Entry One
Stupid journal. I don’t know how this is supposed to help? I might as well just do it because if I don’t…I’ll never get out of here. I’ll start with the basics. They call us the “3 East Kids’. I have been here for almost a month at Mercy West. They say the only way you get here is by hitting rock bottom. Well, I can tell you one thing, some of these kids are past “rock bottom”. My name is Sara Lawrence, well that is what the hospital bracelet says, but lately I don’t really know who I am. I don’t know how much longer I will be here, but right now 3 East is almost better than home.
3 East, at Mercy West, is the best Adolescent Psychiatric unit in the state of Connecticut
We are required to go to all three meals, group discussion, our personal therapy sessions, and the activity of the day. My past month has been filled with a lot of thinking and a lot of reading. I get to have a home visit every two weeks, but when I’m at home I might as well be back at 3 East. Sometimes home isn’t so sweet.
At home everyone is different. I don’t get treated the same, and everyone is just weird. It’s like I am literally the elephant in the room. I can’t imagine the amount of talk there is about Dad. Oh well, he deserves it.
You see, Dad is a teacher at school, and he is also the football coach. I have an older brother, and two older sisters. All graduated and all very athletic. That leaves me, the baby to follow in their deep footsteps. I have been running to and from sports, and playing them for as long as I can remember. It makes my dad happy and he noticed me, but then, I got good. Doing what I loved wasn’t a hobby anymore…it became work. My hobby became something I dreaded.
Before all of the sports started, I used to sing. I have a good voice too! Could’ve gone somewhere with it, but when you have a “job” the things you love to do get pushed aside. Everything…gone. People expect more out of you. They treat you differently. No one likes it, but the truth hurts.
So, I guess you’re wondering why I’m in here. Cooped up like a chicken, in the loony bin. Well, I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but I am supposed to vent to this stupid journal so I will. I starved myself, and on top of that I made myself throw up what little I had in me. My rock bottom? Threatening to down a bottle of weight loss pills if I couldn’t go to a movie with my friends. Scary part? I was going to do it. I didn’t care…I would have been skinny.
Sometimes I wish I would have gone through with it. I wish for a lot of things though. My wishes never seem to come true.
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