Mental institution stories
31 Stories From Former Psychiatric Hospital Patients
—Anonymous
"In reality, mental hospitals are often really grim and unglamorous places, and not because of 'villainous' staff, but because of the much scarier reality that this is the place where people go when they simply cannot cope anymore or are utterly hopeless."
—Anonymous
"Although it was a locked ward, as long as your doctor didn’t think you were a flight risk, most patients had permission to go out on walks with the occupational therapist and visit the coffee shop in the hospital. They even let me go home on weekends when I felt safe to."
—Anonymous
"I know for sure I wouldn't be here today if I hadn't gone. I wish the stigma around being in a mental hospital was gone so that I could share this experience more often in a positive way."
—bridgettee2
"One thing they get right is the grippy socks. You do get those, and they are hella comfy. "
—Anonymous
—Anonymous
"People like to think that these places are scary and intense, but it’s really the opposite. You have to stick to a strict routine and follow certain procedures, which makes every day very predictable. My days mostly consisted of meals, activities/classes, meeting with my care team, and some free time. I never encountered anyone even remotely dangerous or violent."
—WGE
"To this day (I’m 26 now), I still watch Finding Nemo when I’m really struggling, just because it makes me feel safe and I can turn my mind off for a while."
—graceelizabethb3
"The other patients were nice as well. There’s not individual therapy, though; you meet with a psychiatrist for a small amount of time, and then there are some groups. We also had to get up at 6 every day to have our vitals checked, but other than that, we pretty much were left alone."
—brittanyd41a376d65
—Anonymous
"You become really close to one another after listening to everyone's resilient life stories.
"
—jessicaunker
"You’ll end up being good friends with a 57-year-old man and a 15-year-old girl because you grow close to those who are in there for a long time with you, regardless of background."
—katevilla
—Anonymous
—Anonymous
—Anonymous
—Anonymous
"I had ECT while I was there, and it was just like getting anesthesia and falling asleep while they gave my brain a shock. When I woke up, they asked me some questions to test my memory. It's very humane."
—Anonymous
"ECT is NOT a punishment for patients who break the rules. It is a mode of treatment, just like medication."
—sasha
—Anonymous
"First off, it hardly happens because hospitals don’t tolerate any type of romantic relationship between patients and will separate you if they have that suspicion. There are plenty of policies in place to avoid relationships. Second, people are at the hospital to focus on their own recovery, and it does not help to be portraying it as the place where you will have a wonderful love story!!"
—mkerickson617
"For example, they can put you on medications, and if you question what they're for or resist wanting to take them immediately, you can be marked as 'uncooperative' or 'disruptive' and then have negative consequences.
It's hard to know what you're getting yourself into, and even harder to advocate for yourself in a place that treats anything aside from total obedience as rebellion."
—Anonymous
—Anonymous
—Anonymous
"No mental illness is the same, and you can't treat a person with borderline personality disorder the same way you treat a person with OCD!"
—cwo877
"Meds were a huge topic of conversation and frequently compared and discussed despite being an off-limits topic."
—Anonymous
—Anonymous
"I went to the ER pre-vaccines and had to be separated from my fiancé, stripped of my belongings and clothes, patted down by security, and placed in a tiny room with a hospital bed for over 12 hours. I have PTSD from that night, and it definitely deterred me from going to the ER again for mental health reasons."
—amandajweller
"When you are admitted, you have to strip completely, and they document any self-harm marks, bruises, scratches, etc.
This part was a little traumatic because you feel so so vulnerable."
—madelinemorley99
"Doors all had windows or the top cut off so they could see you. No pens or pencils allowed except for little, stubby pencils. Chairs weighed 80 pounds so you couldn’t throw them. Strings were cut out of hoodies and pants."
—Anonymous
—Anonymous
"I made friends with a 7-year-old girl who told me she wanted to kill herself because that’s what her mom did. There was a 6-year-old boy who had swallowed his mother’s sleeping pills to 'sleep forever' so he wouldn’t have to deal with abuse from his dad. There aren’t many TV shows or movies that show young children with suicidal ideation."
—Anonymous
"I live in a not-so-wealthy area in New England but a short drive away from one of the richest communities. I have a friend who was admitted to a psych hospital in my town who was given the bare minimum of care, and she actually lied about not feeling suicidal anymore just so she could leave…but when my own therapist was having his office fumigated, he had me meet him at his secondary office in the psych hospital in the wealthier neighborhood, and it seriously was like a country club.
Huge gardens, bright and cheery buildings, friendly staff, and beautifully maintained facilities, right down to the bathrooms having scented (unlit) candles. It’s simultaneously obvious but incredible to see what a difference money makes."
—jconway
Note: Some submissions have been edited for length and/or clarity.
The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255. Other international suicide helplines can be found at befrienders.org. The Trevor Project, which provides help and suicide-prevention resources for LGBTQ youth, is 1-866-488-7386. You can also text TALK to 741741 for free, anonymous 24/7 crisis support in the US and UK from the Crisis Text Line.
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Mental Hospital Stories - The Atlantic
Mental Hospital Stories - The Atlantic- Chris Helgren / Reuters
Coming Out of Electroshock Therapy
- Chris Bodenner
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When We Don't Value Psychiatric Care
- Chris Bodenner
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Joy in a Mental Hospital
- Chris Bodenner
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‘I Helped My Boyfriend Commit Himself’
- Chris Bodenner
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Making Friends in the Psych Ward
- Chris Bodenner
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Feeling Coerced Into Psychiatric Care
- Chris Bodenner
- Jaime Henry-White / AP
‘I Felt I Was Not Worthy of Having Survived’
- Chris Bodenner
The entire arsenal of rehabilitation programs aimed at restoring a person's ability to feel happy in society requires not only professional knowledge from the hospital staff, but also a willingness to share their own warmth.
