I decided to delete this for personal reasons
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Sounds horrible....that's why you don't tell anyone...
ChizuruN
Failure at Living, Failure at Dying
- Mar 20, 2018
- 87
Things like this are why I hate these places, and why I'll never be honest with therapists/psychiatrists.
Psych hospitals are banned where I live, except for people who are literally insane. Suicidal people don't go there, though obviously we are still subject to being guinea pigs to psychologists and psychiatrists. Still, that story sounds absolutely horrible.
ChizuruN
Failure at Living, Failure at Dying
- Mar 20, 2018
- 87
Damn, I wish that it was similar here.
123asdr123
Member
- Mar 17, 2018
- 48
anyone who is willing to share their story of oppression please get into contact with me because I am trying to edit a video that will illustrate how wrong forced psychiatry is. Thanks.
Sonnenblume
Sunflower Panda
- Apr 6, 2018
- 586
I am interested, I am disabled and was in one that was not nearly accessible enough for over two weeks. Talk about a nightmare...
123asdr123
Member
- Mar 17, 2018
- 48
Sonnenblume
Sunflower Panda
- Apr 6, 2018
- 586
ChizuruN
Failure at Living, Failure at Dying
- Mar 20, 2018
- 87
Keep us updated on the video!
I personally won't share my experiences, as they aren't really that bad compared to other experiences. I just have absolutely no tolerance for being locked up and having my freedoms taken away.
I've been wanting to share my own experience at the mental hospital for a while now, but I just never found the right opportunity. However, I suppose this is as good a time as any. Just keep in mind that I'm rather awful at explaining my thoughts. I'm also going to leave a fair amount of details out due to them being unimportant.
The reason for me being forcefully admitted into the hospital was due to me self-harming. I cut myself several times on my arms, but purposefully made sure that the scars wouldn't remain as I didn't wish to deal with permanent injuries. Needless to say, my grandmother drove me to the hospital as soon as she found out about my actions (which didn't take long), and I was forced to stay there for a few hours while awkwardly answering questions with my grandma in the exact same room.
The doctor decided to take me to a mental hospital, and due to me not having a say in the matter, I was forced into a car and drove to what can only be classified as prison.
I remember it being rather early in the morning when I arrived, as I was asked more personal questions before being given a room. Upon learning that I would have to stay there for a week, I began to bawl uncontrollably. It was like a sudden wave of countless negative emotions just drowning me, to where not a single shred of hope or happiness remained. I have never felt so depressed in my entire life. I regretted placing that knife against my skin so much, and I wanted nothing more than to just be in the familiar and comforting environment of my home with my grandma. But knowing that that privilege was just stripped away from me was just mercilessly tearing me apart. One of the nurses entered the room upon hearing me crying and tried in vain to comfort me, but none of her words had any kind of impact.
My roommate entered shortly after, and due to her having gone through similar tragedies, I felt slightly less alone and was able to force myself to stop crying for the rest of the day.
As me and the other patients had to endure the boring, pointless, and tedious lessons on how to develop "coping skills", I realized that I honestly just didn't belong there. Most of the other patients appeared to have far more severe mental and physical issues than I did, to where I felt like I was one of the only "sane" ones there. However, being surrounded by others who screamed nonsense in the hallways, kicked open doors, randomly began shouting at the nurses, and cut themselves with pencils was beginning to make me doubt my own sanity.
I mostly distanced myself from most of the others since I was scared of their unpredictability. As a result, during lunch and dinner I sat alone. The food there was tasteless, to where I almost starved myself.
We had a sorry excuse for a math class where we were given worksheets with problems so simple I swear a kindergartner could have easily solved them, and we watched short "educational" films.
We were then taken to a gym where the only things you could really do were sit on the chairs, walk around, or play basketball. I did the former, once again avoiding the other patients.
Once it was time to sleep, I was suddenly moved to an empty room due to me admitting my bisexuality. Immediately after I lied down on the hard and uncomfortable bed, I once again burst into tears. Another nurse came in and tried to reassure me, but I did nothing but beg to be let home. That night was mostly spent with me constantly being woken up by the nurses regularly checking up on me.
The second day was arguably even worse than the last, since I remember doing almost nothing but randomly breaking down. I recall often wishing for anything to just kill me.
Every day was just miserable, and I learned that the only way to get out of there was to lie that I was recovering, as there's no way in hell that their stupid bullshit "coping skills" were going to have any kind of positive impact.
