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Skit
Mental Ward Lyrics


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The lyrics are frequently found in the comments by searching or by filtering for lyric videos
Most interesting comments from YouTube:

Mikaila Simone

When I TELL you this is the most ACCURATE depiction of a psych ward, I can't stress it enough! I've been in therapy for 3 years and on the first day of ever speaking to my therapist, I was sent to a state run mental health center on a 10-13 (that's what they call it when it's involuntary). They are supposed to hold you there for three days before you're eligible for release.

Anyway, my brother had attempted suicide before and I told my therapist I had been struggling with suicidal ideation. So, as a preventative measure, he sent me to Crisis (the mental health center)

The first day, they take all your belongings except for clothes and have someone search you. They take you to this room where there's five beds in small sectioned "rooms". There's one bed to a "room", but the rooms only have three walls. The fourth wall is replaced with a curtain that always stays open so the nurses can pretend to watch you through a thick glass. They keep you in that sectioned room until a regular room becomes available. My first night, I was so scared. There was this guy there who was in another section who was very obviously not completely right. I took a shower and the guy tried to come in the shower with me. Then he kept knocking on the bathroom door to get me to open it. After, he'd keep coming into my room trying to touch me. I couldn't go to sleep that night.

The next day, he kept coming into my room again. The nurses would see him and tell him to go into another section, but of course they didn't really enforce it, so eventually he'd come back. A part of me felt like they knew he was doing it, but pretended not to notice. Later that day, the guy came around and lifted up my blanket because he "just wanted to look." He started touching me and I kept trying to push him away but he kept touching me. FINALLY a nurse saw it and brought me into a hallway bc the regular rooms weren't ready. I stayed there for a few hours before they tried TO SEND ME BACK OUT THERE AGAIN WITH THE GUY. At that point I got really upset and I told them he was trying to get in the shower with me. I already told them he kept touching me, but that wasn't enough for them apparently. So a few more hours in the hallway, and they finally got me a room with two other women. One of the women would walk around the room day and night talking to herself. She'd yell occasionally.

But for the rest, this poem exemplifies everything. The plastic chairs, the coloring books, the broken radios. The showers are communal. All the faucets are too short or low to hang yourself from. The soap is watered down. You go to anger management classes. You go to AA meetings. All the doctors ask you the same 10 questions. They give you food that makes you really sleepy. You feel like your body is heavy. The food tastes like cardboard...no flavor. There's a milkshake that people used to beg for, but immediately after drinking it, people would walk around slower, needed naps. I'd give mine away. It was incredibly cold, but most everyone had on the hospital gowns that provided no warmth. I was the youngest there, so I had men coming up to me, hitting on me.
A lot of people were in there for drug addictions. One lady tried to kill herself on Facebook live. One dude tried to kill himself by jumping on train tracks. He got hit, and he's paralyzed. There's always someone screaming. Or crying.

I found out later from another woman that the guy who was harassing me had also harassed her before I came. But He was actually able to get in the shower WITH HER. So...the nurses knew about it, and still allowed him to walk freely around me when I came. And even after me, bc another woman said the same thing happened to her.

I was supposed to be there 72 hours, but like the poem says, they don't count the weekends, so by Monday, it was like I was only there for 24. My bf at the time visited me on Tuesday. That helped bc I felt like my life had been slowly drained from me. They had diagnosed me with bipolar disorder 2 and gave me pills that I was forced to take. They think they're helping you, but really theyre giving you drugs until you tell them what they want to hear. There's more, but I'll leave it there. I perform poetry too, so i may write something about it as well. But like, something needs to be done about mental health facilities. I've been to two hospitals and the second was worse than that. But if you read all this, thank you for doing so ❤️



Saito Dosan

Wall of text, sorry bros:

Kinda funny because in my personal experience of being there for 4-5 days total between the hospital wait and the facility, it wasn't nearly as bad as what this poem makes it sound lol. I guess it's a case by case basis. They didn't pretend like I was there voluntarily like the lady says here (and they don't try to). The only thing this video got accurate to my experience was the plastic furniture and broken TVs. Yeah they took all the clothes I had that had strings on it (jacket drawstrings, shoes etc) but that's because people actually try to hurt themselves or others with those types of things when they're inside, and they can't tell who's gonna do it, so they just take them away from everyone. These facilities are for people who are in IMMEDIATE DANGER of hurting themselves or others to stay for minimum 3 days until they're calmed down enough to leave, go back to real life, and hopefully get some help. So they take all the precautions they can to make sure nobody can do that.

