind nurses and doctors are certainly able to offer so, at least at the facility I was at.

I had the support team I needed though, and they were miles away unable to communicate with me for longer than ten minutes on the phone. The psychiatric ward should not be something people laugh at, but instead accepted as a place that can truly help some people. It just did not help me though, instead turning into a type of trauma for me, because I was ripped away from my support system.

Now, I am left with the fear of having to return, to leave the ones who are here to help me.