psych hold
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Trying to sum up the last few days is difficult. My mind has been all over the place, my energy high, my libido even higher. We closed out emotion regulation in IOP, the end of week six for me. Riley the therapist wanted to see me after. I’m at roughly the one-month mark and it
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Sleepwalking again. Wandering into other rooms, trying to get out of the heavy, locked double doors to the psych unit. An MHT following me, attempting to talk to me. Not redirectable, I eventually wandered toward and attempted to get through the door to the interior part of the nurse station. Seclusion was right there and
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I started to write. Frantic, hurried writing, as though my memory had an expiration date and it was fast approaching. As though I were making up for lost time. And in a way, I was. A few days into my detainment, psych ward staff gave me a notebook to use as a journal. I wrote
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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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“Please, don’t make me take seroquel anymore, the RLS is unbearable. Please,” I begged the doctor on my sixth day, plagued with jerking and twisting legs all night, kicking, moaning, and walking around my room in anxious desperation. Room checks, where I was offered more PRNs, startled me every 15 minutes. “Okay…okay,” the doctor said
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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 had been in the acute care psych unit – a smaller 8 bed unit for acute crisis cases – three days. My 5-day hold was nearly up, and you guessed it – the doctor petitioned up to two weeks. I paced nervously in my room, slowly descending deeper into madness. I conversed with the
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“They’ll never let you go.” My eyes flew open at the voice. No one was in the room. My head was throbbing and I was confused, not remembering where I’d been taken the day before and where I was. “You will be their guinea pig. They’re going to experiment on you,” the ominous voice said
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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 