Other than that the advice I got about how to stop feeling so depressed was pretty lackluster (doctor who discharged me basically just told me "you should get a girlfriend" even though that had nothing to do with what drove me to a suicide attempt lol. But at least he let me go so thanks, doc!). I also saw that most of the other patients were way worse than I was in life and they were all so nice to me. Even the guy who I thought might hit me occasionally because of how he would angrily paced around and mumble to himself. So many of the patients were holding awful mental issues and live struggles; random outbursts of anger, crying, denial etc... Meanwhile I was just kind of chilling for 3 days just trying to pass the time until I could get discharged.

And the other doctors and stuff I saw in the hospital while they were waiting a day or two for room to open up in the facility, I felt like they really cared about me. They talked to me so much and actually gave me some really good life advice and things to contemplate. During that whole trip duration, from hospital to facility, people were constantly checking up on me and just letting me vent about stuff with no judgement. That's probably what helped me the most was that I got to just talk to people who actually listened without making it seem like I was bothering them, then giving me constructive responses. Just talking like that about my issues and why I felt the way I did, it's something I would have never done if I hadn't been checked into the hospital for being suicidal that night. It helped me see things clearer a LOT. I guess that's what therapy is for haha.

To me while the experience sucked in the sense that by the end of day 2 I was calmed down and not actively suicidal, and I wouldn't willingly go through it again, it really wasn't that bad. Those 3 or 4 days I was in there really helped me in my own struggles and I'm happy to say while I still feel the effects of depression, I have NEVER gotten to the point where I feel like suicide is the answer since then. And I can definitely credit my hospitalization and psych facility trip for at least half of it and it's not because it was a miserable experience. That week was the catalyst that started my road to getting better.



NJ Towers

This is amazing, and so true.
I wrote this a year ago telling a similar story.


The hardest thing

The hardest thing I ever did
Was check myself into a hospital.
The smell of sterilization burned my nose,
And I knew I had to prepare myself for a week and a half of monotonous routine.
Being woken up at three AM, because a vampire wants to suck your blood through a Syringe, so they can see the last time you lit up.
Or being told to stay in a freezer of a dayroom, because the doors are locked during the day, for our protection of course.

I was a refugee escaping my own mind.
A wounded warrior that bore the scars of sharp things all over his body.
The self inflicted torment was as a second skin,
And I know that to keep from adding to the canvas, I needed help.
I couldn’t do it on my own, and I had to travel through hell to reach nirvana.

There were no phones we could use that weren’t connected to a wall.
Cold plastic pressed against my ear for only ten minutes, so I could tell my mom about things like group, and what they had for lunch,

But there was one thing I took with me there.
One thing they couldn’t take away.
My way with words.
I can’t tell you how much I wrote to keep me sane.
It was my saving grace.
My comfort.
My privacy.
Something I could take with me, and immortalize online when I got out,

And there were people there that I shared it with.
People I could trust.
People like me.
In a way there is still a comfort I get from being on the inside.

None of us are crazy per say,
Our demons just have different names,
But they know the system just as well as I do,
And we can speak without much explanation.
It worries me some days that if I ever return there again,
I’ll feel less alone than when I get out.



Zee Kierstead

Out of all the poetry I've listened to (not just Button), this is the best by a long shot. It really hit home for me. I've been hospitalized once for short term (which ended up being a total of 48 days because of insurance issues. You're not supposed to be in Acute longer than a week or two), long-term for about 5-ish months, and then about 2-3 times of Acute afterwards, periodically, for about a week at a time. Some of th)e worst days of my life


My first visit to short term involved a whole slew of things that I never dealt with before: I threw a chair even though I'm a very docile person; I had mini manic episodes where I'd laugh uncontrollably with a feeling of euphoria which then lead to uncontrollable crying; I had minor hallucinations where everything looked small by perspective and I'd sit at the end of hallways with a loopy feeling until a few patients (never nurses) would either help carry me to sit in the day room or go to my bed to sleep (if it was night); I'd have overactive senses where I thought something was behind me, even if I had back against the wall, which would lead to a horrifying feeling of dread and would lead to uncontrollable crying (again, nurses would never really help me with this. Maybe one time, but it was usually patients that would help calm me down); and literally hundreds of panic or anxiety attacks due to other patients yelling, screaming, having meltdowns, throwing chairs, punching doors (which clanged VERY loud), punching walls, punching the plexi-glass windows, etc. Which was literally a daily thing due to the unstable nature of fresh patients. This isn't even all of what I dealt with that I didn't deal with before. The only exception is panic and anxiety attacks. They were just intensified.
The "behavioral health facilities" (2) I were in have changed me. Both good (cause I actually received decent care at the long term unit of the second facility I went to) and bad (the unstable nature of the Acute unit of the facility I went to 3-4 times).


