Tags:
• Vent

This is a part of my life I'll never get back, but I can't let it eat me away anymore if I don't write it down to have some closure for myself. I will be mentioning discussions of mental illness (particularly depression and suicide), sexual harassment and mentions of rapists, using the word "rape" a lot, and a hospital setting with ill intentions. All of this pertains to a bad psychiatric hospital experience that has left me scarred since then.

Let me start off by saying my memory is foggy about all of the days, hours, and seconds I’ve experienced in this hellish state. I am still affected by this shithole of a hospital, and I don’t consider setting up a lawsuit against them because of how horrible I feel even needing to face them. Lawsuit money will not ever give me a sense of forgiveness or closure I’ve sought for my experience. Therapy as they should have provided in this case is my only option, and anyone who knows my background to understand why I may act as I do during related circumstances is my only comfort.

For anyone that reads this and suddenly has a need to avoid psych hospitals, no this is not the intention of my memoir. I’ve been to a past wonderful hospital that has treated me as the human being I am and have gone back to them a few times after knowing this horrible place. If you feel you’re in a severe mental crisis, I certainly welcome you to get into a psych hospital, as long as you know where you’re going and have researched beforehand if it’s a good place that treats people good. Do not bottle up your feelings and seek help. Someone is out there willing to listen to you.

Well. I’ll share some background that predates my time getting submitted into this hospital. I’ve been diagnosed and suffering from Major Depressive Disorder since I was 12. My life at that point consisted of living under a roof of overprotective parents that never allowed me to go out and hangout with people outside of school. Anyone they reviewed when I asked them if I can hang out in their house was deemed unfit whether because they were worried I was going to be offered drugs or do something risky under their noses. I wasn’t even allowed to find jobs when I was a teen as they thought I needed all the time in the world to study-study-study. I was and still am in a state of complete isolation because of them.

Going up to around Oct.19, 2021, I was in college with that being my only “job” and purpose in life at that point while under my parent’s roof. I was not openly out as transgender nor did I realize I was that (so I was still seeing myself as a “cis woman”) until far later after any of these incidents occurred. My family dog of 11 years was dying, and I wanted the poor creature to simply be put down rather than see it live out the rest of the days suffering more and more. My mom meanwhile wanted the dog to be medicated and given multiple exams that took out about a grand of dollars I had saved in my savings account without ever having a job (even at that point when I was 20 years old). I stressed about myself in this state, and fell back behind my college course due to it. The dog was getting worse as I knew, and I felt my loss of money I’ve saved over the years was gone. I was upset I could’ve prevented this animal’s suffering sooner with euthanasia than what my mother’s cries of “a hope of recovery” resulted in. The piling of failures as I thought I could never get back my money, my dog dying later than sooner, and my college academics (being my only purpose in life) was crumbling made me snap and go through an intense stress and intense breakdown that I’ve never experienced and could not feel I can brush it off like my past ones. This being I was becoming suicidal. I was scared of being in this state, but couldn’t feel anything else at that point. I had a plan to kill myself, but the dramatic idea was and still is very disturbing to me. I didn’t know what else to do, or knew where I’d go, but it was late at night when I told my parents I needed to go to the ER for being very mentally unwell. Half an hour later, I was there, asked to remove my clothes I was wearing to wear a hospital gown instead, and was put in an isolation room as the doctors and nurses searched me for a psychiatric hospital over the span of the night until the next morning. Note that this wasn’t the first and only time I’d go, more on that later. Once they found an available match, I was sent to a hospital that was unrelated to the bad hospital in question. I found myself being able to heal a bit here, but maybe not enough as I only stayed there for 3 days and left after feeling bad about how my mother was grieving horribly for seeing their child go to a psych hospital for the first time. I personally wonder how it would’ve been if I simply stood there for longer, have not my mother been worrying and crying on the phone about worries that the doctors there were drugging me and I was in physical danger with even more extreme patients. That was fortunately wrong for my first stay, but I left not for the sake of my health but for others’ instead.

