I have been sectioned.

[lazyhazydaisy]

I have just got access to the internet. I am much less petrified than I was at first but definitely 0 out of ten. I have a tribunal and if that fails I think I will be here until July. I feel as though I am living in a nightmare. I have never felt so alone.

OP - have you read Erving Goffman's book Asylums? It was written in the 1960s and is about how mental hospitals function and how the patients learn to play particular 'roles' to get by. I had hoped that such institutions had improved dramatically in the half-century since but your experiences suggest that is not the case.

(Ignore this if it isn't helpful, but you are so articulate I thought you might find interesting to read wider analyses of the horrible situation you found yourself in.)

Thank you for putting me onto this. I am afraid that my morning, if not my day is going to be spent reading this. I am very sorry that he died in 1982 or I would be tracking him down.

He is dead right about the institutionalisaton.

When I was dragged in by the police I was in such a state of shock that I paced up and down for 3 days without sleep, leading to a diagnosis, amongst other things, of acute psychosis. I couldn't believe that the 'staff' would not photograph my injuries. I kept begging to be allowed to talk to a lawyer or to my GP. Neither were allowed; 'not our job'. I failed my ist appeal (due to my views on medication, the hallowed solution to everything in that place), and to my diagnosis of psychosis, which was a result of my extreme shock at what had happened. It was a very uncomfortable hour in the cell of the police van, into which I had been pushed by my hair.

I spent the first three months doing more or less nothing but consistently requesting my medical notes, in order to make sense of what was happening to me. I did have the nous to restrict my crying, up to 7 hours at a time, in the relative privacy of my room (although I was checked on every hour). I ended up putting a notice on my door requesting that no-one ask how I am because the default answer was 0 out of 10.

But when I finally got my medical notes I realised that I needed to 'present' as euthymic.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Euthymia_(medicine)

'In social interaction, as in theatrical performance there is a front region where the ?actors? (individuals) are on stage in front of the audiences. This is where the positive aspect of the idea of self and desired impressions are highlighted. There is also a back region or stage that can also be considered as a hidden or private place where individuals can be themselves and get rid of their role or identity in society.[4]'

This back region was my bedroom and each day I would wake up and write down the words, 'Radio Silence', which was my code for having minimal interaction with staff because anything I (one) did or said anything it would be taken as yet another symptom.

I read the Lebanese hostages' books constantly in order to gain inspiration as to how to survive.

Once I got my head around 'euthymic', and I realised that 'self-isolating' was yet another symptom, I started to offer staff who were stuck/posted outside the door of patients who had tried to abscond and needed a 24 watch, I would reply to, 'How are you today, Daisy my love?' with a cheerful, but not too cheerful, 'I am feeling particularly euthymic today, thank you.'

And, given that they had nothing else to write down in my obs (observations), they had no option but to record me as euthymic. If I hadn't had access to the internet or the library I would have not have known of this 'get out of jail free' magic word.

The whole thing is/was a performance, but most inmates didn't have access to either their medical notes (WHY AM I HERE?) or to the script.

I am going to write another, slightly unrelated post after this but then I am going to bury myself in Goffman. I don't know why I have not come across him before.

(Have you heard of Tomas Szasz? He is interesting on Asylums and drugs)

Thanks a million.

Can inmates not request their medical notes as a subject access request under the Freedom of Information Act?

BTW Goffman is one of the symbolic interactionists, which is a social science methodology that looks at the way people behave in different ways according to circumstance, and who they are with. Worth a detour, as they say.

(correction, I used to offer the staff who were guarding the absconding patients cups of teas)

After I read the Rosenham study
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosenhan_experiment
I flushed all of my 800mg of seroquel down the loo every night. I always did this with another patient witnessing it, and the witness met my lawyers to swear that she had seen me do it every single night.

This was around the time that the doctors and nurses began to notice a marked improvement in my mental state and started to talk about how much 'better' I was, how I was 'recovering' and was becoming 'well' enough to have a few days at my (wrecked) home. The improvement was in fact due to my discovery of euthymic.

