Life with mental illness
I’m angry. Maybe I should be relieved. Or happy. But I’m angry. I’m angry that I texted my friend. I’m angry that she came over. I’m angry that I opened the door. I’m angry that they called the ambulance. I’m angry that they kept me alive. I’m angry that it didn’t work. It didn’t work. …
10:00 pm. The doors open with a strong breath of air. Rushed chatter and muffled weeping. A place filled with both hope and grief. I go up to the desk and with trembling hands and a shaky voice I whisper the reason I'm here. "I'm suicidal." Shame. Embarrassment. Guilt. Emotions rush through my veins in …
