I have depression. Have for years. As long as I take my meds, I do great in life.
I have a great job, can afford to live in a decent home. I have two dogs and foster/volunteer for a shelter. I have friends.
Last year my car was stolen, I was dumped by the first man I loved in 10 years and then I quit drinking after years of overdoing it. One day it came crashing down and I decided I didn't want to be alive anymore. That day I let two people know my devastation and I tried to cut my arm. I couldn't even break skin. I did once and it was a drop and I stopped. A cop came by for a wellness check and it "woke me up" and he left. This wasn't what I wanted. I was imbalanced. I no longer had the alcohol crutch and what I needed was to just see a doctor. Maybe up my meds for the first time. So I went to bed.
In the morning I called my friend to come over and asked him to help me with finding a psychiatrist in the city. Anyone who has to deal with mental health issues knows how hard it is to find a doctor, taking new patients, taking your insurance. I had my computer on, pen and paper ready, my cell phone charged, and waiting for my friend to come over. I was ready to forget the day before and do what I needed to do to be better.
TL;DR I wanted to live. I had no intention of hurting myself or others. I was back in control and ready to rock.
My "friend" decided that it might be quicker to go to the hospital. Oschner said no therapist could just "see me" and that I would have to go to the ER. I had no intention of doing that. I was fine.
So he took me to River Oaks on a suggestion from his own therapist. I had only been in NOLA for about 7 months and had never heard of it. Again, I'm just thinking this is a place...like an urgent care for psychiatry or something. I'm trusting my friend even though all I asked for was support while I call around to find a new Dr.
We get there and he gets all chivalrous and fills out the paperwork. I'm just signing things and trusting in him. They call me into the first hallway.
This is where they tell me I can't have my wallet, cell phone, and necklace. And then they "wand" me. I still have NO IDEA what River Oaks is actually about am I'm just thinking it's some protocol because of NOLA crime.
Then they led me to a TV room where there were other people waiting to see a Dr. and I assume it's a regular old waiting room.
And then I notice it.
The staff are using keys to unlock doors as they pass through the room. I realize I'm locked in and suddenly very very scared and confused.
I ask someone what is going on. I tell them I didn't realize this was a place that locks you in. I tell them it was all a mistake and that I wasn't brought here by police or that I was voluntarily locking myself up. They just told me over and over that I CANNOT leave and I will be seeing a doctor. After forever, a nurse/tech comes and interviews me in a separate room. She asks me questions, and I tell her yes, yesterday I made comments about not living, that I did test the waters with a razor. No denying that. I tell her I woke up and all I wanted was help with internet insurance, etc and my friend was the one who brought me. Not one person would believe me that I didn't know what River Oaks is. A member of the staff actually yelled at me saying that I did know. I mean, what the hell? So I talk to this nurse/tech in detail, as calmly as I can and she takes a few notes here and there to prep the Dr. A bit later, she comes into the room and says the Dr is admitting me. I am blown away, scared, confused, angry. A person, a "doctor" who never laid eyes on me, never spoke to me, who was told I wasn't planning harm and that I came without knowledge of the possibility of being LOCKED IN, decided to lock me in. It was the worst day of my life, by far - 47 years old. I am an intelligent, successful, INDEPENDENT person and now some man I've never met is determining my future, and with no answer as to when they will allow me to leave.
River Oaks is TERRIFYING and shady as all hell. That worst day of my life turned into the worst week of my life. Staring down incompetent employees and nurses who don't see you or treat you as an actual human being.
This is not easy for me to write. I never really understood PTSD until I finally sat down and gathered all my notes (written in crayon - that's all they give you) to write an essay about my time there.
I HATE thinking about it, I hate the little jokes I tell to deal with it. I hate that they don't let you call it a prison.
I can tell you more. About the co-ed spaces, about showering with doors open, about the man who was there because the crazy jail didn't have a bed for him, and how he was accused of "fingering" a girl asleep on the couch. About another person who said he was homicidal and then screamed and yelled when they took away a smoke break and pounded at the windows to the office. The office every staff member barricaded themselves in while the rest of us "inmates" were left in the room the Mr. Homicide.
I can tell you the fear, the disgust, the stripping of any sense of the person you are in the real world.
I can tell you that if you don't play the game, you lose. It's not about treatment there, it's about filling beds and yelling.
I can tell you more. I can tell you that they did this to other people. Some people check themselves in, yes, but for the rest of us, once you are in that door, they WILL not listen or let you leave. You are no longer an individual.
I can tell you about taking my clothes off for a search and wearing prison pants because my skirt had a drawstring. I can tell you how my only option was Men's Depends for underwear because I didn't have any because again - I HAD NO INTENTION OF STAYING THERE OVERNIGHT LET ALONE SIX DAYS.
I have a list of smaller grievances here and there. The amount of styrofoam they use is shameful. (That's me trying to lighten it up since I'm sitting here crying and trying not to blink and be mentally back there) The one good thing was that we had phone usage. They have me locked up because they say I want to hurt myself, but in the meantime, I'm on the phone dealing with my stolen car, my job, my volunteer work, trying to gather info from my insurance company, etc. Doing things so my life didn't fall behind since I had no control or knowledge of when I would be released.
They said I was in because I cut. Then, when someone finally brought my clothes, I realized they didn't take the safety pins out of my jeans. You know, thank goodness I actually DIDN'T want to hurt myself, That would have been quite messy for them.