I Had An Anxiety Attack And Ended Up In A Psych Ward For 3 Days. Two Days Later, I Did Stand Up About It

It was a pretty life-changing experience with some moments I'll never forget

youtube.com / Via My Channel

I had my first anxiety attack a month ago, which in the Jewish faith, means I’m a man now. But unlike my bar mitzvah, this coming of age landed me in a psych ward for three days. Yeah, you read that right: a real-life, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest-type psych ward. Before this experience, I always thought of psych wards as things nobody actually saw in real life, like leprechauns or mall Santas who seem happy on their lunch breaks. But for me, that’s no longer the case.

I ended up in the psych ward after I checked myself into a hospital and told them about my brain’s natural tendency for depressive thoughts. Apparently, anxiety attacks and depression don’t scream “he’s fine!” so they urged me to go to a ward about 40 miles away from where I live.

It’s a strange feeling getting strapped to a gurney, put in the back of an ambulance, and driven to a psych facility, because it puts into perspective every other moment in your life that previously felt like rock bottom. That one time in college when I got so drunk that I fell asleep on the sidewalk? Not so bad anymore! Compared to a psych ward, that was spring break in Cancun.

As I mentioned before, I ended up staying in the psych ward for three days, and let me tell you, it was a mixed bag experience. On one hand, I had nurses who talked to me like I was crazy and threatened to send me to a different ward with more violent patients whenever I raised my voice. (This only happened when I questioned what measures I could take to prove my sanity and leave, and they would respond with contradicting terms like, “Talk to a doctor that isn’t coming today.”) But on the other hand, I made some interesting friends!

In the ward, my best friend was a guy who checked himself in because he didn’t have access to medication because — surprise! — the mental health system in America is severely flawed. So, his best bet for survival was checking into a psych ward to get some much-needed meds. He and I talked about everything, from our favorite movies to his affinity for paid sex in Mexico. (As a late bloomer raised in suburban New Jersey, I couldn’t really contribute to that part of the conversation, but I sure did listen!) We also killed time by playing Uno and listening to other patients discuss “what they’re gonna do when they get out.” Psych wards are quite prison-like in that way.

Over the course of those three days, I had the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, and after I got out, I couldn’t stop thinking about my time there. As a comedian, comedy has always been my outlet for processing my thoughts. So, two and a half days after coming home, I got on stage and talked about my experience into a microphone. I shared some of my favorite stories from the ward, and it helped me start the process of healing after a totally life-changing experience.

What I didn’t expect from all of this was the outpouring of stories people have been sharing after watching my set. So far, I’ve only posted it here and on Reddit, and the response has showed me that there’s a community around mental health that can turn an isolating experience into something that feels a lot more normal. And if you have a story to share, I would love to hear it. We’re all out here together!