Back from the loony bin...no...really.
I don't know where to begin with the previous eight days.
I have recently been diagnosed with manic depression, and I've known I needed new medication for quite some time, and lately, with my overdoses on klonopin mixed with wine (yes, I know how dangerous that can be...no, I wasn't doing it just to get attention...I was actually at the point where I cried because I had to face another day. Here in town, I'm alone and isolated. I would have panic attacks just going to Target because I felt judged, or because I'd have to go to sleep at night alone, at least before Earl came along.)
Anyway...so I told my therapist about what went on with me and my overdoses towards the beginning of the week. She recommended that I check into a psychiatric hospital. A psychiatric hospital would be a "safe place" she said to "monitor any issues" with medication. So after consideration, I did.
I checked into St. Simon's By the Sea, and honestly, this place makes the asylum in AHS look like the Goddamn Hilton. I'm exaggerating, yes, but only slightly. Only by virtue of the lack of shock therapy.
I am writing a formal grievance letter regarding my treatment in this special circle of hell.
1) In this hospital (and I use this word loosely), there are the drug and alcohol addicts, the depressives, and the serious crazy nut-jobs who can barely carry on a sentence. These are the people who have hallucinations, have thoughts of violently harming themselves or others, or otherwise act out violently.
I was placed on this floor.
There was a woman there whom I will refer to henceforth as Ursula, because that's what I came to call her behind her back. She would cuss at all the staff at all hours of the night. She constantly interrupted. She would storm out. You know those old Magic Bullet Infomercials?
In case you don't know what I'm talking about, watch the woman a
around 2:30.
Anyway...Ursula/Hazel stole several of my belongings (I know this because I would find them in her room days later). She actually knocked a cup of hot coffee out of my hand a tech was kind enough to get for me. I couldn't even go through a door without her butting her way through. I just can't emphasize enough how horrid this individual was. I am probably going to have nightmares about her tonight. I will divulge more details about all this later, but it got to the point where she was screaming bloody murder at me all the way down the hall, and I was screaming bloody murder right back. I got one roommate my first night there at 2am who talked in her sleep and saw circles and couldn't really carry on a full sentence which was super fun, but not nearly as fun as the roommate who wouldn't stop screaming in "pain."
After explaining to a doctor that the reasons for my depression were things that were best fixed on the outside and I needed to be released a day early, I was literally told "I don't have time" to release you today."
I am exhausted. Too exhausted to go into more details than that, but I will regale you with more of this sordid tale in the next entry. I have so much to say about the psychiatric profession, about that place specifically...it may be a whole series of entries. But anyway, I am about to face-plant, and can't wait to catch up on TV.
Hope everyone is doing well and if you have a long weekend this weekend, may you enjoy it immensely! :)
I have recently been diagnosed with manic depression, and I've known I needed new medication for quite some time, and lately, with my overdoses on klonopin mixed with wine (yes, I know how dangerous that can be...no, I wasn't doing it just to get attention...I was actually at the point where I cried because I had to face another day. Here in town, I'm alone and isolated. I would have panic attacks just going to Target because I felt judged, or because I'd have to go to sleep at night alone, at least before Earl came along.)
Anyway...so I told my therapist about what went on with me and my overdoses towards the beginning of the week. She recommended that I check into a psychiatric hospital. A psychiatric hospital would be a "safe place" she said to "monitor any issues" with medication. So after consideration, I did.
I checked into St. Simon's By the Sea, and honestly, this place makes the asylum in AHS look like the Goddamn Hilton. I'm exaggerating, yes, but only slightly. Only by virtue of the lack of shock therapy.
I am writing a formal grievance letter regarding my treatment in this special circle of hell.
1) In this hospital (and I use this word loosely), there are the drug and alcohol addicts, the depressives, and the serious crazy nut-jobs who can barely carry on a sentence. These are the people who have hallucinations, have thoughts of violently harming themselves or others, or otherwise act out violently.
I was placed on this floor.
There was a woman there whom I will refer to henceforth as Ursula, because that's what I came to call her behind her back. She would cuss at all the staff at all hours of the night. She constantly interrupted. She would storm out. You know those old Magic Bullet Infomercials?
In case you don't know what I'm talking about, watch the woman a
Click to viewaround 2:30.
Anyway...Ursula/Hazel stole several of my belongings (I know this because I would find them in her room days later). She actually knocked a cup of hot coffee out of my hand a tech was kind enough to get for me. I couldn't even go through a door without her butting her way through. I just can't emphasize enough how horrid this individual was. I am probably going to have nightmares about her tonight. I will divulge more details about all this later, but it got to the point where she was screaming bloody murder at me all the way down the hall, and I was screaming bloody murder right back. I got one roommate my first night there at 2am who talked in her sleep and saw circles and couldn't really carry on a full sentence which was super fun, but not nearly as fun as the roommate who wouldn't stop screaming in "pain."
After explaining to a doctor that the reasons for my depression were things that were best fixed on the outside and I needed to be released a day early, I was literally told "I don't have time" to release you today."
I am exhausted. Too exhausted to go into more details than that, but I will regale you with more of this sordid tale in the next entry. I have so much to say about the psychiatric profession, about that place specifically...it may be a whole series of entries. But anyway, I am about to face-plant, and can't wait to catch up on TV.
Hope everyone is doing well and if you have a long weekend this weekend, may you enjoy it immensely! :)