surviving the psych ward
this post may contain triggering topics, please approach with caution
this most recent stay in the psych ward wasn't my first foray into the world of voluntarily, but also involuntarily, being housed in a group of 12-24 other people.
the first time i went to a psych ward i was about 15 or 16. most days, we just lounged around the group home - me and the boy they housed me with (even though i was fully presenting female at the time), our legs dangling off couches in the living room. sometimes, we had a nurse who was 19. she was slim with walnut colored skin, her brown hair braided into locs, the ends dip-dyed red. she was my favorite nurse because she let us open the window for ten minutes every few hours - even though it was a frosty start to spring that year. michigan is wonderful.
this most recent stay, which ended at 12:37pm on friday, 11/7/25, was brought on by me trying to kill myself by swallowing a bunch of pills on an empty stomach - spoiler alert: it did not work. which i'm thankful for.
this stay was better than my previous stay. i had more freedom and i only had one roommate (who was a woman this time - jasmine, if you're out there, i hope you're doing well). there was also quite the cast of characters. my first day there, a woman with fried blonde hair told me very adamantly i was a KKK member (which i'm not). she also kept calling me transphobic and homophobic slurs while going on about "how we need to be in community to end the rising fascism in the US" and when i questioned her on how she was harboring a safe community by being a community leader in an undefined community, she declined to answer. which was fair. however, when i prompted her to rethink her transphobic tendencies towards me, she blew up and called me an "elite member of the republican party" which was ... interesting.
also - side note, i'm not really sure how she figured out i'm trans. i pass fairly well, and everyone else there called me she and her.
there was also my roommate - jasmine. she had curly black hair and slightly tanned taupe skin that was painted with freckles. she was 25 with 3 kids, 2 of them being twins, that she loved dearly. when i asked her what she was in for, she told me the same reason i was here for, albeit a different method.
i told her that i don't think i could have children, they stress me out and i don't often do well under stress (despite having a desire to be a social worker). she told me that she didn't either, and when she got pregnant with her first kid when she was about my age, she was scared too. but when she saw him, his chubby cheeks, his chocolate, dewy eyes, his little sobs, she knew she'd figure it out.
there were others, too - daryl and bethany and biyanna, who, despite minor conflicts with them sometimes, helped me get through my stay. and ana, a teacher from a local high school (although she retired early) had 'adopted' me, taken me under her wing. i was sad to leave her, a deep pang felt in my heart.
i also talked to my mom and elliot (my boyfriend) as much as i could. the first two nights i was there i couldn't get a hold of him. i was so sure he was mad at me - and i felt like my organs had started to eat themselves from inside me - starting with my lungs, travelling up to the muscles in my neck, down to my feet, and ending with my brain. painful. i left him so many voicemails (if you see this elliot, i'm sorry!!!). eventually, however, he picked up.
hearing his voice in the psych ward, telling me he wasn't mad at me, that he wouldn't be mad at me for being in the psych ward felt ... oddly religious. a spiritual awakening, maybe. or perhaps it clicked: i am worthy of being loved and delivering love. and everything, after this stay, will be okay. i think elliot got me through the psych ward - the thought of seeing him again, even if the world ended as soon as i got out, at least i'd be able to see him one last time.
thank you, elliot. and mom. and jasmine. and daryl and bethany and biyanna. and the tech with bright, neon pink hair, sam. and ms. bee. thank you.