Imagine what it's truly like to carry the burden of any mental illness on your shoulders. Your mind: a jail. With no windows to see the sunlight, you're trapped and your only way out for temporary measure, is to fake your happiness.
Now imagine all of that in physical form.
You surrender yourself, have all your belongings other than your clothes stripped from you. If your clothes have any strings, they are taken out. As soon as that is over, an officer uses a single handed metal detector for double security. You say goodbye to your family, tears in all of your eyes as heartbreak consumes each of you. You are then escorted down a long hall and in order to get inside your new "home" for the next few days, the nurses on the other side must buzz you in.
You are shown your room, introduced to your "roommate", and within an instant, your vitals are checked. By this time, you're exhausted so you lay down until the doctor is ready to see you and examine you. Surprisingly you fall asleep, but every 15 minutes off hell, you're vitals are checked as well as your mental state. The doctor will wake you up, escort you to his office, and ask you every question under the sun. You're still in shock, so you answer half heartedly. Tell him how you're on mood stabilizers and weaning off anti-depressants. Then, he'll fuck you over.
He'll say you're not bipolar, you're just depressed, but you're not in the mood to argue, so you shut the fuck up, and take what he gives you. He prescribes you the very first anti-depressant you were ever on, Escitalopram, takes you off your mood stabilizer, Lamictal, and lowers your dosage even more of your current anti-depressant, Venlafixine. You're instantly pissed off, as you know your new anti-depressant doesn't do shit. So now, it's time for the show.
Though you're still in a fucked up mental state, you begin smiling more to please the nurses. You go to group therapies to show them you're trying, and instead of napping all day, you socialize more with the other "inmates". You play pretend until day two. They evaluate you once more to see where you stand mentally. That's where your acting skills come in. You're happy, you feel much better, and you're ready to change. A few hours go by, and you're finally discharged.
Once your family comes to get you, you feel like an outsider. You instantly wish you could turn back around and be locked back up. But, I guess that's just the fucked up part of having a fucked up mind.