That place changed me in more ways than one. I haven't been the same since I was admitted, and even now, after two years, I still experience nightmares and random flashbacks that almost result in me breaking down.
Ever since I was discharged from that hellhole, I've felt more empty and hopeless, and my anxiety attacks occur a lot more frequently. It fucking ruined my life. I've done my research, and I've learned that the chronic disease that I have (keeping the name private) can be caused or worsened by extreme mental trauma, meaning that that fucking hospital caused me to have this unbearably painful illness that makes it almost impossible to do the simplest of things.
Until I'm finally able to kill myself, this pain will be a constant reminder of that horrible place and my scarring experience.
The reason for me being forcefully admitted into the hospital was due to me self-harming. I cut myself several times on my arms, but purposefully made sure that the scars wouldn't remain as I didn't wish to deal with permanent injuries. Needless to say, my grandmother drove me to the hospital as soon as she found out about my actions (which didn't take long), and I was forced to stay there for a few hours while awkwardly answering questions with my grandma in the exact same room.
The doctor decided to take me to a mental hospital, and due to me not having a say in the matter, I was forced into a car and drove to what can only be classified as prison.
I remember it being rather early in the morning when I arrived, as I was asked more personal questions before being given a room. Upon learning that I would have to stay there for a week, I began to bawl uncontrollably. It was like a sudden wave of countless negative emotions just drowning me, to where not a single shred of hope or happiness remained. I have never felt so depressed in my entire life. I regretted placing that knife against my skin so much, and I wanted nothing more than to just be in the familiar and comforting environment of my home with my grandma. But knowing that that privilege was just stripped away from me was just mercilessly tearing me apart. One of the nurses entered the room upon hearing me crying and tried in vain to comfort me, but none of her words had any kind of impact.
My roommate entered shortly after, and due to her having gone through similar tragedies, I felt slightly less alone and was able to force myself to stop crying for the rest of the day.
As me and the other patients had to endure the boring, pointless, and tedious lessons on how to develop "coping skills", I realized that I honestly just didn't belong there. Most of the other patients appeared to have far more severe mental and physical issues than I did, to where I felt like I was one of the only "sane" ones there. However, being surrounded by others who screamed nonsense in the hallways, kicked open doors, randomly began shouting at the nurses, and cut themselves with pencils was beginning to make me doubt my own sanity.
I mostly distanced myself from most of the others since I was scared of their unpredictability. As a result, during lunch and dinner I sat alone. The food there was tasteless, to where I almost starved myself.
We had a sorry excuse for a math class where we were given worksheets with problems so simple I swear a kindergartner could have easily solved them, and we watched short "educational" films.
We were then taken to a gym where the only things you could really do were sit on the chairs, walk around, or play basketball. I did the former, once again avoiding the other patients.
Once it was time to sleep, I was suddenly moved to an empty room due to me admitting my bisexuality. Immediately after I lied down on the hard and uncomfortable bed, I once again burst into tears. Another nurse came in and tried to reassure me, but I did nothing but beg to be let home. That night was mostly spent with me constantly being woken up by the nurses regularly checking up on me.
The second day was arguably even worse than the last, since I remember doing almost nothing but randomly breaking down. I recall often wishing for anything to just kill me.
Every day was just miserable, and I learned that the only way to get out of there was to lie that I was recovering, as there's no way in hell that their stupid bullshit "coping skills" were going to have any kind of positive impact.
That place changed me in more ways than one. I haven't been the same since I was admitted, and even now, after two years, I still experience nightmares and random flashbacks that almost result in me breaking down.
Ever since I was discharged from that hellhole, I've felt more empty and hopeless, and my anxiety attacks occur a lot more frequently. It fucking ruined my life. I've done my research, and I've learned that the chronic disease that I have (keeping the name private) can be caused or worsened by extreme mental trauma, meaning that that fucking hospital caused me to have this unbearably painful illness that makes it almost impossible to do the simplest of things.
Until I'm finally able to kill myself, this pain will be a constant reminder of that horrible place and my scarring experience.
Sonnenblume
Sunflower Panda
- Apr 6, 2018
- 586
Okami, I had a similar experience. My doctor was a cunt bag, he implied he could keep me there long term solely because of my disability, taunting me basically. Came out even more scarred from the hospital experience than I went in. Now I'm paranoid as fuck to go near any medical professional. it just made me want to die even more.
ChizuruN
Failure at Living, Failure at Dying
- Mar 20, 2018
- 87
"it just made me want to die even more"
Yep yep.
