Scary

Before coming to graduate school, I worked for over one year on a Child and Adolescent Psychiatric Inpatient Unit. Working there, for a measly $8.25 an hour with a college degree, was one of the best and worst experiences of my life. Best, in that it motivated me to want to change the system and not become stuck working there my whole life. Best, in that I feel I actually did get to be useful to some kids and adolescents who were stuck in a horrible place during the worst time of their lives.

But, the worst, in that I have seen the mentally ill disrespected, held violent children against their will for their safety and mine, seen grown men and women reduced to something less than the humanity they possess, and even been the last staff member to actually do my job and do rounds, only to have the next shift fail to do so and have a patient die on their shift due to aspirating on his own vomit. I was the last person to see that man alive and talk to him. I still don't quite know how to deal with that.

So, it hit me especially hard when one woman, who was hired to replace me and several of my coworkers who left the hospital around the same time, was murdered. In her own apartment. Now, they're thinking it could have been a patient. I remember being threatened by patients, their parents, and others. I remember the night the lady whom I was left alone with in the intake room was found to have the foot long butcher knife stuck in her bra. I weep for this family, and I weep that there seems to be no good and respectful way to find her killer. Johnia Berry was trying to live her life, just like I was while I worked there. And it may have cost her her life.