Due to this, I was back home and was doing better, but had plaguing thoughts of suicide that wouldn’t go away. I dropped out of my college course for that semester, and I felt like I had no direction in my life at that point so I asked my parents again to bring me to the ER so I can be reinstated to a psych hospital. My first time being at one gave me an optimistic and gleeful impression that I would go to either the same or another wonderful hospital, so I felt that hours became minutes as I was brought back to an isolation room while the hospital staff sought for a specialized hospital with an available bed for me to stay in. Finding a psychiatric hospital this time took a little longer as it was 2 days that I was in the isolation room, never leaving my bed from day to night unless I needed to go to the restroom. I did nothing in those hours but lay static staring at a wall to my left, the ceiling, or the security guard that was watching over me outside my room.

A new day was marked. It was Oct. 31 of 2019 and I was taken in a private ambulance while following basic protocols (lay on a wheeling bed, have my limbs strapped to the sides as a way to restrain any unruly patients), and was taken to a large hospital that was about an hour away from my local ER. From here, I was able to see a portion of the hospital and realized something strange from my last hospitalization: Where I was taken, it was not a clinic solely focused on psychiatric care but rather an all general purpose hospital. I shrugged it off for that moment as the paramedics (still keeping me strapped to my bed), took me inside an elevator, and then brought me through a long hallway met with doors for different offices and specialties. At the end of the hallway, stood one door with a stenciled out spray painted sign labeled

“BEHAVIORAL

UNIT”.

I was still very optimistic about coming in for hopes of continuing my needed psychiatric treatment and entered through the door to meet my hospital staff coming to do an intake of me and my background. When I was inside this behavioral unit, another off putting detail came immediately to mind thanks to my first experience with a good hospital: The ceilings had cobweb and dust hanging on the corners of the ceiling tiles (my concern was focused on this as I have a dust allergy), the “unit” consisted of a small, narrow, mildly lit hallway that could only be wide to line 3 people across. My optimism slowly started to wean off as I was given back my clothes I brought with me at the ER to change from my gown. While getting back my items needed to stay here (that turned out to be 4 days), I was told by a female staff that they suggest I should keep on wearing a hospital gown as men (being this unit was coed) were prone to groping women who wore their normal clothes. I kindly rejected the advice and decided to wear my clothes (just being a black turtleneck shirt, black skinny jeans and black shoes) in protest throughout the whole time I was there.

After completion of my intake, I was brought to a room out of the 10-15 that spanned each side of this short narrow hallway and was introduced to my roommate who presented herself as very mellow, talkative towards herself, but harmless as she was sleeping in her bed. I stood in the shared room to look around and found it spacious, but very strange with how the private bathroom was designed along with the lack of furniture present apart from a small shelf. After letting myself sink in the presence of my new room for the next few days, I went outside into the hallway and heard the clashes of screams of multiple patients that would never stop until it was nighttime when we all headed to sleep. Everyone going in and out of their room or walking up and down the narrow dimly lit space. My anxiety (which I also had a diagnosis of a couple years before 2019), was building up as I usually was a person who lived in a very isolated, quiet setting which was my house. And at worse, I didn’t realize until a year later that I was autistic as well with sensitivity to loud noises and crowded settings. It was only a few hours into being admitted inside this place and I started to cry in agony of where I’ve realized I was.

Some parts of my memories recalling what happened within the first day and after that is hazy, but knowing I was going to witness a lot of horrible and stressful things, I documented parts of it in loose pages of paper I occupied with myself to pass the time.

(First page of journal entry, transcribed)

"The nurse apparently said that they got sent a record of my mental illness, one of them reviewed it and not only said “That’s the one!” but also drew hearts on it.

Records of my time at Pacifica Valley (Pacifica Hospital of the Valley, where I was admitted)

10-31-2021

-I broke down crying over realizing the number of red flags I saw here.

-being asked if I could be photographed while at the hospital

-The whole hospital not soley focusing on psychiatric health but rather a number of various general departments

Only one behavioral unit which combines all low-high functioning patients to coexist

(Editor's note): My other hospital had all patients separated into three different groups and by gender based on the intensity of their psychiatric case

-Hearing from other female patients that sexual abuse <-rather, harassment within/from guys is a common presence and the women are even recommended to wear hospital gowns [...]"

