At four in the morning, walking down the same hallway I had walked thousands of times, my mind would start wandering through everything that had happened in its corners, among the staff and the patients. Every spot on that hall held a memory, some good and some hard.

The Seclusion Room

A room that was rarely used anymore sat quiet with its door shut and locked. A bare mattress leaned against the wall, cold and uninviting. The mirror in the top corner no longer watched over anyone standing inside peering out through the small window in the thick door.

When I looked at that door, I could still hear the voices of the past screaming and cursing, the pounding on the door, the anger and confusion of an illness that had taken someone captive.

The Back Porch

The back porch had once been where patients smoked, and it no longer was. I remembered the conversations over morning coffee while the sun came up and the screech of iron chairs sliding across the concrete.

Not every morning out there was quiet, and not every cigarette was enjoyed. Fights started over who had cigarettes and who didn’t. It was the place where pills that weren’t swallowed and money for contraband changed hands.

The Shower Room

Walking back down the hall, I passed the shower room and remembered the patients who had used that private time not just to clean up, but to try to hurt themselves while they thought no one was looking. More than once, the staff watching over someone got there just in time. But not every time. One woman died in one of the old claw-foot tubs, and none of us ever forgot her. Afterward, another patient said over and over that she was the one who did it. She was so delusional that no one believed her, but the staff always wondered. After that, the tubs were taken out of use and the handles removed, too late for her.

The TV Room

The TV room held a lot of laughter and smiles. We sang Christmas carols there with church groups who came to visit at the holidays, laughed over movies with popcorn and juice, and filled empty stomachs three times a day. It was also where the treatment team sat down with a patient to talk about their care and whether they could go home yet, or not.

Becoming a Nurse

When I walked onto those halls for the very first time, I was twenty-three years old. I had my own troubles. I was freshly divorced and bitter about the hand life had dealt me, or the one I had dealt myself. I was young and wet behind the ears, and I walked like I was six feet tall when I was really five foot seven and a half. Don’t forget the half. I was bodybuilding at the time, and I thought physical strength was all I needed to work in that place.

I learned so much from the mentally ill. I healed right along with them, and I grew up. I became a nurse who listened with compassion, who could feel their pain and see the anger in their faces. I have more to offer the world now than I ever would have without them.

Those walls hold the memories of thousands of patients and employees. If only they could talk, what would they say? Would they laugh, cry or be angry about what happened in their corners? I think it’s the strength of the paint that keeps them quiet and fills in the cracks. The memories fade quickly for some people, but not for those of us who once walked under that roof.

The words “mental illness” still frighten a lot of people. What they don’t realize is that people living with it are already all around them, working beside them, sitting next to them in church and driving down the same highway.

Oh, yesteryear, where did you go? It seems like only yesterday.

That was the last chapter.

There are twenty-seven more, and they start the night I first walked through the locked doors.

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If You Need Help

If anything in this chapter touched something painful in your own life, please reach out. You don’t have to carry it alone.

• 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline
  Call or text 988, any time, day or night, in the United States.
• National Domestic Violence Hotline
  Call 1-800-799-7233 or text START to 88788.
• SAMHSA National Helpline for mental health and substance use
  1-800-662-4357, free, confidential and open all day, every day.
• In an emergency, call 911 or go to the nearest emergency room.