Depression is a monster. It destroys every part of a person. As spoken about in previous articles, I myself suffer from depression. On Tuesday, November 28th, 2017, I had decided that I needed to get immediate help. I felt that I was a danger to myself. With the help of my best friend, I admitted myself into the psychiatric ward at Conemaugh Medical Center. It was a rough decision for me to make, but I knew it would be a beneficial one.

I arrived in my room around 11 P.M. Tuesday night. I spent a good deal of time staring out my seventh floor window at the city of Johnstown; A city that I would soon have a different perspective of. After a short question and answer session with my nurse about my suicidal thoughts, depression, and anxiety, I was given a pack of cookies and something to help me sleep. Within 20 minutes, I was sound asleep.

The next morning, Wednesday, I was woken up to the sound of a young man, asking if he could get my vitals, my blood pressure and temperature. Still feeling drowsy from the Trazodone given to me the previous night, I laid down to get more sleep when the male nurse told me breakfast was being served. I decided to get up and eat. Walking into the dining room, I found my tray at a table with a couple of other girls: One looking to be my age, and the other an elderly woman. After breakfast I went back to my room, crying. I was homesick and just wanted to leave. Most of this day was spent sleeping and crying. I went to group counseling that day. We discussed different methods to cope with our depression, anxiety, and stress. That group made a world of difference; I wasn't alone in there. There were others struggling with my same situation. My parents visited the entirety of vising hours, 6 P.M.-8 P.M. Seeing them helped, knowing that I had their support was what made the stay easier.

Thursday morning was significantly better. I awoke to the announcement of breakfast over the speaker system. I stood up out of bed, and walked to the dining room. After breakfast, still not feeling too social, I went back to my room to read a book that I brought with me: "A Vegetarians Guide to Eating Meat," written by Marissa Landrigan (Who just so happens to be one of my writing professors.) The book comforted me, made me feel at home. I then received a call from my academic adviser, asking for a visit. It gave me something to look forward to throughout the day. I had figured it was time for a shower. I had been given a bottle of shampoo/body wash which smelled like baby shampoo. I really couldn't complain. After lunch, instead of returning to my room and starting another book, I went to the T.V. lounge for the women. I began stepping out of my shell. I attended two groups that day instead of one. Things were beginning to look up.

Friday morning had arrived. My scheduled release date. I woke up, gave my vitals to a young blonde nurse who always seemed to be laughing or cracking jokes, and went to breakfast. My demeanor had completely changed. I felt happy for the first time in a long time. I felt as though there was a positive outlook for my life. I went to multiple group sessions, shared experiences, did some laundry, received advice, and even game some. When I met with the doctor, I was told he wanted to keep me for one more day. I was okay with it, despite wanting to go home. I wasn't alone there.

Saturday morning. It was the day. I walked quicker than normal to breakfast, as to hope the day would go faster. After breakfast, I was the first in line for a shower. Once showered, I threw on some fresh clothes and went to the T.V. lounge. Some of the other ladies were watching a Christmas film, so I sat down with them. We hardly paid attention to the movie; we were too busy talking about everything. It was a good bonding experience. Around 1 o'clock, I was informed my ride was there to pick me up. I gathered my things, and cleaned up my room. Soon, I was finally able breathe the fresh, chilly air, and I was on my way home.

This was an important step in my journey to complete happiness. Spending four days in a psychiatric ward was helpful, eye opening, and life saving. It was a process that I needed to go through to help myself. I wouldn't have been able to do it if it weren't for the lovely nurses on the floor, my friend, family, and my parents. I have a new, positive outlook on life and the future. If you just so happen to fall into one of those categories, thank you.