It was a Monday at the beginning of April. I had been dealing with suicidal ideation and self-harm for months. Wave after wave after wave would come each day.
Due to my schizoaffective disorder, I was paranoid and seeing things. It didn’t matter what I ate, how much exercise I got, sleep I racked up, or therapy I received.
My body was way too stressed out and spent. I was coaxed into retreating to the crisis center. I thought it would be a short stay.
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