The Tough Decision To Admit Myself To The Hospital

Psychiatric hospitalization is not how the movies portray it––it’s a place of healing, not a place of fear––and it is NOT a sign of weakness.

I remember over two years ago my university psychologist suggested that I admit myself into hospital. I had been newly diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Before my initial assessment with my psychiatrist, my general practitioner commenced me on a new anti-depressant that put me into a mixed state.

It was simply the worst time of my life. I had no idea what was happening to me – I had never experienced going from being completely ecstatic to suicidal in the space of an hour, morbid racing thoughts that revolved around death and how much of a failure I was, relentless agitation and energy that couldn’t be burned up and irritability so bad that I would rather have been depressed. It was so confusing, I truly thought I was loosing my mind, and for the first time I was scared of this mental illness.

I don’t remember my behaviour much, just the awfulness of being in a mixed state. I do recall driving around late at night to avoid the constant arguing at home – arguments that were always caused by me. Many times while driving aimlessly around I would play chicken and swerve off the road, hoping to crash. I wanted to escape the hellish prison my body and mind had become.

When my psychologist suggested I go to hospital I recoiled at the idea. As a nursing student I had done a month long nursing placement in a high security public psychiatric ward that I didn’t enjoy very much. I never wanted to go back to that environment, as a nurse or as a patient.

I saw my former tutor the same day and discussed the issue with her. She was in very strong favour of me going to hospital. She pointed out that although I was scared it would be very brave if I admitted myself and that it would get me back on track quicker. If anyone could convince me to go to hospital, it would be her.

So I did. The next day I was admitted onto a psychiatric ward. I didn’t have much of a choice. My psychiatrist gave me the option of being admitted as a voluntary patient and if I refused then I would be admitted as an involuntary patient and held under the mental health act (I live in Australia.)

I was terrified! I don’t think I had ever been that scared. I was scared of the other patients, I was scared of about being locked up and I was worried about what would happen next. But the moment I was in hospital, I felt relief. All responsibility had been taken from me at a time where I couldn’t be responsible for my own health or safety. I was completely in the care of nurses and doctors around the clock so all I had to focus on was myself and getting better.

Little by little I did get better as my new medication started to work. Slowly the mixed state subsided into depression, which was a welcome relief (something I thought I would never say) and then the severe depression started to lessen. I met people who had all kinds of mental illnesses and found support in them. I realized these people weren’t scary but unwell, just like me. I could empathize with them, and they could understand and empathize with me.

That admission lasted just under a month and I have no doubt it probably saved my life. Hospital for me was a safe haven. Every single staff member was kind, caring and understanding.

My perception of psychiatric hospitals completely changed from places of fear to places of healing and safety. Since then I have been admitted into hospital three more times and even though I would rather have been out in the community, the thought of being on a psychiatric ward wasn’t scary.

In fact, ironically, I am writing this while being in hospital for the fourth time. I was admitted onto a locked, public psychiatric ward for psychotic mania a couple of weeks ago before being transferred to a less acute, private facility. This was the first time I had been taken to the public hospital and although I was at a different facility, I still felt safe and the staff were still kind and caring. Even when I was first admitted and required seclusion because I was combative and non-compliant, I was still treated with respect and dignity.

Unfortunately for some, being admitted into a psychiatric hospital can be a negative experience. However, I find it comforting knowing I have these two hospitals in my area to go to during the times when I am really unwell because I know I will be kept safe and everything will be done in my best interest.

Finally, if you are reading this and are in the same situation as I was before my first hospitalization, I want you to know hospital is not how the movies portray it and it is not scary, they are places of healing. Also, being admitted into a psychiatric hospital is not a weakness nor is it anything to be ashamed of. Everyone needs a little help with their health from time-to-time.