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    Call to Glory
    Call to Glory
    Call to Glory
    Ebook95 pages1 hour

    Call to Glory

    By Sierra Cruz

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Join me in documenting and reliving experiences in a mental hospital. The joys, the perils, and the long-lasting memories.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSierra Cruz
    Release dateDec 14, 2015
    ISBN9781519911438
    Call to Glory
    Author

    Sierra Cruz

    Just a girl sharing experiences.

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      Book preview

      Call to Glory - Sierra Cruz

      Call to Glory

      Sierra Cruz

      Published by Sierra Cruz, 2015.

      While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

      CALL TO GLORY

      First edition. December 14, 2015.

      Copyright © 2015 Sierra Cruz.

      ISBN: 978-1519911438

      Written by Sierra Cruz.

      Also by Sierra Cruz

      Straight Up Shiny Silver Metal

      Call to Glory

      Watch for more at Sierra Cruz’s site.

      Table of Contents

      Title Page

      Copyright Page

      Also By Sierra Cruz

      Dedication

      Call to Glory

      Sign up for Sierra Cruz's Mailing List

      Further Reading: Straight Up Shiny Silver Metal

      About the Author

      About the Publisher

      Dedication

      Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another.

      Romans 12: 10-16a

      Dedications can be tricky because for me, there are so many people that I want to give recognition to. With that being said, I have chosen to dedicate this book to my best friends. The ones who have been with me since day one; the ones who have never left my side no matter where I was or where I was going. Your endless love and support will forever mean the world to me and I am beyond blessed to have the honor and privilege of calling you my best friends. I love you all more than you'll ever know.

      The last thing I really remember is the Call to Glory (hilarious) from the upstairs to the downstairs. I was being shipped to a beautifully comfy mental health facility which is basically a pompous way of saying that I was on my way to a mental hospital. Now, granted, it wasn’t located in an actual hospital hospital. But, it was still considered a hospital, and people trying to give it a fancy name to make me feel better actually gave me the opposite emotion. Cut the crap, people. I know what’s going on. The last thing we should be doing is denying the inevitable by trying to cushion the blow of admitting that I needed serious help. I guess ironically enough, I was the only one with the guts to call it what it was. I don’t know; I still find that rather humorous.

      Let’s begin my wonderful adventure.

      Like I said, I was called upstairs from my basement. That meant that my dad had gotten home from work and we (my parents, my bag, and I) needed to drive the 40 or so minutes to this place. It wasn’t too far, which was nice. I stood up from lying down on the carpet, my brother to one side and my brother-like-figure (let’s just refer to him as my brother; that’ll make things so much easier) to my other and a Trouble game board in the center. We never got to finish the game. I wonder how it felt for the person cleaning it up. Actually, I don’t want to know.

      I walked up my unraveling carpeted stairs, my brothers behind me. My eyes only saw the carpet and the door. I saw a glimpse of my dad hauling my big black duffel bag out through the doorway. I turned and looked into the eyes of my brothers. My heart broke more than it ever had before, excluding one other instance involving another mental hospital and my brother. That same brother currently had no life in his eyes. He was dead inside, or so it looked. I looked at my other brother and my heart broke again when I saw him crying. Damn, this hurt. It hurt more than I thought it would. I had been to another mental hospital. At this point, thought I would be immune to this kind of pain, but it hurt more for some reason. I looked into each of their eyes one more time and turned around and walked through the door. I could barely stand to even look in their eyes, and I didn’t want to imagine the pain that would be thrust upon me or them if I was held in their arms. I hope I didn’t come across as annoyed, but it really was in the best interest of everyone if I left without physical touch. So I turned, I walked, and I didn’t look back.

      I got in the backseat of our little green car which I’ve learned to love. The silence was so eerie, I still have nightmares about it. Like a spell was placed over our car, no one dared to make a noise in fear that something amazingly horrible would happen. Well, I mean, something that could top this whole situation. A mental teenage girl on her way to a hospital for God knows how long was kind of a hard and horrible thing to beat, if you ask me (and I think you should ask me. I know this story better than anyone). I heard one murmur coming from the front seat as I saw my mom point to a spot on a map that was printed out last minute – you could tell because the paper was scrap and was slightly smudged. My dad nodded. We drove another 2-3 minutes and pulled into a cramped facility with ugly brick buildings. Signs were posted around that pointed cars into the right direction of admissions and the other buildings. The admissions sign is the one that stuck out to me the most because I knew that that’s where everything would start. And God, I didn’t want it to start, but I wanted it to start so bad. A confusing concept, even for myself. I will try to explain it as best as I can, but just understand that in order to really fully understand the feeling, you unfortunately just have to experience it. And I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.

      I didn’t want this process to start because when it started, that confirmed what I already knew, but didn’t want to accept: that I had some serious problems. I know, I know. Everyone has problems. Well, I am not one of those people that can look at the bright side of things easily. I’m just not. I wasn’t beautifully programmed and lovingly designed that way. I hate hearing myself say that I have problems. I didn’t want this to start because I would finally have to face my biggest fear: looking straight into the eyes of the nightmares that kept me up at night. The same ones that made shut down in the middle of the day. The ones that kept me in bed until my whole body hurt from not moving. Those ugly and disgusting problems. They had beady black eyes and smiles that look like they came straight from hell. So, I mean, this may be just me, but that concept scared me more than anything else in the world. But, on the other hand, I wanted this process to start so bad. I was so sick of feeling the way that I was feeling. I needed help so damn bad. And, even though I just said that I didn’t want to face my problems in the eyes, I had to. Another thing about me and my personality is that if I need to do something, I do it. I don’t back down from a challenge, even if it means facing the things that were ruining my life and had a grasp on me like nothing else.

      I jumped as I heard the car door open to my right. I was so out of it that I hadn’t realized that we had pulled up, parked, and that my parents were calling my name to get out of the car. They even had to unbuckle me. Now picture this: a 16 year old Latina girl. Very independent. Brown hair. Some have said piercing hazel eyes. I was more than capable of getting out of the car. So for me to have my parents unbuckle me meant that I had officially hit rock bottom. I didn’t even want to use

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