"I need to admit myself."

"Have you had any suicidal thoughts?"

I looked at my dad not knowing what to say.

Had I?

Had I really?

"She's had some suicidal ideation, yes."

I looked back at the man asking the questions as he typed on his computer. It was January 1, 2022 and we were standing in the emergency room at the intake desk.

I don’t know what was said after that. My brain was fogged with depression and panic. I could feel the utter sadness and fear in my entire body. I didn’t feel like myself. Who was I? I wondered, is this going to get better?

I was then given a bracelet with my information and we were taken to a hallway to wait. The emergency room was overflowing with people. We sat there for what seemed like hours. He was the one I wanted to be there with me, though, my dad. In a state where I felt like a little child, having my dad there was very comforting. We talked about life, so many different things. He noticed as my body started to become calm while we talked. It was therapeutic for me. My mind, however, wasn’t calm. It hadn’t been for months.

After over an hour, maybe it was two, we were then taken into a room. I sat on the hospital bed and my dad sat in the chair across from me as we waited to be seen by a doctor. When a doctor finally came in, it was a very short meeting. He asked why I was there. I don’t remember anything I said other than that I knew I needed help. We then walked back into the hallway and my dad was with me as they walked me to these gray doors. I remember when they opened. I turned around and looked at my dad with what I’m sure was a terrified look on my face and I just remember him saying, "you’re going to be fine". I turned around and walked through the doors.

. . .

As we were walking into the hospital that night, my legs were the heaviest they had ever been. We had our arms around each other and I told him that I knew we would need help for a very long time. I didn’t know what was coming, but deep down I knew this would be a long healing journey. It wasn’t going to be fixed in a month or two.

. . .

When the doors closed I started sobbing immediately. I think mostly from fear of what’s to come but also some relief of now I’m getting the help I need. Now I can talk to someone about how much pain I was in and what was going on inside my head. What was on the other side of those doors was a world that was all new to me. 

PART 2 Coming Soon...