It was lunch time in the afternoon, and I remembered being given a plate full of dry mexican rice with beans that was cold. I was sobbing before receiving my lunch and this only continued my marathon of a breakdown as I sat next to a dear girl who seemed the most “sane” out of everyone else (rather, someone who was like me to say) and she told me with an anxious stare, “I’m terrified of this place”. We exchanged small talks about how we got here, when we did (she arrived a day before me) and I was finding a temporary sense of comfort in knowing someone I can hold a normal conversation with. The girl was about a year or two older than me, taller than I was (5’2.5 at the time), and was a bookworm aspiring to become a pilot. Unfortunately I later found out from her that due to being in this hospital, the status of being hospitalized would permanently ban her from ever attending pilot school and achieving that dream. As me and many others finished up our meal (taking place at a small concrete patio in which was located at the end of the hallway through a side door at the right), we went back to our normal setting of a loud and screaming hallway where I continued to sob as that was the only thing I was good at in this moment. My room was at the far end of the hallway as was the patio, so I walked out and started taking a walk to reach the top end where the “BEHAVIORAL UNIT” door took me. As I got closer to the door, I noticed my friend was sitting on the floor reading a book, but it seemed as if she was pretending to do so or was trying to look uninterested as there was a man of similar age looking down on her (and who I was told by other female patients later that he was a rapist), cat calling her, making kissing sounds with his puckered lips.

At this point, I was a 5’2.5, 20 year old woman with anxiety, social timidness with not a single characteristic that would deem me as threatening. I walked behind the man with tears in my eyes continuing since the hours I got here and said in a broken yell. “LEAVE HER THE FUCK ALONE!” This surprised the man (one being tall at around 5’11, heavy build, untamed hair and wearing hospital gowns of his own), who was taken back and walked away hearing me exclaim that. I stood there with this girl to continue our talks about ourselves and this hospital. And at some point, the girl (we may name her as Jennifer) mentioned how this deplorable man went up to her previously and talked about a vile sexual act he would perform on her. She tried to report this to hospital staffs (who were always locked behind closed doors inside this unit rather than roaming around the hallway), and was told they were familiar with him but to brush him off as it was part of his mental illness (schizophrenia).

Now, let me put this story off for a personal thought about this point. I will never believe a horrible action is caused by someone’s mental illness. I do not believe there is any way you can “unintentionally” want to be sexually degenerate to someone because you were mentally ill. Such language as he was using seemed too thought out for it to be excused as that and therefore any action I see from someone is personally a result from their own intentions, not from some disorder.

My frustration around how the environment and the staffs in this unit was growing, and it slowly turned into a days-worth of aggression that would only be more and more intense to tackle later after I left this wretched place.

At some point in the night, I asked along with my gal pal Jennifer to a staff on whether or not we can sleep on the floor next to them (located in front of the “BEHAVIORAL UNIT” door) as we were both very uncomfortable and worried about our safety. We had our blankets set with us for a little bit until we were offered to move into a single room up in that same area to feel comfortable. This gave us a peace of mind despite the real fear that plagued us about the man we saw, so we went into the new room to rest.

(Second page of journal entry, transcribed)

• "[... ] In order to prevent a “harrassment” incident (though this has been said to be ineffective).
• -There is no scheduled group therapy offered in this facility
• -There is no boardgames or forms of stimuli either.
• -I noticed at night that a man/known rapist (there are 2 reportedly within our unit) catcalled a friend/roomate while she was at a corner and I witnessed the incident. The man was staring at her while making kissing noises and licking his lips. This left me reacting angrily by walking up to him and saying “Leave her the fuck alone.” to stop the behavior, all while I was crying and having a mental breakdown generally over how this unit is.
• Later on at night, my friend being scared of what happened to her wanted to sleep on the floor by the entrance door where a nurse sat. I joined her in protest for a bit until we were moved into a room together out of safety.
• -Previously, we were not originally roomates and when my first roommate caught wind of this, I was accused of being a “liar” for something and was received death threats by her in this false allegation."

