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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.
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.
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no subject
Date: 2004-09-02 10:16 pm (UTC)From:My story about a psych ward is short and simple: at 18, I was admitted to a private hospital for depression, and conveniently the recommended length of stay corresponded with the max amount of my parent's private insurance. Makes one wonder about motives. My stay wasn't as horrid as yours, but I would definitely have to say that the mental health "professionals" who "treated" me were not professionals nor very conducive to mental health. Go figure.
I'm so glad you are out and safe and away from your brother. He needs some major help. The saddest thing is how he has singled you out as a scapegoat. At least you get to have your own place now. Just please make sure you take care of yourself, whatever that entails in your case. Maybe your mom can drop off meals so that you don't have to think about them...
Thinking about you. Warm vibes, --(you know, I was about to write my real name and then realized that I don't make that public on livejournal, so, simple --me)
no subject
Date: 2004-09-04 07:58 pm (UTC)From: