My Memoir

I was fourteen and in a place that most of my friends would only joke about being in. It wasn’t the things I had said or done, but rather the things I had thought about that gotten me sent here. But in this white hole in the wall I realized I wasn’t the only one who thought this way. Not by a long shot.

Circles of Care is a place filled to the brim with nurses, white walls, plastic chairs, plastic pillows, plastic beds, and pretty much plastic everything. The white room I had been placed in, with two other sullen teenagers, was just a small part of Circles of Care. Once you entered the patient section of the hospital it became like a maze. Where one room could have three or four doors, you could get lost in the bathroom! Here in this lonely room the voices of the admission workers came back to me. “Circles of Care is a safe haven, a behavioral facility,” they had told me. It wasn’t either, it was a psych hospital.

I couldn’t think, how had I gotten here of all places? The look on my mother’s face was heartbreaking, she was trying so hard to keep calm for me, but after talking to the evaluation officer to see if I should be admitted she came back with red eyes. I sat in the white waiting room with two other teenagers. One was wrapped in a blanket trying to sleep and the other was shaking uncontrollably. A nurse came up to me and my mother and murmured something indistinguishable to my mom. Mom looked up, almost disappointed and looked over to me.

“It’s time to go,” she said while getting up.

I was surprised, as much as every minute on the clock seemed excruciatingly slow I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to be thrown into a place full of strangers, or to leave my family and friends until some random doctor decided I was ready to leave, not to mention how behind I would get in school. There was nothing I could do about it though, so I took a deep breath and plastered on a smile for mom.

“Coming,” I said and got up as well.

The nurse led us to a door and told my mom this was as far as she could go. I could tell she was worried so I hugged her and told her everything would be all right, all the time wondering why I was comforting her and not the other way around.

“Goodbye,” my mom said holding my hand.

“See you soon,” I said tweaking up a corner of my mouth.

I walked through a door into a strange place, with a stranger as my only company.

…

After more than a little personal questioning, a drug test, and search for weapons I was led to a large room with seven other kids. I looked around; three kids were sitting in a corner playing Uno, two were sitting at a large table that looked like it had been stolen from the cafeteria from my school eating dinner, one was a black haired girl sitting alone at a table in the corner, and the last was a five or six year old boy playing with a brown haired nurse. A male nurse came up to me and handed me a covered tray, then motioned at the large table.

“Go eat dinner,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied.

I sat across from the two girls sitting at the table, but nobody was even making eye contact, let alone talking. The dinner was chicken strips and fries, but I could only pick at it because I was so nervous. About twenty minutes later I threw most of it away. The rest of the night passed by with the three boys who were playing Uno earlier talking and laughing really loudly and the nurses threatening to send us to bed early every ten minutes if they kept it up. They sent us to bed at eight. They gave me a room, which I slept in alone. The light could only be dimmed, the nurses looked through the window every five minutes, and half of the patients didn’t get pillows because we could smother ourselves with them.

After a night of tossing and turning and maybe an hour of sleep another nurse, (where were they all coming from?), knocked on my door and said to come out. Then without waiting for me to even get up left, I heard him telling everyone else in the same fashion. I walked out of my room a little uncertain of what to expect. In the hallway I saw six other girls acting the same way. Three of them were new and I wondered when they got here. One of the new ones with dirty blond hair yawned and walked towards the room where I had eaten dinner last night. Another blonde, thin and tall, shrugged and followed, so did everyone else.

The dirty blonde sat down at the large table still yawning. We all settle down following her example, since none of the nurses were objecting. Then she smacked the table and said

“Dang, do they really have to wake us up this early, I mean who really slept last night?” she looked at us all expectantly and most either smiled shyly or stared at her, not believing she was actually talking. It was almost like she was interrupting a sacred vigil. I for one was ecstatic, finally someone was talking!  

“When did you get here,” I asked.

“Last night at freaking two in the morning,” she exclaimed, “what about you?”

“Yesterday afternoon around four,” I replied, “what’s your name?”

“Ann-Marie, what about yours,” she asked

“Thelma” I said, “what are you in here for?”

“My mom called the cops on me for punching my sister,” she said, “and you?”

“My counselor sent me because I am suicidal,” I said uncomfortably

“Stop acting so guilty about it, I bet you are not the only one here because of that,” she said then looked around and asked loudly, “who’s here for being suicidal?”

I cringed then looked around completely shocked, tentatively three girls and five boys raised their hands. I added mine to the bundle watching everyone else go through the same reaction. We all smiled relieved. I smiled the biggest. I wasn’t alone! I never was! I had thought the way I felt was so uncommon and rare. It had never mattered what the websites had ever said about it before, I had never believed that what I thought was common, but seeing those around me raising their hands and sharing the same reaction as me was relieving, as if a great weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I felt so silly thinking I was alone all this time, because I never was. 

Then Ann-Marie was called to get her vitals checked and take a shower. She tousled her unkempt hair and joked,

“Nothing I like more in the morning than a good vital check,” she said smiling.

It took a few minutes for everyone to exchange their names, when they got here, and what for. Less than an hour later everyone was joking as if we had known each other for years, bonding over horror stories of how we got here and complaining about the beds here. They served the breakfast and almost everyone grimaced at the soggy eggs and limp bacon, and then reached for the orange juice, because not even Circles of Care can ruin that.

I like to say the only thing I learned at Circles of Care was the cup song and how to talk gangster, but I learned a whole lot more. I learned that I was never alone, and never would be. I was surrounded by people going through the same things; I finally had people to talk to. After I left the hospital, I still struggled with telling people my feelings, but it was easier than it was before and when I got unsure I would tell myself it is not uncommon and you are not alone. I am a long way from fixing all my problems, but for now I can at least say “one down, who cares how many more to go.”

Author's Note

Our English teacher is having us write a personal narrative for class where you have an epiphany... so tell me what you think, :)

Reviews

[TheMadnessWithin]

good story! I like how you didn’t reveal why she was there until near the end, it kept me reading and wanting more:)

[Rhea752]

Thx :)

[Tai Ryens]

I just wish life were this easy.

[Rhea752]

I know.... but my teacher would have sent me to guidance if I wrote what I really thought. :( thx for the review :)

[Tai Ryens]

Ah, work on a real memoir.

[Rhea752]

Kk :P