Stuck
Two weeks. Two weeks in a mental facility. Two weeks doesn’t feel like a long time when you are constantly being occupied. I still have on the yellow socks they give you when you first come in, the ones with the rubber pattern on the bottom. I remember telling my sister before I left that they were my ‘spiderman socks,’ because they’re grippy. I’m out, a changed person? Hopefully. The past few weeks have been filled with activities designed to get my mind off of things. With that and the help of medication they deemed me fit to leave the facility. I should feel happier… right?
I get home and my mom starts cooking my favorite dinner–entomatadas. Tortillas covered in tomato sauce filled with cheese and rice and beans on the side, my favorite family meal for as long as i can remember. I realize she’s making me this dinner to make me feel more at home. I can feel the tension. The wantingness of avoiding the conversation of me almost committing suicide just two weeks ago.
“Sientate a comer!”(sit down and eat) she yells from the kitchen. I had been laying in my bed, reading text messages from close friends asking me how I was doing. “I’m great,” I typed. That was a lie. It was a lie then, and it’s a lie now. How do they think I feel? I’m 19 and just got out of a mental facility. Do they think I spent this time in Disney World?
I sit down to eat.
“No phones at the table Victoria.” I set my phone down realizing I got a text from my boyfriend. “Maybe we should just take you out,” he says. “Anywhere but Galveston, I hate the water there,” I chuckle as I type, we always joke about the water, how it reminded us of chocolate milk. “Let’s go to Austin,” he says. Austin has been on my bucket list for some time, I wanted to go see the hype my sister talked about. Unfortunately since i was 19 i wasn’t allowed on 6th street, a street full of bars and clubs. Still there were some cool spots I wanted to see, like the graffiti wall. “I’m down,” i type as I drop my plate in the dishwasher.
We leave my house at 8. I kiss my mom goodbye and assure her I’ll be fine. She watches as we drive away.
“Can you text Maddie and let her know we’re here?” my boyfriend says. I text her and she comes out with a huge smile and a cupcake with a candle lit up.
“Get out of the car, how did you think we’d forget?” she exclaims. I had forgotten it was my birthday last week. They celebrated it at the hospital. A piece of paper with a balloon on it that said happy birthday from my roommate taped to the wall. We weren’t allowed a lot of things, balloons with strings was one of them.
“Thanks Madd,” I say as I blow out the candle. She gets in the car.
As we get to Austin, I begin to admire the scenery, how the roads go up and down unlike in Houston. I always think about moving out, dropping everything and just traveling. I’m sure a lot of people my age think about that a lot, but here I am taking a road trip with my best friends. The car starts to slow down and my boyfriend pulls over.
“Oh no, not again,” he says.
“Again?” I say. He gets out of the car, opens the hood of his car and smoke comes out. He comes back into the driver’s seat angry. “Im not going to let this ruin you day, pass me the water bottle. It’s just overheating.” I pass my water bottle to him and he goes and pours water over everything under the hood. “We’ll figure it out when we get back home,” he says.
“Whatever you say, captain,” Maddie exclaims.
I have personally always hated how suicide was a subject that is hardly talked about. Mental health really. If the flu is a systemic virus that kills millions, why not mental illnesses? Is the brain not a systemic part of the body? What’s crazier is that a 19 year old like me can suffer from it. Depression. Just two weeks ago i hated how my life was going, and all people would tell me is that i had nothing to worry about because I was young and life was only going to get harder from here on out. Pretty harsh if you ask me. You can’t talk to people that way. No one goes through life the same way, and it’s easy to put up the facade that everything is ok when it isn’t, and it isn’t. It just sucks less. It is better than how i was two weeks ago, and that’s all that matters.
On our way back home the car breaks down and I try to call some friends to see if they’re willing to come help us. No answers. I assume it’s because we’re young and what parent would let their 17-19 year old child drive to Austin. Since no friends picked up the phone I thought of family I could call to come help. I think about calling my parents but they would just yell at me and lecture me. My brother doesn’t pick up. I call my sister Cynthia. She always picks up. She says she always answers my calls because she thinks it’s going to be one of my friends on the other line explaining that I got into trouble somehow and that they need her to bail me out. Thats funny.
“Are you serious? I just got off work at 11:30 p.m. Why were y’all even in Austin this late? Do you not think of the consequences? How were y’all supposed to get home if i hadn’t picked up the phone? You need to think about these things–” her voice fades. I sat there thinking about what I would be missing right now had I taken my life. I wouldn’t be graduating tomorrow, my friends would remember that for the rest of their lives, my parents wouldn’t see their daughter walk across the stage, they would miss my wedding, and I sure enough wouldn’t be here with my friends who love and support me. I become overwhelmed with emotions as I hang up. My sister doesn’t understand, no one does. I needed this, I needed to get away. It’s impossible to get away from your own mind but at least you can physically go somewhere to have a change of scenery. When you hit rock bottom, there’s nowhere to go but up. Maybe I left the facility too early, maybe I should have stayed longer, gotten better and stopped prioritizing others before myself. Two weeks. Two weeks isn’t a long time.