Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Peninsula Village Poem

I just recently came across this poem that I wrote, a month and a half after being out of Peninsula Village.

Deep, Deep in Depression
I sit in the dark corner
Surrounded by Pitch Black.
The tears sting my bruised face
I scream at the top of my lungs
Scream as loud as I can, yet it delivers no effect.
It's their way of torturing me,
To place me in seclusion
The thoughts are devouring me.
The walls are closing in on me
Creeping up on me ever so slowly.
I get up and bang the door
Screaming at staff, my arch enemies.
All I get is a nasty look, a mutter under their breath
Breath of extreme coldness.
Fighting for what I have left as far as a life goes,
The door flys open
In comes a team of strong, malicious men and women.
Each grabbing me in my helpless, trapped state.
A few kicks at the back of my bruised legs,
A few pushes on my beaten back,
And then smack, goes my chin on the cold, hard blue floor
They have taken me down, pinned me to the ground.
My lungs feel as if they are going to collapse,
with some heavy man sitting on my back.
My arms and legs fight for circulation in my drugged up veins.
They seem to get a adrenaline rush with my takedowns,
My name, has become infamous through the charts and restraint packets.
Once again, here comes the nurse,
Lingering over me with another injection.
1,2,3 and a stick in my ass
I can feel the Thorazine running into my system.
Here comes the doctor now, cracking stupid jokes.
Seems I see the back of this girl more than the front.
I still try to fight my way out,
I tell them I cant breathe,
The nausea rises, I think its gonna come up.
They could care less
Applying more pressure, and making me lay in my own vomit.
I wish I could just die.
I try to scream, not that anyone would rescue me,
They smash my face to the ground, hold my head in my puddle of biles, tears, and mucuses.
Awhile later, I am stripped of my clothing, by flipping me around, side to side.
Dressing me in blood stained hospital gowns.
Is it over yet?
I should know better.
I hear the clanking of metal pieces on the body net, and know my fights been lost.
They lift me up, facedown, carry me to the bed, as I kick, scream, but it does no good.
Now I am thrown onto the bed, flipped over, and tied down in a ferocious manner.
The bright light is blinding, I squint my little beady, tearful, and panic stricken eyes.
I try to escape, but it's impossible.
The toxic chemicals are now in my system, and I fall asleep.
Only to be awoken, by staff kicking my bed.
After all, this is not naptime, this is punishment.
I struggle to keep awake,
And much to my relief, hours later, I am set free.
Only to repeat itself over and over.
My life seemed deemed to be over.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

My Experience At Peninsula Village

I was sent to Peninsula Village back in Sept. 2004 Many things were horrible... j

Being Physically restrained about twice daily on average where there was no reason for it whatsoever. An alarm kind of like a car alarm except much louder would be turned on and about 20 staff would come running into the unit and all basically jump me, throw me to the ground face down and sit on me to hold me down.... a few times they really hurt me.. I remember one instance in which they performed Xrays on my jaw and wrist from my restraint and also many times I felt like I was suffocating. I reported abuse allegations against a staff member, whom had hurt me in restraint and used to make me feel uncomfortable, she hit on me, and would repeatedly ask me if she touched me, if that would make me feel better. Peninsula was angry at the fact that the CPS worker, had shown up to interview me "unannounced".

I would also be mechanically restrained when I "struggled" meaning when I was trying to escape my restraint because they were hurting me. I would be tied down to a bed and sometimes they would leave me there for hours or just about the whole day. If I had to go to the bathroom they would put a bedpan underneath me. disgusting. Also if I fell asleep they would come kick my bed and tell me to wake up. they said that being tied down was a punishment and not a treat of naptime. But it was a no wonder I was so tired. They had me way over medicated. I was put on Abilify for my agitation.. Every time they would restrain me, they would increase my dose. I was up to 120 Mg daily. But thats not all... when I was restrained they would give me large dose shots in my ass of Klonopin, Haldol, Thorazine, and Zyprexa. They would make me so tired I could have slept for days. We had to eat on our beds, we didn't even get to sit at a table. Bathroom times were on their terms... If we had to go when it was not bathroom break, we had to wait, and if it was a real emergency they would allow it but then you would get consequenced for it later on in consequence group. Who ever thought of being consequenced for having to use the bathroom? We were not allowed to talk except in group therapy or if we raised our hand and were actually called on. You had to sit on your bed with your back up against the wall. If you got off your bed, or just hung your legs out (from sitting indian style) to stretch them, you would be restrained.

