SIMPLE ACTS OF KINDNESS

I focus on myself and keep all other thoughts of others out of my mind. I cared about others so much that I never learned to take proper care of myself. I had been punished as a child whenever I put my self ahead of any of my family. I was taught not to focus any attention on my self but to think constantly of others, thinking of others and sacrificing my self became the purpose of my life.
I concentrated on others and their care so much I did not deal with the anger that was building up inside. I was constantly thinking of others yet it became clear to me that no one ever thought of me, my feelings, my wants or dreams. The anger and resentment built up inside with no release, I became very depressed and wanted to commit suicide. I could see no way out of my dilemma.
A teacher recognized the signs of my extreme distress, and the day that I had decided to commit suicide, I went to say good-bye to the only person who tried to help me. I was taken by him and the school nurse to various hospitals where I was refused help. I was finally taken to one hospital where my life as a psych patient began.
In hospital I was not like the other teenagers. They came from broken homes or were committed to the hospital by the juvenile court for observation and assessement. I had nothing in common with my fellow patients, we were worlds apart. They were drug dealers, prostitutes, thieves, the “dregs” of society. My parents went to the parent’s support group where my mother cried over the sad stories told by the other parents who struggled witih their unruly teenagers. My parents quit going to the parents group on the grounds they had nothing in common with these other parents.
I found much empathy and compassion from these teens. They showed me an understanding and kindness I had never known. I grew to like my fellow teens very much. Though we were worlds apart, we shared one experience, parents who didn’t understand us or our anger.
All of us showed our anger in inappropriate ways. We were all abused in one way or another, but psychiatry focused only on us and only us, it was our behavior that needed to be changed, not anyone else’s.
As a group, we patients fought against the system in our own little ways. I would hide a pea under my napkin, my plate was always monitored to make sure I ate enough. I was forced to eat even though the food was unpalatable. I had help, the other kids would “steal” food off my plate to fool staff into thinking I had eaten. Iwas taught survival skills by the kids, not by any staff. Staff only taught me to lie, cheat and steal, this was necessary to survive inside a locked teenage psych unit.
I was often put in restraints for my behavior. I had been taught to walk away from situations that would cause me anger, and I followed my training. The first time I did this, I was tackled by male staff, thrown to the floor, and then wrapped in sheets for 6 hours, the required punishment time. I had no idea what was happening and fought like a tiger. I was started on mellaril, stelazine, elavil, and cogentin for my uncontrolled behavior. I got worse on the medication, I fought and cursed and refused to follow the program. My parents were appalled at the change in me, I had never behaved like that before. I became abusive to the staff, tried to break windows and punch out walls. I was forcibly tackled, had my pants and panties yanked down and a shot of thorazine injected into my butt and spent many hours in sheets. Once I was sheeted for twelve hours to teach me a lesson.
Being in sheets is sheer torture. I was wrapped up like a mummy with only my head and feet sticking out. I was tied at the elbows and knees and strapped down with a sheet over my breast, waist and legs. Depending on the staff’s whim, I could be strapped down very tightly enough to restrict the blood flow to my body. I was punished with more sheet time if I yelled or screamed or called for help. Silence was golden and the rule. I would become very hot in sheets, but no one was allowed to give me any water. I passed out quite frequently, I grew so hot.
I was recently told that sheets are no longer used. This doctor must not know that sheets are still being used, in the hospital she is affiliated with. I know, I had witnessed a patient sheeted while I was last incarcerated in the psych unit.
Sheets are very effective to convince me to behave. I have a fear of being sheeted and will instantly obey any command given if threatened with sheets. I was last in the er when I was to be sheeted. I was to be given the full treatment, whatever that meant, while in sheets. My mother sat there while the er staff prepared a sheet bed. I knew I could count on no help from her. I tried to center myself and calm my fears. I knew if I fought it would be worse for me but my fear of sheets and my hatred of sheets grew and I knew once I walked out the room and was tackeld, I would fight with every ounce of strength to not be sheeted. Sheets are an outrage to the body, an insult to the soul, and a degradation to a human being. I want all psychiatrists and doctors to have a sheet experience, to be spend six hours in sheets and then relate to me how they felt. I want them to experience the pain of sheets, the heat exhaustion and the aches in the body caused by sheets. There are no bathroom breaks while in sheets, I learned either to hold it in or soil myself. I learned that soiling myself was punished with more sheet time, it was better to suffer the agonies of holding myself in than more sheet time.
Restraints are said to be used only when necessary. I was restrained for refusing to take my psych drugs. I was being given haldol, a drug which caused me to have painful spasms and stick my tongue out. I had a psychiatrist not believe I did this since I never stuck out my tongue or spasmed in front of him. I saw him once a week fro 50 minutes, I lived with my family 24/7who witnessed this happening. I had taken myself off haldol, went into a withdrawal psyhcosis, was hospitalized and refused to restart haldol. I was thrown on the floor, injected with haldol, and I heard one staff say, put her in sheets to teach her a lesson. I was injected and sheeted every time I refused to take my haldol. I was taught by a prostitute and a transvestite I could maintain my dignity while I obeyed the staff. I was taught the fine art of hiding within myself, my true self while appearing to obey and do whatever the staff wanted.
I had been brutally beaten, tortured and raped by a pedophile when I was a little girl. What I experienced that hospitalization resembled what that pedophile subjected me to. I groveled and did many humiliating things with a smile and a grin. Eventually I got out. As I was leaving, my friend the whore called after me, remember your lessons well and never return.
Because of a whore and a drag queen, the staff and the doctors never touched the Spirit that lives within.
I survived the agonies and brutalities of psychiatric treatments thru a lot of simple acts of kindness.