The Psych Ward

[unico_love]

I just got back last night from spending a week in a (very bad) psych ward. My brother and I got into a fight and he was following me around telling me how worthless I was and how I belonged in a psych ward; I started crying, rocking, covering my ears and saying I would either run away or kill myself because I couldn't live with him. My mother called my psychiatrist who told her to admit me to the psych ward. I was going to be recommended to do outpatient, but I had difficulty understanding the assessor's questions and answered some incorrectly and he said I was just playing with semantics and I got mad at him and tried to leave, but the doors were locked. I panicked and started crying, screaming, pawing at the door, etc. (they didn't warn me I was going to be locked in) so they whisked me away.

It was overcrowded with people acting crazy, screaming, getting sent to the "quiet" room and getting big shots. Fortunately, it was so overcrowded that me and some of the other "well-behaved" females were moved to the eating disorder wing, and those people were moved to the empty children's unit. That was much better, but it still took me 7 days to get out even though I started working on getting discharged right away. I was recommended to stay at least 9 days and because I pretty much refused to eat their slop they wanted me to spend 4 weeks in the eating disorder unit. I told one nurse I had major issues relating to PTSD with being controlled (the same nurse who called me anorexic in front of the group and said I showed 6 or 7 prominent characteristics of an eating disorder). She said "the way we deal with PTSD and eating disorders is by putting you in a situation so you hit rock-bottom and then you slowly crawl out of it." WTF!? If someone is raped, for instance, you don't have them raped again and again to make them "get over it!" I didn't tell her this, but if they tried to keep me in the eating disorder unit I would have refused to eat *anything,* quit speaking, and pulled out any feeding tubes and IVs they'd try to put in me. Essentially, they would have to put me in restraints, which I also wouldn't handle well.

They keep telling you to "work on your illness," but a lot of the time they don't even *tell* you your "illness" until you're being discharged. Mine was apparently "major depression with anxiety and communication impairment." I kept telling them I wasn't depressed, but they didn't care. Nobody communicated properly with anyone else; it was a mess. At one point I confronted my caseworker when she told me I'd have to stay longer and she said I had an illness, so I asked her what my illness was. She said "an illness with anger." I asked what the name of it was; she said "it doesn't have a name"@_@. I wasn't even acting particularly angry during my stay there or prior to my stay. I was manically happy when I finally escaped (though they did do stuff to try and prevent it) and I'm seeing my psychologist tonight. She was on vacation all last week so she couldn't help me. I'm never seeing my psychiatrist again. He said it would be a good "rest" for me.

I'm at a family friend's house now because I'm not allowed to live with my brother and my mother thinks he needs to be monitored so she won't kick him out. She's going to rent me an apartment soon, though, and I might be able to get another cat. I have now learned that I am willing to live in almost any living conditions as long as I'm not locked up. I have a story to tell about a girl I was with in there, but it's kind of long, so I will do it later.

Comments

[werewolf-song.livejournal.com]

Oh, man. (Hugs you) I'm so sorry. I thought you were still with the people whose wedding you talked about going to a while back.

I'm really sorry about the psych ward thing, and really wish I had something to say that could actually help. This is why I fear the psych community as a whole so much, and worry about the group home thing. Once you're considered mentally incapable of caring for yourself, whatever they want to do goes, even messed-up ideas like that. Nothing you can say, nothing you can do. People wind up severely damaged by those that claimed to help. And, of course, any sign of distress is 'proof' that they're right about you and 'proof' that you need what they're doing to you. I've heard of good psych wards (I have a friend who checks herself in when her depression reaches a certain level. Though her depression makes her especially sensitive to what problems there are, it's not so bad for her.) but the nightmare prison potential is so high. (Well, I doubt that did much to improve your mood. I really wish I had something more helpful to say.)

I'm glad that it's over, and that you're essentially undamaged, and especially that you're away from your socio brother! Even if it took this, I think in the long run, it might actually be for the best, if it resulted in getting him out of your hair for good. (I hope it's for good.) Try not to feel like you're imposing. People are aware of their resources. Whoever's taking you in wouldn't do so if they didn't have the means. (As for asking/accepting things from others in general: The world's done enough to you that you deserve a break. You can't turn down the bad, so take the good, too, and enjoy it.) I hope the apartment works out, and the cat. (I know a lot of auties are cat maniacs, and I know how much love and comfort an animal can bring. Get three cats if you can support them.)

And I would like to hear the story of the girl.

Oh, and if you're ever up late at night, there's a community for insomniacs. Right now, there's only four of us (me, jubal51394, laron, and occasionally, balambspride, who really reminds me of you insomniacally) but we have fun.

http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=thenightshiftab