Tyumen teacher Marina S. (we do not give her last name due to the requirements of the Law on Personal Data - ed.) In her blog decribed a truly terrible story of her daughter:
“... My poor girl ... for obvious reasons, I did not want to divulge this story. But today Anya decided to tell her herself. I couldn't convince her. The daughter decided to send this text to the essay competition, in which she was invited to participate by the teacher of the Russian language. How do you like the name of the nomination?
Perhaps now that Anyutka herself decided to tell this story, I will gather my strength and write what I had to go through. What the doctors told me. How they talked to me. I can't yet - my hands are shaking. Thanks to Anka's classroom and the school principal. Well, actually, the text.
"I was born and that's all it takes to be happy".
I was very scared. I was sitting in my room. Dim light, background noise from the filter in the aquarium and four walls, in which all the horror took place. I felt anxiety, hands trembled, chills beat, I did not understand what was happening to me here and now. I was attacked by panic to break loose and do something terrible and terrible to harm myself. I felt that I could no longer hold on, I had withdrawn too much and closed myself off from everything: from my mother, from friends, from some affairs, study ... That night I was in great pain, as if I had fallen into a black hole and me everything pulls and pulls down, and getting out of there is already unrealistic. I didn't want to stop crying, not scream, I just didn't feel anything except my soul aching with pain:
- Mom, I urgently need help, I need to be saved. - I said then in a very quiet, tired voice.
- What happened? - Mom asked, frightened.
- I'm really scared. I do not know how the end of what is happening to me now. - I answered.
“If we call an ambulance now, they will take you away and put you in the hospital. Perhaps for a long time.
- I do not care. At least six months. I am tired of my condition, I want everything to be as before. I can't control myself anymore. I'm scared that sometimes I don't want to live.
Half an hour later, two men came into my room. They were wearing blue clothes. one man was holding a medical suitcase, another a piece of paper and a pen:
- What happened? The doctor asked me.
I described my condition, and the doctor very calmly told me: "Let's go."
While I was driving, I thought about how specialists will help me now, that I will finally get out of the state in which I have been for many months, since the eighth grade, I often skipped lessons and did not do my homework simply because I was morally it was hard. Although everything was fine from the outside. The only meaning of my existence was to come to Ekaterina, a psychotherapist, once a week. Only to her I could tell about my suffering. That terrible evening I talked to her, but, apparently, the problem was more serious than usual.
I rode in an ambulance and hoped that all my depression would finally go away, and I would live as normal as my classmates, friends and many children. That I will not have sudden mood swings, that I will stop sitting in my dark room for days and stare at the wall for hours instead of doing my homework, that I will not be annoyed so often that terrible, obsessive thoughts will cease to visit me. I hoped that after they helped me, I would have the strength to do something, and the desire. I didn’t understand why my mother was crying: after all, we were going to where it would be better for me!
We drove for about forty minutes. When I saw the sign "Mental Hospital", goose bumps ran through my already trembling body. I immediately remembered how about two years ago my friends and I discussed life in a psychiatric hospital, thought what they were doing there, how they were lying, in what conditions, were they not afraid, or were the doctors afraid. Then I could not imagine that I, at that moment a cheerful, cheerful, friendly girl, would ever get here.
Mom cried all the way, in the hospital, and especially after talking with the doctor. It was very hard for me to look at it, because I understood that, most likely, I would not see my mother for a long time, and I would not want to see her cry.
We broke up. They took me to the locker room, where they took all my things, including my phone and clothes, gave me an old, washed bathrobe five sizes larger, and announced that my things should not be carried here. I wanted to be indignant, but I realized that there was no point. I was taken to the observatory, where a girl and two grandmothers lay. It was already night, and as soon as I started to fall asleep my grandmother began to shout: “Oh no !!! I'm drowning!! Help, I'm drowning !! I urgently need a drink of water, otherwise I will drown, help !! ”. This made me very creepy, the same grandmother in the morning began to move mattresses, pillows and open bedside tables.
At lunchtime, the girl and I were transferred to the children's department. I was put on different clothes: this time it was shapeless red pants and a short blue T-shirt. It was clear that dozens of people had worn these clothes before me.
What I saw made me scared: I looked at children in wretched clothes, terrible green walls, iron, hard beds, wards without doors, a dining room behind bars and toilets without cubicles. It was very noisy. We were sent to the isolation ward, where the three of us were. But not for long: the detention center smelled of paint, repairs were underway nearby, and we were sent to the common hall. Imagine: about 30 people from 7 to 17 years old are in a room where you can only sit or lie down. There are sofas around the perimeter, and beds in the center. Lots of beds. The noise does not stop: for some reason there are "Fixies" on TV, which no one watches, because everyone is shouting. Someone screamed especially loudly and we were all ordered to get up. And so all day, with a break for a walk. By that time, my home clothes had already been brought to me (I don’t know how my mother managed it), it became easier for me in my favorite T-shirt, but harder because everyone else started pointing their fingers at me and asking why I was dressed differently. The orderly swore from time to time. I thought with horror that tomorrow they would transfer me from the isolation ward here, to a ward without doors. And that it is for a long time. For a month, as the doctor told me. I already understood that they would not help me here. Rather, on the contrary, I will come out of here the same as these children, who do not care what they are wearing and who normally perceive the swearing adult who is put here to watch them. I thought that I was being taken to a place where it is quiet, calm and beautiful - the way it should be in a place where people are treated for depression and fear. But in reality I ended up ... in jail? In the zone? In a madhouse? I remembered the lines from the play "Woe from Wit", which I read this summer:
... he will come out of the fire unharmed,
Who will be able to live the day with you,
Breathe the air alone
And in him the reason will survive .
