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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
Two months into college and the DP was terrible. Nothing felt really, everything felt like a dream, and I could not handle my constant switch between anxiety and numb. It was either everything or nothing. It was terror and elation. I have history of cutting, but on one particular night, I wanted to tear myself to shreds. I did not necessarily want to die, but I wanted to cut the DP out of me. Combine that with being very drunk, I was on a very dark path.

So I made a call to a local hotline. I thought maybe we would talk things out, but before I knew it cops had shown up to escort me to the hospital. My friends were staring at me as it happened, and I tried to explain to them but I did not know what to say, so they saw me dragged off in a cop car.

I arrived at the hospital and was placed in the ER with about 4 guards constantly watching the room. Other patients were there too, one was strapped down to a bed and constantly screaming. They sedated her with something, I'm not sure what. You weren't allowed to move off the bed without telling a security guard, and every time you even shifted they would look at you.

I was transferred into a small room with two chairs to be evaluated. I ended up staying in that room for about 6 hours(from 3 to 9 am) in that one chair. There was a security guard outside the room. The doctor said the hospitalization would be voluntary, but she recommended it for me. Of course, if I was admitted, I could not leave whenever I wanted to-the doctors decide when you leave. But first I had to call my mom, who knew nothing about the cutting or how bad the DP has gotten. I actually cried speaking to her, something I haven't done in months.

They took me to the third floor in a wheelchair. I had a physical exam and a lot of other vitals and bloodwork. Later I found out that I had come in with a .8 BAC. And that wasn't even the height of my drinking. They took my shoes, laces, and every personal belonging. I was shown my room and the rest of the floor, which was designed as a circle. Everything was monitored, including your affect, you were checked on every 30 minutes, and vitals every couple of hours. I was woken up a couple times to my blood being drawn as well. There were no doors to the bathroom and windows in nearly every room so nurses could look in. Doors were hardly ever closed.

There were so many meetings with social workers, counselors, psychiatrists, clinical psychologists, nurses, etc. Most of them had heard of DP, but surely never seen someone hospitalized for it. One counselor said I was the most fascinating case he's had. He worked so hard to help me, I actually felt like someone tried to understand me and DP. Besides that, if you wanted to get out, you had to attend group therapy. Yet besides all that, there was hardly anything to do except walk in circles and lay in bed. Which I did for 6 days.

The medicine was crazy. There were times I'd be knocked out for almost whole days from the various drugs. The medicine was switched so frequently I could not keep up with it. We ended on Remeron, which supposedly targets trauma in the brain. The psych doctor said that, while I have no trauma I can remember, something happened in my childhood that caused trauma that needed to be remedied. I still don't know if I believe her but it's better than the crap I've received from doctors at home.

I met many people. Many from jail, including one who served time for attempted murder, mothers who had tried to kill themselves and leave their children behind, a boy who heard voices, a manic woman, and many other individuals who had spent nearly a month on that small floor. Everyone was so kind, but no one had what I had, and so I felt like there was no one I could relate to. At one point, a man was sedated and hauled away for smashing things in his room and threatening to kill people on the floor.

After many meetings discussing coping skills, my diagnosis, and plans moving forward, they let me go. It was only 6 days but felt like years. It's an experience I'll never forget, and I can't say that I won't ever be there again. While I am more stable than before, dangerous thoughts come and go. I'm off meds now because I needed a break from everything, and while the cops took away my knife, thoughts of self harm still linger. I don't know what my life will look like moving forward. I don't know when and how the DP will attack. I don't know if it'll ever stop.

I wanted to share this here because I wanted readers to know that DP is scary and dangerous, especially if unchecked. If you need help, get it before it is too late. Had I not made my call I do not know where I would be.

I can't say things get better, but you do get stronger.
 

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I got TDO'd once. I went to the VA hospital in a haze. I hadn't been able to get off the couch in several months. I wasn't sleeping well at all. I felt very near to the end of the rope, so to speak. I must have looked in pretty bad shape as well.

So I talked to a mental health person. Was I suicidal? No, I just needed to talk to someone. The staff apparently made up their mind they were not going to let me go home. They kept sending in psych interns to ask me leading questions,

until I finally admitted it was possible I could kill myself if things didn't improve. That's when they called the guard and asked him to keep an eye on me until they made my reservation for the ward. LOL. At least they didn't put me in hand and leg

irons. I spent the weekend on the ward. No change in meds. I had a hearing on Monday morning, and some judge read me half of the state code in regards to TDOs. So, I read him the rest of the code and pointed out how the state failed to

meet its obligations in TDO'ing me. He said "you can appeal my decision". Bwahaha. What good would that do now? I have come to the conclusion that justice is not administered at low level courts of any jurisdiction. If you desire justice,

bank on needing to file an appeal. One of the ward nurses pulled me aside and said "Wow, you really handled yourself well in there." Yeah, well....Like John Melloncamp, I have a problem with authority. So, what difference did it make? I drove home on Monday.

Sat on the couch Tuesday and Wednesday. I drove back to the VA on Thursday and said "I fuckin surrender. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. Do whatever

you have to do. In fact, Do whatever you like!" So they gave me ECT every other day for 2 weeks, and it changed my life. At the age of 57, I went back to the kid I was at 17, when it all started. This is more truth than exaggeration. For 40 years, my brain

desperately needed a reboot. Back to the bootstrap code. Those grand mal seizures did the trick. It's been 5 years and I feel great. I had a minor episode of depression which lasted about 2 weeks, but it was much subdued from my previous episodes,

which could last as long as 2 years. I don't even take psych meds anymore. Haven't had a pill in over 2 years. But, 40 years down the drain. I guess I should still feel fortunate.
 

