This was my second time in a psych ward - the first time was about five years ago now, and wasn’t voluntary. This time I checked in of my own volition after failing to kill myself twice on Christmas Day and once a few days before (I spent the night in hospital after this attempt, and narrowly avoided being sectioned - though perhaps it would have been in my best interest here). Most of my time in the ward this time was spent watching shit TV and playing FIFA 14 with the other patients, when I wasn’t meeting with professionals (pro tip, avoid the waiting list for NHS therapy by having mental health so poor you have to remove yourself temporarily from society).
I’m back taking my antidepressants consistently now with a higher dosage, and I’m certainly much more stable emotionally. Of course I was deadnamed and/or misgendered a solid 75% of the time by the staff, there was a complete lack of privacy, the grippy socks are awful, and the food was pretty garbage as you would expect. I also got into an argument with a nurse over Keir Starmer, which was fun. On the whole though, not too bad 7/10 hopefully will never go again. Still not doing my best but I did a bunch of cooking and laundry when I got home, so that’s something at least. I still have shit to sort out in the rest of my life - my relationships remain a mess, my plants remain looking worse for wear, and I remain unemployed, but going a week without cutting myself for the first time in months is pretty cool.
