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Hospitals for mental health essays
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I wake up in a waiting room. Six blue seats on either side of the room lined perfectly. I’m in the one farthest to the entrance of the room, I am the only one here. I look to my side to see an old stereo on a coffee table with a trashcan underneath. A door leading to a bathroom is next to the table. This whole place seems odd, how did i get here? what am i doing here? The room is lit with fluorescent bulbs, cheap floating ceiling is everywhere along with white walls and a carpeted floor. the sound of the lights above is the only thing to break the noise in the room, everything is dead quiet. My entire body feels powerless, It’s a tiredness that consumes my limbs with no energy to lift or move them. I can simply move my head and look around to see my surroundings. So familiar yet i cannot place the exact location of where i truly am. hours pass as i become able to move again, restored motor functions im becoming mobile again, I move my hand to the stereo and try to turn it on, static begins to chirp out the box as i turn to knobs and hear nothing. eventually i give up and take to standing. feeling woozy i move to the door labelled bathroom and open it to find a closet sized area with a toilet and sink. i quickly rush to the sink and wash my face. feeling the cold water is revitalizing at first until it begins to numb my lips and cheeks. feeling a little more able to move i head out to try and find out just where i am. there’s three doors that lead to separate places opposite to the bathroom in the “waiting area that i later named after being wakened to this place. there’s a door on either side and one big door right in front of me, i believe it to be the entrance yet it is locked and i do not have the strength to break it any t... ... middle of paper ... ...before. The waiting room chairs seemed like the only option in this case since I’d rather use the bed solely for sleeping and not trying to block out oppressive thoughts. The metal frame of the chair was cold, it first froze me instantly but after being there long enough it rose to my body’s temperature and began to be bearable. I didn’t want to close my eyes at this point and tried harder than ever to keep them open for as long as possible. They began to burn after a certain point but nothing can amount to what I felt when I closed them. It’s as if the sleep and loss of light was draining me, taking me from my body and ripping my soul to another point in space. I fought for the pain not to come and yet I knew this was already a losing battle. I needed more than light to keep me going I needed thoughts, well orchestrated happy thoughts. So I began to dig, dig deep.
Finding a door to exit would become a puzzling exercise during one of their St. Albans investigations. Terri and Marie were in what is known as “the safe room,” because a large old-fashioned safe is located there. They had completed their investigation and were readying to leave the room when they realized they couldn’t. There wasn’t a door. “It was as if it had been morphed over,” said Terri. “We went around and around in circles. We were growing concerned when we made another lap and there it was. It was as if the door materialized out of nowhere,” she said.
It had been reported that, “Numerous people have told of hearing their doctors or other spectators in effect pronounce them dead” (Moody Jr, MD, 2015, p. 17). This is an out of body experience. Each reported feelings of peace and quiet, which transitioned into a bad buzzing noise. After proceeding through a tunnel, they have an “encounter with a very bright light” (Moody Jr, MD, 2015, p. 51). Questions resound around a reflection of their life, what they had learned during it, and if it was worth it. Invariably, each of the subjects’ encounter a border at which they are told they need to go back. “Considering the skepticism and lack of understanding that greet the attempt of a person to discuss his near-death experience, it is not surprising that almost everyone in this situation comes to feel that he is unique, that no one else has ever undergone what he has” (Moody Jr, MD, 2015, p. 83). Naturally, the outcome of this experience has an effect on the lives of those experiencing it.
First you walk into the room with the guard sitting behind the window and wait for him to buzz us in. Then you walk into the visiting room where there was grey square plastic tables and black chairs. At the front of the room was a guard siting at the table watching over all of the visitors and inmates. Then in the back of the room there was two bathrooms, one for the visitors and the other for the inmates. My family and I are assigned a table and we wait for my dad to come in.
Upon entering the room, I noticed a long white lattice fence in the middle of the room. It was a partition d...
We entered the building into a room where approximately 15 people were sitting in chairs. Most were staring straight ahead, eyes glazed. Some were chattering quietly to themselves, some were walking around with an awkward gait. As I walked further through the floor looking into rooms, I saw many people sleeping in their beds.
All the shiny items to the back of the room caught my eye instantly because they appeared to look rich and prestigious. On the right of the big main entrance door in front, there was a silver tree, and on the opposite side of the room on the left side of the door, there was a gold tree. Money hangs on the tree, and I thought that was an interesting feature to have. As I looked around the room, I noticed the red carpet below me, and everyone was sitting on small rectangular pillows. The main speaker told me that pillows were located in the big container next to me, so I grabbed one and sat down. The...
I woke up, trembling, in pain, mentally stuck. It was 2am, Friday morning. It felt like I was sweating through the sheets, but it was brisk... brisk to the point where I was trembling eternally. I later realized I was experiencing a cold sweat.
When you look around you notice that there’s hardly any furniture in the room. There’s a nightstand, two chairs, and the bed, but other than that you don’t see much else besides a few things on the nightstand...
The doc told me this would happen. I’d feel sick, nauseated with a headache. Couldn’t do anything about it. I woke in an alley-way and everything was spinning, I couldn’t focus on anything. I tripped, I stumbled out of there, like a deranged drunk and went out with one intent only. To save the future.
Every second, perfectly timed and the only noise to be heard in the room besides the secretary typing hurriedly on their desktops. The seats were unbearably uncomfortable, the cushions firm, hard, and the seat itself far too big for my little girl frame to get adjusted to. Beside me, my sister clicked her tongue, swinging her legs up and down for what seemed like forever before that old wooden door opened.
There was a door that I had never gone in. It stood out in the middle
Bedrooms are a place where we can be comfortable and we can sit back and relax. When we are tired or not feeling the best we can go to our room, shut our door, and lay down and relax. Maybe even turn on some music or read a book or magazine. My bed is where I like to retreat to when I want to relax. I have a double bed with four pillows and my favorite comforter. It is a Little Mermaid comforter, I know it is childish but it is soft and warm. And of course my Tickle Me Elmo sits on my bed and keeps me company. A lot of times I just lay down and close my eyes and daydream about places I'd like to see or think about things that make me happy. One thing we should not do is think about things we need to get done or anything that makes us feel stressed because then we'll never feel relaxed. I usually try to stay away from these sort of thoughts and it usually works out well.
As I stand in front of the dark brown, wooden door with its small, yet beautiful etched glass window, I remember all of the times that I have passed through this portal and entered the warm, comforting rooms inside. Before entering, I take a step back to admire this old, stubborn house. It's a two-story, white house with a three-car garage attached to it. My grandpa built the entire house from the foundation up and a lot of the items in it. After observing this scene for a few minutes, I continue to enter the house. I slowly turn the brass knob of the door and anticipate the feeling of acceptance inside. As I open the door, a flood of warmth passes over and through...