My Time in a State Mental Hospital

 Back in September 2005, three days before my golden birthday, I was taken to a state mental hospital for a depressive episode. I had some pills in my hand but was going to put them back, but Nick caught me with them in my hand. He felt that I was going to take them and didn't know that I was going to put them back. We went outside into what was going to be a stormy night. I told him I wanted to take a walk. My sister came home (she was staying with us at the time), and I told him that I'd take her with me, but he didn't feel like she could protect me if I decided to jump on the railroad tracks or out in the road in front of a truck. The police ended up being called. Nick gave his side of the story, and when they asked for my side of the story, I wouldn't give it. By that time I felt so defeated, I figured, what was the point? Back in 2005, the police really didn't listen to the emotionally unstable party; we were just hauled away somewhere.

I was taken six hours away to a state mental health hospital. I was told that there was a bed open there for me. Guess what? There wasn't. They kept me out in the hallway on a mattress. They said that it was because I was under suicide watch, but when I went around looking into the rooms, every bed was taken. Amazingly, when someone left, I was suddenly off suicide watch.

While I was there, I wasn't allowed to talk to my regular psychiatrist. There were very specific phone times. If I couldn't get in contact with him during those phone times, I couldn't talk to him. Naturally, I couldn't get in contact with him.

At that time, I was only showering every other day. I felt like if I showered every day, it dried out my skin and hair. The staff there would ask you to shower every day, and if you said no, they would write down that you refused and dock points against you that would count against how soon you could get out. Once I learned this, I started showering every day, just wetting down my hair and using their crappy lotion that did nothing to moisturize my skin. I ended up with such dry, itchy skin. In the three weeks that I was in there, my skin got almost flaky. (Not to mention not having a razor to shave with and how long the hair on my legs and armpits got!)

I got rebellious while I was in there. I was pissed about the whole shower thing. I was pissed that the court ordered me to stay in there past the initial 36 hours based on what the doctors had said. I went back to court on my golden birthday and was court ordered back there. I made the police drive me the six hours back home because I was certain they were going to let me out. Nope. They ended up driving me back. No food, in cuffs the entire time, no bathroom breaks. Was I a risk? I didn't think so. Was I mad? You bet.

What did I do while I was there? I gave up on personal space. I got really close to a few of the male patients in there, even going so far as kissing one while waiting in line for our meds. After that the nurses kept a close eye on me and kept me three feet away from the other patients while in line for meds. I got punished by not being able to go to meals with the others for a few days and having to stay out of groups for the same amount of time. Before I was able to join the others again, I was given a talking to, and I was watched like a hawk for the remaining time I was there.

Kids weren't allowed to visit, but that's fine, because I wouldn't want my kids to see me in there anyway. The place was filled with bars and fences. I didn't even allow Nick to come down. I was pretty angry with Nick anyway. In court on my birthday, when I was ordered back into the hospital, I demanded a divorce. I didn't mean it; I was just hot-headed, and Nick did such a good job testifying that I overheard the lawyer tell the police officer how he didn't even need the police officer to testify. My husband had basically buried me.

I did have some fun there. I enjoyed creating chaos. And we had a night where we sang karaoke. I sang 'Cause I Got High by Afroman. We got to go out to smoke two cigarettes every two hours. That privilege was revoked a few days before I left due to a new law that the state passed. It was great to be able to go outside every two hours. We were still allowed to go outside after the smoking ban was passed, and we would sneak smokes.

When I left there, I went to a halfway house to live. I had been seeing someone else for months, and Nick was filing for divorce. The whole reason this episode came about was because I was trying to break it off with the guy I was seeing and didn't know how to tell him, and I didn't know how to tell Nick I wanted to save our marriage, and I was in turmoil. My communication skills have always sucked, and my temper has always gotten the best of me.

Here's a picture of the campus of the state mental hospital:

Just to give you an idea of how bad mental health patients were treated back in 2005, when I was transported back on the day I was released from the hospital, I had to wake up around 4:00 a.m. I wasn't fed breakfast, but was given a paper bag of food to eat on the way up. I was picked up by the police around 4:45 for the trip. I was handcuffed and transported in the back of the car. I wasn't allowed to go to the bathroom. I wasn't allowed to eat. I wasn't allowed to stretch when they stopped. If you've ever been in the back of a police car, you know how cramped and uncomfortable it is in the plastic seat. Now try having your hands cuffed behind your back for a six-plus hour trip. I was treated like a criminal. When I finally got to the courthouse back home, my lawyer was livid. He made sure I was able to eat and I was put in a private room, where he talked to me about what would happen from here on out.

I was traumatized from this experience. When Nick and I went to visit in the general area a year or so later, I was terrified that I was being brought back to the hospital. I couldn't relax and enjoy our time in the vicinity. I was terrified when I was ill again to call the police because I was afraid I would be brought back down there. It took me a long time to trust police again.

Until next week's dirt!