Every year, about 2,000 individuals in crisis walk through the doors of our Crisis Walk-In Center, seeking hope, stability, and a path forward. Their stories may be unique, but the struggle is not—mental health crises touch every corner of our community.
The story I’m sharing today is a powerful reminder of why this work matters. It highlights not only the challenges people face but also the life-changing impact of compassionate, immediate care.
Our Crisis Walk-In Center isn’t just a place for intervention; it’s a place for second chances, for healing, and for people to reclaim their futures.
I invite you to read this client’s journey and reflect on the vital role we all play in building a healthier, more supportive community.
Trigger warning: This story discusses a personal experience with suicidal thoughts, substance use, and a mental health crisis. While it highlights hope and recovery, it may be distressing for some readers.
I woke to shouting and pounding on the door. Disoriented, I struggled to wake from a coma-like state. As my eyes adjusted, I saw the empty pill bottles and whiskey on the table. I remembered forcing down most of the bottle, hoping never to wake up again. I just wanted the emotional pain to stop. The pounding grew louder—who was at my door in the middle of the night?
I tried to stand but felt disconnected from my body. When I finally opened the door, two uniformed policemen stood there, concern on their faces. Had I done something I couldn’t remember? That had been happening a lot lately.
They explained my ex-wife had called for a wellness check. She told them about my late-night call, my drug use, our recent divorce, and my job loss. The officers saw the empty bottles, my confusion, my disorientation. They’d seen this before. They told me they were taking me to the Crisis Walk-In Center at AllHealth Network for an evaluation. I had no idea where that was or what would happen. I only felt frustrated—they were going to make me talk about everything I was trying to forget. I thought, I can’t even get suicide right.
Getting out of the squad car and walking into the center was the most humiliating experience of my life. Is this really what my life has become? I wanted to run, but I knew they’d stop me, so I stepped inside.
Patty, the woman at the front desk, greeted me with warmth. Her calm demeanor put me at ease. She said she wanted to understand what was happening and would do her best to help. As I started talking, I thought, I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’ve held it in for so long. But with each word, the pressure in my head eased.
Then it hit me—coming to the Walk-In Center was the best thing for me. My ex-wife, the police, and Patty were working together to save my life. Tears streamed down my face. The sobs kept coming, years of pain rising to the surface. It had been so long since I felt like someone cared.
For the first time in months, I didn’t feel invisible. I didn’t feel alone. It felt safe to let go of the pain.
And for the first time in a long time, I wondered what might happen next.
I realized I wanted to live.