detainment
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A year ago today, the cops hauled me out of my apartment, and I was locked up in a mental hospital for a couple weeks. To this day, I still have flashbacks, a lot of anxiety around it, shame around it. I left that apartment and have moved back into my house. Living with my
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I can’t get them out of my head, the terrible flashbacks. A violent detainment, struggling in restraints, paranoid and angry and suicidal. Feeling a profound fear that something much worse than death was going to happen to me. Feeling intense anger as I was drugged with a shot to my shoulder. Feeling a profound sense
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My first week in the hospital, a living nightmare, had passed. On day seven I felt so groggy, so heavy and sedated, I barely noticed when they came for vitals at 6am. The doctor came to see me first thing. “How are you feeling?” “Shitty,” I could barely mumble. I kept my eyes closed. “Dirty?”
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My fourth, maybe fifth, day in the hospital came. The meds had slowed me down significantly. I was pacing less, groggy and sedated. I suppose that was the goal, get me to slow down a little. I was hearing the voice less but he did still pop into my head to remind me I was
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I woke up slowly, wrapped in blankets up to my neck. I blinked and looked around and tried to roll over. This took monumental effort, and I didn’t get very far. I tried looking around. The room was spinning, and I moaned – the room was bare, white, small, and empty save the bed I
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I detailed in depth the story of my very recent detainment, violent and traumatic. I’m still dealing with flashbacks and bad dreams. It triggered a lot of other older, terrifying memories of the first time I was detained 10 years ago. That too was violent and traumatic. And I really hoped it would never happen
Documenting my journey through the mental health system 