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So I just flew in from an 8 day hold in a psych ward, and BOY, are my arms tired!

You ever voluntarily or involuntarily spent time in a behavioral health unit?

  • Yes!

    Votes: 10 30.3%
  • No. No, man. Shit no, man. I think you'd get your ass kicked sayin' something like that.

    Votes: 25 75.8%

  • Total voters
    33
Nov 5, 2016
24,111
47,972
1,215
One Big Room, Full Of Bad Bitches
I'd like to start off by apologizing for typos and rambling. If you make it through this, you will get more than you deserve of both. I have few skills as a writer, and no skill as a proof-reader.

I'd like to share what happened to me recently. I know there are already a couple mental health threads on GAF and maybe I should have just consolidated into one of those, but I am genuinely curious to hear from anyone who may or may not have experienced something similar to myself.

On Sunday, February 10th, I drove myself to the closest ER to my house.

The story that explains how I ended up on that path is long and stupid. I have mentioned it a couple times on here, in New Year threads and mental health threads, but long story very short (or as short as possible):

I have a very severe form of what they call "Generalized Anxiety Disorder" (which I guess means you are anxious at anytime, for any reason, or no reason) that has led to I guess what is considered an actual "panic disorder."

I had a really bad year with it in my early 20s, but it went away on its own with exercise and some short term anti-anxiety meds (light benzo use on and off) over the course of probably 11 months.

This time around it started with mild anxiety returning around this time last year, but I was still able to function. I still worked a couple part time jobs and was able to go out in limited spurts. Panic attacks here and there. I never sought significant treatment, as I hate going to the hospital and kept telling myself "it will go away, it will get better." The only difference is that the first time around I lost a lot of weight (90+ pounds in an 8 month span) each time, however the first time around I did it with lots of exercise, and this second time around I have done it by eating pretty regular, smallish meals, but living almost completely sedentary, which alarms my doctors now that I have told them (more on that, later). Apparently you aren’t ever supposed to lose that much weight, that quickly, without great effort, which I don’t know is really true or not.

I'll skip details.

Flash forward past the summer and to the week of Thanksgiving. At one point that week I was going for a walk around my neighborhood and suddenly felt a "fist like" grip in my upper middle chest area and began breathing rapidly. It didn't feel like I couldn't take a deep breath, necessarily, nor did it hurt to breath, it just felt like I had no control over my respiration rate, just couldn't stop taking shallow breaths. I was alone and it was dark. I made it back home and sat down. I felt better pretty quickly.



Most smart people probably would have gone to the ER at this point. I am not a smart person.

Two days later I was sitting in the home of one of my clients (I provide in-home care for families of special needs clients, have worked in SPED for most of my adult life whether in public school or private sector like this) and was feeling fine. As soon as the garage door opened I started hyperventilating. No pain or grip this time. I was just sitting in a chair and I couldn't catch my breath suddenly.

This was the day before Thanksgiving, and that was pretty much the last time I left my house. I had tried driving to my folks house for Thanksgiving dinner but turned around halfway and ran inside my apartment to "safety."

Pulled that 180 REAL QUICKlike



Anyway, again, more or less, I stayed in my apartment from that day all through Sunday, Feb 10th. My birthday, the Holidays, playoff football, bowl games, watched it all alone instead of with my mom and dad, as per usual.

As I remained isolated it got to the point that just hearing someone walking outside my house caused my heart rate to skyrocket, if someone knocked on my door I would have a full blown attack. I wake up in the middle of the night sweating and insanely warm, in a weird way, even if it's freezing cold in my place. I get random bouts of "shortness of breath" regardless of anxiety level that can happen if I am sitting down, standing, laying on my side. According to my pulse oximeter my blood oxygen will drop as low as 91 but just briefly before climbing back to a reasonable level.

OK, enough:

Let's' get to the nitty gritty.

8 days ago, I had finally ran out of meds. The dream of waking up normal again never materialized. All the herbal supplements never worked. Closest to finding a natural remedy was ashwagandha. but it did not stop the panic attacks at all and caused a lot of GI distress for me, as well as lowered my blood sugar a little too harshly. Everyone is different though. I pretty much tried everything.

I had made a 14 day supply of klonopin last about 5 weeks by splitting pills and trying to meditate and my breathe my way through bad anxiety days by basically laying in bed and staring at my phone most of the time.

After taking my last klonopin following an early morning panic attack (most likely anticipation of what was to come, knowing I had run out of time and needed to take action while the med was at least providing some relief) I took a little nap, woke up, think I GAF'd a little, and then called my mom and told her I was going to drive myself to an ER and I didn't know what was going to happen. I honestly didn't know if my car would start, it had snowed a few times over the 10 or so weeks of isolation. Told her where I was going, and off I went.



The place is close, about 4 blocks away. The drive was decent. I was trying my best to breathe slowly and deeply. I parked and kind of had this "ok pussy, gotta pay the price now" moment with myself in the car. Walked in, was clearly anxious, fidgeting, kept rubbing my chest for no reason, sweating, breathing rapidly but still coherent.

Scribbled my name, nodded and said "yes" a couple times, showed my insurance card, and boom.

I lay down, they run blood tests, EKG, both normal (like always). My blood pressure upon first being admitted was 170 over 110. That's by far the highest it has ever been for me. Never seen it higher than 150/95 in my life. At home when relaxed it is typically 105/70 according to my Omrom monitor.



They give me 1 MG of Ativan and it calms me a little, pulse remains elevated throughout my whole stay, never going under 100, staying around 110. This had me a little concerned as I am typically under 80 at rest, but again, anxiety gonna anxiety.

My mom shows up and we explain the situation, every detail, basically everything I wrote here but a lot more other little details I didn't want to waste your time with.

They say that at this kind of ER they can't prescribe the meds I need, but they have a behavioral specialist they can call in. I figure, no problem, this lady will show up, give me a lot of benzos to keep me sedated for a few months and we will see where that goes.



Wrong.

Lady shows up and we repeat the details. She then pulls out a clipboard and starts interviewing me from three pieces of paper. She runs tests too (like one was to name as many animals as I could in 60 seconds, and the other was to draw a clock) that I don't understand the relevance of.

