Lost In My Own Body
I knew at that point I was done. I turned my phone off and prepared for what was next. How I was going to put an end to my pain. How I would take my own life. What I was going to say to my family in the note I leave behind. What combination of pills I will take. How at 15 years old, I will leave this world.
I woke up to my mom shaking me, frantic. A haunted look on her face. All I can comprehend is the questions being thrown at me. Echoing through my mind.
"Allie, Allison! Honey, are you okay? Is your life really not worth living?" I fell asleep before I could accomplish anything. All I could do was look up at her. Still confused from just waking up, I could only muster up one simple word. One word to sum up how I have been feeling for the previous months.
"No." Now it was in the open. My mom now knew I could not continue living. I could no longer go through days where I was being judged, hurt, feeling like my life was in danger. How could I continue? I was now done. I couldn't keep my secrets anymore.
I remember sitting in the all too familiar office of my psychiatrist. As I sat there quietly my mom proceeded to tell him everything from this morning. How I said my life was not worthliving. As questions were being asked all could do was nod. That was until I heard the word "hospitalization". I knew it was impossible to go home. I did not trust myself. In that moment Iagreed.
Sitting in the Emergency Room was an out of body experience. Every five minutes someone came in and asked me the same questions and asked to tell my story. I reluctantly sat and repeated the same answers I told the person before and I recapped the events of the last few months. What it was like to be stalked, isolated at school, people whispering when they saw me, how it felt to be suicidal. I answered most their questions truthfully. I still had a secret to hide.
After hours of being interrogated they admitted me. I was still in the pajamas I wore the night before, a pink tie-die shirt and purple stripped shorts. They sat me in a wheelchair and started pushing me. Turn after turn, the hallways were never ending. I felt as if I was leaving reality. I had no idea what to expect.
Before I could think anymore we stopped at big double doors. We were on the children's floor of OSU Harding, as I was pushed through the doors all the patients looked at me. As they completed paperwork with my family, I slowly walked through the lobby, sat in green chairs that swallowed me up and waited. My parents and sister told me they would be back during visiting hours with my things. As they walked out the door, I realized I was alone.
The first night I cried. I missed my home, my bed, my mom's hugs. I thought how my life had ended up to this point. Yet deep down I was still holding onto my secret, the reason I was laying in this bed. After what felt like forever, I fell asleep. As a woke, I felt a needle in my arm and a large man hovering over me. When I was done getting my blood drawn I went to the main lobby to get my vitals checked and eat breakfast. My eyes were puffy from crying. My days consisted of therapy after therapy. Recreational, Group and Individual Therapy perfectly scheduled for me. Each minute of my day was planned. When I had free time I covered my plain white walls with pictures and drawings. Anything colorful and happy to remind me of the world outside those walls. I could not wait for visiting hours. All I wanted to do was see my family.
As days went by, I began to become acquainted with my surroundings. The pizza bagels I requested for lunch and dinner, the techs that checked on me every fifteen minutes to make sure I haven't found a way to harm myself, even the people I met who later became friends. I actually began to enjoy myself. We all knew we had to make the best of our situation. No matter what your story was, we were all there and we all had to get through this. We even took the couches, lined them up, made popcorn and had movie nights. We were trying to make something positive out of a dark place.
Getting calls from home always was the best feeling. In the middle of the week I received a call from my mom. She told me she knew everything. My sister told her about what I was hiding.She knew about my self-harming through having sex with people. People I thought cared. All I could do was cry. I was not only humiliated but I felt I disappointed my mom. She told me it would be okay and we would get through it.
After I was discharged, I wasn't sure what life would be like. I knew I would never be the same. After months of being happy, I started to fall into old patterns. I started self-harming again. Not only with sex but now I was cutting. I started putting myself in dangerous situations. The night before New Year's Eve, I was abused sexually. Was it my fault? Could I have prevented it? Sometimes I wonder.
All I know now is life is a struggle. If you come out of your situation stronger than before, you passed the ultimate test. I cannot change what happened but I can only move forward. I may not be religious or spiritual, but one prayer got me through a lot. I placed it on my wall in the hospital and when I got out it was in my room "God, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the Courage to change the things I can, And the Wisdom to know the difference." This speaks volumes about my experience. All I can do now is make tomorrow a better day and move forward.