God, these places are horrible. Sure, they can help some people, but not everyone.
I've been in these places 3 times. Every single time it gets worse.
And people still threaten to try and send me back.
I've been there 3 times, what more can you want? It's not going to do anything except literally drive me insane to the point where I'll try and stab myself in the chest.
Dead Girl Don't Care
Trying but still Dying
- Mar 26, 2018
- 42
@Hikingcat and @Okami
Your stories resonate deeply with me. I realize how difficult it can be to share these stories and recount their events, and your sharing has helped me come to terms with my own memory of my time in the behavior health ward.
I want to know more about the "being a bitch" portion, that sounds humorously aware. Also, it's interesting they "cared" enough to have a LGBT issues segment. I didn't have "classes" like math or anything but did have group therapy as well and there weren't ever any topics nor any real use besides another reason to round us up and make us comply. Also where I was didn't seem to give a fuck about anything LGBT despite most of the patients there being LGBT and a lot of their "illness" coming from struggles therein. In fact, the whole atmosphere felt like an attempt to stanch such feelings rather than learn to work with them.
Interestingly, my nurses could have gave a fuck, the only reason they moved someone was to keep an even closer eye on her through out the night, the cutting and suicide risks. Girls were having sex at night left and right.
The whole facility seemed lazy and careless, but it was a dangerous sort of carelessness where your entire life was solely in the hands of people that literally don't give a fuck about you but can treat you like prisoners and force any sort of drug they please down your throat. All I can say is it was an extremely scary time and the thought back on it all often puts me on the verge of a panic attack--too many sleepless nights haunted by those memories. But you gals' stories have abated some of that with the relatability. Once again, I appreciate you sharing so much, and may these stories serve as a warning for anyone in danger of being hospitalized.
Your stories resonate deeply with me. I realize how difficult it can be to share these stories and recount their events, and your sharing has helped me come to terms with my own memory of my time in the behavior health ward.
I want to know more about the "being a bitch" portion, that sounds humorously aware. Also, it's interesting they "cared" enough to have a LGBT issues segment. I didn't have "classes" like math or anything but did have group therapy as well and there weren't ever any topics nor any real use besides another reason to round us up and make us comply. Also where I was didn't seem to give a fuck about anything LGBT despite most of the patients there being LGBT and a lot of their "illness" coming from struggles therein. In fact, the whole atmosphere felt like an attempt to stanch such feelings rather than learn to work with them.
Interestingly, my nurses could have gave a fuck, the only reason they moved someone was to keep an even closer eye on her through out the night, the cutting and suicide risks. Girls were having sex at night left and right.
The whole facility seemed lazy and careless, but it was a dangerous sort of carelessness where your entire life was solely in the hands of people that literally don't give a fuck about you but can treat you like prisoners and force any sort of drug they please down your throat. All I can say is it was an extremely scary time and the thought back on it all often puts me on the verge of a panic attack--too many sleepless nights haunted by those memories. But you gals' stories have abated some of that with the relatability. Once again, I appreciate you sharing so much, and may these stories serve as a warning for anyone in danger of being hospitalized.
Sonnenblume
Sunflower Panda
- Apr 6, 2018
- 586
I don't even know how many they help, maybe a few. Several of my observers told me they get a lot of the same people coming back again and again. And who knows what happens to the ones that don't, they may just be scared like me and drop out of the system as much as possible, but it doesn't mean they are ok. The only thing it taught me is I better damn well kill myself correctly this time so I don't end up in a place like that again.
123asdr123
Member
- Mar 17, 2018
- 48
we need a variety of situations - if you can say something as simple as you feel like your rights as a citizen are being violated that's good enough- just a few quotes would work - up to you - don't have to
123asdr123
Member
- Mar 17, 2018
- 48
Sonnenblume
Sunflower Panda
- Apr 6, 2018
- 586
Oh, yeah, sorry. I am shutting things down, prepping to go. You can still contact me here, until I do go. It'll have to be very soon though. Was planning on ctb last night but my neighbor was up and I didn't want them to hear me.
123asdr123
Member
- Mar 17, 2018
- 48
oh ok- can i just get a two sentence explanation for why you got sent to a ward - and a two sentence statement on that and human rights?
Sonnenblume
Sunflower Panda
- Apr 6, 2018
- 586
123asdr123
Member
- Mar 17, 2018
- 48
PoofLoop:P
Member
- May 5, 2021
- 16
I feel you, it's rough going though that. I hate those places.