She says "Don't worry, I am gonna get you meds."



But then she says, "I am putting you on an M1 72 Hour Hold."



My mom gives me a weird worried look like she's expecting some reaction from me but the thing is I don't know what that is. I am a little sedated and probably riding an adrenaline dump from the anxiety of the day. I honestly have no fuckin clue what is going on.

Before I can ask any questions the lady leaves and a nurse comes in and wheels me into another room with a security guard posted outside. At this point I think I start understanding what just happened. My mom is in my ear explaining how this will be the turning point I needed, this will be the help I need, this will be the start of a good thing, and they give me 2 more MGs of Ativan, at which point I fall asleep.

I basically nap on and off for 4 hours, never fully there. They explain to me what is happening. I have to ask the guard everytime I need to piss. Standing up makes my head feel like a 2 ton dildo. I’m like a pathetic life size bobble head man.

I meet one of the three criteria to be deemed medically unfit to leave a hospital, which are:
A.) Harm to others
B.) Harm to yourself
C.) Gravely disabled

She checks me as Gravely Disabled, as harming myself or anyone else couldn't be further from my mind. They are looking for a room for me in a behavioral health center that has a unit suited for me. I am not an addict, or a violent offender of any sort, so they don't want me with the wrong population, I guess. Their words, not mine.



A couple more hours pass. Turns out that all the hospitals around our greater metro area are full and they are going to transport me to a hospital an hour away. They ask me to sign some papers and I am feeling half-dead so I politely decline. I was in no place to sign anything.

But I have accepted it. I am about to be locked up for 3 days in basically a "mental hospital," and apparently there is literally nothing I can do about it.

Considering that I had lived the past 10 weeks completely terrified of leaving my apartment and devoid of any human interaction other than some emails, texts, and GAFing, I figure this is gonna be a fucked up ride.

I make through the ambulance ride up. At this point I still have a false conception of what I am walking into. I figure it will be like "adult summer camp" with a mental health emphasis. Nah.

First thing they do is strip me, cut off the hoods on my sweaters, and confiscate basically everything I own. They take the strings out of my clothes and shoes and basically leave me with a pair of underwear, sweatpants that wont stay up, and a t-shirt.



It is about 11 PM when I get in to the unit and the nurse on duty sits me down and lazily goes over whats up. He seems about as competent as day old bagel. I learn later that everyone in the unit complains about this guy and I don't see him again after this night.

The hospital is privately owned, and it shows. This place exists to make profit. It is built like shit, with poor insulation and dogshit amenities. My bed feels like a sack of coyote dicks. It's freezing ass cold. My roommate is the kind of guy who,. at one point later on, walks in and says "man the food here just goes right through ya!" and rips righteous ass right in front of me while maintaining eye contact.

He does this a lot during his sleep too, but is at least nice enough to ask "bro I'm not keeping you awake, am I?"



I also learn the next morning that no one stays for 3 days. My roommate was going on his third week.

THREE WEEKS



In the morning as I am shaking in my bed trying not to hyperventilate and keep my shit together a 19 year old is raging through the hallway kicking trashcans like she's god damn bending it like Beckham or some shit, screaming about wanting to go home.

Great start. I'm in hell.

I've written so much garbage. already. I will try to rap it up.

The doctor meets with me in the morning and prescribes me BuSpar, which apparently is a med designed specifically to combat anxiety through changing shit in the brain, or whatever. He also puts me on this anti-psychotic medicine to replace benzos, and that shit makes me a legit zombie. I can't keep my eyes open. Feel so awful. After a few days I am able to get that changed back to Klonopin, which is habit forming and creates withdrawal symptoms but at least does a good job and keeps me functional.

We eat, and we do groups run by kids who make 14 bucks an hour where we talk about feelings and shit. At one point, in a processing group, a girl who is half Jamaican and half Spanish (and the most attractive person I have ever seen) talks about her panic attacks and how she has problem straight up lighting herself "on fuckin fire" if she feels like it. I dunno why but that stuck with me.

It’s a mind numbing monotony, void of joy.

On Wednesday, basically my fourth day, but technically third day, I am told "you will be discharged either Thursday or Friday."

Great! One or two more days. Cool! Am I cured? No? Is the BuSpar helping? Uh I really don't notice much. I am on a benzo most of the time so how can I tell if I am feeling better or if I am just sedated as usual?

But whatever. I wanna go home, and at least I proved that I can leave my house and not die.

Well Pump The Fuckin' Brakes



Later on that same day the social worker comes to me and says that, basically, my insurance doesn't want to pay for this place anymore, apparently it is 1000 dollars a day, and want me closer to my home, in their network. I ask "why didn't they figure this out sooner?" and get no answer, I ask "can you just discharge me? I am scheduled for it and it has been almost four days" and get no answer. I ask "will this restart the whole process for me wherever I go?" and she says "probably."

lol.

So Thursday I got transported to a hospital close to the big city I live near and, yes, I am starting from square one. They tell me it will take "5-8" days most likely.

I could go on forever but I will try to wrap this up.

This place is nicer, and has a better staff. Room has it's own thermostat and a pretty comfortable bed. I think this is gonna work out fine, and for the most part it does. Except my roommate has a guitar, and he only plays Nirvana songs.

It sounds cool at first, but once we got to the third tour of Smells Like Teen Spirit, I am ready to Sarah Connor my way out of here.





Again, I could ramble on and on.

I went through the motions, and smiled every time I was interviewed, and sat through the bullshit groups. I left today with BuSpar, which I don't think works, 10 pills of Ativan designed to get me to an appointment with my healthcare provider, and an anti-depressant that works well for "extreme anxiety."

They take my vitals every morning and my pulse is always a little high and my BP is always slightly elevated diastolic side, which they say is just anxiety. One day both numbers were high, even after taking a pill just for BP, and they tell me, oh it is just anxiety. I ask if someone from the medical wing next door could at least look at me, and they tell me I worry too much. I tell them I am a little short of breath sometimes and they tell me it just anxiety.

I don't feel cured, I feel slightly calmer, I was still fighting panic on the way home today. I have an appointment tomorrow, I will need Ativan for that will be fighting panic through that, but they say these things take time to work.