I was eventually caught doing this (after two months) and also by this time my lawyer had written an exceptional letter to my psychiatrist telling him that both he and his partner in their mental health law firm say absolutely no therapeutic value in keeping me in there. They also said very nice things such as that they both found me highly intelligent, witty, articulate and completely on the ball with nothing that they could see wrong with me, apart from the debilitating and dehumanising experience of being locked up after the police assault, etc.

To go back to Goffman, I had to have an interview with an independent doctor after 3 months on section 3 (this is the section where the inmate is not allowed to refuse treatment, so I was playing a bit of a dangerous game, risking the pindown forced injection in the bottom, of which I was FUCKING PETRIFIED. Back to Goffman and his actors/stage analogy. I dressed up in twinset and pearls, shook his hand firmly and invited him to sit down. He was astonsished and said that there was nothing wrong with me. How flipping superficial. Then why was I incarcerated for 4 months.

Within minutes of that meeting I was desectioned.

Released onto the streets with 4 months worth of possessions in bags marked XGeneral Hospital, 45 miles from home, no transport and a dog to collect who was not even on route.

That is where the nightmare truly began and that is where I am now.

I have no idea where to start complaining. The GP who I saw twice for a septic foot, the police who have taken thousands of pounds of the price of my house which I now need to sell, the ongoing trauma of hearing a knock on the door. The hell of the incarceration, which at least I have documented at great length, the drips who say I have no mental illness, who try to get me to claim DLA fraudulently, but refuse to do anything to help; 'not our job'.

And I can't afford to get angry about any of this. That would just be another symptom.

Thanks, Mooncup. Back to Goffman.

If anyone has read the Rosenham experiment, I told my psychiatrist, on my release meeting, the one before I was dumped on the pavement with 4 months worth of my stuff in plastic bags, that all of his trainees should be made to read it in full. He directed me to read criticisms of the experiment.

'The pseudopatients did not behave normally in the hospital' (see below). Well, I did act 'normally' in hospital. I repeatedly said that there was nothing wrong with me. Surprise! This was taken as the the ultimate symptom with bells on; 'lack of insight'.

pseudopatients acted ?normally? in the hospital:

?The pseudopatients did not behave normally in the hospital. Had their behaviour been normal, they would have talked to the nurses? station and said ?Look, I am a normal person who tried to see if I could get into the hospital by behaving in a crazy way or saying crazy things. It worked and I was admitted to the hospital but now I would like to be discharged from the hospital?.

I do not know what to do either psychologically or practically. The irony is that I am now 'better'. There was never anything wrong with me but there certainly is now. And I am entitled to one useless hour a week where they won't even help with the rats or the washing machine or the broken central heating and lack of water or the blocked drains. And the drip isn't even coming round this week because he is on holiday. No wonder inmates turn to hard drugs or suicide on release. Or a return to that hellhole. I know which I would prefer.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanford_prison_experiment

The Stamford Prison experiment is a good read for anyone interested in the Orwellian 'Treatment and Care'

If you really want to explore this, Google "Five steps to tyranny" as well.
I feel rather paranoid just thinking about this happening to me and my family!!!!

Look, they have been bastards. You may want to do something to get even in the future. I know I would. My revenge fantasies would be substantial. However the main question at the moment IMO is how can you get your house sorted out, to make a start on feeling a bit less dreadful about what has happened. Who can give you help? Surely looking at all the damage must be depressing in itself? I know I would feel like that.

No-one will help me and if I ask, as I have asked, for practical help, they tell me it is not their job. I am paralysed with fear. Now that I am labelled as 'mentally ill' (or, in remission; remember on my frauludent form it says twice, 'WHEN Daisy has a relapse'.

Yes, the house is practically falling down now.

I had seen the blue/brown eyes experiment before. It is brilliant.

They keep telling me that there is no stigma in mental illness, which is untrue, but the truth doesn't appear to count for anything. The point, though, is that I have never been mentally ill, and that is the ultimate proof of mental illness.

If I could get hold of a cyanide pill online I would wear it round my neck ready for the next time the police bash both my doors in.

