"After My Suicide Attempt, I Made This Plan to Stay Alive and Well" Kevin Hines via Huff Post
A single, circular, black and white-colored analog clock adorned the off-white wall. Groggy, my eyes strained then refocused. It was 4 a.m. I had been in limbo overnight waiting for an in-demand, overbooked, cheap wood-framed, rather uncomfortable single bed. It was an early, solemn San Francisco morning: May 1st, 2004. I was 23 years young. My father and I had been in the filthy sock-smelling emergency room overnight.
It wasn’t our first time in this predicament. He waited anxiously near the door of my linoleum-floored, white-walled room. It was the third floor of the locked down unit within the St. Francis Hospital Psychiatric Ward. We had been here before, three times in fact. So often that when a moment of levity passed, I referred to it as my exotic hotel stay. Time and again, I had to live in place like these — to equalize, to heal, and to regain a semblance of sanity. You did not misread the title. I was in my third psychiatric hospital stay. I would see the inside of a place like this four more times over the course of the next 7 years. Why? Well the answer is not as simple as “I lost my mind.” or “I just went nuts.” No, those self-berating descriptions are vague and quite frankly offensive to someone who has suffered mentally like I have, and like I do. The answer is much more complex and quite detailed.
“Number 26, I was number 26 of the 34 people who attempted to take their lives by jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge and survived."