It's really weird not having freedom. I forgot about things like the Anthem launch, and missed sports events I was looking forward to, and all the days kind of blended into one. I got told often that it is very rare for anxiety to get this severe, that they rarely see people like me in these programs. Usually it is self-harm or psychotic episode patients, lots of drug rehab cases too.

I'll stop here, sorry for wasting anyone's time who made it this far, and sorry for the grammatical errors I am too lazy to fix first.


Question:

GAF, have you ever been to a psych ward voluntarily, or involuntarily? What do you think of your experience, does it compare to mine?


Thanks for your time.

Long Live GAF.

I will try to clean this up later, I am feeling tired and a bit dizzy, gonna sit down and switch to mobile.

One thing I was shocked by was how little time I actually spent talking to doctors. They go through room to room like numbers on a list and just check us off. We talked to dozens of other, lesser qualified people who all ask the same questions: “how depressed are you from 0 to 10,” “are you hearing voices?” It’s like, yeah bitch, I hear your fuckin voice.

So many small little details and interactions I would love to share. Maybe I will if any conversation arises. One thing I liked was both places had a DVD of Dumb and Dumber and both movie nights were the only times everyone in the unit chose the same activity.

Big Gulps huh? Welp, see ya later!
 
Last edited:

Trojita

Rapid Response Threadmaker
Feb 9, 2009
37,882
4,874
1,905
Dude sorry to hear about that involuntary stay and your anxiety problems.
 

LMJ

Member
Feb 7, 2019
1,350
2,411
580
Good gravy JareBear, all I can say is what a trooper you are lol, I probably would have gone crazy given the same situation...:messenger_confused:

I'm sorry to hear you had such a traumatic experience it's great to have you back.

Never been to a psych ward, I had a traumatic Hospital experience when I went to Poland with my wife but that was about it.

P.S ( I'm new, but I've read your posts in the past used to ghost a lot, so sorry if I come off too familiar LOL)
 

Cato

Banned
Oct 27, 2017
5,396
8,453
755
Jeez, sorry to hear that.
Glad to hear you are better. Welcome back!
 

mekes

Member
Jun 30, 2013
3,159
3,091
855
London, UK
Glad you are okay JareBear: Remastered JareBear: Remastered , sounds like a rough time. Anxiety, when it’s full on like that, it’s the worst. I had it bad from 19-30, agoraphobia and always feeling like a lemon in public. And being in public for me back then, was anywhere outside of the front door. Talking to strangers was always difficult, I would always scan myself and assume I’d be showing so many unnatural “tells” to people. It used to drive me crazy.

I don’t suffer with any of it anymore. I had years on years of thinking I couldn’t and wouldn’t get past it, so getting to where I am now is like my own personal little miracle that only I know when I meet new people. I’m going to make a bigger reply tomorrow as there is lots I’d like to mention. Thanks for sharing your story, I’m really glad you are back home and I hope you know you have a lot of friends on here.

(y)
 

Wings 嫩翼翻せ

so it's not nice
Apr 2, 2013
2,838
2,883
1,100
波士頓
What an adventure. I'm sure based on the poll a good lot of us have some juicy stories to share on the topic!

Good to have you back, man. Just remember -- experiences like that make you a star back home. :messenger_rocket:
 

Cunth

Fingerlickin' Good!
May 22, 2018
9,849
34,826
1,050
Damn. That’s quite a story. First time I’ve read a post in full. My brother was like you described in the past but on anti depressants now and is pretty much fine, got a wife and kid and everything
 

TrainedRage

Banned
Feb 3, 2018
9,302
14,341
1,080
35
USA
I'd like to start off by apologizing for typos and rambling. If you make it through this, you will get more than you deserve of both. I have few skills as a writer, and no skill as a proof-reader.

I'd like to share what happened to me recently. I know there are already a couple mental health threads on GAF and maybe I should have just consolidated into one of those, but I am genuinely curious to hear from anyone who may or may not have experienced something similar to myself.

On Sunday, February 10th, I drove myself to the closest ER to my house.

The story that explains how I ended up on that path is long and stupid. I have mentioned it a couple times on here, in New Year threads and mental health threads, but long story very short (or as short as possible):

I have a very severe form of what they call "Generalized Anxiety Disorder" (which I guess means you are anxious at anytime, for any reason, or no reason) that has led to I guess what is considered an actual "panic disorder."

I had a really bad year with it in my early 20s, but it went away on its own with exercise and some short term anti-anxiety meds (light benzo use on and off) over the course of probably 11 months.

This time around it started with mild anxiety returning around this time last year, but I was still able to function. I still worked a couple part time jobs and was able to go out in limited spurts. Panic attacks here and there. I never sought significant treatment, as I hate going to the hospital and kept telling myself "it will go away, it will get better." The only difference is that the first time around I lost a lot of weight (90+ pounds in an 8 month span) each time, however the first time around I did it with lots of exercise, and this second time around I have done it by eating pretty regular, smallish meals, but living almost completely sedentary, which alarms my doctors now that I have told them (more on that, later). Apparently you aren’t ever supposed to lose that much weight, that quickly, without great effort, which I don’t know is really true or not.

I'll skip details.

Flash forward past the summer and to the week of Thanksgiving. At one point that week I was going for a walk around my neighborhood and suddenly felt a "fist like" grip in my upper middle chest area and began breathing rapidly. It didn't feel like I couldn't take a deep breath, necessarily, nor did it hurt to breath, it just felt like I had no control over my respiration rate, just couldn't stop taking shallow breaths. I was alone and it was dark. I made it back home and sat down. I felt better pretty quickly.



Most smart people probably would have gone to the ER at this point. I am not a smart person.

Two days later I was sitting in the home of one of my clients (I provide in-home care for families of special needs clients, have worked in SPED for most of my adult life whether in public school or private sector like this) and was feeling fine. As soon as the garage door opened I started hyperventilating. No pain or grip this time. I was just sitting in a chair and I couldn't catch my breath suddenly.

This was the day before Thanksgiving, and that was pretty much the last time I left my house. I had tried driving to my folks house for Thanksgiving dinner but turned around halfway and ran inside my apartment to "safety."

Pulled that 180 REAL QUICKlike



Anyway, again, more or less, I stayed in my apartment from that day all through Sunday, Feb 10th. My birthday, the Holidays, playoff football, bowl games, watched it all alone instead of with my mom and dad, as per usual.

As I remained isolated it got to the point that just hearing someone walking outside my house caused my heart rate to skyrocket, if someone knocked on my door I would have a full blown attack. I wake up in the middle of the night sweating and insanely warm, in a weird way, even if it's freezing cold in my place. I get random bouts of "shortness of breath" regardless of anxiety level that can happen if I am sitting down, standing, laying on my side. According to my pulse oximeter my blood oxygen will drop as low as 91 but just briefly before climbing back to a reasonable level.

OK, enough:

Let's' get to the nitty gritty.

8 days ago, I had finally ran out of meds. The dream of waking up normal again never materialized. All the herbal supplements never worked. Closest to finding a natural remedy was ashwagandha. but it did not stop the panic attacks at all and caused a lot of GI distress for me, as well as lowered my blood sugar a little too harshly. Everyone is different though. I pretty much tried everything.

I had made a 14 day supply of klonopin last about 5 weeks by splitting pills and trying to meditate and my breathe my way through bad anxiety days by basically laying in bed and staring at my phone most of the time.

After taking my last klonopin following an early morning panic attack (most likely anticipation of what was to come, knowing I had run out of time and needed to take action while the med was at least providing some relief) I took a little nap, woke up, think I GAF'd a little, and then called my mom and told her I was going to drive myself to an ER and I didn't know what was going to happen. I honestly didn't know if my car would start, it had snowed a few times over the 10 or so weeks of isolation. Told her where I was going, and off I went.



The place is close, about 4 blocks away. The drive was decent. I was trying my best to breathe slowly and deeply. I parked and kind of had this "ok pussy, gotta pay the price now" moment with myself in the car. Walked in, was clearly anxious, fidgeting, kept rubbing my chest for no reason, sweating, breathing rapidly but still coherent.

Scribbled my name, nodded and said "yes" a couple times, showed my insurance card, and boom.

I lay down, they run blood tests, EKG, both normal (like always). My blood pressure upon first being admitted was 170 over 110. That's by far the highest it has ever been for me. Never seen it higher than 150/95 in my life. At home when relaxed it is typically 105/70 according to my Omrom monitor.



They give me 1 MG of Ativan and it calms me a little, pulse remains elevated throughout my whole stay, never going under 100, staying around 110. This had me a little concerned as I am typically under 80 at rest, but again, anxiety gonna anxiety.

My mom shows up and we explain the situation, every detail, basically everything I wrote here but a lot more other little details I didn't want to waste your time with.

They say that at this kind of ER they can't prescribe the meds I need, but they have a behavioral specialist they can call in. I figure, no problem, this lady will show up, give me a lot of benzos to keep me sedated for a few months and we will see where that goes.



Wrong.

Lady shows up and we repeat the details. She then pulls out a clipboard and starts interviewing me from three pieces of paper. She runs tests too (like one was to name as many animals as I could in 60 seconds, and the other was to draw a clock) that I don't understand the relevance of.

She says "Don't worry, I am gonna get you meds."



But then she says, "I am putting you on an M1 72 Hour Hold."



My mom gives me a weird worried look like she's expecting some reaction from me but the thing is I don't know what that is. I am a little sedated and probably riding an adrenaline dump from the anxiety of the day. I honestly have no fuckin clue what is going on.

Before I can ask any questions the lady leaves and a nurse comes in and wheels me into another room with a security guard posted outside. At this point I think I start understanding what just happened. My mom is in my ear explaining how this will be the turning point I needed, this will be the help I need, this will be the start of a good thing, and they give me 2 more MGs of Ativan, at which point I fall asleep.

I basically nap on and off for 4 hours, never fully there. They explain to me what is happening. I have to ask the guard everytime I need to piss. Standing up makes my head feel like a 2 ton dildo. I’m like a pathetic life size bobble head man.

I meet one of the three criteria to be deemed medically unfit to leave a hospital, which are:
A.) Harm to others
B.) Harm to yourself
C.) Gravely disabled

She checks me as Gravely Disabled, as harming myself or anyone else couldn't be further from my mind. They are looking for a room for me in a behavioral health center that has a unit suited for me. I am not an addict, or a violent offender of any sort, so they don't want me with the wrong population, I guess. Their words, not mine.



A couple more hours pass. Turns out that all the hospitals around our greater metro area are full and they are going to transport me to a hospital an hour away. They ask me to sign some papers and I am feeling half-dead so I politely decline. I was in no place to sign anything.

But I have accepted it. I am about to be locked up for 3 days in basically a "mental hospital," and apparently there is literally nothing I can do about it.

Considering that I had lived the past 10 weeks completely terrified of leaving my apartment and devoid of any human interaction other than some emails, texts, and GAFing, I figure this is gonna be a fucked up ride.

I make through the ambulance ride up. At this point I still have a false conception of what I am walking into. I figure it will be like "adult summer camp" with a mental health emphasis. Nah.

First thing they do is strip me, cut off the hoods on my sweaters, and confiscate basically everything I own. They take the strings out of my clothes and shoes and basically leave me with a pair of underwear, sweatpants that wont stay up, and a t-shirt.



It is about 11 PM when I get in to the unit and the nurse on duty sits me down and lazily goes over whats up. He seems about as competent as day old bagel. I learn later that everyone in the unit complains about this guy and I don't see him again after this night.

The hospital is privately owned, and it shows. This place exists to make profit. It is built like shit, with poor insulation and dogshit amenities. My bed feels like a sack of coyote dicks. It's freezing ass cold. My roommate is the kind of guy who,. at one point later on, walks in and says "man the food here just goes right through ya!" and rips righteous ass right in front of me while maintaining eye contact.

He does this a lot during his sleep too, but is at least nice enough to ask "bro I'm not keeping you awake, am I?"



I also learn the next morning that no one stays for 3 days. My roommate was going on his third week.