But, as you know, to save a drowning man, it is not enough to stretch out his hand, it is necessary that he stretch out his own in response. The same law applies to the rehabilitation of people suffering from mental disorders - without the active participation of the patient himself and his immediate environment, the work will not be a sustainable success.
Formation of stories of overcoming in psychiatry solves a number of important tasks:
For a person who composes his own history, e this process helps to integrate the accumulated experience, see new facets in his own life, remember those resources that helped in difficult moments (this is how they become meaningful experience that can be used again when difficulties arise).
Relatives help to hear and understand their loved ones better, including through the stories of other people (after all, the person with mental health problems is not always able to fully reveal his feelings). This understanding is a very important component of the rehabilitation process, helping to create a healthy environment in families.
Stories help specialists in the field of mental health to reflect on the work done, to see human destinies behind clinical cases. Stories of overcoming are one of the living sources of professional burnout prevention.
For readers who have not come into contact with a psychiatric hospital, such stories become windows into the world “beyond the fence”, help dispel myths and form real ideas about modern psychiatry. Such an experience can help you see in your environment (or in yourself) beacons that psychiatric help is needed. Timely started treatment gives great chances for sustainable results in restoring health.
Evgeniya Akimova , medical psychologist of the Club of Patients and Their Relatives.
Write me down as normal
When I was 19 years old, the circumstances were as follows: I was graduating from a technical school, I had exams on my nose, and I led an unhealthy lifestyle (alcohol, drugs), plus the imposed stress paid off.
And I ended up in the 1st department of a psychiatric hospital. I was surprised by the responsiveness and openness of patients. On the first day of my stay in the department, I was distributing cigarettes to other patients and I saw a normal person, I went up to him and said: "Record me as normal," and he answered me: "Don't worry, everyone is normal here." On the second day, I became aggressive, I opened the door to the doctor with my foot, and the doctors had to start complex therapy.
A month has passed, I was discharged. I was released depressed, abandoned by all my friends. I felt alone, broken. A terrible depression, apathy began to emerge, I began to slowly move away from society.
The turning point came when I was 25 years old. One day my mother said: “Son, I'm tired, I'm tired of fighting your illness, tired of worrying about you. I'm sure you have the strength to fight on your own. If you have the strength, go and fight, if you don’t have the strength, lie down, lie down.
” She let me go free. I felt that she trusted me, and this played a very important role. On the same day, I started sweeping the yard, removing chicken droppings from the chicken coop. I realized that work helps me. And then I noticed that a punching bag helps me in the fight against psychosis. Then I began to notice that the more I communicate with people, the more I open up to them and sincerely admit my problems, the more social I become.
Several times I got a job, but as soon as the employer found out about my diagnosis, I was either demoted or fired. In the end, I made the decision to work for myself. In order to open my own business, I had to learn a lot from different people. You have probably noticed that if you are interested in it, then knowledge is easily absorbed. At the moment, my work with people brings me back to life.
It's very hard when your friends refuse you, they think you're a fool, when all the doctors say that you're somehow not like that, you have a diagnosis and you need to take medicine.
Of course, not every person is able to accept and understand that they are not slandering him. The society says that you are not like everyone else, a fool, a schizophrenic - this is very hard to accept. But it needs to be done.
Of course, I did not believe in my diagnosis and experimented many times: I took pills irregularly or tried to quit, but it all ended in the same way - psychosis. Psychosis - sometimes it is anxiety, fears, sometimes it is increased activity, severe emotional overload, when the body refuses to rest and works at its maximum limits. If it were possible to move mountains in one day, then this would be a reality, but in order to move mountains, you need to hit one point every day. Recognizing that I have a disease, this gives me a chance to be useful to this world, to create, to create. I want to leave a mark after myself. I want people to understand and accept me for who I am. Let it be an illness or a disease, but as my doctor said: “There is more good in good than in evil.
”
My social circle is huge now. Once I sincerely admitted to my new friends that I had a psychiatric diagnosis, and they were able to accept me for who I am. And after that, they always supported me, and it became easier for me to open up to people.
You take pills and everything is fine, but it took time to come to this. If we do not trust doctors, then how can we trust other people. You have to trust the doctor, talk to people. I understand that it is very difficult to accept the disease, but when you try to refuse drugs several times, thinking that you are doing well, it leads to psychosis each time.
Fedor K.
Path to mental health
I believe that mental health is the path to human socialization. This is free communication, everyone understands the meaning of your words. You are not afraid of people, even strangers, you freely make contact with them. Even a mentally healthy person knows the measure in the imagination, dreams, dreams.
And this person leads a healthy lifestyle: eats right, plays sports, monitors general health.
One of the problems of mental disorders is “my world”. A person is in himself, he is closed, no one knows how to communicate with him. What happens in "his world"? Dreams, illusions. A person invents various life situations, but lives little in reality. From excessive illusions, hallucinations, voices, delirium can occur. By the way, such a patient tries on any situation for himself or does not understand another person. For example, someone said something. This someone meant his own, and the patient thought something else. A common situation is that I hear a ringing, but I don’t know where it is.
It is necessary to restore mental health not only with medication. We need to work with a psychologist who would find the key to the patient's "world" and work on it. First of all, I found out how it happened that a person lives with a bouquet of psychological complexes, taught me how to get rid of them.
In addition to pills and a psychologist, a favorite thing is very important - a hobby. Anything your heart desires: reading, drawing, singing, knitting, sewing, origami, macrame, guessing puzzles, crossword puzzles, and so on. These exercises will not only help strengthen the nervous system, but also improve your mood, broaden your horizons.
Laura Akopova
Stepping forward along the path of life
I fell ill from childhood, my mother brought me to a psychiatric hospital. I liked the children's department - there were good communication, a lot of new acquaintances and friends. Then he lay in the adult departments several times, the last time he was hospitalized in 2012. I then fussed and ran, I had love, but my parents were against this relationship, because she had bad behavior. They put me in the adult ward. The doctors in the departments were normal, a very good hostess sister - kind and sympathetic.
