The crisis house really did help me out of my crisis
Warning: this blog mentions suicide and self-harm
Katherine was confused and scared when she was taken to a sanctuary known as a crisis house after trying to end her life, but it provided the support she desperately needed.
It had been a long 34 hours in A&E. It was bustling with people, noisy and overwhelming. I had been brought there after trying to end my life two nights before, deep in a depressive episode. Now, I found myself being transported to a crisis house - whatever that was. I was confused and scared; I had no idea where it was, when I would be able to see my friends again, or what to expect. It had been described to me by my psychiatric team as a ‘retreat’. How was a retreat going to help a girl in crisis?
At first, I thought it was the wrong place. It looked like any other house on the street. Inside, it looked the same as an average home too, apart from the office by the entrance and the paper sign stuck to the door. I felt my body tense as the doorbell rang. Imagining my friends at university, I felt ashamed. How had it all got to this point?
A man answered the door. He glanced at my belongings, spoke briefly with the hospital staff and welcomed me in. He didn’t look me in the eye. I watched them leave, standing helplessly in the corridor. I was still in a hospital gown.
“A crisis house is an alternative to hospital for those who need short-term intensive care, and as one of the staff called it, ‘a home away from home’.”
I was taken into the office. My things –clothes, phone and charger, all thrown into a plastic bag – were searched. We weren’t allowed any objects that could be harmful. They would be locked away in the office. After that, I signed a form, agreeing to the house rules. I had my own room, and the house was staffed 24 hours a day so we could talk to someone at any time. Otherwise, we were free to do what we wanted. We could go out if we let someone know, get our own food and were allowed visitors. The only thing I had to do was see the crisis team at an agreed time. I know this can vary among crisis houses, though. In general, they are an alternative to hospital for those who need short-term intensive care, and as one of the staff called it, ‘a home away from home’.
Books, board games, DVDs and art supplies filled the living room. There were two people on the couch watching Netflix. One of the staff sat at the kitchen table. Feeling less shy, I entered the Wi-Fi password, which was stuck on a pin board, into my phone. Alongside the password, there were many thank you cards addressed to the staff. I felt some hope.
I kept to myself over the next couple of days. I hated opening up to the crisis team and didn’t want to talk about my mental health with anyone else. I found myself avoiding the staff, spending most of my days outside, exploring the area until someone called me to check where I was.
“The future seemed bleak. I desperately wanted to escape it all, but I knew if I didn’t talk to someone, nothing would improve.”
Unsurprisingly, I didn’t feel any better. It seemed like a big waste of time, counting down the days until I had my freedom back. The future seemed bleak. I desperately wanted to escape it all, but I knew if I didn’t talk to someone, nothing would improve. The main problem holding me back was that I didn’t understand what I was feeling myself.
One evening, I was filling out a form for the crisis team. Confused about one section and hesitant, I shuffled into the office, where I saw a young woman at the desk on her laptop. She saw me and smiled. I handed her the form, stumbling over my words, asking for her help. Immediately, all her attention was on me.
As we worked through the form, she asked me questions, trying to get to know me. She surprised me with her empathy and kindness, particularly when talking about my self-harm. She explained she had struggled with depression throughout her teenage years and that many of her friends had also struggled with similar issues. When I didn’t know what to say or hesitated, she spoke, giving me advice, warm words and encouragement. Suddenly, I felt more comfortable and reassured. Talking through my confusing thoughts and urges helped me make sense of them.
“When I had gone in, I believed the only way out of my depression was to end my life. However, the crisis house gave me back control when I believed I had none.”
After this, I stayed for another two days. I started to connect with the other people there, exchanging smiles and playing card games. When I had gone in, I believed the only way out of my depression was to end my life. However, the crisis house gave me back control when I believed I had none. I left after staying five nights with newly found determination to get better, being more open to the crisis team. This led to an appointment with a new psychiatrist and being put on medication. If I hadn’t been treated with such compassion, I wouldn’t have had the courage to talk and access this help.
After leaving a crisis house, sometimes they offer you further support. When I was leaving, I was told I could come back whenever I wanted, whether I needed to talk or just to say hi. Even now, it remains my ‘home away from home’. Gathering the courage to open up is hard, but if you are staying at a crisis house, it’s important you make the most of the staff. I fully believe that if I had opened up sooner and allowed myself to spend more time with them as they wanted, I would have felt a lot better, a lot faster!
It may seem like the future is dark, but often people are truly there to help you. Sometimes, talking is the bravest and best thing you can do. It certainly was for me.
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