THREE WEEKS



In the morning as I am shaking in my bed trying not to hyperventilate and keep my shit together a 19 year old is raging through the hallway kicking trashcans like she's god damn bending it like Beckham or some shit, screaming about wanting to go home.

Great start. I'm in hell.

I've written so much garbage. already. I will try to rap it up.

The doctor meets with me in the morning and prescribes me BuSpar, which apparently is a med designed specifically to combat anxiety through changing shit in the brain, or whatever. He also puts me on this anti-psychotic medicine to replace benzos, and that shit makes me a legit zombie. I can't keep my eyes open. Feel so awful. After a few days I am able to get that changed back to Klonopin, which is habit forming and creates withdrawal symptoms but at least does a good job and keeps me functional.

We eat, and we do groups run by kids who make 14 bucks an hour where we talk about feelings and shit. At one point, in a processing group, a girl who is half Jamaican and half Spanish (and the most attractive person I have ever seen) talks about her panic attacks and how she has problem straight up lighting herself "on fuckin fire" if she feels like it. I dunno why but that stuck with me.

On Wednesday, basically my fourth day, but technically third day, I am told "you will be discharged either Thursday or Friday."

Great! One or two more days. Cool! Am I cured? No? Is the BuSpar helping? Uh I really don't notice much. I am on a benzo most of the time so how can I tell if I am feeling better or if I am just sedated as usual?

But whatever. I wanna go home, and at least I proved that I can leave my house and not die.

Well Pump The Fuckin' Brakes



Later on that same day the social worker comes to me and says that, basically, my insurance doesn't want to pay for this place anymore, apparently it is 1000 dollars a day, and want me closer to my home, in their network. I ask "why didn't they figure this out sooner?" and get no answer, I ask "can you just discharge me? I am scheduled for it and it has been almost four days" and get no answer. I ask "will this restart the whole process for me wherever I go?" and she says "probably."

lol.

So Thursday I got transported to a hospital close to the big city I live near and, yes, I am starting from square one. They tell me it will take "5-8" days most likely.

I could go on forever but I will try to wrap this up.

This place is nicer, and has a better staff. Room has it's own thermostat and a pretty comfortable bed. I think this is gonna work out fine, and for the most part it does. Except my roommate has a guitar, and he only plays Nirvana songs.

It sounds cool at first, but once we got to the third tour of Smells Like Teen Spirit, I am ready to Sarah Connor my way out of here.





Again, I could ramble on and on.

I went through the motions, and smiled every time I was interviewed, and sat through the bullshit groups. I left today with BuSpar, which I don't think works, 10 pills of Ativan designed to get me to an appointment with my healthcare provider, and an anti-depressant that works well for "extreme anxiety."

They take my vitals every morning and my pulse is always a little high and my BP is always slightly elevated diastolic side, which they say is just anxiety. One day both numbers were high, even after taking a pill just for BP, and they tell me, oh it is just anxiety. I ask if someone from the medical wing next door could at least look at me, and they tell me I worry too much. I tell them I am a little short of breath sometimes and they tell me it just anxiety.

I don't feel cured, I feel slightly calmer, I was still fighting panic on the way home today. I have an appointment tomorrow, I will need Ativan for that will be fighting panic through that, but they say these things take time to work.

It's really weird not having freedom. I forgot about things like the Anthem launch, and missed sports events I was looking forward to, and all the days kind of blended into one. I got told often that it is very rare for anxiety to get this severe, that they rarely see people like me in these programs. Usually it is self-harm or psychotic episode patients, lots of drug rehab cases too.

I'll stop here, sorry for wasting anyone's time who made it this far, and sorry for the grammatical errors I am too lazy to fix first.


Question:

GAF, have you ever been to a psych ward voluntarily, or involuntarily? What do you think of your experience, does it compare to mine?

Thanks for your time.

Long Live GAF.

I will try to clean this up later, I am feeling tired and a bit dizzy, gonna sit down and switch to mobile.

One thing I was shocked by was how little time I actually spent talking to doctors. They go through room to room like numbers on a list and just check us off. We talked to dozens of other, lesser qualified people who all ask the same questions: “how depressed are you from 0 to 10,” “are you hearing voices?” It’s like, yeah bitch, I hear your fuckin voice.

So many small little details and interactions I would love to share. Maybe I will if any conversation arises. One thing I liked was both places had a DVD of Dumb and Dumber and both movie nights were the only times everyone in the unit chose the same activity.

Big Gulps huh? Welp, see ya later!

I was wondering where you were. I'm glad to hear you are back and relatively ok.
When I was 20 I checked myself into rehab for drinking and drugs. It was a 30 day stay, followed by a 3 month 'sober house' stay.
I also have diagnosed anxiety/depression, that didn't help the issues.
You made a good choice to go get help. But it sounds like you went through some hell.
Try and find a good professional you can talk to every week or two, someone who can potentially help you in further situations like this.
If you ever need to talk feel free to msg me. I also work in the SPED/PCA area.
Keep tabs on your mood and try and catch yourself next time it gets too far gone.
 

highrider

Banned
Dec 18, 2010
11,913
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washington d.c.
Yo, we are different politically and I’ve always appreciated your posting over there, I’m sorry to hear about the circumstances but it might help as well. I have anxiety and post traumatic stress and have been incarcerated and served in the army so I understand the regimen being imposed to some extent. I self medicate with weed and keep myself out of to high stress stuff and it helps being an old coot. I can just say wish you the best bro 🤛
 

#Phonepunk#

Banned
Sep 4, 2018
18,540
36,215
885
40
ive got mental illness in my family, and several family members have spent time in a hospital.

last year i started having dizzy spells and stress issues. found out i have high blood pressure. now im on meds dealing with that. quite often doctors are full of shit, but there is real stuff they can help with as well, and it's important to get that help when you need it.

good to hear you are out and doing well and survived! sending good wishes your way...
 

888

Member
Nov 10, 2013
6,369
5,180
1,035
I have anxiety. Not to the point of needing a psych ward. (Anymore) After my cousin died years ago it threw me into a spiral of worrying about health problems I didn’t have. Well the brain has a funny way of dealing with the stress. It gave me physical issues. The best thing you can do is process your emotions. Get help but watch out for those meds. Sometimes they cause more problems. SSRI in particular.

Talking to a therapist helps but most of it will be on you to figure out your triggers and avoid them. If politics gets you worked up, which we know does, avoid it until you can participate without anxiety.

One of my triggers years ago was watching TV and hearing things like cancer or diabetes. I was reeling still from the loss and I had just had my second kid so stress was very high. I started to freak out that there was something wrong with me and I even tested myself like a diabetic for a year. Blood pressure was a fear too and I tested that 30 times a day. I thought my hair was falling out, that I had teeth issues, hearing issues, heart rythm issues etc All the while my doctor was promising me I had none of it. I worked in a stressful job with a lot of responsibilities and I worked at home. So even when I was home, I was at work. I became a recluse and couldn’t stand people, even my family at times. All over not fully processing the death properly. I tend to be super solid during stressful situations. The building could be burning down and I would be the calmest person in a crowd, it’s not until things are over that emotions show up. I guess I was just burying those emotions without fully processing them.

I changed jobs. Made changes in my day to day routine. I work with a great team now which made my family life happier. I’ve learned to listen to my doctor on things like Blood Sugar and Pressure etc. I’m fine. During that crazy stressful time I had made changes in my fight with my imaginary diabetes and I lost 65lbs. So overall I’m happier now, I don’t take things so seriously anymore, I appreciate things more now because frankly, things can disappear in the blink of an eye.

Stress and unchecked anxiety will take its toll on you and others around you. Best thing to do is be happy, appreciate your health and people around you. Take a walk and separate from the internet. Acknowledge your thoughts and stresses. Assure yourself things are ok. Take a deep breath and keep moving in life.

Also check out some books on the mind body connection. Very fascinating stuff, your mind could also be affected by your gut health. They are closely linked, my gut is paying the price for my minds stress for so many years.

Now if you had made a thread about general hospital stays, I would have had a crazy story to tell regarding getting into a fight with a semi.

Get better. Take breaks from the internet too. It’s crazy now a days and only leads to more stress.
 
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Acerac

Banned
May 20, 2007
10,230
582
1,225
I've had a loved one deal with some similar situations during a very dark time.

Here's hoping you can work on moving yourself forward and growing as a person. That has been key in helping me improve from my darkest hours.
 

pimentel1

Banned
Jul 22, 2018
1,403
1,098
695
Thank you for sharing. I hope it helped you to share. Sometimes sharing can take a load off your chest. You have my deep respect.


Btw, if you’re in California and this shit happens again, PM me. I’ll come bust you out, El Chapo style.

Okay, probably not like that, but I’ll advocate for you that they can not hold you in a place that is actually worsening your condition. Then we’ll play video games at my place and chill.

Glad you’re doing better man. Now I just gotta get over this e coli crap.
 

sono

Member
Jan 20, 2013
3,718
94
675
Thank you for sharing this. It sounds like you went for help, and feel you got a low quality and expensive response.

However overall you feel you have improved somewhat which is positive.

Did anyone diagnose and tell you the reasons why they thought you may be having anxiety.


(The hard to breathe part does sound like BP. High BP is important to manage as I am sure they told you

https://www.webmd.com/hypertension-...ide/hypertension-symptoms-high-blood-pressure
)
 
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bitbydeath

Member
Nov 25, 2015
16,514
28,626
1,285
Glad you’re starting to feel better Jarebear.
Keep at it, you got all of GAF behind you mate.
 

Ailynn

Faith - Hope - Love
Jan 1, 2017
2,297
12,576
985
Tennessee, USA
Ohh JareBear: Remastered JareBear: Remastered ...I'm so sorry! :messenger_pensive:

My heart and prayers are with you my friend, and I'm so very sorry you had to go through such a hard time. I hope the rest of the year makes up for all of it with real joy and wonderful new memories.
 

PengTiki

Member
Apr 17, 2018
835
1,176
535
Man, what an insight. I wish I could help but I've not experienced anything close to that. Just glad you're out and hopefully can get back to some kind of better feeling. Try to enjoy that freedom.
 

Yoshi

Headmaster of Console Warrior Jugendstrafanstalt
May 4, 2005
16,570
6,250
1,920
34
Germany
www.gaming-universe.de
That sounds like a very unpleasent experience. Still, I hope that this event will lead to a good therapeutic plan to get the anxiety in checks, because as you describe them, they seriously harm your quality of life on all levels. I am glad that you are out of the forced situation.

I must say though, listening to Nirvana all day does not sound too bad; I could think of more uncomfortable room mates (e.g. ones farting all day ;)).
 
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Redneckerz

Those long posts don't cover that red neck boy
Jun 25, 2018
4,077
3,801
725
Stuck in 1Q84.
JareBear: Remastered JareBear: Remastered Ill be clean on you since i read about you being in the ward and i said on the Siscord the following: ''Jarebear definitely sounded like someone who would be in therapy.''

I was met with a comment from Papa Papa and EviLore EviLore regarding this which i will tag for full disclosures since they made the comments after all and also to show i am not talking behind their backs, as i were with yours (Which was another comment from Matt regarding this, as you simply weren't there).

To put in context, my comment was not in mean spirits. By the way you posted, i definitely felt that there was something up. This thread, and where you mention having had previous threads on mental health over (And i think that's where my comment comes from) confirms this. I feel its an obligation you should know this.

Onto your actual thread, that's a mighty wallop. It pains me to read that your anxiety got the best out of you, but also how little time was actually spent on talking to you. The way i read this, you were seen as a number that needed care, not a person that needed care. This was America, no?

Sadly this stuff is nothing new, even from my own home country. Proper care is two fold: Proper treatment, but also proper listening. From the sick, the poor, to the elderly and the lonely: Everyone wants to share a talk. For some it might be their only visit in the week. It is sad for me to read that on the looks of it, you weren't heard.