After discharge, he registered at the Rehabilitation Center, then began to attend labor workshops and the Patients' Club. I actively participated in festive events, joint trips to city events. In the play "Evenings on a Farm near Dikanka" I played the role of Vakula - since childhood I really like to participate in theatrical activities, I was even shown on TV in a report about our festival. With pleasure I went to volleyball competitions in Ipatovo, our team managed to win one of the prizes. I really like to participate in the meetings of the creative team "Through the Looking Glass". Thanks to the hospital, I got to know good people. Thanks to the wonderful specialists of the hospital, I feel good and confident. Some time ago, I found a job as an apparatchik at a factory. I really like to work - I do a good deed for people and at the same time receive additional income for retirement. I want to go to Moscow someday - to look at the capital of our Motherland. I want to continue my theater studies.
I dream of a successful marriage. I wish everyone to be happy, do not look back, set goals and achieve success.
Anonymous
Colors of the sober world a
I started taking drugs at the age of 17. I thought it was cool and cool, at first it was like that - the whole world began to look different, it seemed that I understand the world better. But, over time, drugs entered my life so much that I could no longer live without them. I started with marijuana, it seemed not enough, I switched to harder drugs. After two years on hard drugs, I was still able to think about where all this was leading me, who I was turning into. But I couldn’t quit, I returned to the lungs, this all went on for 15 years. Now, when I look back on all these years, I can not remember anything good - a constant state of euphoria, all the colors of life have become gray. This began to lead me to wild depressions and unwillingness to live. I ended up in a psychiatric hospital and after a while I was able to understand how beautiful a sober world can be.
But before that, it was very difficult for me to understand and accept this, because such a number of years under drugs could not leave without a trace, it’s hard, it’s hard to see everything differently, to realize everything ... a sober vision of the world, sober thoughts, I haven’t thought about it for so long . But the desire to live in this world as a normal person still prevailed, I really wanted a family, I wanted to love, to be loved, but I thought that it was simply impossible to love a person like me, I really wanted to change everything. It gave me a reason to look at the world with sober eyes. I really want to see how my future wife will bear a child, how he will be born, how he will take his first steps, say the first word, and this was my salvation. And now I believe that everything will work out in my life! The happiness that I have been waiting for so long will come into my life.
Anonymous
New dreams
I started the curve of drug use at the age of 16.
It all started, like many with soft drugs. It seemed to me that the world became brighter, and life became more beautiful. But I did not stop there, I wanted to try something else. I started using substance abuse, which almost made me crippled. Then, psychotropic substances appeared on my way, which continued to dry out my brain, destroy my personality. All this led to the fact that I lost the trust of my relatives, people close to me, friends, I lost my girlfriend. At that moment, I began to understand that the colors that the drugs used to color my world began to fade. The world became gray and bleak, I was haunted by endless depressions. When I found a dose and received fleeting joy, I later paid with my mental health. I began to hallucinate, fear, persecution mania. Subsequently, the dubious "friends" I made left me alone in the face of the difficulties that drugs had led me to. The only ones who didn't leave me were my relatives, my mother. Now I don't want to live like this anymore.
Once in the hospital and being isolated from drugs, I realized how much I was ruining my life, and the lives of my family and friends. Now I have new dreams, new aspirations in life. I want to love, I want to be loved. I will do everything so that my mother and my future family can be proud of me and see me as a support. I will also do everything so that drugs never again touch people who are so dear to me.
Anonymous
They helped me to believe in myself again
The first time I got to a psychiatric hospital was in 2002, at the same time I received the second working group of disability. During this time, I did not work. In 2005, the guys I knew told me that we have labor shops on the territory of the hospital - sewing and cardboard. At first I started going to a sewing shop - I learned to sew: I sewed bed linen. Then I moved on to the carton shop. Here I made many new good friends, met my love, who became my husband. During the visits to the workshops, I got used to observing the working regime.
For 4 years she worked under the employment program for the disabled in our hospital. Feeling confident, she turned to the Employment Center about work. And now I work full-time with a good salary in one of the largest organizations in our city. I want to express my gratitude to all the doctors who helped me in the hospital, especially Olga Pavlovna Chernenko (she was my attending physician), psychologists - Svetlana Borisovna Platitsyna, Evgenia Sergeyevna Kuptsova, production manager - Stella Gurgenovna Ramazanova, head of the cardboard shop - Tatyana Georgievna Tsinakova, instructor - Romanenko Valentina Vladimirovna.
I want to advise all the guys who do not work to visit labor workshops!
Elena
Life began to belong only to me
I had to overcome difficult periods of my life - the first unhappy love - difficulties in learning - misunderstanding of peers. It all ended in a psychiatric hospital. Six years of torment in local clinics.
And here I am - a well-formed person who wants to work on himself, striving for work and social adaptation. And albeit not very literate, but a working person, bringing benefits to people and striving for knowledge.
It all started with the fact that I was slowly sinking to the bottom and someone was holding my hand. But I stubbornly continued to sink deeper and deeper. Knowing that they will lend a hand to me. Vegetable.
And here I am, standing at the bottom and telling the only person close to me to my mother: – Mom, what should I do?
-I feel bad and disgusted by myself, I'm so bad.
Then she said to me:
I don't care about my son. Good or bad, go wherever you want. Do what you want. I've already done everything I could.
I thought. And only now I understand that I was in a comfort zone. All of my life. And only after these words, life began to belong only to me. And I began to change it. Haven't achieved much yet. But I'm only 26 years old.
Sergey
Journey along the road of life
Everything is decided, I need to change something in my life.
For starters… Stop! Let's get acquainted.
My name is Laura. I was born on April 15, 1993 in the city of Stavropol, the capital of the Stavropol Territory.
