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August 13 Healing Through The Dark EmotionsI haven't written in a long time....life is happening....as per usual. But I'm going to try to add things here and there, and in a bit different vein....trying to find solutions....I think I've vented and argued and demonstrated, as have so many others the many issues/problems and horrors encountered in the mental health system.....
So I have recently read a book that actually has proposed some solutions to the issues in our society, for what ails us....all of us.....doesn't matter which side of the 'us' and 'them' we happen to be on in any situation....I truly believe that this is a 'must-read' for ALL human beings...something I don't say very lightly....
Miriam Greenspan (2003) "Healing Through The Dark Emotions: The Wisdom of Grief, Fear and Despair" "In this riveting book, Miriam Greenspan takes a fresh approach to the three emotions we most dread and devalue: grief, fear, and despair. She argues that our avoidance and denial of these dark emotions contributes to the epidemic of psychological ailments characteristic of our age: chronic depression, anxiety, psychic numbing, addiction, and irrational violence. By attending to and befriending the dark emotions, we discover their innate intelligence and purpose. We learn the emotional alchemy by which grief turns to gratitude, fear delivers us to joy, and despair becomes a doorway to a more resilient faith in life. The wisdom of the dark emotions not only helps us to heal and transform our lives, but strengthens our connections to one another and to the world."
You can read excerpts from the book on her site:
http://www.miriamgreenspan.com And if you do read it/look at the site, I'd love to hear what you think.... February 24 A Must-Read: "Mad In America"I've recently finished another excellent book and I thought this one would be good to let people know about - i.e advertise, as I think it gives a thorough overview and is an excellent read:
"Mad In America: Bad Science, Bad Medicine, and the Enduring Mistreatment of the Mentally Ill"
by Robert Whitaker
The book's website can be found at: http://www.madinamerica.com/
It gives an overview of the treatment of the mentally ill in America (for the most part) starting in 1750 up to the present day. From bedlam, to moral treatment, to eugenics movement, to "modern-day alchemy."
What I found most helpful is the history of modern-day treatments - where they came from, why there were used, and how they work. This included of course how psychiatry shaped itself and transformed itself over the years, including it's collusion with pharmaceutical companies. He also gives a good analysis of the various studies done over the years.
One review from the website summarizes it quite well:
[ Mother Jones ] "In Mad in America Robert Whitaker laments that medical outcomes for schizophrenics in the United States "are now no better than they were in the first decades of the twentieth century, when the therapy of the day was to wrap the insane in wet sheets." If Whitaker, a Pulitzer-nominated medical journalist from the Boston Globe, fails to examine all the social complexities behind this disturbing fact, he makes a convincing case for attributing it to the reliance on neuroleptic drugs like Thorazine and its offspring. In 1954, when Thorazine went on the market, our mental-health system was still infused with eugenic notions of disease, under which the mentally ill were considered "defectives" to be isolated and, above all, prevented from reproducing. Insulin-induced coma, lobotomy, and electroshock were still accepted treatments for schizophrenia, and Thorazine was initially praised for producing "an effect similar to frontal lobotomy." In the years that followed, Whitaker writes, the pharmaceutical industry, the government, and the medical profession colluded to spin neuroleptic drugs into popular treatments--despite a lack of evidence of their efficacy and abundant evidence that they "made people chronically ill, more prone to violence and criminal behavior, and more socially withdrawn." Mad in America is a passionate, compellingly researched polemic, as fascinating as it is ultimately horrifying." --Ben Ehrenreich February 19 Brain Butchery RevivedLobotomy is a making yet another comeback! Disguised under different and deceptive terminology: (see psychosurgery, cingulotomy, capsulotomy, deep brain stimulation, gyrectomy, leuctomy, stereotactic subcaudate tractotomy, etc.) If you suffer from 'OCD,' 'bi-polar', 'depression' - anything that's called "not normal" - your brain can be butchered at Harvard, Brown, Vancouver General Hospital and a number of other prominent places. Of course now they say this brain butchery is different from the old brain butchery, which either killed people outright or their mind/souls. Now they say they know what they're doing, now it's "safe and effective." Wait, didnt' they say that the last time too? You can check out the neuro department at Harvard: http://neuro-www.mgh.harvard.edu/research/jenike.html (they experimenting on people with OCD there) An article in "This Magazine" http://www.thismagazine.ca/issues/2005/01/magicalmystery.php You can also see what Dr. Breggin has to say about it: http://www.breggin.com/lobotomy.htm "There is no mystery about how the surgery "works." It produces intellectual and emotional blunting. The doctors rate this apathetic state as an improvement. Patients who submit to this surgery are never told how damaging it will be to their most basic human processes. The psychosurgery performed at Harvard and Brown is the same old lobotomy that was rejected by science, medicine, and the public decades ago. Damaging the brain is not a solution to human psychological suffering." PLEASE SPEAK OUT ABOUT THIS! February 18 My Story - The Jaw-Breakers - Part II...continued from previous post....
