In 2011, after going 85 hours without sleep and the ensuing psychotic break, my parents started taking me to a mental health facility during the day. I did not like it. At all. My mind was fried, and I thought I was seeing things that didn’t exist. I couldn’t tell the patients from the therapists …
Patients and therapists and hospitals…Oh my!
As much as I talked at home with my parents, I didn’t talk nearly as much at the out-patient facility. Part of that was my shyness, but I also think I knew I’d give myself away as cuckoo if I talked too much. The other patients talked too much anyways. I picked up on this …
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