The doctors when in Acute (there's two and you swap each time you go) weren't the best. One cared none at all for his job and criticized me when I came back or said a med wasn't working anymore (he's also the one that kept me in Acute for 25 days before he realized the my problems I was dealing with for 2+ years couldn't be stabilized in short term), and the other one was nice and involved with asking YOU about how you want your meds to be adjusted, but frequently wasn't there. Therapy in Acute you might get twice in the week that you're there. They just wanna recommend meds to your doc, make sure you kinda don't wanna kill yourself, and get you out. Getting you out to your normal life ASAP is their goal, but the way they go about it is all wrong


The system needs to be fixed. These institutions should be funded better and monitored closely. More research needs to be done so you're not screwing up a kid more by overly medicating them and putting them in a worse atmosphere than the outside world. I've seen some things and went through some things I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.



Minimalist dragon

The psychiatrist acted like I wasn't there when diagnosing me
over and over again and thought they were right every time
taking random details from years ago
In the adult unit not one was watching this lady try to kill herself and her'mother and me staring at her were the only ones
who saw
they were super rude thought tattoos were self harm
and frequently criticized my coping skills which did not hurt me or anyone
or interests I liked
They often would ask me questions and not ask me what was bothering me and the therapist
didn't actually meet and was a social worker and when I was in the child unit I believe either a child or employee stole or misplaced my clothes



All comments from YouTube:

Mikaila Simone

When I TELL you this is the most ACCURATE depiction of a psych ward, I can't stress it enough! I've been in therapy for 3 years and on the first day of ever speaking to my therapist, I was sent to a state run mental health center on a 10-13 (that's what they call it when it's involuntary). They are supposed to hold you there for three days before you're eligible for release.

Anyway, my brother had attempted suicide before and I told my therapist I had been struggling with suicidal ideation. So, as a preventative measure, he sent me to Crisis (the mental health center)

The first day, they take all your belongings except for clothes and have someone search you. They take you to this room where there's five beds in small sectioned "rooms". There's one bed to a "room", but the rooms only have three walls. The fourth wall is replaced with a curtain that always stays open so the nurses can pretend to watch you through a thick glass. They keep you in that sectioned room until a regular room becomes available. My first night, I was so scared. There was this guy there who was in another section who was very obviously not completely right. I took a shower and the guy tried to come in the shower with me. Then he kept knocking on the bathroom door to get me to open it. After, he'd keep coming into my room trying to touch me. I couldn't go to sleep that night.

The next day, he kept coming into my room again. The nurses would see him and tell him to go into another section, but of course they didn't really enforce it, so eventually he'd come back. A part of me felt like they knew he was doing it, but pretended not to notice. Later that day, the guy came around and lifted up my blanket because he "just wanted to look." He started touching me and I kept trying to push him away but he kept touching me. FINALLY a nurse saw it and brought me into a hallway bc the regular rooms weren't ready. I stayed there for a few hours before they tried TO SEND ME BACK OUT THERE AGAIN WITH THE GUY. At that point I got really upset and I told them he was trying to get in the shower with me. I already told them he kept touching me, but that wasn't enough for them apparently. So a few more hours in the hallway, and they finally got me a room with two other women. One of the women would walk around the room day and night talking to herself. She'd yell occasionally.

But for the rest, this poem exemplifies everything. The plastic chairs, the coloring books, the broken radios. The showers are communal. All the faucets are too short or low to hang yourself from. The soap is watered down. You go to anger management classes. You go to AA meetings. All the doctors ask you the same 10 questions. They give you food that makes you really sleepy. You feel like your body is heavy. The food tastes like cardboard...no flavor. There's a milkshake that people used to beg for, but immediately after drinking it, people would walk around slower, needed naps. I'd give mine away. It was incredibly cold, but most everyone had on the hospital gowns that provided no warmth. I was the youngest there, so I had men coming up to me, hitting on me.
A lot of people were in there for drug addictions. One lady tried to kill herself on Facebook live. One dude tried to kill himself by jumping on train tracks. He got hit, and he's paralyzed. There's always someone screaming. Or crying.

I found out later from another woman that the guy who was harassing me had also harassed her before I came. But He was actually able to get in the shower WITH HER. So...the nurses knew about it, and still allowed him to walk freely around me when I came. And even after me, bc another woman said the same thing happened to her.