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Discussion Starter · #3 ·
I got TDO'd once. I went to the VA hospital in a haze. I hadn't been able to get off the couch in several months. I wasn't sleeping well at all. I felt very near to the end of the rope, so to speak. I must have looked in pretty bad shape as well.

So I talked to a mental health person. Was I suicidal? No, I just needed to talk to someone. The staff apparently made up their mind they were not going to let me go home. They kept sending in psych interns to ask me leading questions,

until I finally admitted it was possible I could kill myself if things didn't improve. That's when they called the guard and asked him to keep an eye on me until they made my reservation for the ward. LOL. At least they didn't put me in hand and leg

irons. I spent the weekend on the ward. No change in meds. I had a hearing on Monday morning, and some judge read me half of the state code in regards to TDOs. So, I read him the rest of the code and pointed out how the state failed to

meet its obligations in TDO'ing me. He said "you can appeal my decision". Bwahaha. What good would that do now? I have come to the conclusion that justice is not administered at low level courts of any jurisdiction. If you desire justice,

bank on needing to file an appeal. One of the ward nurses pulled me aside and said "Wow, you really handled yourself well in there." Yeah, well....Like John Melloncamp, I have a problem with authority. So, what difference did it make? I drove home on Monday.

Sat on the couch Tuesday and Wednesday. I drove back to the VA on Thursday and said "I fuckin surrender. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. Do whatever

you have to do. In fact, Do whatever you like!" So they gave me ECT every other day for 2 weeks, and it changed my life. At the age of 57, I went back to the kid I was at 17, when it all started. This is more truth than exaggeration. For 40 years, my brain

desperately needed a reboot. Back to the bootstrap code. Those grand mal seizures did the trick. It's been 5 years and I feel great. I had a minor episode of depression which lasted about 2 weeks, but it was much subdued from my previous episodes,

which could last as long as 2 years. I don't even take psych meds anymore. Haven't had a pill in over 2 years. But, 40 years down the drain. I guess I should still feel fortunate.
Thanks for replying. One of the things they suggested to me was an ECT, along with other brain scans. I am actually looking forward to it.

The hospitalization process is messed up. It is easy to lie and say that you're okay, in which case they let you go, but one off the bat comment and you're done. Someone I knew in there was in because, after a nurse asked how she was doing, said "oh, well, I tried to kill myself last night." Immediately hospitalized involuntarily.

I have to hope that the system has helped more people than it's hurt.
 

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Well, forestx5 you got back to yourself and that's a great blessing. From reading your other posts i don't think you wasted those years at all, it sounds like you had a great run.

In the spirit of replying to the theme of the post i ended up in the mental hospital last year when i went to the hospital one morning and told them i would not do another day feeling like i did, and if I didn't get serious help i was going to off myself. One year on im back at home, still struggling. But life is easier. Are you guys from the US? i'm from the UK. A young man has to fight hard to be taken seriously with mental health here
 

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I'm in the state of Virginia. In my ad hoc bio, I forgot to mention I served on, and then chaired an advisory council to the state agency charged with advocating for the rights of the state's institutionalized mentally ill. It was a strange arrangement, whereby the federal government gave the states $1 million to be used in legal based advocacy. The governor had the choice to establish a non-profit agency to perform the advocacy, or the

agency could be within the government. Our governor chose the latter, which created the conflict whereby our agency director was probably reluctant to initiate court action on behalf of the institutionalized mentally ill, when it could cost her the job as director. A dynamic whereby the state sued the state? The advisory council's job was to establish priorities for the advocacy. The council did its best, but nothing really got done.

One of my council members, one Caitlyn Wright-Binning, working for the Virginia Alliance for the Mentally Ill uncovered the inhumane horrible abuse of a patient at our Central State Hospital. The case went viral world wide. I think Central State is closed today, but in resolution of the case, a statue of Gloria Huntley adorned the walk way to the entrance of that Institution to remind people that the mentally ill will not be neglected.

http://preventabletragedies.pbworks.com/w/page/18384241/Gloria-Huntley

I was also active locally in criticizing our local mental health agency. In the US, states have public mental health agencies that treat the indigent. Our state has 40, and they are called Community Service Boards, or CSBs. They employ psychologists and therapists who are just starting out. Very little psychiatric time is funded. Our local CSB was required to provide or contract for the provision of emergency medical services.

They chose to contract that obligation to our local private hospital. Our CSB paid 10 thousand a year to refer patients to the emergency room. There, the hospital would examine them for private insurance. If they had none, arrangements were made for the county sheriff to provide transportation to the nearest state hospital with an empty bed. So, what did 10 grand buy for the mentally ill? Absolutely nothing.

We exposed all this stuff to our local Republican delegate and Senator. Nothing changed until one day a delegates son was reported to the CSB in a crisis. There were no beds available, so they sent him back home. He stabbed his father and killed himself. That's when the state began to take things a bit more seriously.. And this article tells you why.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/virginia-politics/va-state-sen-creigh-deeds-settles-lawsuit-over-his-sons-death-for-950k/2018/10/17/f75d533e-d243-11e8-8c22-fa2ef74bd6d6_story.html

The word has gotten around down here. If you threaten yourself or others, you are more likely to be taken seriously than ever before.
 
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