Travels to the Psych Ward: A Story of Comfort and Grief

Gina Nicoll

Abstract


When my doctor first said she was sending me to the hospital, I tried to talk her out of it. Running my thumb over and over the spot on my ring finger I’d already worried into a bruise, I told her the timing was all wrong. I said that antidepressants took months to reach their full effect, but the hospital would only keep me in for a week or two. So it would just make things worse. I knew I needed to go on antidepressants, but I couldn’t get rid of the idea that if I did anything good for myself, then I had to punish myself to make up for it, like atonement for my sins. By that point, I was already cutting twice a day for punishment. If I went on antidepressants, I’d have to do even more. I didn’t know how much more I could take.


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We wish to acknowledge the financial support of the Canada Council for the Arts, the Munk School of Global Affairs, and Mount Sinai Hospital.

Canada Council for the Arts
Munk School of Global Affairs
Mount Sinai Hospital