When I was went to mental hospital I was admitted in the wrong place, at least that’s what I thought. I was put in with the people who had drinking and drug problems. I felt that I should of been in the section where people have depression. After all I did try to commit suicide. By the way, I did not know I had bipolar until I entered the hospital. Thought: If you feel something is wrong get help.
I had met several young men, called Guy #1 and Guy #2, who had serious drug and alcohol problems. One had bipolar that was very very bad. I’ve never seen anything like it.
The three of us became very good friends, and I became what you call a caregiver. I got in so much trouble. They would say, “They’re men and you need to stay away and take care of yourself. I couldn’t help it and I felt they were being treated wrong.
There was a young man name Guy #2, who was tripping out and needed his drugs. He would lay in my lap trying very hard not to think about it. Then, the scouts would tell him to get away from me. He was misbehaving a lot and the doctors were threatening to put him out. I told them don’t do that he might do harm do himself.
Guy #1 had bipolar and was very depressed as well. The two always came to me for comfort. Their parents didn’t seem to understand and I knew exactly how they felt. No one understands Bipolar except the person that is having to live the hell. Even today, my parents don’t understand me nor my actions.
I was in the mental institute for 6 weeks or more and it was not fun. I got out a couple of times and relapsed. Someone even accused me of bringing drugs in – I couldn’t believe that! It was like a nightmare! There’s so much to tell on this experience and have decided to tell a bit of it.
First, about Guy #2. They did let him out. He OD.
