I’ve spent time in two funny farms. First was involuntary after calling the suicide help line. That sucked. Stuck in an essential prison for three days which the rest of the crazies.
One doc later even said that he got PTSD from my stay. I certainly don’t feel like my experience justifies a PTSD diagnosis, but it really did suck. (Worst part was living down the hall from a woman who spent her entire time there shackled to her bed and spent every waking moment screaming. It really did suck.)
Next time was voluntary, but only because my life was literally falling apart and it was try again or die homeless. Now this facility was one of the highest rated in the world, at least at one time. Elvis stayed there.
This was a giant waste of time and money. This time I was segregated with similar crazies, which made the experience slightly more bearable. But overall the whole thing felt like summer camp for depressed people. I mean there was arts and crafts time for crying out loud.
But the worst of it all was the doctors. I’ve seen lots of shrinks and therapists. I have yet to meet one I actually believe cares about getting me the help I need. Not one. Without exception they all treated me like a chore to be dealt with rather than a human needing help. I have very little respect for the medical professionals in that field. In my experience they have all been awful. I’ve stopped using them.
And the nurses weren’t that much better. They seemed to care a bit more, but I could tell they were very tired, overworked, and dealing with an unwinable battle. I don’t necessarily blame them, but it was disheartening.
Now that I’ve trauma dumped a bit, I will say this. It works for some. It didn’t work for me, but I tried. So…. IF YOU FEEL THE NEED FOR HELP, GET IT. What’s the worst that can happen?
The doctors in my experience were horrible too. Those doctors that stop by for ten minutes every few weeks have zero clue what they’re doing.
The doctor I had came in and actually asked me how much I’d had to drink while I was there. I was in the damned coocoos nest how the hell was I going to drink even if I wanted to?
I’ve spent time in two funny farms. First was involuntary after calling the suicide help line. That sucked. Stuck in an essential prison for three days which the rest of the crazies.
One doc later even said that he got PTSD from my stay. I certainly don’t feel like my experience justifies a PTSD diagnosis, but it really did suck. (Worst part was living down the hall from a woman who spent her entire time there shackled to her bed and spent every waking moment screaming. It really did suck.)
Next time was voluntary, but only because my life was literally falling apart and it was try again or die homeless. Now this facility was one of the highest rated in the world, at least at one time. Elvis stayed there.
This was a giant waste of time and money. This time I was segregated with similar crazies, which made the experience slightly more bearable. But overall the whole thing felt like summer camp for depressed people. I mean there was arts and crafts time for crying out loud.
But the worst of it all was the doctors. I’ve seen lots of shrinks and therapists. I have yet to meet one I actually believe cares about getting me the help I need. Not one. Without exception they all treated me like a chore to be dealt with rather than a human needing help. I have very little respect for the medical professionals in that field. In my experience they have all been awful. I’ve stopped using them.
And the nurses weren’t that much better. They seemed to care a bit more, but I could tell they were very tired, overworked, and dealing with an unwinable battle. I don’t necessarily blame them, but it was disheartening.
Now that I’ve trauma dumped a bit, I will say this. It works for some. It didn’t work for me, but I tried. So…. IF YOU FEEL THE NEED FOR HELP, GET IT. What’s the worst that can happen?
The doctors in my experience were horrible too. Those doctors that stop by for ten minutes every few weeks have zero clue what they’re doing.
The doctor I had came in and actually asked me how much I’d had to drink while I was there. I was in the damned coocoos nest how the hell was I going to drink even if I wanted to?