I wake up toward the end of the next day, totally dazed, still in restraints, with my jaw aching and swollen. I’m now in the ‘acute’ part of the ward, in a room by myself. They tell me they’ll let me out of the restraints if I “behave” and then they leave. I ask them for some ice for my very sore and swollen jaw, but they ignore that. To give me ice would be to admit that they injured me.
The next few days I wait, having absolutely nothing to do, and not being allowed to even leave my room or talk to anyone. I’m terrified at this point, and I’m wondering how I’ll get out. I’m afraid they’ll attack me again. And I’m starting to get even worse flashbacks at this point too, feeling quite vulnerable, and wondering what else they did to me while I was unconscious.
I waited around – no one was allowed to come see me, including E. I wasn’t exactly allowed to use a phone either. And no one came to talk to me. I couldn’t even ask for the simplest things, because the nurses refused to come out of their sealed off area. I just tried to keep my mouth shut and not say or do anything. Not even move around lest they get another bright idea to attack me.
I had to wait until Sunday August 8th, when the Form 1 was up, to actually speak to a doctor - as was required by law. I wasn’t sure if they were going to put me on another Form or let me go. Finally on Sunday, later on in the day, the doctor came by, and basically said “yeah, go” without even talking to me either. At least that was good, but until I was actually out of there, I knew I wasn’t safe – and that was quite anxiety-provoking.
Of course, it took forever to get them to do the paperwork, return my clothes and belongings and such. E. came and picked me up, which was good. I was more than terrified after that, and really quite freaked out about what had happened. Of course my jaw and my right wrist were as sore as anything, and I went to Dr. R for him to have a look at it as it wasn’t getting any better. He wanted me do some physiotherapy for my jaw, but I didn’t exactly have the money for that.
I decided to “report” what happened to me – and I was advised to see the patient advocate – L.S. - for that. I made an appointment with her, and she took down the whole story. She said she was going to look into that, and she was going to arrange a meeting.
I kept on her for almost a year, and it wasn’t until I threatened to take it above her head, did she finally arrange a meeting. It took ten months for that to happen!!
The meeting finally happened on June 29, 2005 – and consisted of myself, the nurse manager, and the head of security, and L.S.. The head of security showed a copy of O’s notes – which said that I was “combative” and had to be restrained as a result – which was totally opposite of the truth. If anything, it was them who were in full-combat mode. He also informed me that security, by law, can use any amount of force as is necessary to subdue the patient, and by what O. wrote, they were quite within their rights to do what they did.
The nurse manager told me that the physical and chemical restraints were necessary, and said it was my “treatment” – that it’s the reason I was alive today. That’s interesting because they did not even talk to me once to find out what was going on for me, and the fact that I wasn’t suicidal didn’t even seem relevant – but of course, they did not know as they never even bothered to talk to me in the first place. And her assertion that the physical and chemical restraints were “treatment” was insulting to say the least! I suppose they would say dislocating my jaw and stretching out my tendons beyond their limits was treatment too?
