I was twenty-three. I had been in the psychiatric ward for six days. The staff psychiatrist came in on a Tuesday morning and told me I was being discharged. I wasn't better. I wasn't stable. She said the bed was needed and my Medicaid was running out.
They gave me a plastic bag with my belongings and a pamphlet about outpatient services. I sat in the lobby for two hours because I had nowhere to go. The social worker had already left for the day. There was no follow-up plan. No safety net. Just a door that opened and the world waiting on the other side.
I used the mug they gave me in the waiting room. I filled it with coffee and sat there watching other patients come and go. I thought about all the people who had sat in that same spot before me, being told they were well enough to leave.
We're not okay. We just ran out of time.
This mug is that morning. This card is that coffee. The QR code is every person who sat in that lobby and was told to leave before they were ready. Tell us what happened to you.