Knock, knock, knock.

What the heck?

I stirred a little, barely opening my eyes.
I was disoriented, I forgot where I was.

“Kim, I need you to wake up. We need to draw blood.”

Oh, It wasn’t a nightmare. Shit.

“Awesome.” I mumbled in a less than enthused voice.

I looked out the window: the sun was not yet up.

What the fuck! What time is it!?

I clumsily climbed out of bed pulling the blanket tight around me.
It was even more freezing than the night before.
Luckily, they had given me hospital socks. At least those were warm.

I stumbled out of the room and into the main room where they waited for me.
They knew I was out of it. They didn’t try to make conversation.

I glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even 6 o clock.


I plopped down in the chair and gave them my arm.

At this point, I didn’t even care that they saw the marks. I had to show them so many times in the last 24 hours… I was beyond caring.

They took my blood pressure and drew blood.

I winced a little, but didn’t care

Take my blood. Take whatever you want. I don’t have much to offer.

They finished up; I crawled back in bed for an hour.

People started to wake up and make their way to the main room.

I stayed in bed until they told me I needed to get up.

I didn’t have the energy to care or fight.

I followed everyone to breakfast, answered basic questions, but mostly kept to myself.

We went back to our wing and the doctor came.

It was a long time before my name was called.

I went in the little office and waited for the shitload of questions I knew I would need to answer.

By now I had answered these questions at least 3 times..

It was probably a script.

Just shut up and give me my fucking medicine.

I never wanted to be on medicine.

That was part of the reason I was there.

The school psychiatrist prescribed me Prozac. I wouldn’t take it.

My defiance against it worried people.

It wasn’t defiance though.

It was fear.

Not a fear of what people would say, or how the medicine would make me feel. Not a fear of the medicine.

My fear?

I was afraid of who I would be if I was better.

Being depressed and feeling down and being full of self hatred… that was the person I knew.

That is who I was.

Who I had been for the last 11 years.

Who would I become?

I didn’t know how to be fully happy.

It terrified me.

But being there, I knew that fear needed to be conquered.

It was going to be conquered

whether I was ready or not.