[jd-inflames]

heres a more in depth part about Ten Broek:

Eight Days of Sanity

“I’m sorry ma’am, but we are going to have to hold him.”

During my first few years of high school, my depression grew worse. I was known around school for being crazy actually. I would take safety pins and jam it through my arm just to weird people out, I would punch brick walls and bust my wrists open, and I would burn myself, everything. I had threatened to bring a gun to school and commit suicide, I have had my house searched for bombs before, and I have even been suspended from school for scaring a young boy. Why any of this happened, I do not remember. These are all distant memories that remind me every day on how much better I have made myself.
I came to school one morning with two large sized bandages on my wrist. I had burnt myself the night before. I had taken a lighter and held my wrists under the flame until the nerves in my upper arm wouldn’t support the torture anymore. I did this twice, therefore I had 2 large burns on my wrist, with the flesh melted over where I had coagulated the bleeding myself with the same lighter. I showed it to Mrs. Larue and I was immediately sent to the office. When I arrived, I thought nothing of the consequences of my actions. Mrs. Spotts wasted no time in calling my mother. The appointment for me to go to Ten Broek for an evaluation was set.
I spent my whole trip there thinking about what was happening. Ten Broek was a well known psych ward, not a hospital you get sent to, but a real institution. One of those places you only think about visiting in the movies. I was scared to even go in, I cried the whole way. When we finally made it there, we had to wait over four hours until the doctor was ready for us. When I finally got to get evaluated, the doctor was very concerned over my story. I was sent to go get inspected for admittance at once. Without anyone knowing where I was, friends or family, I was now an in-patient at Ten Broek Mental Hospital.
The first thing they did was have me take off all of my necklaces and my wallet chains. They filled up about a 4 pound envelope with just my jewelry alone. Then I had to give them my money. The next thing that was required from me was a strip search. They had to check the inseams of my pants, shirt, shoes, socks, etc for drugs and/or weapons. When they were finally satisfied, I was shown my room. Very small with two beds, a shower, and a bulletproof window with iron mesh and thin bars. This is where I was sent to spend an unknown amount of time. Something that some people don’t understand is that when you admit yourself to a psychiatric hospital, you hand away your rights. You don’t know when you can leave again, you can’t eat when you want, you can’t leave your room when you want to, you can’t go outside when you want to, you can’t smoke or do anything else that normal people can, you can’t watch TV, you are just stuck in a locked room with nothing but your incapacitated room mate and a radio to keep you company and if you give the staff any problems, you get a shot full of tranquilizer, a straight-jacket, and a room with padded walls.
The very first thing that I did when I got there was join group. This is where we would have our group therapy and got to know each other, plus this is where we take our meds, watched a movie, ate a snack, etc. I then went to bed. Lights out at Ten Broek was set for 9PM.
The next morning before everyone else had a chance to wake up; I was woken by a thick needle being jammed into my arm. Shocked, I looked over and saw that it was just a nurse taking blood for a standard drug test. This was an excellent way to start my morning. Breakfast at Ten Broek included milk, fruit, one of those little packets of cereal that you might find in a school cafeteria, and maybe even a doughnut. After breakfast, we headed to the gym for sports. The game today was soccer, and it was going to be the one and only time I get in trouble in Ten Broek.
The first thing that I told the nurse before we headed out is my history with asthma. He said it was fine and just stuck me as a goalie. At first I didn’t complain, but after a while I couldn’t breath, and I made to sure that everyone knew it. I started screaming and cursing. When the nurse came to restrain me, I threw a punch unsuccessfully. The nurse then tackled me and stuck me with their drugs. The next time I woke up, I was in a straight-jacket, sprawled out in the middle of a room covered in padded walls. I was in there until dinner time, which by then, I had tested out the thickness of the padding extensively. After that event, I was calm and didn’t cause any more problems.
On the fourth day, my meds finally came in. I was prescribed to Zoloft, Nicorette, and a few inhalers for my asthma and chronic bronchitis. This is the first day that we had school, and at Ten Broek, that was the best place to be. It was the only place of true entertainment there, and the only place that was co-ed. Even though the curriculum that they were teaching was far behind my level, I still enjoyed it.
The rest of my stay went by really fast. I went through a few individual sessions of therapy, I got adjusted to my Zoloft, and I had one family counseling where my family joined me in my therapy. At this point, eight days later, they finally decided that I was ready to be released. After this point, I have been able to control most of my problems and haven’t had to reclaim my status as an inpatient again.

go ahead and tell me how screwed up my life is, it made my english 4 teacher cry
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