The Courage of Children: Boston and Beyond XXXIII

LILIANA WARD
ERIN HANNON-FOLEY AND LIZMARIE ARGUETA, TEACHERS
Franklin D. Roosevelt K-8 School, Boston, MA
“Beep… Beep… Beep…” The heart monitor beeped its depressing tune all day
and all night. My day, my choice, and I hoped it would better my life. What I
would have never guessed in those moments was that my choice would bring
the biggest struggle but would also help shine light my way.
It was the summer of 2020, and I wasn’t doing well. I was struggling, and life
was rough, so I ended up talking to my mom and told her how I was concerned
about how I was doing. My mom had been worried about me, too. We ended
up calling the Boston Emergency Services Team, and I ended up going to the
hospital and staying there for two weeks.
The room was cold, and the blankets were thin, but it didn’t matter to me
much. I had some supports. We played a lot of the game Life, we made these
cool decorations, we had sing-alongs to the Hamilton soundtrack, and I even
learned how to write my name in Japanese!
One morning, I woke up and was escorted to an ambulance. I talked with the
ambulance operators and explained to them this wasn’t my first time riding in
an ambulance. I ended up at another hospital and was checked into CBAT
(community-based acute treatment). I was put in my room to unpack, but I
then realized my month of trauma and torture was about to begin.
In CBAT, I was not allowed to see my family at all. I was either in my room,
or in one of the activities that didn’t help with the loneliness and isolation
I felt, stuck in the same few rooms for an entire month with nobody I knew
to help cheer me up.
Some of the kids were mean, but I had one friend. We would roleplay together
and do little mini scenes of our favorite movie at the time, Descendants 3. My
new friend and I would laugh together when we both would get disgusted by
the kissing scenes. We’d watch the movie every day, until something happened.
My only friend there, the only one not mean to me, was discharged from the
hospital. I was left alone, again. Happy for her, but sad for me.
Days flew by, which turned into weeks. I remember one day, we went outside to
the turf—not even real nature was present in these bitter areas. I sat down and
started crying. A few minutes later, a staff member walked up to me. I thought
“I WAS NOT ASHAMED
TO ASK FOR HELP
WITH MY MENTAL
HEALTH, AND I WAS
NOT ASHAMED TO
GET HELP FOR MY
SAFETY OR NEEDS.”
that the staff member could help me comfort myself and feel better, but her
answer was not what I expected. “What’s wrong?” she asked with an almost
emotionless face.
“I’m gonna let down my brother! I’m supposed to be the big sister and be there
for him! I’m supposed to be the one to help protect him. But I’m here, and he’s
miles away…”
Her confusing expressions then turned to recognizable anger. She had hatred
burning from her eyes for no reason at all. “You should be ashamed of yourself!
Yep, you’ve already let down your brother. How horrible could you be?” she
yelled recklessly at me. I started crying even worse than before, and she just
had the urge to ask why I was now crying a river, instead of the small drizzle
I had before.
I remember I missed home so much that I moved my mattress onto the cold,
dusty tile floor, just because I just wanted a change of scenery from where I
slept. I felt isolated. It was one of those moments where you feel alone even
though there are hundreds of people nearby, except that moment lasted longer
than a few minutes, more than a few hours, more than a few days, almost more
than a month.
One day, I was outside making fairy houses and scraping the moss off of trees
with some other kids, when a doctor said I was being let out, and all that was
left to do was pack. I had to wait a few days for bloodwork results to make sure
everything was all right, then I’d finally be free from the cage. I was so excited,
my heart finally started beating regularly with hope. And when the day arrived,
I remember the exact gooey and chewy chocolate chip pancakes I had that
morning before leaving the cage for good. I met my third grade teacher on
THE COURAGE OF CHILDREN: BOSTON AND BEYOND
VOLUME XXXIII
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