In September 2021, I experienced a traumatic and abusive breakup that led me to seek medical help. I have struggled with anxiety and depression my whole life, but that was my breaking point.
This is where I want the perspective to change on my story.
The reason I asked for mental health was because of a series of events I have gone through in my life and I share this because I don't want anyone to feel alone or belittled about asking for help.
I have experienced a lot of trauma in my life, as have many others. But it was a huge step to ask for help because that is something I couldn't ever see myself doing.
The breakup that triggered me to seek help, is not where the trauma ends and honestly the breakup was not as traumatic as the medical abuse I received when asking for help.
Yes, I went through a traumatic and abusive relationship that I wasn't expecting. This was my ending point and I was done with my life because I felt so belittled, unloved, unworthy. I felt ugly, disgusting, insecure, and so many other feelings I wouldn't wish on anyone.
August 29th, 2021 I got in the car and was going to go drive off a bridge. I harmed myself in many ways and it all escalated, yet my parents stopped me and then it was time to get help. I didn't know what I was getting into. It wasn't something I ever expected to do.
The beginning of my journey in the inpatient mental health hospital was the scariest and most uncomfortable situation I had ever been in. I was locked in a facility with condescending and belittling doctors, nurses, and mental health techs.
On my very first day, the psychiatrist told me I needed to stop crying because it was disrupting him and his patients. My first day they also threatened to inject me with medication if I didn't calm down.
For those who know me, I have always been a natural and holistic healing person who was committed to doing things that were safe for my body. I'd never been put on a psych med until that day in the hospital. That day was the beginning of me reacting to medication after medication. I would react in ways that would have me vomiting, dizzy, weak, losing feeling in my body, horrible migraines, swelling up, and many other symptoms. But the psychiatrist said "it's all in your head." "This is all your anxiety." "You're just doing this for attention." This was the beginning of my journey. I spent a total of 33 days locked up in a facility surrounded by nurses and doctors who convinced themselves I was faking all of this.
They immediately slapped an "eating disorder" stamp on my forehead after struggling to eat the hospital food. I have food allergies and I'm used to eating a strict diet at home but they literally took a percentage of everything we ate at each meal and what I ate wasn't enough for them. I was also vomiting up the food they wanted me to eat because I have food allergies/sensitivities that they didn't care to accommodate.
So they immediately didn't like me because I had an "eating disorder" and because I cried. I don't know how people don't cry when stuck in a place like that.
I requested to be transferred to another facility after almost 2 weeks because they clearly weren't going to let me leave. During these first two weeks, was also when they gave me the medication that paralyzed me the first time. It paralyzed me for a little over 24 hours and then they told me it would be listed as an allergy and they would never give it to me again. Anyways...Little did I know, transferring to a new facility would lead to me being exposed to a whole new terrifying environment. I also didn't know they were sending me on an Emergency order of detention that makes me have a minimum stay of a week.
I get transferred to a new facility at midnight. I was left in an in processing room, by myself, for 2 hours so from midnight until about 2am where they finally took me on to the DRUG & REHAB unit where I did NOT belong. At 3 in the morning they had me strip completely naked in front of multiple people including a male who was in and out. This is a situation I had never experienced and I better not ever again because they had no care in the world. They didn't care that I was a modest person. H.O.R.R.I.B.L.E
They walked me into a room close to 4am where we woke my new roommate up while they were explaining things to me. She was not happy. She terrified me. & That led her to not like me at all. I did not sleep for days because I was nothing short of terrified.
Within the first 24 hours in the new facility I was exposed to a large elderly lady who kept removing her entire hospital gown revealing her whole naked body to the unit. She would run at people, scream, and constantly came at me slamming her hands down on the table in front of me. She was rubbing herself on me and other patients. They finally had a tech on her at all times, but she'd get away with things over and over. Especially in groups when she'd yell " Who is ready to go have sex?!?" & "It's time to go fuck." I was already struggling going to groups because they put me in a drug and alcohol unit when I had no reason to be there. So I was in groups where we were getting yelled at and lectured on how we need to sobor up and get our lives together for our families. I was crying throughout the sessions because I was so lost and confused...