(Third page of journal entry, transcribed)

• "10-31-2021
• Additional note:
• A rapist on the first day I was here at the hospital told my friend an awfully sexual comment/fantasy:
• He would hang her upside down, beat her with a baseball bat until she was unconscious & then have sex with her body
• Another person suggested to another female patient about being a prostitute and would generate a lot of revenue.
• The more I stay in this hospital, the aggressive I get. And with that aggression, It forms into an urge to punch someone in the face. A number of hospital staff, the psychiatrist and the rapists trigger that response in me.
• I woke up at 2 in the morning being engulfed in rage as I thought of that rapist here after the many verbally sexual and depraved comments he’s thrown at me and other girls even after he’s been told from us to stop quietly, loudly, peacefully & aggressively. I’ll say this: he seems not to mess with me after I yelled/swore at him and am perceived to sock him in the face (he’s not wrong)."

Throughout all of this, I called my parents with the privilege I had with using the only public pay phone available in that hallway on the first day to talk about what was going on in this facility. Before this I noticed whenever other people talked on the phone to call for help from their relatives or friends, a staff was there on standby listening to what they said in case of anything negative about the hospital and would cut the call short. If not, then they would tell any visitors concerned for their loved ones that the patient was making things up and were not rational when they said that. Luckily no one was near by when I got access to the pay phone (located outside our rooms in the hallway) and through the loud yells of intense and stressed out patients, I told them everything I could before I could be caught or before my time limit was up. One thing I remembered from this call alone was when I was in the middle of describing the situation I was in when a random girl came up to me where I was holding the phone by my ear and yelled towards me.

Going back to the evening on day 1, that was the only time in which everyone settled down and left the hallway quiet in favor of sleep. While it took away a lot of anxiety and real danger I had for myself temporarily, the quiet night was silently filled with aggression. A feeling I would become more and more familiar with for the first time in my calm mannered life and would blanket my anxiety. Before everyone headed to sleep, they were offered a “sleep medication” that I was told by a patient was actually a sedative (Ativan). Me not yet having received this medication, I saved myself from ingesting it by asking the staff if I may take other medications I was prescribed previously by my psychiatrist (outside the hospital) at the time to help me sleep. While I was very lucky to avoid this medication, my roommate Jennifer wasn’t so and documented about this along with her own experience about being here in the hospital:

• "There are many concerns I would voice about this facility but my main concern would be the lack of care or concern toward medication given to me. I asked my assigned nurse for a sleep aid and she gave me medication. This medication caused me to feel strange and upon inquiry, I discovered I’d been given adavan (ativan). I asked my nurse to provide me with information on the drug and she was unable to produce any meaningful or useful information. In addition the psychiatrist assigned to me seemed to have spoken to me for less than 5 minutes before prescribing me 2 medications of which he provided no information about and oh only spoke to me further when I expressed my concerns. Even then only to brush me off. There are no therapeutic activities provided to patients here, that I have observed. I was told by my nurse various times that after my 72 hr hold I would be placed on an automatic 14 day hold. I do not feel comfortable receiving care at this facility. It seems as though most of the staff here are incompetent. The nurses for the most part, stay locked in an office while patients wander around the facility. On one occasion, a patient express some alarmingly sexually violent thoughts toward me and when I brought it to the attention of the nurses I was brushed off and the following day I was reprimanded for not bringing it to the attention of the charge nurse when I was never directed to do so. The nurses have also been providing my family and I conflicting information. Stating that I am uncooperative and unwilling to engage in meaningful conversation when I have not been approached with any such conversation."

In some parts of her journal entry, she mentions a psychiatrist (an old middle aged man) who was assigned to everyone of us in the facility, hence why he would only speak to her (and I as well in my experience) for about a minute before assigning us a random medication without further intake about our psyche. Despite being a psych unit, we were not ever scheduled with any sessions of group therapy as it should have (as what my previous psych hospital always did) and instead held activity session that seemed more like a child recess than one meant for adults: Having everyone huddle in another room across the patio, entering the left side of the hallway with nothing else to do but fill in child-level coloring pages, child-level cross puzzles and freely drawing anything on paper with crayola markers while someone played music from a bulky radio. Adults in their early 20s and mid 40s/50s gathered together in this only stimuli that was ever offered and it was dehumanizing to me. I’m not sure when at some point I came to this thought but I really wondered how someone could lock away a person behind a small facility, in a forgettable place within a giant hospital, knowing they need help to just wither with other unstable people on the same floor.