There were level systems which always made me feel bad about myself. When you were restrained they would strip you of your clothing and make you wear hospital gowns until you contracted to move up to wearing scrubs then contracting to wear your clothes. The first day i got there I was restrained and in my restraint I vomited and they made me lay in it. My face was covered in it for about 2 hours.

In my stay there i must have been restrained over 70 times and they were all completely unnecessary. We were forced to participate in their AA or NA groups. i never had an addiction problem but they said I did. they said I liked sedatives. they said that i liked getting restrained, in order to get shots. they were wrong, i never had one of them in me until I came to PV. i was forced to participate in Medicine wheel groups in which we had to learn and were tested on some kind of Native American Stuff.

The director of my unit at the time was not licensed he was actually denied by the board of health so he was misrepresenting himself. He told me once, "if you think you are smart enough to get kicked out of here and escape it here you are wrong" I would not see my dad for weeks sometimes over a month. My family therapy sessions would get taken away from me in which I could not talk to my dad much less see him
` if when i was talking to my dad and i tried to tell him how bad it was there they would end the family therapy session right there. they also told him I was incompetent and did not know what I was talking about when he heard me tell him about my bruises. I was covered in bruises from the head down. My mail was monitored by staff both outgoing and incoming. When we went to the bathroom, we were timed. We had to tell them how long we needed in the bathroom. One minute to pee, two minutes for a bowel movement, and an extra 30 seconds if we had our period. A level 2 would check our stall before we could flush, and if we were not out of the bathroom on time, we were consequenced. Our showers were monitored, in which a level 2 would run shower time. We had 7 minute shower time, in which you had to shower, brush your teeth, comb your hair, put on your deodorant, and get dressed. If there was hair left in your brush or toothpaste in your sink, or a hair in your shower stall, you would be consequenced. The level 2 would watch us undress, and would keep a close eye on us, which made me feel highly uncomfortable, as some of them would stare at me as i was undressing to shower.
In order to talk to staff, you had to raise your hand, and if 3 hands went up in the air, we had to do a 5 minute halt, in which we all had to stand (completely still) and stare at the clock on the wall, and staff would walk around and check to make sure our eyes were focused on the clock. If they were not, or if you fidgeted, or moved, we had to start the time all over.
We ate our meals on our beds, we did our schoolwork on our beds, we would have quiet time for about 4 or 5 hours a day. We were not allowed to look at our peers, make any form of contact with them. Peers would confront others for any little thing you did wrong, everythign from leaving a hair in your shower, to being "entitled".
We never went outside, except to walk out the door (escorted) and down the stairs to nursing. We were not allowed to look out the windows, not allowed to look at male staff if they came on the unit. The staff would pick on me, because when I got nervous, I would have an "incongruent smirk" on my face. A nurse that I speak to now from PV, claims that they knew from the very beginning that I did not belong there, yet they kept me there. I was a private pay patient.
Our counselors, had no formal training, nothing more than a GED or high school diploma. Some of them were only a few years older than me. They were the ones there with us all the time, running our groups, and everything that was done on the unit.
It was constantly beaten into my head what a worthless excuse of life i am and that I am just an entitled little bitch.
They performed psychological testing on me, and determined that I was "malingering", yet they kept raising my dosage of AntiPsychotic Medication, to a dose that most have never heard of. 120 mg of abilify. in which according to the FDA, for Adults with schitzophrenia, the normal high dose is 30 to 40, and they are not positive whether the medication has any benefits beyond just 10 mgs.
Ill write more as it comes to me, but this is the parts I can remember right now.