The whole medical bill scenario is also a funny one. Its apparently quite expensive yet nobody apparently was able to communicate in time to you what insurance would do. I personally believe on a global scale a lot of the shit in the US Healthcare system (If that is where you reside) is due to these things: Every procedure costs ooddles of money, meaning that you basically need insurance and even then you will still get borked up anyways when you go over the limit. Its such an ancient relic, but it still persists due to the old-fashioned train of thought regarding how healthcare should be viewed there by some groups.

Politics aside, i am glad you got out, but i also hope you will get the care you need. And perhaps, write a book/paint a painting based on this. Make what is negative, something creative.
 

Cunth

Fingerlickin' Good!
May 22, 2018
9,849
34,826
1,050
naughty naughty talking about people on discord eh
 

betrayal

Member
Feb 2, 2018
1,725
2,619
445
I know somebody with with psychosis who was in a psych ward, which are not there for treating you, but to get you on a more manageable level regarding mental health. That's also the reason you rarely see doctors there and why they mainly treat you with meds.

Don't you have any psychotherapy? Do you know the reason for your anxiety disorder? It may has many reasons, but it looks like there's some psychological cause because of all your constant apologizing and always present caution to not displease people around you. You should really stop that shit. You are a good contributor here and i don't really need to know you, to besure that's not only the case in this forum.
 

Dunki

Member
Oct 24, 2017
8,182
8,818
790
Oh wow tha sounds terrible and I think it will take a while before you can say you are cured. But it also sounds like that you now are getting the help you need. Honestly I know another person who has not left her house since like 6 months but this is also to her being stalked and harassed all the time. She is really scared and only goes out for like 20 minutes a day to get some food (early morning) or walk with her dog. (Late at night when no one is really awake anymore).

But enough of this. I am just gad you are getting better now step by step and I was also a bit worried since I have not seen you posting for a while. Keep up the good fight. :messenger_bicep:
 

Winter John

Member
Mar 9, 2014
2,136
1,521
870
You know what. You might be going through a rough patch just now but hey it could be worse -

 

Antoon

Banned
Nov 20, 2018
777
914
495
Still reading, but I am already guessing you have never heard of a miracle device called....Lightbox *angel's choir*. I have had GAD for most of my life, some years worse than others. Tried meds, natural stuff, stayed in hospital for 3 weeks etc. the only relief I could get is from exercise. But then last year, I was searching for some stories on people with OCD (I had it pretty bad in the last 3 years), and then I stumbled across a post about a light-box. I quickly researched it, and wasted no time on ordering the best one asap (theres many brands). So now almost 3 months later of using it daily (20 min in the morning), I can safely say it has reduced my anxiety by about 50-60%, I havent felt better in ages.

So from now on, I highly recommend this thing for anyone with anxiety/panic attacks, as it actually works.
 
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DadEggs

Member
May 26, 2011
15,517
4,559
1,325
damn, thats rough. youre getting through it though! day by day. one step at a time.

also, telling the story with gifs made it very entertaining and modern feeling ( albeit a bit buzzfeedy ;) ). nice work.
 
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iconmaster

Banned
Jul 18, 2013
7,466
14,093
1,060
JareBear, it does seem to be a particularly acute strain of panic with which you’ve been living. I think you probably realize it’s not healthy to be unable to leave the house to spend time with family.

Please take seriously the treatment, even if those administering it aren’t always the most competent. Ask questions and make sure you get satisfactory answers too.

Consider finding a church home if you haven’t got one. Visiting members in need is something they can be pretty good at.
 

kingbean

Member
Jun 27, 2016
2,500
2,837
720
The story is overall the same, but the details are different.

I voluntarily checked myself into a behavioral center around this time last year.

Long and short of it was I was on lexapro and klonopin and it wasn't cutting it and I was living with anxiety and PTSD from childhood rape over the course of about 6 years.
I had recently been promoted at work and picked up a massive work load.
I have shame problems, instead of normal guilt or even knowing how to not feel like I'm supposed to be the best at everything I would feel ashamed of myself for even small issues.

Ended up thinking about suicide.

The 5 day break in the booby hatch helped with stress but ultimately i got in touch with a mental health doctor and a therapist. I now talk to the therapist once a week and the doctor every 3 months. I've been put on Lexapro10mg (still) klonopin .5mg(which i take about 3 a week at most) and rexulti 1mg(an anti-psychotic that works wonders).

Good luck and I hope you find a rhythm that suits your lifestyle.
 

DoctorEkkoUK

Member
Dec 14, 2014
645
642
610
I am five years into living with a severe case of GAD myself and totally relate. it's been toughest times of my life and I have somehow managed to stay employed and in a relationship and even managed to get my own place last year but I still get days where I don't know how I am functioning and sometimes think I have to just keep moving and battling on because if I think about it to much I could just give up and stay home and give in to the feelings of tiredness. It's also this feeling I get sometimes when its just to hard feeling ill everyday and I'm constantly fighting it. I've tried everything and been through like 6 different types of medications, currently on cymbalta but I feel like nothing will cure me I just have to learn to deal with it and try my best to manage the symptoms.
 

synchronicity

Member
Dec 16, 2011
4,623
4,637
990
Sorry to hear about your struggles JareBear. I can empathize. I've never spent any time in a facility, but last year I did seek out a therapist due to a period of panic episodes. (I think mine were triggered by the stress of going through the loss of a 20+ year relationship, but that's another story.)

I felt so helpless and the unpredictability of any attack left me exhausted and on-edge, so I sought help. The therapist prescribed a low-dose sertraline and later a low-dosage of clonazepam. I don't feel I was really helped by any medication honestly, though. In fact, with the clonazepam, I felt like I could feel it physically destroying my mind. (I immediately discontinued it after a couple of doses. I expressed this to the dr. and she said I would be amazed how some people pop them like candy for decades. I felt like I would have literally died had I continued to take that.) As for the sertraline, I took it for a couple of months, but felt no changes that I didn't feel without the medication.

I think in my case, I just needed some time and distance from the weight of losing something significant. But there is no shame in seeking out help, and I applaud your willingness to be open with your personal struggles. I hope you find yourself in a better place with the passage of time.
 