(Fourth page of journal entry, transcribed)

• "-Reportedly, patients are given “adavan” as a supposed “sleeping pill” when needed to sleep but in reality, is a sedative drug
• -My mental illness has worsened in coming to this hospital with additional aggression symptoms to attack/fight anyone intending to sexually harass or attack me and/or my roomate.
• -It’s common for mentally ill patients here to threaten others with fights or even death.
• -I prevented the nurses from serving me an addictive anxiety medication and instead serve me the medications my past psychiatrist has prescribed me.
• -A lot of patients [especially women] here report urging the need to leave this unit."

From day 2 and onwards, my memory begins to haze a lot but from what I can recall: on day 2, I was hoping to get out of here as soon as possible, calling my parents when I could for being in shock of where I was. When I wasn’t breaking down, I would be angry and vice versa. My feeling drove from being suicidal to fear and now a sense of growing frustration not only towards the lack of protection towards me and my roommate, but also towards other women who were in the facility. I believe my anger starts to be expressed on this day as I remembered huddling women behind me or around me, no matter if they were older or taller than me, as a source of safety and comfort as the shithead of a rapist knew I would yell back at him or did something more. My sense of purpose now shifted to protecting any girl, current or newly admitted, that were in the unit and scared to walk across the hallways in fear of him or other pervs wanting to harass us. My sense of comfort was in the notion that if I saw them safe around me, then that’s all I’m relieved to know about. I quickly got some guys as well to join my crew and that built additional security for everyone who were walking around the hallway. I wonder where everyone is now. I hope they’re all doing okay.

(Sketches of the restroom I had in my room while I was there)

(Fifth page of journal entry, transcribed)

• "11-2-2021
• -I have a breakdown in being overwhelmed again at the hospital about my lack of treatment and safety that I start isolated myself in my room and was tempted to yell through the door a loud scream and “R*PE ME!” after mentally snapping for a bit. The phrase was thought after being delusional and accepting the worst case scenario of a rapist violating me within the unit. This happened right before dinner was announced and I had to arrive in a slow, lumbering motion while my head was down, my body slouched and crying.
• -The second day here was when I finally got access to a therapist and was comforted in talking for a bit about general issues
• -Though when the therapist and a nurse tried to find me for that talk session, I was still having a breakdown and was found crying on the floor in my room at night with the lights turned off.
• -All I wish is for someone to give me physical contact such as a hug but apparently that is not allowed due to covid and generally not okay at this hospital to “touch” eachother."

There were times when I was absolutely close to attacking the creep I once feared out of spite and pictured myself punching him in the face hard enough to brake a couple teeth. Hours passed and I would walk around with closed, tense fists due to my growing intrusive urge. I neglected to do this in the end. Not due to letting go of my bitter hatred and forgiving, but because I knew and wanted to avoid more bullshittery from the hospital of being caught punching the one man I hate and being sedated along with being sentenced an additional 2 weeks in this place. The closest I’ve been to reaching that point was when me, a woman about 4-5 years my age and a mid 20s guy were passing talks and socializing on a table where the childish recess activities took place. The room was usually empty outside of those hours and you could enter inside this conference-like room surrounded with chairs and tables if say, you wanted to watch shows, which were being projected by a broken projector with horrible dimness and with a large black blot that covered ⅓ of the screen’s visuals. Here in our conversational table, arrived the creep to intrude and say what he’s always good at: talking about rape or assaulting people. 30 seconds go by with him sitting next to our gal pal (not Jennifer, but one of the many other gal pals that took comfort around me) and her growing uncomfort around him was being made clear, especially as a past rape victim herself. Despite being a tiny person, I instinctively raised my fist over the table to slam it with a prominent bang (not caring about whether this force hurt my hand or not) and gave him my usual remark along the lines of “Get the fuck away from her”, this time in a more quiet, resentful manner. This startled the guy as he knew it was a moment not to fuck with us and we all left the table room to go back into our rooms.

