I'm laying underneath the shitty linen blankets of this cold hospital bed as I listen to my roommate snore. It's freezing here. It's too noisy. The noise machine isn't loud enough. These clothes aren't warm. My underwear is sweaty. My hair is tangled. I'm a sniffling, crying mess. I just wanted to go home. A hospital isnt supposed to be this cold, what the fuck were they thinking turning up the air conditioning so high?
My first few days back in the mental hospital in the highlands weren't the best, if that's what you were wondering.
I had gone in unwillingly due to an overdose on Tuesday of that same week. My therapist told me that I should get medically checked out for my overdose since I had taken a lot of pills. Goddamnit Harper, if I had known. Fuck you.
Everyone at the hospital was very sympathetic towards my situation though, so that was at least an upside. One nurse admitted to me that she had done the same when she was 23. I had passed out from a panic attack that I didn't even see coming. It felt like I was trying to claw my way up from hell. Being in that hospital taught me something, however. It's that you have to take life one day at a time, and you have to do a lot of self checking and reflection before you can accept yourself for who you are. Maybe I taught myself that, but that's besides the point. I was there for 3 and a half days. Shitty hospital, i got out of there quick, too bad there were some pretty chill people there though.