The staff were appalling. No wonder I relapsed into total silence. Every syllable was taken as yet another symptom. They called me 'Steph' (if my name was Stephanie. They walked into me when I was having a bath. The process of dehumanising degradation was so great that I gave up washing. Yet another symptom. If I wanted a razor to shave my legs I had to sign it out and in again. Which makes no sense because surely the place to slit one's wrists would be in the bath.

They kept trying to tell me that I was hearing voices from the radio. They kept trying to get me to admit that I was bi-polar.

I do not know what to do or where to start except to protect my dc from the stigma of practically every mental order they could find in their textbooks.

I went to Cambridge and believe it or not, this was taken as proof that I was bi-polar and that I should be proud of it because Stephen Fry is bi-polar. I was told that it was important that I admitted this because it is hereditary and that my dc would also need treatment for this. I tried to point out that if they were making such a big thing about my Cambridge education then surely they should actually listen to my opinions on the subject. This was put down to being 'grandiose', yet another symptom.

You can see why I kept my mouth shut as far as I could. Once you are in that system you are stymied.

I have all of my medical notes except the last tranche, which I have requested. It was only when I finally got them on 1 March that it all began to fit into place. They had tried to stop me getting them on the basis that they would 'aggravate' me. In fact they put everything into perspective, and that is how I know all of these meaningless phrases.

The staff do not interact with the patients. They sit in a little glass box of an office writing down their observations. Hence my extreme scorn for 'care and treatment'. I emailed my lawyers with increasing panic because the drugs made me feel drunk, as in, waking up in the morning and needing to cling onto the walls in order to stand up.

I don't know what to do at all. The consensus on Mumsnet seems to be:
a) seek help
b) go to your GP
c) get medication

Not on your Nelly. And as for the bit about the police brutality. It says in that Mail link that the 85 year old, 7st man was handcuffs was handcuffed for his own safety. His daughter said that he was black and blue. So was I. With three paralell lines which drew blood when they ratcheted the handcuffs to the tightest setting.

I honestly believe that the staff think they are doing some sort of service to society. They don't appear to compute that nearly all of their victims are constantly returning customers, getting steadily worse with each stay. Most seem to end up in some sort of hostel. God knows what goes on in those places.

Prisoners have less rights. They have to the write to call a lawyer. They can smoke without waiting for a guard to accompany them to the courtyard if the guard is in the right mood.

And, most importantly, prisoners have a release date.

I seriously suggested that I shoplift a low value item in order to get a criminal record and go to prison. He said that I would still be treated as a mental health patient and the threat of IM would just follow me.

Hi Daisy

I'm a late comer to this thread but just wanted to add my support. I totally understand your points about being in the hospital.

I was a voluntary admission as, at the time, I did have a mental illness (brought on by a bad reaction to anti depressants but that's another debate/story). I just wanted to echo the appalling treatment of patients. This "you're all the same" mentality (no pun intended). I was attacked, disbelieved, spent my time in utter fear of this other patient. I was ignored, not monitored at all, hardly spoke to a doctor, treated like a number, the staff couldn't give a shiney shite.

When I was discharged the "mental health support" was none existant. truly truly disgusting. So much so that I didn't bother going after a while and I took the descision to manage my own mental health.

A country, as advanced as ours should CATAGORICALLY have a better system than the complete fuck up that it is at present.

I hope you get the recompense you deserve, I have no practical advice I'm afraid. But should you need someone to sign any petitions at any future point (you are obviously an intelligent, literate and articulate individual) then I shall add my name with pleasure.

I wish you all the best for the future.

Have you contacted your MP? I contacted the MP in whose constituency the hospital stands. He wrote back, 'These are very serious allegations. What would you like me to do, contact the Chairman of the Trust?'

I explained that if he did that he would be shown the bright shining facade and would learn nothing. It reminds me of a mner who was told to keep her sn child out of school on the day of an Ofsted inspection. When I was there the Chairman visited to congratulate the staff on their excellent QCA commission. I felt tempted to run up to him and blurt out the truth but I knew that I would be dismissed as having a raft of mental illnesses and no 'insight' and the specture of being pinned down and injected with drugs stopped me.

I am considering suggesting that he asks how many inmates were brought in by police, including those who break people's wrists and break both doors of their terraced house with no warning. And put a new lock on the inacessible back door whilst boarding up the front one.