My mother was born on May 4, 1966 in the city of Stavropol. Since her father was a military man, her mother changed several schools. Mostly studied in Stavropol. She graduated from a medical institute, but did not work as a general practitioner for long - because of the low salary, her mother left to work in the market.
My father was born in Stavropol on September 4, I don't remember what year. He graduated from school No. 42 in the city of Stavropol. Trained as a builder. How long he worked as a builder, I do not know, but when he appeared in our lives, he worked as a taxi driver. Who works now, I do not know. My parents divorced when I was two years old.
In 2000 I went to secondary school №2 in 1 "B" class. In 2001, I changed the letter, but I stayed at this school, where I studied until the eleventh grade. In 2011 she entered the Stavropol State University at the Faculty of Physics and Mathematics, specialty "Physics".
In the summer of 2012, I dropped out of school, and in the autumn of the same year I was officially expelled from the university.
At the moment I am not studying and not working.
Not married, no children.
Well, now we can communicate calmly. Where did I stop? Oh yes, I was talking about life changes. Or rather, about what I need to get rid of and what to acquire. I want to get rid of complexes and social shackles. But I need to acquire the following qualities: responsibility, purposefulness, economy.
And now let's make a deal: not a word about my past. What was, is gone; a person is not judged by past actions, especially if he has a need to change internally. And in general, my notes will reflect how gradually I begin to grow up and understand things. The world is neither simple nor complex, it is only a reflection of our thoughts, feelings and needs.
So, the backpack is assembled, the shells are equipped, the parachute is put on, which means... Go ahead, surf the expanses of our understanding of the world!
Note #1
Subject: my mind is at odds with my soul.
Yes, I am a sinner, I confess: today I have become sour. So this is despite the fact that yesterday I worked on myself in this direction. But let's get it right.
I have been going to the Looking Glass Studio in a rehabilitation center for two months now. I have established myself as a writer (it sounds loud, of course, but I don’t know what word to choose), host and reciter of poems. And, accordingly, articles, stories, memorized poems are expected from me. Not only am I not always able to provide all this, but also ... In general, our studio is expanding into a theatrical group.
Our immediate plans are to prepare for the performance dedicated to February 23rd and stage a play. When it came to who will show what on February 23, I confidently answered: “I will learn a poem.” Since I already had a positive experience in reciting poetry, I did not doubt myself. And for the performance, in addition to the scene, I was also going to recite a poem. What am I getting at? Find out further.
On Saturday I started to learn a poem. It is deep in meaning, but difficult to memorize. Why did I choose it? Because it is not sad and life-affirming. This poem was written by Rudyard Kipling and translated by S. Marshak. It's called "If".
Yesterday, when I was returning home from the library, such thoughts began to visit me: “Oh, come on, this “If”. And then she began to say very sternly to herself: “Laura! See how the whole team of our studio is working, so that you yourself can enjoy yourself and bring joy to others. Remember how you dreamed of becoming a famous actress. And the actors not only work on themselves, both physically and mentally, they also learn dozens of roles for performances, and even star in several films, which also requires memorizing roles.
It was in this direction that the flow of my thoughts ran. And today I burst into tears because:
a) I couldn't recite “If” by heart and read it from a piece of paper;
b) could not play sadness and depression for the play;
c) E.
Asadov's poem "Coward", which I am also preparing for the performance, did not know how and where to insert it into the performance.
Everyone reassured me and said that not always everything turns out well to tell and act. A partner in the "mirror" workshop said that I read poetry with heartfelt insight. Others told me to only notice the positive aspects of life. And when I calmed down, I felt ashamed of the tears. Well, okay, with yours you can. But in general, as one DJ on the radio said, girls should cry only when they are alone and only from happiness.
Note #2
Subject: “The work of the master is afraid”, or “Fear has big eyes”
Today I have almost completely learned “If”. And why did I cry yesterday? Yes, because the complex of "excellent students" has deeply settled in me. If I can’t do something perfectly, perfectly and brilliantly, then I am disappointed. And I start looking for other ways to get noticed.
Tears. This is how my disappointment manifests itself, there is a need to at least pay attention to me and say something good.
Laura's advice to Laure: “Don't be afraid to start a new business. Whether it's preparing for a performance in which no one has ever participated, or memorizing a new poem or role.
Note №3
Subject: very close people.
My mother went to the hospital a month ago. Staying at home alone, yearning for my mother, and even running the household myself - this was a test of adulthood for me.
The fact is that I have no one dearer than my mother. The parents of my mother and father, roughly speaking, abandoned us. My mother and I lived together for nineteen years under the same roof. I have never been separated from my mother. Yes, I was in the departments, but there were people with me, and my mother visited me. My mother and I have been staying for six years and sleeping in the same room on different beds.
And here I am alone in the apartment for twenty-four hours. Yes, I love my apartment with my mother, but being alone is very difficult.
All the household is on me. Yes, this is indeed a period of growing up and independence. A week ago, my mother took medical leave. We spent six fun days together. And now my mother is back in the hospital...
I want to thank the Lord that I learn independence and responsibility when my mother is in the hospital, and not when my mother would be gone.
Note No. 4
Subject: “If a friend suddenly turned out to be…”
I quarreled with a friend. She was the best for me. Yes, and this girl was glad that she had such a morally pure, unspoiled friend, a virgin. She even invited me to the wedding to be her girlfriend. But her fiancé became an obstacle (a classic of the genre - a guy crossed the road to her friends). But I don't claim it! But she doesn't believe me!
I won't describe the whole situation.
In general, we talked about this topic with my mother and decided that the girl had depression. And there are two possible scenarios for the development of events: either we will make peace when she comes to her senses, or we will part forever.
Note №5
Theme: friends and foes.
One situation happened to me, from which I concluded: there are people of our own and others. Also in the modern world there is a struggle for survival. The strong overcome the weak. And strong is not always good. And the law of life is manifested in the fact that swindlers (and there are more of them than ordinary people) deceive the simple-hearted, gullible population.
