Psychiatric Hospital Stay 2001 Part Two

Journal Entries

I can only have visitors from 7-8 pm and no way Gramps can drive that late. My brother and fiancé brought my grandparents one night. I was thrilled until the goodies they brought were taken away. Fuming, I almost checked out. 

I have to share a room, the worst is we don’t have a bathroom in here. I feel so much anger, violated, isolated and lonely. 

In the Recreation Hall has one television with a bad angle housed in plastic. Most of the over medicated blankly stare at whatever is on. 

I see the doctor in the morning which means ECT will not start until Wednesday. The lab work and test were fine, I have no idea what day my first ETC is on. If I keep to my plan, the delays have me staying till January 1st. He gave me the AA lecture and I heard the nurses talking about me. What the hell happened to the Privacy Act? My Psychiatrist knows how much I drink, I ask him often if drinking affects my meds. 


In military fashion we rolled out of bed at 6:30, people were putting make-up on, whatever floats their boat. My bed was a rock with two pebbles for pillows. How can you sleep when staffers come in every two hours. I know this is a jail. They search rooms everyday at 3:00, giving me the same lecture about how beneficial group sessions are. 

A friend is taking care of pets and getting mail, probably staying there. I wish he would come see me, bring some magazines and let me know what Christmas cards have arrived. He has no concept of mental illness and chooses to avoid all attempts to explain why I’m here.

It’s hard to comprehend how people wear an imaginary badge for the number of times they have been here, totally sad. In the 5 by 5 smoking area outside you here lots of bullshit. Lost souls looking for any affirmation the hospital can spit out. 

I stay in bed all day adjusting pillows to read, no comfort to be found. The sun shines in the window and the door is closed, privileges are great. Today was the first day I could go to cafeteria, nothing different from what was brought to me while on suicide watch except Coke instead of water.


I question why I’m here when looking around, people have given up and if left alone will probably not make it. Sick, yes I’m very sick but know how good my life is. I’ve been here since Monday and now getting first treatment. The standard for ECT is only three treatments a week. 

I don’t care for the doctor and it’s mutual. Unlike his other zombie patients I ask questions, will not budge until get answers. My meds are not changing, scary to think how quick I would join the over medicated. One lady was taking one of the same meds as I do, it’s a stimulant and must be taken before noon. She was taking at 5:00. She was too afraid to say anything to the doctor. No wonder she has to take sleeping pills at night.

Thank goodness I have voicemail Christmas wishes from friends. It’s not fit for Santa in here. I miss Sasha and Truffel’s so much. No one to play with them. What type of friend won’t call back to fill you in on the kids, he likes them so I don’t worry about their welfare. I want to get better and get home before end of year. 


My first ECT treatment went well, the usual some jaw pain and headache. I worked hard on the doctor to give me a weekend pass, insurance companies don’t like the in and out paperwork he says. I want to hold my kids, they need to know I’m coming back. Treatments start again Monday. My mind is twirling, maybe I’ll check out Friday, only four treatments… feel better. I know, it’s not enough but this place is making me worse. 

I want a new job, feel successful again, meet new people, have fun, a drink and make money. Meeting a nice man in the new year is icing on cake, I’m ready to laugh and enjoy life. 


There are an extra 10 people here for a day program. Did laundry and read, a busy day for me. HaHa. 




  1. Live is strange, isn’t it.
    I wonder why some of the very best people are in mental hospitals.
    I wonder why Donald Trump is president.
    And why the people who support him are not in mental hospitals.
    These are things I wonder after so many years as a psychotherapist.

    Liked by 1 person

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