I can’t remember anything. I can’t recall being with anyone in the same ward or any of the nurses. I cannot remember whether I talked to anybody except for my psychiatrist. All I can remember from her is that one day she looked at me and said… I can see that you are still in there somewhere…
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I remember everything from my stay. I remember the classes and the friend I made. I remember my psychiatrist putting me on a court order.
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I remember some things, but other things I can’t remember, I black out a lot…
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I spent a lot of time in mental hospitals. I remember nearly everything! I thought I wasn’t treated very well.
One caveat: I had two blackouts in the mental hospital. One was 36 hours long and the other was 24 hours long.
Second caveat: I probably wasn’t treated all that horribly.
Jayster
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I remember a lot. I remember there was this swedish guy in there who took apart the window security bolts. Im not sure how he did it but i simply opened the window when he left the room and they placed me on what they called AWOL protection so i couldnt go outside at all. The swedish guy had me convinced even further the CIA was involved in my mental illness. I also remember telling them i was there for marijuana poisoning.
I also found significance in the fact that my first boyfriends name was listed in the name plates on the door when the swedish guy left. Travis D ans John C. I saw so much significance in this
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I remember most of it. It wasn’t that bad, I was pretty out of touch with reality.
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Considering how drugged up I was on haldol every time and other antipsychotics I remember a decent amount.
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I remember everything. I cannot recall one of the episodes when I wasn’t hospitalized though… only some pieces after my mum told me it happened…
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That is the correct phrase for me as well. I vaguely remember shot after shot Clopixol depot which also had me drugged to the extend that can’t remember ■■■■ from my stay.
Which one? 1515
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I want to forget some of it, but I manage to accept it for what is was
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the first time I was in hospital, there was an attractive guy doctor in my room, who was looking at me in a very evil way and was smiling under his nose but i was completely out of reality. The psychiatrist has a blind eye but I thought it was on purpose so I laughed and I was angry and delusional, we didn’t know what was happening. I was in the emergency section and I had lost so much weight. I hadn’t smoked for 9 hours.
Second time around, there were 3 handsome psychiatrists in the room and one of the psychiatrists was blushing and he was red I don’t know why, maybe I reminded him of someone or something, so weird. I said ‘this is awkward’ and laughed out loud. The other doctor was hot and young and his name was adam and I said why is your name adam? is it on purpose. It feels like a movie etc. I was laughing a lot and oh god. I thought the cameras were set up for me and the craziness was through the night. Good old days os psychosis. I’m grateful that I recover quickly. It’s not a good idea to send hot young men to diagnose a young woman. Other than the humiliation, I mean. One of the doctors was looking at my legs, I don’t know why, I was wearing small canada socks. I had the canadian flag on them and he stared at my feet for some time. I hadn’t even shaved my legs.
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I hardly remember anything. I remember my delusions but not the IRL stuff.
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Can remember it quite well. Just don’t know how I spent my time during my 4 months.
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That’s encouraging. I would have come back with, “You look like your mom.”
I remember a lot of it even though all my hospitalizations except for one, were in the 80’s. I remember the violence, the sex, the suffering, the ludicrous, tragic behavior of many of my fellow patients. I remember the fear, the boredom, the food. I remember certain people. I remember many details too.
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I remember quite a few things from my stays.
I was accepted to the hospital in the evening. Someone had put a package of crackers and a small container of milk by my bed. An aide went into the toilet and flushed it with his foot. The next morning, at six o’clock, I went toward the heavy, metal door of the day room, went in and sat down on a yellow bottomed chair that someone had marked with the number 438 on the cushioned area. I sat there and began counting my heartbeat, which I did for 37 days. Sitting across from me, in a beige armchair, was a small 94 year old man named Mr Gokey who became my instant hero for life. I felt strange but jubilant, as I could continue on with my fasting and my counting without any interference from the staff. I think my family thought I was trying to starve myself to death, although it never became clear WHY I was there.
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