Let's get back to friends and foes. For me, my own are my mother, friends from Through the Looking Glass, and the medical staff of the rehabilitation center. With them you can be kind, trusting, cheerful, friendly; they can be trusted with secrets. And with the rest (strangers) you need to be vigilant, rigid, judicious.
And one more thing: you have to fight for your own people, stand up for them. They cannot be betrayed. You can't be a "radish" with them.
In general, I begin to understand how to behave with people.
Note #6
Subject: How long has it been since…
Wow, it's been a long time since I wrote my notes! And how much has happened in my life during this period!
First, I made peace with my girlfriend. Yes, yes, with the one with whom they quarreled because of the groom. And it wasn't a fight at all. I just got into a bad period when she was depressed. That's what it means to come to visit unannounced.
Secondly, my mother was discharged from the hospital two weeks ago! It was two weeks ago.
I also fell and broke my knee (hehe, hehe, haha)
I also attend groups in rehabilitation, I go to the “Through the Looking Glass” studio.
I have no more news, but as soon as they appear, I will write!
Laura, Stavropol
Human nature is all the same
I first went to a psychiatric hospital in 1996.
After a suicide attempt, I was in a coma for 16 hours, and when I returned, I became scared, I got a suicide vaccine. Since then, when I meet people with such thoughts, I try to dissuade them.
In the winter of 2003, I was preparing for a concert, and I had a panic attack that I couldn't do it. It was such an unusual new state. And then I was scared all the time, chronic fatigue immediately appeared, as if I had died, all my abilities were blocked, I could no longer play or compose music. I played concerts, people asked what was wrong with me, and I was ashamed to admit that it was a panic and I just said that my head hurts. And behind the panic, social phobia began to develop. I began to read different literature, tried to solve the problem - I was engaged in dousing, fasting, yoga and many other health practices. This was a partial success. The only thought that came from books about health was that the cause of the disease was a violation of moral laws. I didn’t go to the doctors, now it’s hard to say why, but I thought that they wouldn’t help me.
In 2006 I returned to Stavropol and nevertheless went to a psychiatric hospital, at that moment I realized that I couldn’t cope on my own. Here they gave me the medicine that made me cringe - this is also a new condition, similar to that first panic attack. I realized that this is the state that many people told me about and in the movie One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest they showed about it. But it became easier for me because there are people like me, plus pills and a regimen. I discovered for myself such a topic that many poor fellows who rake out in life - lie down on a bed in a hospital and fold their paws - do not want to strain. At that time it was the way out, I think. Otherwise, I most likely would have simply died drinking alcohol. Then I got to a doctor who is more inclined to rehabilitation than to medicines. He uttered the words that I have used many times since then in my life: “I see no reason to extinguish you with medicines and turn you into a plant - this is a feature of your psyche and you need to learn to live with it - with vulnerability, suspiciousness.
” Then the doctor allowed me to bring a synthesizer to the department, more people with guitars pulled themselves up - it turned out to be a kind of group. We played and wrote. To be honest, it was very painful for me to play then, but it helped in communication. In that state, it was the way out, although I didn't quite realize it at the time.
One day I was sitting in line for an appointment and drew a butterfly - a diagram of mental health from the stand. I decided that I needed to move, to change something. To live, I had to work - it was a very good incentive. My parents are very wise people, I love them very much now, they did not coddle or indulge, but gave an incentive to move on their own, to find their own way. Through them, in my life, the higher power worked in full. Now I am happy to come to visit, communicate. Before, of course, it was difficult to communicate when I was drinking.
I was able to work - it was progress, but I still occasionally went into drinking bouts.
Also a difficult period. And then somehow I found a business card of anonymous alcoholics. Of course, I cannot say that this is a panacea for everyone, but for me it remains a reliable support. For more than 3 years, the patient has been able to overcome the disease without being hospitalized in round-the-clock departments of a psychiatric hospital. Alcoholics Anonymous is not just a group of 10 people, but in fact I can attend any group in the world - I feel the amount of support. I practiced traveling to the Crimea, visited communities in 5 cities.
The first year in the community was difficult: I went to meetings and ran home like a finch in a hole. Year shied away and hid from life. It was like an open psychiatric hospital. Then he began to let go, began to go to festivals, listened to the stories of the falls and rises of other people. After such meetings with real people, including well-known ones, I was inspired by this topic - I am not alone, there are people who have solved these problems, they smile.
Then I created a group for nicotine addicts, here I can already give advice, share my experience. Here I am a donor - I give. Beginners come, I already feel what and how much work they need to do in order to smile again. Every day we repeat simple things - and it works. For me, the group is both a club and self-realization. I also found a guitar there, I play it sometimes.
Sasha and I were influenced by the fact that he himself left the psycho-neurological boarding school - a mad stimulus to fight for life. I know a bunch of people who are in the departments and nothing changes for them, because they gave up. “You can’t help someone who can’t be helped,” said John Lennon. Now is the time, who does not turn the pedals, he will die.
There is a feeling that I have to convey my experience.
I used to compose music and thought that I was a great composer, I hear God, and all around are fools (from which I was flattened at one moment).
Now I let go of my abilities and talents, now they are focused on staying sober and positive. Any addiction is when a person does not want to change something inside, but changes outside. The main idea of mutual help is that a person with similar problems can understand the same person.
Human nature is all the same.
Iridij, Stavropol
“The doctor said she wanted to torture me”: people about violence in psychiatric hospitals
Behind the closed doors of psychiatric hospitals, violence is still used: physical, psychological and even sexualized. It is difficult for patients who have gone through this to defend their rights, because their words are often devalued by the presence of a diagnosis. We collected stories of people who, during treatment, faced the cruelty of medical personnel.
