The week when all of this happened was the point where things would never be the same. This was the event that would change my life forever. In two years, I was sent to that same facility a total of three times. I had truly lost myself. However, a small light came back to me when a staff member gave me a notebook and a couple of markers, which I used to write stories that I made out of the silly little characters that I either drew or read about in the books that they provided for me. I always had to ask a nurse or staff member to unlock a cabinet for me to access. When the cabinet opened and I saw all of those materials, my face lit up, and I felt like I was okay. I currently have a notebook and a folder of papers that I collected from my three visits to Miller Dwan. Even though whenever I think of these last couple of years, I break down, my throat clenches, my chest tightens, and my eyes water, I’m still reminded of the memories of when I was able to continue using my imagination whenever I saw a book as well as paper and a writing