Codes
Being fifteen and confined to a mental health facility isn’t easy. It’s not a physical prison but one of the mind, where those struggling with grades and attention issues, or those with parents who never expressed love, find themselves. I was diagnosed with severe depression at fifteen, a condition that therapy failed to alleviate; my words felt heavy, with the fear that they might be used against me echoing in my mind.
“Anything new happening?” my therapist would ask
This question always got a resounding “no” from me. How could I express the turbulence in my mind, as if I were drowning with each breath? The continual reminder that “anything you say and do can be used against you” intensified my internal conflict, making my words feel heavy. This went on for months, and my silence worsened the situation. Feeling alienated and convinced that life was no longer worth living. I closed my eyes and suddenly, I was a mouse getting chased by a cat, I felt nothing but fear as I ran down the street not knowing whether or not I was going to get caught. I felt my time running out as I saw a dead end approaching. This is my ending I thought as I felt the cat getting closer; my life flashing in front of my eyes. I got caught but right before I got eaten I had awoken.
In a new setting with white walls, I struggled to understand where I was and realized the gravity of my actions. Two days of interrogation by doctors and therapists followed, with my consistent response being, “I acted on impulse and would never do something like this.” However, my decision to remain silent raised concerns, leading to my transfer to a place resembling a prison. With barred windows and guarded halls, it was my personal confinement. Uncertain of the duration, I began interacting with fellow patients — the druggies, the abused, and the seemingly sane.
The druggies; extracting details from them proved challenging, yet a singular truth stood out. They fell into two distinct categories: the uncooperative, resentful ones, and those whose affluent parents placed them here, relinquishing responsibility. The resentful group offered a crucial insight—they emphasized the consequences of interacting with authority figures. A poorly chosen word or an undesirable tone could lengthen your sentence. Armed with this knowledge, I understood the necessity of staying in the good graces of those in power, always choosing words and tones carefully. knowingly prolonging their stay. Many people felt abandoned by society and saw no reason to conform. Unlike them, I sensed my contrast; neither wealthy nor angry, I felt out of place. Regardless of the circumstances that brought me here, I found comfort in knowing that I had someone who cared. My mother’s regular phone calls were a lifeline, a reminder that it was my actions, not hers, that had gotten me into this situation.
The abused; listening to their narratives shattered me the most. Numerous kids longed for love and appreciation, and for them, my confinement represented a haven. They felt safer within these walls than anywhere else, and tears would well up as they spoke about the thought of leaving. Amidst these heart-wrenching stories, I derived my most crucial strategy. It became clear that projecting excitement about my imminent departure and maintaining a positive demeanor when conversing with the doctor was essential. With these two valuable strategies in my arsenal, I felt I was on the right path to securing my release. However, one crucial element remained absent.
The sane; the only people I imagined as potential friends outside of this place. Despite having polished my two effective techniques, I couldn’t ignore the observation that divided individuals who departed this spot quickly from those who stayed for an extended period of time. Those who endured months of imprisonment rarely interacted with others and appeared to lack a strong social network, but those who left sooner were always surrounded by companions. Recognizing this, mentally stable people understood the significance of socializing. They actively sought talks with everyone, which I voluntarily accepted in the days running up to my expected release. Though it appeared to the authorities to be a true bonding, it was a planned way for us to appear well-adjusted enough for release. With these ideas at the forefront of my mind, I felt ready to face the challenges that lay ahead.
The big day had arrived. That was the day I had planned in my head over those cold, sleepless days. I was seated in front of the doctor, a Dominican doctor. And this is where my last strategy comes into play. Using code-switching, I would speak to the doctor as if I were speaking to my mother in addition to doing the things I had practiced to establish some sort of connection. I cleared my throat and let the words pour out of my mouth, utilizing words usually used by Mother like “pero” and “tu sabe” and this seemed to hit the spot. The doctor found herself telling me how she saw herself in me and even went so far as to tell me her entire life story. This made me feel horrible, but I needed to get out of her, even if it meant putting on a front. This went on for around 30 minutes before she abruptly stopped talking. I forced myself to stop shaking as a result of my nerves. The doctor smiles and looks at me with kind eyes.
“I can see that you made a lot of progress and I’m so proud of you, you’ll be released in two days so please start preparing for that,” she says.
Hearing these words lifted all the weight off my shoulders. I had accomplished my goal, the 37 days I spent analyzing everyone and pretending to be someone I wasn’t had paid off. Even though I had to lie my way out of there, being in there gave me a new appreciation for the life that I had. It taught me that I no longer had to grieve my past and that it’s something that I have to accept. My words were no longer heavy and instead became words of encouragement used to help others in need. Seeing how things were run in there made me realize that even I could do a better job at helping others, so from that moment out I made it my goal to help those in need so that they do end up living those 37 days that I had to endure.
