Clark Hickerson: Seeking Help…being admitted.

After returning from my Bachelor party, I went to bed that night knowing something was up. My fiancé was out of town so I was alone and tried to sleep it off. I could not sleep, and one of my worst fears had been realized, it was happening again. I was off work that Monday after getting back from Key West. When I finally got myself out of bed I made the dreaded call I knew would frighten my mother. I told her it was happening again. She was at work, and like all moms would she said frantically “okay I’m coming.” When she got there we talked. Like in 2020 when I had an inability to explain to anyone what was going on, I couldn’t describe it to my mom. She stayed with me that night. I had a told my fiancé that my mom was there knowing that it was going to scare her, but I didn’t want to keep it from her. I went to work the next day and was completely out of it. I tried to do as little as possible and talk to as few people as possible. My mom came and brought me lunch, and we sat in the tailor shop and I finally told her I was suicidal again. She said “okay well let’s go.” I said I couldn’t because I was afraid I would be fired if this was happening again. An overexaggerated thought that I had concocted. She stayed with me at the store. Coming in and out to check on me. I had to go upstairs to grab something, and I could tell she was worried. I told her I would be fine, knowing that in the back of my head a part of me wanted to go to the roof. A few days later my mom would tell me that when I told her I would be fine going upstairs, it felt like I was saying goodbye.

I ended up staying the rest of the day. I came home to find my mom’s husband at my house with an overnight bag for him and my mom. My fiancé was coming back that night. After living with my mom and her husband for almost seven months, I knew it would upset her and scare her to come home to them at the house. I told them they needed to go home and I would be fine. My fiance’s flight got in a little late. When I went to pick her up I felt like I was slightly snapping out of it. I felt joy that she was coming home. When I picked her up, she asked what was going on. As was my nature, I glazed over it a little and made it out to be less than it was. We got Chick fil A and we sat and watched TV, and I realized that I could not keep it from her. I told her I was suicidal. We both cried. I laid down in her lap and ended up falling asleep only to have been woken up by my mom and her husband walking through the front door. She had texted my mom saying she thought that needed to come back.

After another restless night, I came down stairs to find my mom and her husband drinking coffee. I could not really speak. I just paced a little. I ended up going back upstairs to try to sleep more. I laid there with my fiancé and looked at her, and was just distraught that this was happening again and that I was putting her through it yet again. To keep from keeping her up from my tossing, I went back downstairs. I remember standing at my counter look at the knife block thinking “maybe that will do it.” Frustrated with my train of thought I slammed my hands on the counter fell to the ground, trying to hit my head. I didn’t. My mom and her husband immediately jumped up. They were about to call the ambulance but I didn’t want them to. I laid there as they went and got my fiancé. I stood up and sat on the edge of the couch. She came down and asked what happened. Without even thinking, the words just came out, “I did it on purpose.” They then said we need to go to the emergency room. I knew that if I went I would be admitted and I was afraid. My mom’s husband walked me to the door and something just came over me and I refused to walk out the door. We ended up stepping back in side and I sat down. My fiance knelt down and I looked up at her hysterical and said “I didn’t want to live.” I never forget the look of sheer heartbreak she gave me as she said “please don’t say” and proceeded to cry.

Being Admitted

            After going to the emergency room, they ultimately said I needed to be admitted. I was given a choice of being driven by my fiance and family or being taking by the police. I chose the former. The whole way to the hospital in Goose Creek, I wanted to jump out of the car. Days prior my therapist had told me what it would be like if admitted. I knew it would be basically prison. I knew I would not have my phone and visitation would be limited. My mom and fiance assured me that that was not how it would be. We got to the hospital and the lady came down to get me. She went over everything and explained the parameters. I was not even able to wear my brace that allowed me to walk more properly. I remember not being surprised by anything she said and knowing that there was no turning back, but I felt sorry for my mom and fiance who were truly surprised.

            I got checked in. I had to strip my clothing and put on a gown because I had not packed a bag or anything. I walked in to a room where the beds were all separated by curtains. There were a few people playing games. I hobbled over to where my bed was and sat down. I remember someone asking if I was a “Nuke.” I didn’t know what that meant but stupidly assumed it was some term they used for people in this place so I said “uh I guess.” Turns out it was a term for naval program that I was most certainly not apart of. I remember walking up to the lady telling her “this was a mistake I do not need to be here. Can I go.” She informed me that I would have to wait to see the doctor in the morning and then he could see about letting me out. I ultimately stayed there two and a half days but it felt like a week. There was one phone in the whole room and everyone had to take turns. When we were not doing group work, I would call my fiance and mom whenever I could. Visitation was an hour. Given that my mom and fiance both wanted to see me, as I them, they would each do thirty minutes. Felt like about five with each of them. Each night I laid in my bed, still unable to sleep, thinking “I’ve got to get out of here so I can attempt again.” I tried a couple times to suffocate myself with my pillow knowing full well that its physically impossible. One thing that always stuck with me about the program is, my fiance brought me a bag of clothes and wash kit later in the evening that first night. They of course had to go through it for anything that was harmful, but ultimately most of my stuff was allowed. My fiance had written me a note saying how proud she was of me for getting help. It was not until after that I realized that did not give me the pics of the two of us from a selfie booth. I have my own thoughts about the whole process of being admitted and what follows. I know that it is probably scientifically proven to “help” people. However, in my experience, it made me worse and I did absolutely everything I could to get out of there. Even lying about being suicidal on the exit form.