Metamorphic Day Narrative

November 11th, 2013. Truly a metamorphic day, also known as the first time I was brought to a mental institution. The word mental institutions itself really frightens people. They imagine scenes that the entertainment business embedded into their heads. They picture a psych ward, inpatients screaming and getting strapped down to hospital beds. As I was in the ambulance on my way to Rush Hospital, I envisioned that too. That was until the doors to the facility cracked open and I was in for a huge revelation. As I was wheelchaired into the 4K unit I was greeted by many smiling faces. Which was extremely odd to me, considering the circumstances. I settled into some comfortable clothing to find a girl in my assigned room. My roommate introduced herself as Daniella. My first impression of her was how content she seemed. I was conflicted as to why such an ordinary girl was in a mental hospital. Ultimately, I had an epiphany. As I got to know Daniella I realized that sadness did not have an icon. She

All unique and with different diagnoses. There was a guy with PTSD, a girl with Schizophrenia, even a 9 year old boy with agoraphobia. When I walked into 4K I thought there were two types of people in this world. There were people who were sad, and people who were happy. However, being happy didn’t mean you weren’t depressed, and being sad sure didn’t mean you were depressed. There are so many different chemicals, different faults in our brains. All those imperfections create infinite maladies. I was diagnosed with BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) as well as depression. I very quickly realized how complex everything was. All of the meetings we had and all of the therapists we spoke to finally made sense. The group interventions were not for socialization, but for self evaluation. Being around such a wide variety of human beings genuinely humbles the mind and it educates you like no lecture ever