After 2 or 3 nights, they finally agreed to transfer me to the mental health unit, where I was supposed to go in the first place. I was ready for a change, hoping my week would go faster especially getting away from the lady who was yelling inappropriate statements and get away from the people struggling and angry with their withdrawals.. until they transfer me and a few hours later they also transfer the same lady... I then cried more because these were the longest days of my life.
I quickly found out that you can't trust anyone in these facilities. You can't trust the nurses, the mental health techs, or the patients. You are on your own. There were people constantly stealing things out of eachothers rooms because they were open at all times. There were fist fights, hair pulling, biting, people setting alarms off, and so many things you don't want to imagine... This place was not okay. It was horrible. It was terrifying. I don't know how this benefits someone who is struggling mentally. It made me worse because I genuinely did not want to live through the daily trauma. I didn't want to worry about someone running at me or throwing a chair. My last night there someone almost bit a guys finger off, so we had to go to the ER and then another guy had a seizure when he was smoking because he was having alcohol withdrawals... So he had to go to the hospital. Getting out of their was the only option. I stayed on the one medication they put me on, regardless of it making me sick because I had to lie to get myself out of there. It was not safe or healthy. They released me one day short of my EOD.
After I was released, it was so hard. I'd spent almost 3 weeks inpatient between 2 different hospitals. My parents picked, sister, and dog picked me up and it was terrifying. It was so hard to walk out of the building and even hug my family because we had to be careful who we even went near for 3 weeks and you couldn't trust anyone. We went to pick up food to go eat at a park and I was so scared. Being out in public was scary and I could barely eat. I didn't want to be alive and I was in a completely different environment. I was so confused... I knew I wasn't ready to go home but I finally agreed and it was so hard.. I was exposed to so many different objects that I hadn't seen in weeks and all I could think about was hurting myself.
As soon as I got alone, I attacked my body. I cut my legs and arms completely and was covered in blood. I was balling my eyes out and just begging to die. I couldn't keep fighting the constant battle. I couldn't keep fighting the old trauma and the new trauma. I was hurting myself because it was something I was in control of. I wanted it to the distract me from the pain in my head and in my heart. My sister was home, and she wasn't understanding at all. She was really mad at me which made me feel worse... Then, they all took me back to the hospital...back to the place I originally started the first 2 weeks..
So, I'm back where I started. It's horrible how safe this facility felt compared to the one I was transferred to. This whole month was the first time I'd ever been in a facility for mental health so I had no idea what I'd experience until I was there. I went back to the hospital, all I wanted was help. I just wanted to get better. I was committed to working with my social worker, taking in information from the groups, and trying to find who I was again.. it didn't work like that.
Shortly after being readmitted into the original facility, I was still having panic and anxiety attacks. They gave me medication, it didn't calm me down. I was screaming, biting, clawing and just being a person that I didn't know existed within me. I was mad at myself and didn't know who I was, but I was taking it all out on myself.
A few days back in, they told me they were going to give me the medication that briefly paralyzed me the first time.
They said " We will just give you a lower dose."
I said "No you won't. I'm not taking that. "
They said "If you don't take it, we will inject you with it."
I had no choice at this point. I wasn't trying to be a brat about it, but why would they give me something listed as an allergy on my chart? They are forcing it on me. I took the medicine and shortly after, my body shut down. They didn't mark in my medication notes that they gave me the medication to cover their asses from a lawsuit.
My body shut down. My legs went tingly. My hands went tingly. Then numb. Then absolutely nothing. No feeling. No movement. My hands seized up. My ankles caved in. And I have not been the same person since. Everything turned from being mentally screwed to mentally and physically screwed. Who am I?
To be continued.
With love,
Aspen Sage Baxter