“In psychiatry, results can be achieved only through a “magic pendal”
Svetlana, 21 years old
name and age changed at the request of the heroine
Since 2016, I have been observed in psychiatric hospitals.
I didn't know my exact diagnosis right away. For the first time, I was in the Research Institute of Psychiatry in Moscow, then I was treated for depression. The department was clean, the doctors behaved decently, they did not swear at anyone. Impressions about this place were only positive. In 2017, I ended up in another mental hospital, because the treatment prescribed at the research institute did not make me feel better. The situation there was worse, but it cannot be called critical either.
Doctors diagnosed me with schizotypal disorder at a regional hospital in the Moscow region. At the age of 16, I came there for treatment in the women's teenage department. The first thing that surprised me was the harsh, almost prison regime. In the morning we got up at 6.00–6.30. Then we were taken to a cramped, stuffy room, where we sat until breakfast. There were not enough benches for everyone in the room. Because of the drugs, many girls fell asleep on the floor. After breakfast, a woman came with whom we learned lessons.
She was very strict with us. If someone said that he had a headache or was feeling sleepy, the teacher cursed strongly and shouted that we were obliged to study, despite being unwell.
Then there was a quiet hour, then an afternoon snack, in which, as a rule, we were fed rotten apples. After eating, we returned to an unpleasant empty room and sat there doing nothing. We were allowed to read, but not all the girls had books with them. Sometimes the health workers offered to watch TV, but on the day of my arrival, a doctor came into the ward, pointed to one of the neighbors and said that she was at fault. As a result, for two weeks we were all deprived of the only entertainment. We fell asleep somewhere at 20.00–21.30.
I remember cases of physical abuse. The nurses sometimes beat and pushed my neighbor in department hard. The girl could not speak normally. All she did was constantly spinning in place, which, apparently, annoyed the staff. There are not many memories of this hospital, because for almost two months I was given strong pills and most of the time I slept.
The last medical institution where I received treatment is located in the village of Mednoe-Vlasovo. In the first days after my arrival, it seemed to me that the place was generally decent compared to the previous hospital. I ended up in the adult department, where patients had more independence: we were allowed to leave the ward at our discretion, to sleep as much as we wanted.
It wasn't until after a while that I started to notice strange things. For example, we were given cigarettes three times a day after meals, which was absolutely not enough for smokers. Additional cigarettes could be obtained for mopping or cleaning. Of course, we agreed to these conditions voluntarily, but in fact we had no choice.
One day a woman was brought to the department who was chirping like a bird. The patient was given things, but she began to tear them up and throw them into the trash can.
After she ruined some T-shirts, a nurse came up and hit her in the face so hard that her nose bled.
By the way, the woman with the bird's voice was beaten repeatedly.
Another time the nurse swung at her because of a misdemeanour. The patient got scared and fell to the floor, for which the hospital employee kicked her several times on the back.
Violence was also used against one of my neighbors in the department. The girl was brought in in a state of intoxication. Once in the hospital, she began to resent the actions of the staff. Then another patient, who was also being treated for alcoholism and was in good standing with the nurses, came up and hit the new one with all her might. She had a bruise on her face. The patient, who was friends with the staff, generally behaved impudently: she screamed at me and other people in the department for no reason, and spread her hands. Several girls and women, among whom was myself, wrote a letter to the head physician so that he would deal with the instigator of conflicts. In response to our appeal, the head physician only laughed and said that we should not bother him because of nonsense.
At some point, I told my mother about the abuse in the hospital. She came and talked to the head nurse. After their conversation, a nurse ran into my room and started shouting: “Did I really beat you? Has anyone raised a hand against you?" I was in hysterics, I could not calm down for a long time. I was called to the head nurse.
She gave me a sedative and began to explain that in psychiatry, results can be achieved only through violence, or, as they say in the hospital, "medical pendal". They say that patients cannot control themselves, so the effect cannot be achieved peacefully.
To confirm my disability, I need to go to a mental hospital once a year. After everything I've seen, I'm scared. I'm afraid to face violence again. I doubt that they will beat me: in all the hospitals where I was, they raised their hand only against patients with severe diagnoses, for whom there was no one to intercede . But looking at beatings is stressful for any person.
“Health workers could abuse me and write everything off as nonsense”
Aleksandra, 22 years old
During my life, I ended up in the psychiatric department of the Minsk hospital three times. The first time I was put there in 2012 for an examination. I was 12-13 years old. The doctors diagnosed me with paranoid schizophrenia.
That's when I experienced sexualized abuse. It was performed by doctors who did not even work in the hospital: a freelance neurologist and a neurologist at a children's psychiatric clinic. I found out how these doctors entered the department only later. It turned out that they participated in conferences held in a medical institution. In addition, nurses helped them. I don’t know if everyone was aware, I’m sure at least about two or three hospital employees who accompanied me to the ward after the acts of violence.
One night I woke up in a medical office with a naked man standing over me. It's hard to remember what happened next.
It was painful and scary.
After the incident, a nurse met me and took me to my department. On the way, she said: “There is a first time for everything. He is better than anyone else."
Violence against me was committed repeatedly, but I could not resist because of the tranquilizers that I was injected with in the hospital for a month. At that moment, I was so scared that I could not tell my close friends or parents about what had happened.
Another reason why I was silent was psychological pressure. If a person, in the opinion of health workers, behaved badly (they were annoyed when, for example, the patient cried, complained about the conditions of treatment), they threatened that they would tie him to the bed or forbid him to go for walks.
Physical abuse also happened. Mostly young children were beaten . Orphans suffered the most from kicks and slaps on the back of the head. I remember how a little boy with Down syndrome was kicked and hit on the head for walking slowly into the canteen.