-Minsc-

Member
Nov 14, 2009
3,352
691
1,080
JareBear: Remastered JareBear: Remastered Nope, somehow. I do have family members who have. Likely I appeared stable enough to avoid it. Last fall into this year I have gone to see a therapist, definitely not the same though. Nearly a decade ago I was on some meds briefly after going to the doctor when I reached the breaking point and couldn't keep stuff bottled in anymore. Not sure how I didn't get checked in. If I didn't already have a brother going in to the psych ward 5-8 years before I have no doubt I would have let things fester and end up there.

Anyways, in the long run hopefully this will be better for you. Staying isolated in your apartment definitely is not the way to go. Life can be a tough journey for us all, regardless whether we end up in the psych system or not.

Take care sir. The best to you figuring your stuff out.
 
Nov 5, 2016
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One Big Room, Full Of Bad Bitches
Just had my first therapy session. At first I wasn’t happy it was the day after my release, as I felt like it would be cool to just relax a little, but then I’d just be falling back into the same routine.

It was a little rough. Had the tight chest and sweating going in the lobby. Once I made into his office and sat down on couch I was able to work on my deep breathing and slow down a little. Made it out okay.

I did need to use one of my sedatives, Ativan. I was only given 10 on the way out the psych unit, 10 that are supposed to last 30 days until I see a see an actual psychiatrist (today was just a therapist so he doesn’t deal with meds). Seems like a long wait to talk about adjusting these meds I’m on but I guess we will see how it works out

Welp, that’s some decent exposure for the day, time to finally play Anthem!
 
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docmindbender

Member
Jan 10, 2018
252
207
290
I wanna commend you for writing this. Funny as hell. And imo its critical to talk about this stuff.
Spend a fair chunk of time in a 'psychiatric facility' (not as a patient, but let's be honest, it's a fine line).
The baseline that you can seem to hope for is to luck out with staff who have a shred of empathy (or, hope against hope, actual fucking saints - and they do exist) and/or have not been flattened out by the systems they are up against. At worst, it's Nurse Ratchet, the super custodial ones. You've seen this stuff from the inside and can be as much or little of an advocate as you want but the whole system sure as shit needs good people and good advocates making noise. Good on you glad it wasn't more of a shit sandwich than it could have been.
 
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Aeris1991

Neo Member
Feb 17, 2011
16
12
450
I sincerely hope you're able to get better.

I've never talked to anyone who's gone through something like this, so I have to ask, if you don't mind answering - how do you pay rent and eat meals when you don't leave your apartment for 10 weeks? Savings and DoorDash?
 

Melubas

Member
Sep 8, 2015
458
94
410
Never been admitted or the sorts, but I am a social worker specifically geared toward mental illness and addiction so I see a lot of the other end of it. I'm involved in planning what happens after involuntary stays and helping out with housing, support in the home and all that stuff. I also (in understanding with my boss) grant stays at treatment centers for addiction.That said I am in Sweden so I figure my experiences will be different. I'm sorry this happened to you. My experience is that if a doctor or other professional decided to take someone in like this they have good reason. It's an expensive thing and not something they do unless they deem it necessary. I hope you turn out alright, anxiety is a bitch. Just know there are a lot of people willing to help if you're up for it.
 

bati

Member
Dec 2, 2014
2,177
1,071
690
I was in a mental hospital for about a month due to depression (years of bottling everything up eventually took its toll), more or less voluntarily - I had to sign myself in but was told later the doctor had the option of denying my release due to the circumstances of my arrival, so signing it myself was seen as the first positive step.

The first day was a complete nightmare, the realization of where I ended up, and seeing that I'm on the same floor as patients with severe mental disabilities put me into full blown panic mode and I nearly got into a fight with the doctor who was on call that weekend. I felt like a caged animal, constantly paced around, couldn't sleep and in general felt like I was about to explode. The relief came soon though, as family visited and I made an arrangement with the doctor to be moved to an open wing after the weekend. This was then pushed up and I got moved the same day (Saturday). Things were completely different there, I got to meet some people with similar issues and just talking with them and knowing that you're not alone with such health problems was a huge relief. Initially I declined medication but gave in after a few days. We also had lots of workshops and group therapy sessions, all of which I thought were bullshit at the start. After about 10 days of my stay I calmed down completely, my blood pressure was the lowest it had ever been, I got back some of the long lost clarity. After two weeks since I started taking the meds I really started to see the improvement in mood and general outlook, memory and general cognitive abilities. I also went to workshops designed to inform you of depression and how to deal with it. By far the most eye opening thing was the realization that I had a completely wrong idea of what depression is and how it looks like. After a little more than 3 weeks I was a completely different person, someone that I thought stopped existing years ago. 10 days later I was dismissed from the hospital and continued checkups with a therapist evrty month or so. It has been all uphill since then.

But my luck was trifold - I got lucky with the meds and dosage right away, a lot of people have been there for 2 or 3 months while the doctors tried to find the right combination of meds for them, since the effects take time to show. Two, I realized I have an amazing family and it brought us even closer together. And three, I realized how lucky I am to have been born in a country with good public health care.

All in all, one of the best things that happened to me.
 
Feb 8, 2018
1,352
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635
Happy belated birthday dude.

I would stick with therapy and support groups, talking about the underlying issues and hearing others experiences will help reshape your POV.

I was pretty depressed and anxious when I went for my first outpatient appointment for MS type 1 until I met a young lady (20, I was 25) who had type 4, was in a wheelchair but was bubbly and more concerned with her mothers mood than the ailment. That opened my eyes, made me more empathic, and helped with my handling of the dark times.
 

Northeastmonk

Gold Member
Mar 18, 2013
14,239
3,398
970
Omaha, NE - USA
I had a substance abuse issue as a teenager. It got so bad I'd be taking my meds with alcohol to increase the effects. it was all a big joke to me. I was in outpatient (a month) and inpatient rehab (5 days). It made me realize that I'm the only person who can change my situation. My dad also had health issues and I didn't want to become an adult with a substance abuse issue.
 

Husky

THE Prey 2 fanatic
Aug 13, 2017
2,573
4,916
830
The Bowery, Exodus
I'm glad you're okay JareyBeary, you're one of my favorite people to see posting on the site. I like the input you provide, and seeing you keep it positive. Figured I oughta say that at some point.