After a few short days on the inpatient Psych bed waitlist, I simply could not take it anymore. Wait, allow me to back up a bit. . . A couple of weeks ago I had an appointment with my mental health practitioner. I wrote about all of the tears and thinking that resulted from that appointment right after the event (See Part I of this series on Depression, please). I also shared at that time that I was urged to allow myself to be immediately hospitalized for inpatient stabilization and medication adjustments as well as resuming intense therapy. I refused the immediate hospitalization believing I had things to take care of at home that were far more important than this bout of depression. I did, however, agree that I would allow my practitioner to place me on a wait list for an inpatient bed at the hospital's stabilization unit. My practitioner said it could be many weeks before a bed was available for me. Unfortunately, that bed did not open soon enough to benefit me by stabilizing...
“Maybe if we treated mental illness the same way we do with physical illness, the community would be more sympathetic and caring. Instead of jail, maybe I would have been taken to a place that wouldn’t shut the door on me and watch as I uncontrollably shook my body saying ‘the devil’s inside me.’ Maybe, people would realize judging or generalizing doesn’t give hope to those who suffer from mental illness.” But I was a Victim, Right? | NAMI: National Alliance on Mental Illness : I was twenty-two years old and in my last semester of undergraduate college when I suffered two psychotic breaks. During this time, I was unable to control my thoughts and behavior.
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