I would have said that the so-called “treatment” was actually an assault and pure torture – but to say that within the hospital environment (where the meeting was held) would have likely landed me more of the same ‘treatment,’ sad to say. For a ‘mental patient’ to say the truth, to call it what it truly is, would warrant punishment, justified by applying the label “delusional” and “paranoid.”
They did tell me that they have since implemented changes in the way security handle the psych patients, but they offered no apologies to what happened to me. In fact, they felt entirely justified. L.S. afterwards told me that there was another woman a week or so before me – something even worse happened to her, and that was the main reason that they had to start changing things around with the security. What this was, they wouldn’t tell me - but it must have been quite horrendous! And of course they did not even think of doing anything about O’s actions – which they viewed as justified.
L.S. also told me that I could ask for damages from the hospital to pay for physiotherapy, since my jaw had been quite painful, and kept popping in and out at time, as well as the fact that I was grinding my teeth. She ended up going with me to health record to sign a release to transfer of relevant medical charts (as a doctor and a dentist both examined my jaw afterwards) – that she would start the process.
Since then, I have not heard back from her once thus far (as of Feb 2006), and I’ve tried to follow-up with her on several occasions. As always, I’m being ignored, probably to get me to drop the issue, yet again. So they can once again sweep the whole thing under the carpet. February 16 My Story: The Jaw-Breakers - Part IThe following took place on August 5-8, 2004.
...as I was walking to a friend's house, I had a small cut that was bleeding a bit, and as I was walking over a bridge, someone must have called the police on me. Mind you, the bridge was veiled - only a squirrel could get through, never mind that I had no intention of doing anything in the first place... ...next thing I know there are fire trucks, police cars, and an ambulance coming right at me, with the police going after me. Needless to say, I was surprised! They came at me, like it was a crisis situation, and they asked me to come with them. It’s not like I could have jumped, as the whole area was veiled, but they somehow assumed I was. I explained to them that I was fine, that I was just having a hard day, and they saw the tiny marks on my arm – even though I tried to explain that it was quite minor and nothing to worry about, they still insisted that I needed to come with them. Either peacefully and willingly or they would grab me and handcuff me, and they said they didn’t want to do that.
I didn’t want them to do that either, so I went with them, although it certainly wasn’t by choice. I thought it was ridiculous actually. But they said that they had to be sure that I was “okay.”
They took me to TEGH, and I was waiting for a few hours with the cops....A while later the doctor “popped in” only to say he’s put me on a Form 1 (involuntary detainment for 72hrs), without of course even speaking to me to get my story or anything, never mind to do an assessment. At this point they did the ‘changing of the guard’ where the police handed me over to the security guards from the hospital, and transferred me to one of their emergency psych rooms. I wasn’t pleased about this, but there was nothing I could do.
Of course – it was the standard – they take away all my belongings, and my clothes, and forced me to get into a small gown. That was exposing and humiliating enough. They confined me to one of the small psych room in the ER, with a security guard right outside of the room to “babysit” me, and with the instructions to sit/lie on the bed or else. No one, of course, came by to say anything, except to utter threats and stare at me. The security staring at me the whole time, their whole presence, and the fact that I was “trapped” made start to freak out, internally that is. To show anything outwardly would be dangerous.
The next day, sometime later in the day, they tell me they are ready to transfer me up onto the ward. I still want to speak to someone, but they say there is no one – that everyone is “busy” and they can’t come speak to me. When I tell them that I wasn’t even assessed or spoken to about anything, they just ignored me.
Security comes in greater numbers to transfer me – mostly big burly men. That alone has was freaking me out. I was still having flashbacks from the assault and their presence, which is quite intimidating, is quite alarming to me. They do their usual humiliating transfer – no possessions, no belongings, no nothing – wheeled upstairs so I suppose I couldn’t escape. Not that I could anyway with two big security guards and only a gown on.