And I also remembered how a month ago on all television channels they talked about the importance of amendments to the Constitution, how they urged everyone to come to the polling stations and vote for these amendments. Including for this: “Children are the most important priority of the state policy of the Russian Federation. The state creates conditions conducive to the all-round spiritual, moral, intellectual and physical development of children, fostering patriotism, citizenship and respect for elders in them. " I realized that we who are here are not at all a priority for our country. That the people who are responsible for our stay here do not care about the conditions in which we are here. For them, we are the material with which they work.
With the thought that I had to lie here for a month, I could not accept. At six in the morning, everyone wakes up, you sit for days and do nothing. You can sit in the lobby and listen to the orderlies yell at the children. Like in a prison.
On the morning of the third day, I was called into an office where three doctors were sitting.
- Anya, mom wants to pick you up. But do you want to stay? Do you understand that you have serious problems and need help? You will soon get used to it, conditions are normal here.
Are these normal conditions ?! I didn't want to get used to them at all! And I knew for sure that if my mother wanted to pick me up, then she found a way out.
At home, I found out that it was 2 days. while I was in that creepy place, my mother did not let go of the phone to pick me up. She was very worried and afraid for me.
A doctor who could help me was found in Yekaterinburg. We arrived there two days after my release from the hospital. Anton Vitalievich calmly explained to me what was happening to me, that I did not need to stay in the hospital, that we would cope with all the problems with him. That these problems are typical, I'm not crazy, and that at my age this happens very often. After talking with the doctor, I began to breathe. I saw the sun and the sky, I smiled for the first time in a long time, I wanted to live! Now we visit him once every two weeks.
This whole story helped me determine my path, I realized that I want to become a child psychiatrist in order to save children who are so hard to grow up. I saw the meaning in my life. I began to dream about how I would open a clinic for children who really need help here and now. This clinic will have separate rooms for adolescents with severe depression who do not want to be woken up by their roommate to tell their dream, as it did with me. There will be rooms for 2 people for those who are afraid of being alone. My hospital will have normal, soft beds. Children will be able to be in their own clothes, in which they will be comfortable, and there will be no rise at six in the morning. Children will not be yelled at and held as prisoners. I will try to provide the maximum comfort for the children. I want the kids in my hospital to be able to eat delicious food, swim in the pool, ride horses. So that next to them were not swearing orderlies, but kind doctors - such as Anton Vitalievich in Yekaterinburg and Yekaterina in Tyumen. But in order for my dreams to come true, I need to enter a medical university.
I have never liked chemistry, I was quite happy with a C in this subject. But now I realized that the attitude to chemistry needs to be changed, because in my future, in adult life, it will become the main science. I decided to prepare for the OGE - there is still a whole year ahead and this time is quite enough. I went to the first chemistry lesson in high spirits, firmly resolved to study seriously.
At the very beginning of the lesson, the teacher asked who wants to take the OGE in her subject. I raised my hand.
- YOU?? You??!! Hand over chemistry ?! Well, no, you won't take chemotherapy.
I felt very offended, because I was going to really prepare, teach and understand everything. I realized that for my chemistry teacher, as well as for the orderlies in the hospital, I have never been and will never be a priority. Who knows how many children I saw in the hospital ended up there because there were such teachers next to them? With one phrase, she could deprive me of my dreams and the meaning of life, and would have deprived me, if not for the support of my class teacher and mother. And I will definitely pass an exam in chemistry, go to a specialized class, study, become a psychiatrist and open my own clinic for children.
It's good when new schools, stadiums, playgrounds and clubs open. It's great that in my country there are Sirius and Artek. But as long as there are people who do not care about the rights of children, about where they develop, in what conditions to be treated and live, children will remain unhappy. But the future of my Motherland depends on us children. Moreover, it equally depends on those of my peers who are happy today, undergoing training at "Sirius", and on those who listen to the mate of an orderly in a psychiatric hospital.
Thanks to people like my mother, my class teacher, some teachers who do not give a damn, Dr. Anton Vitalievich, psychotherapist Ekaterina - people who believe in me, I know that I will definitely come to my dream. But I really want all adults to become like that. Otherwise, no, even the most wonderful Constitution, guarantees prosperity to Russia..."