I'm not sure where else to post this, but I think here is suitable.
This is going to be long so please bear with me. I know we all go through tough times in our lives. This was mine. I have to tell someone about this because I can't tell everyone in real life, and I think telling people is theuraputic.
In September I was getting these migraines and I wasn't sure why. I saw a bunch of doctors, even an alternative medicine Chinese doctor who did vietnamese acupressure on my back which left these gnarly bruises, (I caught a glimpse of them coming out of the shower, my jaw dropped to the floor ) My campus doctor said it was because my kneck was sore, he gave me medication which didn't work. Migraine medicine didn't work. It was getting worse, and I started to miss school. I was doing an internship and at work I was writing an article about the tsunami in Somoa, and for some reason I just got really emotional about it and at home I couldn't stop crying.
My family sugguested I come home for a while (I live away from home while I attend college). From here my condition got worse. I became so manic I was no longer in control. I have always had an interest in writing, but I was going insane and writing on anything I could find. There wasn't enough paper. I typed over 200 pages in microsoft word. I convinced myself that I had to cure Obesity worldwide by making a new diet. I went to a patent website. I almost bought a ticket to Japan. I was making crazy posts on my Facebook even though my parents told me to get off the computer. I collected a bunch of items I thought were cool and put them all over my desk.
My brother told me how his friend who is in a gang had friends in a gang who were going to commit a drive by. I freaked out and almost called the police, but my mom wouldn't let me each time I tried.
Eventually, my dad brought me to the hospital. There we went to a room and I refused to take my medicine, convinced i was being tricked. I smashed it definatly. I was then led away from my dad to a seculsion room with a bunch of scary padlocks. They said let's go in here and take your medicine. There was a security guard and I was saying "why is the cop here why is the cop here" and he sensed my aggression. I said NO and walked away, they followed. The security guard threw me to the floor. They then strapped me face down to the floor and injected a shot into my leg and then lifted me onto a stretcher, wheeling me into that scary room. By this point I was screaming nonsene, like "PEOPLE ARE DYING IN IRAQ AND YOU DONT EVEN CARE!!!".
I yelled so much that blood was coming out of my mouth (which they didn't believe) I had to go to the bathroom and they made me pee in a fucking jug, while this man was there holding it, believe me it was not pleasent. I yelled for water, they didn't come. I yelled for help, they didn't come. I tried to rip off the harnesses like you see in movies, that didn't work either. What seemed like hours passed. Then finally they untied me after asking if I could behave.
I was put into what I think is called a 5150, when they believe you are a danger to yourself and others, they can legally lock you away. I was furious at everybody, yelling at the staff and saying I would sue. I felt like my rights as an American citizen were being denied because they refused me a lawyer. I became paranoid. I thought it was like the book 1984 and got so upset how there were cameras everywhere, including in my room. I tried to call the patients rights number, on the phone, nobody picked up. There was this werid angry beeping noise which they said was from the phone being dropped, but I was convinced it was mind control.
I was there for the next 5 or 6 days. On the second day I staged what I believed was a protest in the TV room, writing all over the walls, leaving notes everywhere saying fuck you I know my rights. There was a big guy there in his 20s who saw that and was enraged. He picked up the TV by the chord and swung it into the wall (I heard about this later, I had moved into the common room) He came out and knocked the food off all the tables, popcorn flew everywhere. Needless to say they locked him away.
As the days went on I got a little better, and then I began to feel I was Jack Nicolson's character in One Flew Over the Cookoo's Nest. I was the only sane person. I made some friends, there was actually a guy I went to highschool with but I didn't remember him, he told me the food was drugged. I felt a bond with him but he left a few days later. There was a guy whose last name was Joogle, who was convinced people were trying to kill him. He also believed that google got there idea from his name, from a forum where someone posted "what is a joogle" after they saw his name.
He was nice to me. And there was a Chinese guy in his 40s that was real nice. His nickname was Bruce Lee.
There was also this guy who reminded me of a cowboy. He was scary though, he came into my room (which has no locks) and stole food my parents gave me, I said just take it and get outta here. He asked if I was John Lennon. WTF!
Eventually I felt more comfortable there. There was a nice nurse who reminded me of my mom. My family came to visit me, and my dad helped me feel alot better. He said he was trying to get me out.
There was nothing to do there. I killed time by writing music in a notebook. I wrote like 15 songs, and sang them to make myself feel better. And I stopped drawing on my arms.
I hoped everyday that I would be released, but the days dragged on. I felt they were purposfully tricking me and keeping away the doctor I needed to talk to to be released.
Finally I got out, 2 days before my birthday. I finally got the right medication and I am doing a lot better. It was funny because my twin brother went through the same thing in December, albiet not as worse mania as I had, and he didn't have to go through the shit I did.
Looking back, I try not to feel remorse at the hospital. The experience made me stronger. I felt like they stripped everything away from me, and all that was left was my soul. But now I have a better sense of who I am.
I kept the paper saying I was delusional for kicks
Now I try to be more optomistic. My life is going better, I have a girlfriend now who is very kind and supportive. And a psychologist and psychiatrist that I have to see, which I think helps me.
Thanks for reading, and please share if you have also gone through a painful event in your life.