- Mar 19, 2018
I decided to delete this for personal reasons
Damn, I wish that it was similar here.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.
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.
Keep us updated on the video!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.
"it just made me want to die even more"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.
We also had group therapy, which I found extremely frustrating because I didn't want to share with a group of people, but I also found the topics unrelated to me. The two topics I remember were LGBT issues and "being a bitch".
Once it was time to sleep, I was suddenly moved to an empty room due to me admitting my bisexuality.
"it just made me want to die even more"
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.
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 toKeep 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.
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?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.
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.