Escaping the Revolving Hospital Doors
<p>One week after my discharge, my dad pulled up to the front entrance of the psych hospital. I was in the passenger’s seat, drained from the weight of my already emotionally packed day. I’d gone to see my psychiatric nurse practitioner, Nurse Talia, just that morning at the Community Mental Health Clinic, and it was time to check in with Dr. Goodman about my weight.</p>
<p>“Good luck in there today! Call when you need to be picked up. Love you!”</p>
<p>He pulled me into a tight hug and I hugged him back with a tight squeeze. When I let him go, I felt lighter, like he’d taken some weight off my shoulders. As soon as I stepped out of the car, however, my legs turned to jelly and buckled beneath me. My body hit the passenger side of the car with a gentle <em>thump,</em> catching my dad’s attention.</p>
<p>“You okay, ma belle? Did you want me to park the car and come in with you? I can stay in the waiting room until you’re done. You don’t have to go in there alone.”</p>
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