Once upstairs, they assign the big burly man, O., to babysit me. I just want to get out of there, and test a few doors. He’s following me around everywhere, keeping too close a proximity, and won’t leave me alone. They tell me to go into my room, but I’m afraid they’ll lock me in there, so I refuse. I then go make a phone call – finally now that I’m able to make one. I call my friend E. and tell her what’s going on.
When I come out of the room, a bunch of nurses and more security are there, with restraints and a needle in hand, saying they’re going to restrain me. I try to talk my way out of it, saying it’s not necessary, that I’m not doing anything wrong, that I just went to make a phone call. They tell me that “it’s too late” and that “we already have the security up here.” After which point the security literally pounce on me and literally start dragging me into a room. I start to get really scared and freaked out, and try to get free of their grip. At that point there are about 6-8 people on me, pulling me every which way, throwing me onto the bed, and proceeding to strap me down to the bed. I’m screaming for help, thinking they’re going to kill me or something – they’re holding on so tight, pushing and pulling my limbs every which way, and literally sitting on me in some parts, not to mention swearing at me. I also know they’re going to inject me very soon and I’m not looking forward to that.
O. is closest to my face and he’s really getting into the restraining business with pleasure, as I can see from his face. At some point he puts his right hand on my left jaw and starts pushing down, which hurts like hell, and he’s also got my right hand and he’s twisting it all the way around to my wrist/arm. It’s not like I can do anything, as I’ve to at least one or more people at each limb, strapping me down and sitting on me. I’m screaming for him to stop, as it’s hurting like hell, in addition to what everyone else is doing to my body, but he just keeps on going. Eventually I feel and hear a pop when my jaw comes out of it’s socket, and he finally eases up after that. A short while after that I pass out as they have just injected me with a powerful tranquilizer....
...to be continued.... January 29 Psychiatry's Lack of InsightI’ve been noticing, the more I ask questions that people don’t appear to have the answers to, I am called crazy. The finger is pointed at me, the blame is put on me. But I’m realizing, slowly, it’s not me, it’s them. The craziness is coming from them, from their inability to deal with the questions, and their reactions as a result.
I’ve been re-reading the letters and notes and journals I have written over the years, and thinking of what I was concerned with in the early days, before I was labeled, drugged and locked away, I see that it all boils down to an existential/psychospiritual crisis. Even during this experience, I was still asking, even though I was being shut down and ignored.
The crisis is not only mine, but of every human being on the planet. The issue is that because the answers are so elusive, people wall that off within themselves, stop asking the questions, numb themselves through numerous distractions and what is seen as verifiable ways of occupying time. Many do not question, and most do not go deep into anything.
In my naïve days, when I thought of people in mental health professions, I thought of people who looked deeply into human nature and the nature of our existence. I thought they would have done a lot of work within, to help those who were struggling with the same questions.
It was quite a rude awakening when I was forced to have contact with those in these professions, only to find that they have done none or very little work on themselves and those questions at all, but they considered themselves as experts, and according to them I was “sick” and had to take “drugs” for my “illness.” Everything they seemed to say was parroted out of textbooks, or very limited thinking of their own.
It is interesting that one of the big words in psychiatry is “insight,” a word that now brings horror to my mind. In psychiatry, “insight” is a code-word for saying that a person is incompetent, and therefore needs to be stripped of all their rights, in the name of help. It means they can become “involuntary” and “treatment” can be forced upon them, whether it’s restraints, electroshock (ECT), or various toxic medications. They have no “insight” therefore they are like children and the others (the professionals) have to take over and “help” them.
What’s interesting it that while the person seeing the professional may be confused and lost and such, the psychiatrist or other professional has little or no insight as well. If there were no power imbalance, it would at best be the blind leading the blind. But with the vast difference power backed by authority, it becomes an all out abusive attack, whether overt or subtle.