The third day comes around (11-3-2021) and it’s the usual at this place. Most notable thing that happened was that Jennifer (after contacting a lawyer through the phone and talking with loved ones) was able to leave today instead of being held back for an additional 14 days as she was dreading. Before she left, no time was left unhinged as the nurses were arguing with her to take medications she was understandably resisting out of being suspicious (the medications she was given were for psychosis despite her only having depression). And to resolve it, I shit you not but they told her that if she wasn’t going to take the meds then they would have to force it to her via injection. The news that she would leave minutes after this threat laid on her as a surprise but also a huge sense of relief for the both of us hating to see that happen.

(Sixth page of journal entry, transcribed)

• "I’m glad my roommate left as soon as possible. Minutes before the surprise discharge, she was being told that due to rejecting the medications the hospitals were trying to give here
• (turns out without question, the psychiatrist dead diagnosed her with psychosis even though she doesn’t suffer from that at all, they were going to force it to her through injection

There were times when I was absolutely close to attacking the creep I once feared out of spite and pictured myself punching him in the face hard enough to brake a couple teeth. Hours passed and I would walk around with closed, tense fists due to my growing intrusive urge. I neglected to do this in the end. Not due to letting go of my bitter hatred and forgiving, but because I knew and wanted to avoid more bullshittery from the hospital of being caught punching the one man I hate and being sedated along with being sentenced an additional 2 weeks in this place. The closest I’ve been to reaching that point was when me, a woman about 4-5 years my age and a mid 20s guy were passing talks and socializing on a table where the childish recess activities took place. The room was usually empty outside of those hours and you could enter inside this conference-like room surrounded with chairs and tables if say, you wanted to watch shows, which were being projected by a broken projector with horrible dimness and with a large black blot that covered ⅓ of the screen’s visuals. Here in our conversational table, arrived the creep to intrude and say what he’s always good at: talking about rape or assaulting people. 30 seconds go by with him sitting next to our gal pal (not Jennifer, but one of the many other gal pals that took comfort around me) and her growing uncomfort around him was being made clear, especially as a past rape victim herself. Despite being a tiny person, I instinctively raised my fist over the table to slam it with a prominent bang (not caring about whether this force hurt my hand or not) and gave him my usual remark along the lines of “Get the fuck away from her”, this time in a more quiet, resentful manner. This startled the guy as he knew it was a moment not to fuck with us and we all left the table room to go back into our rooms.

The third day comes around (11-3-2021) and it’s the usual at this place. Most notable thing that happened was that Jennifer (after contacting a lawyer through the phone and talking with loved ones) was able to leave today instead of being held back for an additional 14 days as she was dreading. Before she left, no time was left unhinged as the nurses were arguing with her to take medications she was understandably resisting out of being suspicious (the medications she was given were for psychosis despite her only having depression). And to resolve it, I shit you not but they told her that if she wasn’t going to take the meds then they would have to force it to her via injection. The news that she would leave minutes after this threat laid on her as a surprise but also a huge sense of relief for the both of us hating to see that happen.

11-4-2021. My physical hell is over. I told all the people who I protected and joined my crew to do the same for the next women that get admitted to this place while that creep is still around, and I come back home with an intense rage and urge to be hospitalized not due to the original suicidal ideations I’ve had starting this whole venture, but to keep myself away from hurting anyone as I basically retrained my brain to perceive the world as dangerous and need to be on edge in case anyone were to attack or harass me/other girls. This one admission to a horrible hospital resulted in another 3 that I spent back at the original hospital I first went to. While years have passed since then, I still think about this incident and feel like it eats me up everyday even after having therapy over this. I for a while was on edge all the time walking through the streets at seeing a guy cross my path, even after I transitioned as a guy, due to the instinctive reaction of reliving the memories that plagued my mind. I was always alert for any girl I saw in public interacting with a guy. While I knew my original intentions of doing this in the hospital, it plagued me as irrational behavior once I was brought back to my community. I felt like shit and I still kinda do, but time has treated me kindly with allowing me to slowly process this whole situation. With this eating me up, I feel like I wanted to put this out there. Somewhere. As a literal statement of throwing something out to the world. I may not be able to reverse the past, but I simply wish to find closure, whether that’s by sharing this story or letting my own emotions out.