I was supposed to be there 72 hours, but like the poem says, they don't count the weekends, so by Monday, it was like I was only there for 24. My bf at the time visited me on Tuesday. That helped bc I felt like my life had been slowly drained from me. They had diagnosed me with bipolar disorder 2 and gave me pills that I was forced to take. They think they're helping you, but really theyre giving you drugs until you tell them what they want to hear. There's more, but I'll leave it there. I perform poetry too, so i may write something about it as well. But like, something needs to be done about mental health facilities. I've been to two hospitals and the second was worse than that. But if you read all this, thank you for doing so ❤️

Saito Dosan

Wall of text, sorry bros:

Kinda funny because in my personal experience of being there for 4-5 days total between the hospital wait and the facility, it wasn't nearly as bad as what this poem makes it sound lol. I guess it's a case by case basis. They didn't pretend like I was there voluntarily like the lady says here (and they don't try to). The only thing this video got accurate to my experience was the plastic furniture and broken TVs. Yeah they took all the clothes I had that had strings on it (jacket drawstrings, shoes etc) but that's because people actually try to hurt themselves or others with those types of things when they're inside, and they can't tell who's gonna do it, so they just take them away from everyone. These facilities are for people who are in IMMEDIATE DANGER of hurting themselves or others to stay for minimum 3 days until they're calmed down enough to leave, go back to real life, and hopefully get some help. So they take all the precautions they can to make sure nobody can do that.

Other than that the advice I got about how to stop feeling so depressed was pretty lackluster (doctor who discharged me basically just told me "you should get a girlfriend" even though that had nothing to do with what drove me to a suicide attempt lol. But at least he let me go so thanks, doc!). I also saw that most of the other patients were way worse than I was in life and they were all so nice to me. Even the guy who I thought might hit me occasionally because of how he would angrily paced around and mumble to himself. So many of the patients were holding awful mental issues and live struggles; random outbursts of anger, crying, denial etc... Meanwhile I was just kind of chilling for 3 days just trying to pass the time until I could get discharged.

And the other doctors and stuff I saw in the hospital while they were waiting a day or two for room to open up in the facility, I felt like they really cared about me. They talked to me so much and actually gave me some really good life advice and things to contemplate. During that whole trip duration, from hospital to facility, people were constantly checking up on me and just letting me vent about stuff with no judgement. That's probably what helped me the most was that I got to just talk to people who actually listened without making it seem like I was bothering them, then giving me constructive responses. Just talking like that about my issues and why I felt the way I did, it's something I would have never done if I hadn't been checked into the hospital for being suicidal that night. It helped me see things clearer a LOT. I guess that's what therapy is for haha.

To me while the experience sucked in the sense that by the end of day 2 I was calmed down and not actively suicidal, and I wouldn't willingly go through it again, it really wasn't that bad. Those 3 or 4 days I was in there really helped me in my own struggles and I'm happy to say while I still feel the effects of depression, I have NEVER gotten to the point where I feel like suicide is the answer since then. And I can definitely credit my hospitalization and psych facility trip for at least half of it and it's not because it was a miserable experience. That week was the catalyst that started my road to getting better.

Tia Zeigler

No thank you !!! For being strong enough to tell your story !!! You are strong!!! And I hope everyone knows the truth about those places and I pray God restores all your pain and trauma. I would love to hear your poetry one day !!! And maybe the rest of the story if you’re comfortable. Got bless your life and your soul my love 🤗🤗🤗🙏🏾

IAM Nykira

@Morgan Stewart thats literally what they do to people in prison too!!!

Ludo Freshe

Woah...
Thank you for the honesty...
Very eye opening. Especially for those of us with hopes of improving the mental health services provided in our countries. So glad you were not physically harmed, however the trauma seems so extreme. I can't imagine genuinely wanting to open up after that experience. Sad.

Bless you. Hope you are doing much better.

courtney lol

Fuck, I’m so sorry you were literally FORCED to go through this. What was happening to you and the fact that the nurses didn’t even care made my blood boil. I hope you’re doing better now💕

4 More Replies...

Carlinka G

This reminds me why you need to be careful how much you admit to a therapist, or you might get involuntarily institutionalized. It's really one of my biggest fears.

Courtney Taylor

That happened to me when I was 16. I felt suicidal but I wasnt gna act on it. They committed me. Because I told how I felt truly.

Molly.Dog8 Brooke

@Oat Boi

Yeah, I always- ALWAYS use past tense.

TigarriYT

this is why i dont get therapy and instead scream into an empty pillow 👍

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