From what I observe, it is fear and denial on the professional’s part. They see in their patients/clients issues and problems and questions that they have not dealt with themselves. They do not understand it, they have never really dealt with it, and they’re afraid. Instead of seeing someone who is depressed or psychotic as having a psychospiritual crisis, where they’re overwhelmed, they instead see them as having a disease, as having something wrong with them. That’s why the unproven “chemical imbalance” theory is being touted as the truth, as being proven, when it actually isn’t.
This is classic projection, and something they should recognize. It’s also classic denial. They “blame” the patient/client by labeling them as “mentally ill” and in the process they are labeling themselves as “sane.” This means, there is a separation between us and them, meaning “those people over there are screwed up and I’m not.” This is a denial of the fact that all of us have issues, that all of us struggle with existential questions, whether we face it or deny it. In reality, then, there is no separation, the only difference is that “those” people (i.e. ‘mentally ill’) are actively and overtly struggling with the issues, and the other side (i.e. professionals) are choosing to root themselves in denial instead.
Where it becomes abusive is where the professionals have all the power, and they can legally strip the now “mental patient” of all of theirs. They also do this is more subtle ways, for example, by setting themselves up as an “expert” or an “authority” who has the answers. But these answers are rooted in creating dependency on the professional, on prescribing medications which are harmful and stop the person from being able to work through their issues (hence the creation of the ‘chronic’ mental patient), and if they step it up, they can rob them of even more by electroshock and lobotomy (now called “psychosurgery”).
In essence, it’s a full on attack to stop the person from dealing with the questions and dilemmas and issues that they are faced with. If they can’t think about it, due to the various treatments, then they can’t solve it, they can’t get through it. If they can’t think, then they become automatons, just going through life by rote, not questioning, not anything, just “complying” with the “professionals,” but not really living. If you don’t believe me, look in the wards and psychiatric hospitals. And I can guarantee you they are not like that because of “mental illness” but rather the treatments. The drooling, excessive weight gain, the restlessness, the dull face and eyes, empty stare, the twitching and more – that’s largely treatment-induced. What’s more, they won’t question anymore. If they do, they will get more “treatment.”
In the end, the “professionals” get an ego boost, and mainly, they get the deceptive assurance that they are “sane.” In essence, they do to others, by violent means, that what they do to themselves. They shut themselves down, stop thinking about the essential things. They focus on the trivial and superficial. They need to impose that on others, otherwise what they see in the ‘patients’ would be a threat to their self, their ego, their identity, their delusional sanity. So they shut others down by drugs and electroshock and extensive brainwashing.
I often have wondered it they knew what they were doing. Did they put themselves into such a deep denial, that they do not know? How is that possible? Or do they use the standard minimization, justification strategies to make their work legitimate? I don’t know. But I feel pity for them. They’re not only harming countless others, but also themselves.
Everyone needs to wake up here. You can’t “help” someone by abusing them, and you can’t help someone until you have helped yourself. If you haven’t dealt with the issues yourself, sufficiently, then how can you possibly help anyone who is dealing with them?
The answers are there, have been perhaps forever. But they are not found in a textbook or a pill or an ECT machine.
But first you have to be willing to ask the questions.