In the very first days, my parents wanted to take me out of the hospital because of the poor conditions. We were poorly fed, we were allowed to wash only once a week, there was a window without curtains in the bathroom, which overlooked the neighboring building. Unfortunately, nothing worked out for mom and dad: the administration began to threaten them with a call to the police. We were promised to record that I developed self-injurious behavior due to a bad relationship with my parents - this was not true. Based on the entry in the card, they promised to complain to the police that I had a dysfunctional family, and they were afraid that everything could end in the deprivation of parental rights. As a result, I completed a full course of therapy and only then returned home.
The second time I went to the hospital was in 2014 because the prescribed treatment did not help me. There were problems with sleep, I began to hear voices. True, they sent me to the same psychiatric department not quite legally, since no one took the consent of my parents.
The doctor issued a referral and told me to go to the hospital alone. In case of refusal, he threatened to call the orderlies to "convince" me. I was very scared to go back. After experiencing violence in 2012, I developed PTSD. On the very first day of my stay in the hospital, I had a tantrum.
Memories of this period are blurred: the nurses gave a lot of pills, they constantly injected tranquilizers. Once there was an overdose, I was pumped out . As far as I remember, then there were also episodes of sexualized violence, which were committed by the same doctors as the first time, but everything is confused in memory. From time to time, I noticed very characteristic bruises and injuries on the hips, chest and groin. I turned to my doctor and asked to be taken to a gynecologist, because the drug prescribed by him caused a side effect - I got milk from my chest. As a result, the gynecologist refused to examine me on the chair, probably because then I would have to admit the fact of violence.
When I decided to tell my parents, they did not immediately believe me, but after a while my mother wanted to write a statement to the police. I forbade her, because at that time I was still in the hospital and was afraid that the staff might start acting tougher towards me.
After I was discharged, fear won again, I did not go to the police. I understood that the rapists have money, connections and a good reputation, and I have a diagnosis that can devalue any of my testimony. In addition, I was afraid that doctors would make many false entries in my medical record, which would make me even more defenseless during treatment in the hospital.
The third time I ended up in the same Minsk hospital was in 2016: I tried to remove the diagnosis, because in fact it was used for punitive purposes. Until the age of 18, this can be done if, during the examination, you visit a neurologist and a psychiatrist, pass tests and prove that you have no symptoms of the disease. After adulthood, the procedure becomes more complicated.
Because of the record of schizophrenia, I could be taken to the hospital at any moment, abused, and in the end write off everything as nonsense. When I told the attending psychiatrist about the rape, he refused to remove the diagnosis and told my mother that I was hallucinating.
I had no evidence of violence, and he confidently explained my words as an exacerbation of the disease. By the way, the current psychotherapist gave me dissociative identity disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder, not schizophrenia.
In 2018, when I became an adult PND and ceased to depend on doctors from the children's hospital in Minsk, I still found strength in myself and decided to go to the police, despite the risks. Around the same time, I began to actively develop my Instagram. She posted posts about what was happening in the psychiatric department of the Minsk hospital. I was contacted by two girls who were also raped in the same department, and together we filed a complaint.
Several serious inspections were carried out at the hospital. However, they refused to initiate a criminal case against me (, a notice of refusal to initiate a criminal case is at the disposal of the editorial board ). The investigators questioned my testimony because I have a mental illness and believed the doctors.
I publicly spoke about the violence on Instagram only when I applied. The story quickly spread across the Internet, it was also published on the Dvach forum, where there are separate discussions for harassing people. They began to threaten me. The attackers sent me my Minsk address, a photo of the windows of my room, and threatened to kill me. Once they approached me on the street and said that I was "a complete nutcase".
The state has almost no control over the work of psychiatric hospitals. Checks are carried out extremely rarely, the state authorities came to my hospital only after I wrote a statement. A year later, the teenagers who were lying there wrote that the conditions had improved.
But for how long? It seems to me that sooner or later everything will return to its previous state. After my experience, I stay away from state mental hospitals, no matter how bad I feel.
“The situation is such that the staff is angry with the patients, and the patients are angry with the staff”
Petr, 30 years old
The name was changed at the request of the hero
The first time I went to the Cheboksary mental hospital was in 2012 when I was depressed. A doctor from a psychotherapy center advised me to go into it after I told about my suicidal thoughts.
I remember one morning at the dispensary we were standing in line for pills. I calmly asked what medicines we were given. The nurse refused to explain, and I, in turn, refused to take the medicine. As a result, they twisted me, put me in a bind, crushed the tablets into powder, put them in my mouth and poured water.
A few years after my first experience of being in a psychiatric hospital, the doctors corrected my diagnosis and diagnosed me with pseudopsychopathic schizophrenia.
In 2016, I was again advised to undergo treatment in the same place.
The acute ward was undergoing renovations, so patients from the ward under investigation were temporarily accommodated next to us. There are people who are waiting for the conclusion of a psychiatrist. Depending on the doctor's decision, some are sent to prison, others to compulsory treatment. I had a conflict with the person who committed the murder, because he behaved aggressively and loosened his hands. The medical workers did not even try to sort out the conflict and punished me with injections. They had unpleasant side effects: I could not sleep, I experienced causeless fear and anxiety for a long time.
When the patient did not obey, the nurses turned to physically strong men, including me, to wring his hands behind his back, hit him and put him in a binder.
Sometimes the patients were really violent and the staff needed help. However, medical workers encouraged excessive cruelty. Now I am ashamed that I participated in this.
In my opinion, there are several reasons for violence. First, the medical staff gets a penny. Not only do they have a difficult profession, wages barely reach the living wage. Secondly, they work with people who have serious mental disorders, and in this atmosphere their psyche is also under pressure. I saw how the patient took backgammon and hit the nurse on the head with all his might. The situation in psychiatric hospitals is such that the staff is angry with the patients, and the patients are angry with the staff .
“The psychiatrist, laughing, said: ‘Look, I brought the girl to tears.’”
