Imagine what you have seen in the movies about psych hospitals. Yes, it was almost that bad.
Most, if not all, of the patients in there had severe problems that had been with them for years. Each day I attended group after group session. Oh talk about depressing. It was so dangerous for me to hear people's stories. Abuse, molestation, death, multi-personalities, attempted suicide, rape, drug addiction, depression, etc. The list is infinite of the things I listened to hour after hour. If you weren't depressed upon arrival at the facility, within a few hours you would want to put a bullet into your own brain.
Whenever it came time for me to talk I was at loss of what to say. I had no crazy stories to tell. My life up to that point had been so textbook and boring in a way. Boring in a GOOD way, in fact. I couldn't explain to people that I really had no problems or issues up until July 4th when something snapped in my brain. However, psychiatrists are not interested in hearing boring stories. They searched and prodded through my brains until they could come up with something that satisfied their need for drama. I hated group!
Every other night was a group session that I looked forward to. The counselor's name was Chris and he was a practicing Buddhist. In that group we sat around and we were not aloud to talk about anything negative. We discussed ways to cope through very positive and drug free methods. Each night I would walk out of there feeling so alive and hopeful. I loved Chris! I would later take the principles I learned from him and apply them in my life. And it is those principles that I still use on a daily basis all this time later.
Drugs were thrown at me from every angle. Sleep did not come to me unless I was heavily medicated, and even then it was weak and restless. The doctors in there decided that Ativan should be my best friend. I could tell within a week that I was craving it and I would get the shakes hours before my next dose. They told me not to worry because Ativan was not addicting. Oh how they lied to me.
On one occasion a new demon was introduced into my life. Trazadone. On one of my firsts nights there they gave me 100 mg of Trazadone to take. The next morning I was filled with unexplainable rage. All day long I cried and screamed and hated the world. The doctors took this to mean that I was anxious and unmanageable so they upped my dosage of Ativan. Then a higher dose of Ambien would follow at night. It's no wonder that we walked around with drool hanging from our mouths. They kept me so medicated that I could barely tell up from down. I would later discover I had a severe addiction to Trazadone that almost took my life.
Ethan and Cody came to see me on a few occasions and it was miserable. I wasn't the same mommy that Ethan had known just days before. I was crazy and he could tell. Cody and I would sit there in silence, neither of us knowing what to say. Before my release he came up to the hospital for a "family meeting" between us and a counselor. That meeting was almost the end of our marriage. We were so confused and scared and we didn't know what to do from there. I knew in my heart that I entered the facility as a scared girl with some sort of unexplained disorder, but I was leaving as a drug addict. Cody knew this too.
Most, if not all, of the patients in there had severe problems that had been with them for years. Each day I attended group after group session. Oh talk about depressing. It was so dangerous for me to hear people's stories. Abuse, molestation, death, multi-personalities, attempted suicide, rape, drug addiction, depression, etc. The list is infinite of the things I listened to hour after hour. If you weren't depressed upon arrival at the facility, within a few hours you would want to put a bullet into your own brain.
Whenever it came time for me to talk I was at loss of what to say. I had no crazy stories to tell. My life up to that point had been so textbook and boring in a way. Boring in a GOOD way, in fact. I couldn't explain to people that I really had no problems or issues up until July 4th when something snapped in my brain. However, psychiatrists are not interested in hearing boring stories. They searched and prodded through my brains until they could come up with something that satisfied their need for drama. I hated group!
Every other night was a group session that I looked forward to. The counselor's name was Chris and he was a practicing Buddhist. In that group we sat around and we were not aloud to talk about anything negative. We discussed ways to cope through very positive and drug free methods. Each night I would walk out of there feeling so alive and hopeful. I loved Chris! I would later take the principles I learned from him and apply them in my life. And it is those principles that I still use on a daily basis all this time later.
Drugs were thrown at me from every angle. Sleep did not come to me unless I was heavily medicated, and even then it was weak and restless. The doctors in there decided that Ativan should be my best friend. I could tell within a week that I was craving it and I would get the shakes hours before my next dose. They told me not to worry because Ativan was not addicting. Oh how they lied to me.
On one occasion a new demon was introduced into my life. Trazadone. On one of my firsts nights there they gave me 100 mg of Trazadone to take. The next morning I was filled with unexplainable rage. All day long I cried and screamed and hated the world. The doctors took this to mean that I was anxious and unmanageable so they upped my dosage of Ativan. Then a higher dose of Ambien would follow at night. It's no wonder that we walked around with drool hanging from our mouths. They kept me so medicated that I could barely tell up from down. I would later discover I had a severe addiction to Trazadone that almost took my life.
Ethan and Cody came to see me on a few occasions and it was miserable. I wasn't the same mommy that Ethan had known just days before. I was crazy and he could tell. Cody and I would sit there in silence, neither of us knowing what to say. Before my release he came up to the hospital for a "family meeting" between us and a counselor. That meeting was almost the end of our marriage. We were so confused and scared and we didn't know what to do from there. I knew in my heart that I entered the facility as a scared girl with some sort of unexplained disorder, but I was leaving as a drug addict. Cody knew this too.
4 comments:
I totally think that you should do the emotional presentation for enrichment. You of all people know what it is like and can help teach people was to really cope better than some stupid psychologist that read about it in a book and was taught that drugs are the answer!
I totally hooked! I can't wait to hear the rest of the story.
I had no idea it was that bad. I am totally into your story. It truly is like a movie. You're amazing for being the person that you are today and overcoming something so horrifying!
I am a friend of Jylaire's husband(hers to of course, but I have know Matt since middle school). I am pregnant right now and my emotions are tender, but your story is so touching. I don't know if at the time you cared about what your son thought, but it must hurt you deeply now. I haven't finished the story yet, but can tell that you were given this trial for a reason. I have never suffered from depression of any kind, but know who to call if I do. Thank you for sharing your story. Tracie Maynard
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