January 10 I'm still here....I wanted to let everyone know that I have not disappeared into the abyss. I know it's been a long time since I've posted, but I have had to re-think many a things. Telling my story, and sharing what I've researched, as helpful and empowering as it has been, has also been getting me stuck in anger. Yes, I was mistreated, I saw others mistreated, hurt, everything. I still see it, and it's hard watching people suffer like this. I am trying to figure out, right now, how I can be of best assistance to those who are suffering from both 'problems of living' and are being hurt by the system. Not only them, but most of the very people who are there to help, are also suffering, although they could never admit it. The way it's set up, they would cross the line to the 'other-side' and lose everything. They suffer, and then they take it out on the people they are trying to help. Even with all the best intentions, harm is still done. How best can I help? I am not sure. If I am angry though, because of all the hurt, I don't think people will really hear me. An instant reaction to anyone who's angry is that people shut the person out, distance themselves, and don't truly belive what others are saying. Also, telling people how things really are, well, it doesn't seem to work too well either. Maybe some people, who are open enough to that, but for the majority, it is too much, they dont' want to hear, they don't want to think about it. To think about it, would be to have to admit that there is something seriously wrong, it would be to realize that something has to be done. That would be too much, too much to bother with, and everything around the subject is shut out, and/or shut down. Another thing that I've been thinking about, is that even though antipsychiatry and the mad movement have been around for a long time, very few people know about it. Not many people in our society know what goes on in the closed wards, no one really knows what happens to people that get labelled as "mentally ill." (like when i say people get Electroshock, and that it's quite popular, people are 'shocked' at this - common sense that it causes brain damage). Why has so little change happened? Why hasn't the movement been stronger and successful (besides a few yahoos like Tom Cruise wrecking it all lol)? Why aren't people taking the atrocities and the suffering inflicted on the so-called mentally ill seriously? I could point to many things...and yet, it doesn't give me a complete picture. That's where I am right now with things - for the most part - trying to figure things out. I'd appreciate any feedback, if you have some. The next month is going to be hard - on the 20th it will be a year since my friend killed herself. I might write something then too. If anyone would like to contact me - use the email above. I'll try to enter something once in a while.... take care, val November 21 My Story: Thou Shalt Not Cry - Part II...continued from the previous post... -------------- Eventually my name was called, I was escorted to a “see-though” psych room, handed over to the hospital security, and eventually the handcuffs were taken off too (and now I could see the cuts and bruising they caused). The doctor eventually stopped by, but only to inform me that they were detaining me on a Form for up to 72hrs. I’m supposing the police officers spoke to the doctor (or maybe not), but the doctor didn’t have a conversation with me – so I could only assume that they were keeping me on a form for crying in public, and I wasn’t sure how that applied to the boxes they checked off – that I was a danger to myself etc. Not that I had any opportunity to discuss this with anyone, I was refused every time I asked to speak to someone.
They just left me in the room, and I wasn’t allowed to leave for anything, including a phone call. They took my belongings, my shoes, and other essentials. Now I was really having a bad day, and by this point I was really ticked off. I needed to get out of there, so I snuck out, this time no one was watching, until someone saw me going down the street, barefoot.(I this point I had nothing to lose really). Next thing I know I have a bunch of security guards running after me, apprehending me, dragging me back, all mad as hell. A good reason for them to wage war, and “punish” me even more.
They decided that since I did not co-operate, they were going to take care of me by putting me in restraints and injecting me with a toxic drug. A bunch of security guards and nurses jumped me, wrestled me down, twisting my arms and legs, and fastening them to the bed. It felt like a full-on assault. My clothing got forcibly taken off of me, and I felt completely violated.
I still tried negotiating with them, but no one, from the very beginning, seemed to even be interested to speaking to me. I at least put up a good fight, if only to preserve some dignity, not that there was much of it left at that point. They came at me with a needle, and when I asked what it was, they told me it was Haldol. Now I have a pretty severe reaction to this drug, and I informed them that I was allergic to it. This was written on my chart as well, so they could have checked. They just scoffed, saying “you’re just trying to get out of getting the injection.” Well yeah, for a good reason. My body becomes totally rigid, and I practically lose my vision entirely – I can only see shadows. Plus I feel like someone ran me over with a truck about three hundred times.
They injected me with it anyway - not that I had any power to stop it being strapped down in four-point restraints. The drug’s effects overtook me almost immediately, and I passed out. All I remember of the night is some people walking in to say this or that, but I was too heavily sedated to even speak. I heard them mention that they were going to admit me to the ward, and I remember praying that they wouldn’t.