Tatyana, 21 years old
Name changed at the request of the heroine
I was in the psychiatric wing of the Saratov hospital twice. I first got there at the age of 16 with a loss of adaptation and obsessive suicidal thoughts. Conditions in the hospital were terrible. In the two weeks of my treatment, I never took a shower in because the paramedics took no more than six people there a day.
There were two cubicles in the toilet that did not close. The orderlies and nurses on duty drank from time to time. My friends and I often found bottles of alcohol in the shared trash can. In addition, there was no separation of patients in the department either by age or, even worse, by diagnosis. I was afraid of death, although I was tormented by suicidal thoughts, and next to me lay a girl who came up and said that she had an obsessive desire to kill someone.
I had trouble sleeping in the hospital. Instead of solving them, the doctors began to give a heavy drug, from which I sometimes lost consciousness. In the morning I could go out for a smoke (teenagers were given cigarettes every 2 hours on general terms), fall down and pass out for a couple of minutes. The nurses did not react to this at all.
An elderly woman, Natalya, was lying in our department. She often asked the nurses for permission to call her mother on the landline. The staff got fed up with it. Once, after an afternoon snack, Natalya approached the nurse with a request, she turned the woman around and pushed her in the coccyx.
The patient fell to her knees. I ran up, started to find out what was going on, but the paramedics locked themselves in their room.
In my opinion, violent methods were also used to treat girls with eating disorders. I personally saw how health workers simply put the girls at the table and forcibly forced them to eat, despite the fact that they were sick.
Patients were constantly threatened with mating for any action that was not liked by the staff. For example, a grandmother, who wandered in delirium along the corridors of the building, was tied to a bed so as not to be followed. An elderly woman lay like this for days .
Violence was committed not only by orderlies and nurses, but also by some patients. I was treated by a woman who was the daughter of the head of one of the Saratov hospitals. Olga constantly showed aggression: she screamed at other patients, kicked them, and threw heavy things. The staff absolutely did not react to all her misdeeds.
Two weeks later, when I left the hospital, I was happy because I was saying goodbye to this nightmare. Suddenly, a nurse came up and said: “Well, why are you smiling? You will come back here, don't worry."
Unfortunately, I did come back at 19. The second time I was treated for depression and again for suicidal thoughts. The psychiatrist said that I was a threat to my life and offered to return to the same hospital. I was insanely scared, but the doctor convinced me that she knew a specialist in the psychiatric corps who would really help achieve a stable remission and get rid of thoughts of suicide.
When I went to the hospital, went to the doctor and told her about my mental state, I heard in response: “Why are you depressed? You have a place to live, young man." I fell into a stupor, because, in my opinion, such words speak of unprofessionalism.
During my second stay in the hospital, I experienced psychological abuse. Usually, phones for communication with relatives are allowed to be taken starting from the second week.
I noticed that the necessary time had already passed, but I still did not get the opportunity to talk with my mother. When I turned to the psychiatrist with a question about why they didn’t give me a phone, she turned around and answered with a grin that she wanted to torture me. I tried to argue something, but the woman began to be rude to me and said that if I didn’t stop behaving badly, in a couple of years I would return and be in the ward for the violent. I cried, ran away from the office to my room. Literally a few minutes later, a psychiatrist came in and, laughing, said: “Look, I brought the girl to tears.”
I was treated by a man. At the sessions, we discussed why I am afraid of people of the opposite sex. During the conversation, I said that I was afraid of being raped. In response, I heard: "If you do not provoke men, then everything will be fine." Then he began to prove to me that the woman herself could be to blame for the rape, and to assert that "no" for a girl does not always mean "no".
During the sessions, the therapist sometimes put his hand on my knee, which further exacerbated the fear.
Therapy and prescribed pills did not help me. At some point, my blood pressure increased and I started having problems with menstruation from antidepressants. I told my doctor that my body was not responding well to the drugs. In response, the woman only rolled her eyes, but did nothing.
A month later I left the hospital. I did not feel better, thoughts of suicide did not disappear anywhere. With the psychiatrist who suggested that I go there, I agreed to call after the end of the course of treatment and continue therapy. When I dialed the number, it turned out that both me and my mother were on her blacklist.
Now I don't have a psychiatrist, I work with an ordinary psychologist. Unfortunately, I do not have the opportunity to pay for several doctors at once and buy pills. At the same time, I am afraid to go back to the hospital, but my condition is not improving.
One gets the feeling that there is nowhere to wait for help .
What to do if the medical staff in mental hospitals exceeds their authority?
The law "On psychiatric care and guarantees of the rights of citizens in its provision" includes the concept of "measures of physical constraint and isolation." The term implies various ways to make the patient immobile for a certain period of time in order to cope with his aggression. Conventionally: an orderly binds a violent patient, gives an injection and then unties him. The law provides for measures of physical constraint to prevent harm to one's own health or the health of others. If a patient in psychosis destroys the department, it is difficult to stop him without the use of force. As a rule, orderlies use bindings - wide strips of fabric that allow you to securely fix the patient. From the point of view of the law, this is not violence, but one of the labor functions of medical personnel. In addition, when applying measures of physical restraint, it is necessary to make an entry in the medical documentation. If it is not there, then the actions are illegal.
Of course, if a patient has had his teeth knocked out, and the case history indicates that he was tied up, then there is an obvious discrepancy. However, cases of violence in psychiatric hospitals are difficult to investigate. Health workers can always say that patients fought among themselves. It is difficult to prove the opposite: as a rule, there are no cameras in psychiatric hospitals. And in a pandemic, access to the department is closed.
Article 46 of the Law on Psychiatric Care describes how public control over the activities of psychiatric hospitals should be exercised. But in reality, if there is control, then it is formal. Representatives of public organizations who want to look at the living conditions of patients in a medical institution must agree on their visit and sign an obligation of non-disclosure of medical secrets. You can see anything in the hospital, but it is forbidden to talk about it publicly. Even the presence of physical injuries in patients in this context is included in the concept of "medical secrecy" .