They didn’t. They woke me up next morning, and told me to get out. Quite literally, and quite abruptly. I was more than happy to go, but at this point my body was quite stiff and it was really hard to move my joints, not to mention that I could see almost nothing. They just threw my things at me and told me to hurry up and leave, that they need the bed for someone other victim. When I told them I could not see, they became annoyed and told me to stop exaggerating, and reminded me that I had to get out. I managed to get myself out, hanging on to walls and other objects all the way, and convinced them somehow to give me a cab chit to go home. It took me almost a week to recuperate from the effects of the drug, but I don’t think I will ever get over the effect of the experience.
This whole scenario makes no sense. I understand that crying makes people uncomfortable, and I will never show emotions in public again, but what exactly was the issue that they needed to arrest me (under the MHA) for this? What was the handcuff saga about? Why did no one talk to me at the hospital, and how did they come up with the idea that I met the legal criteria to be held and be given “treatment” against my will? Why did they disregard my allergy, and administer the drug anyway, only to deny its effects on me later on?
And most importantly, what was the point of all this? Why go out of your way to arrest someone, drag them to a hospital, tie them to a bed and administer drugs they’re allergic to, only to kick them out the next day? Is this supposed to be help, or is this getting rid of the “problem” (me)?
I came out of there humiliated, beaten up, stiff, sore, and almost blind, disempowered, and extremely angry. Moreover I was quite frightened, because if I can be picked up for crying, then this is really random and irrational on their part, and they can pick me up for anything they really want. It’s not like anyone is going to ask me my side of things, or ask me the simplest of questions. I do not matter, in their eyes. It’s not like I have any rights – the basic human rights afforded to even the criminals. I am, after all, a mental patient, therefore I am not human?
For a while there, I did not even want to go outside, just in case they decided to get me for something again. After a while I did, but I was still jumpy, especially if I saw a police car. Even months after, I was filled with fear going anywhere, and I certainly tried my best to never show any emotion in public. I was told that I was just paranoid, and I don’t think anyone even tried to believe what I told them. No one really wants to know. Better to turn a blind eye to what's going on, than to face the enormity of the situation.
So I didn’t share this experience again, until now. November 19 My Story: Thou Shalt Not Cry - Part IThe following is an account of an incident of what happened over a year and a half ago. It may seem unbelievable to you. It did to me when it happened. I don't think I've ever gotten over it, and I'm not sure that I ever will. ------------- In the spring of 2004 I found myself having a hard time, where everything was difficult and I didn’t feel there was anywhere to turn. I couldn’t figure out how to snap out of it. One day I was doing some errands, but I came to a point, while I was walking, where I could not hold things in anymore. But there was nowhere to go, and I couldn’t afford even a coffee so I could buy myself permission to run into a washroom to hide. I burst into tears, and a paralysis came over me, a fatigue where I didn’t feel like I could walk any further, so I sat down on the curb by the side of a road, tears running down my face, sobbing quietly.
I suppose that’s not allowed, because people either scooted off real fast, or they asked me what was going on. I just wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go. I tried to wave them off, but for the most part, I could not even talk.
Short while later, two cop cars came screeching, aimed right at me, from each side of the road. Maybe I wasn’t aware of what was going on around me, but they seemed to come out of nowhere. Two officers came out of the car and started questioning me, demanding ID, asking asking asking. I didn’t really want to deal with them, and now that a crowd had gathered, I wished I could disappear entirely.
I don’t think they knew what to do with me, and then they “insisted” that I come with them, that they were taking me to a hospital. I didn’t want to go, but I didn’t really know if I had any right to refuse. Obviously saying “I don’t want to go” didn’t work. They put me into the back of the cruiser, and took me to a hospital emergency department. I wished I could have run, without risking my life. Being pushed into the back of a cruiser, in public, in front of a crowd of people was just purely humiliating. All I did was cry, I had no idea that was against the law. It wasn’t “hysterical” and it wasn’t anything else dramatic.
The hospital staff said that they were full, that they could not take me. The officers were upset, raised a stink, I suggested that I just go home and go to sleep, but they would have none of it. I needed “treatment” (punishment?) for crying in public! So they took me to another hospital, this time I had to wait in the back of the cruiser by myself, while the officers went to talk to the staff. They were once again refused. And they were livid at this point, and they started to take it out on me. They did some phoning around, and took me to yet another hospital, possibly the worst one in the city. This time they were not turned down.
At the parking lot, I calmly tried to reason with them – that I did not think it was necessary for me to have to go to a hospital. They took that as a threat, pulled me out of the car, leaned me over it, and put me in handcuffs! I was formally arrested under the Mental Health Act! I felt like a common criminal, and even worse when they escorted me into the waiting room, for everyone there to see! We had to wait in the waiting room of course, and everyone’s eyes were trained at me, and a mixture of anger and utter humiliation washed over me. I had no idea what to do. I started doing the agitation dance, not being able to stay still very well, and that gave them a great reason to push me around and yell at me – they were still angry with me that they had to drive all over the city to drag to me a hospital. I saw no reason why I should be dragged in there in the first place.
...to be continued... November 14 Locked Up In a NightmareI thought I'd share one of my recurring nightmares about being locked-up. I hesitated at first, but given that they're such a common occurence and experience not only for me, but for many others, I think it should be put out there. This is one of the milder versions. I'm not being strapped down to a bed by wrists and ankles, or jumped by a bunch of nurses and security guards, or being given a needle in the butt, or insulted, humiliated to an extreme, and so many other things that can happen while a person is locked up. I won't share those, as it might be too much, both for readers, and for myself. ---------------- Dream from November 13, 2005: I was at a hospital, helping someone out, it ended up being on a psychiatric ward and I somehow found myself admitted, quite suddenly, and I wasn't allowed to leave, had to do as they said (or I'd never get out), and I could not talk *to* anyone else. I had to sit in this large room beside a board room where the doctors where having rounds - I could see them and hear them talking and could recognize some of the doctors, and I knew I was in trouble because they hated me (I wasn't a "compliant" patient as I asked questions and disagreed with them). There were others "patients'" charts on the table next to me, and when I glanced at them, they outlined the unfortunate circumstances on how they got stuck on the psych ward, most of them being unlucky in getting the wrong treatment from a regular doctor, which went wrong, and to cover it all up, they were sent to the psych ward. I had to sit there all afternoon and evening, and no one came by to speak to me. And yet I could not leave even the room. Then it was time for bed and I had to go to sleep in this room with a whole bunch of other inmates. There was no washroom - only a large sink in full view of everyone else. I just went to bed, hoping they'd leave me alone if I just quitely did what they commanded. I was ticked off, but I could not show it. It was ony 8pm and I wasn't tired, but if I didn't comply, it would have meant trouble for me. At the same time, I was suprised they didn't force me to take drugs at night, but I realized they probably didn't have an order for it since no doctor saw me. I was sure they'd force something on me the next day for sure though. The next day it was more of a waiting game. I was stuck in that one room and not allowed to leave. I kept trying to figure out how I was going to convince the doctor to let me go, especially since there was no reason for me to be there, but I knew that was unlikely. Once they have you, they won't let you go, until they're finished with you. Then I was thinking about how to convince the doctor not to make me take any drugs, but then I realized that too was unlikely, since that is the main way of operating in a psych ward - drug the patient, and forget all else. I was getting frustrated waiting for the "judgement," getting bored, getting annoyed that things were so chaotic around me (they dumped a lot of other people into this one room as well), getting mad at the "sink washroom" situation. The endless waiting, and not being able to leave. Eventually I really did have to go to the washroom, and had to use the sink in front of everybody. It was unhygienic, and it was humiliating. Everyone, especially this one nurse, was watching me while I went. Rage came up, and I had to restrain myself from being saying something to her. Then I started thinking how I was going to explain this to my roommates, my colleagues from work, etc - that I'm locked up in a loonie bin, and the repurccussions of this event. The scene switched, and I see an article about this whole situation, especially about the issue of human rights in the psychiatric ward, and it is written by Vaclav Havel (a former dissident, writer, and later a president). I end up trying to write him an email. |
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