I have a friend who used to be number two in the accounts department and she said that even if I contacted the MP anonymously to ask about the cost of this hell it would take all of 3 minutes to work out that it was me. And considering that my psychiatrist wrote to me to tell me that if I questioned the cost of this hell it would be treated as (yet another) symptom, I would be bought back in.

Thanks for that post. I know that I am not alone but most people are too scared to speak out. Or too drugged.

And I emailed him back to tell him that these were not 'allegations' but 'observations'.

What drugs did they put you on?

The 'voluntary patient' is yet more Orwellian speak. I was offered that but considering that if I stepped foot outside the ward door I would have been secctioned.

I am going to pm you to ask what part of the country you are in. You don't have to answer and PLEASE do not give away my location. It is just when I was in there I kept thinking that this must be happenning all over the country.

Did they try to get you onto DLA?

Glad you are finding Goffman interesting! The Rosenhan experiment is terrifying. (Did you know that Lauren Slater tried to replicate it a few years ago - she didn't get taken into a ward but she did get prescribed masses of anti-psychotics.)

I can entirely understand why you need to stay away from the system and why your GP is not an option you feel comfortable with. I just had a quick look at the SANE and MIND websites and they both say that their service is completely confidential. So it might be worth contacting them to ask about practical help and also help with getting over the horrible hospital experience. You never know, you might actually find a humane/helpful person on the other end. Maybe even someone who knows the legal situation and has worked with other people who have been treated appallingly by the system.

I haven't no. It was about 6 years ago now (not that that makes a difference complaints wise) and I'm happy that it's in the past and I have come through the other side. My experience was no way near as traumatic and unjust as yours, though traumatic nonetheless.

What amuses me (not the exact correct phrase) is that I simply stopped going to the psychiatric appointments out of disgust at their incompetence and that NO-ONE ever chased this up. I'm in a different area now but it beggars belief at the lack of "care" and follow up.

(That was to Shakey)

This organisation might be helpful in terms of legal/practical information, although you may know it all already:

www.rethink.org/living_with_mental_illness/rights_and_laws/index.html

Rethink are brilliant. It was rethink and my lawyers that kept me sane. I saw far far more of rethink than I saw of my psychiatrist, who did nothing except up my doses of drugs. I cannot recomment rethink highly enough. They and the lawyers were totally confident that there was nothing wrong with me.

Maybe we need an "I am Spartacus" offensive, with about 100 Mnetters putting in FOI requests for information about particular MH systems?

Fuddle, what you say about being taken away from your home sounds absolutely terrifying. Can you say what led up to that? Were you expecting them to come to your house? It sounds like everyone's worst nightmare.

It is a good question and I will answer without outing myself. I tend not to go to doctors unless there is something seriously wrong. I cut myself very badly on barbed wire and it went quite disgustingly septic. I went to A and E, was given anti-biotics and told to go to my GP for more.

(I didn't find out until 1 March that my partner had contacted my GP to say that I was suffering from mood swings and 'psychedelic dreams' and that he was worried about me; it is important that I knew absolutely nothing about this bit)

Partner took me to drs, where I saw a locum who gave me stronger anti-biotics because the wound was getting worse and more infected. I had no idea that the locum had been briefed by partner about other problems, which I would put down to normal, and not serious, relationship problems.

The locum gave me a very low dose of zopliclone as well as stronger anti-biotics and told me to come back in a week.

(I had no idea that partner was in telephone contact with both of these doctors; he denied it up until the point that I showed him the evidence in black and white)

The normal (non-locum) gave me another course of abs and asked me (very kindly, I thought) whether there was anything else on my mind. I jokingly replied that it would take 6 months to tell him. My partner had also driven me to this appointment and it is clear from the notes that they had had a long talk between them. I knew nothing of this.

After this the doctor wrote to me asking me to go and see him to discuss what was on my mind. By this point the abs had done the trick on my injury so I told him that it was not necessary. He kept writing to me and ringing me up and I kept thanking him and telling him everything was fine.

The doctor asked me to see a senior psychiatric nurse. I agreed to this purely because the doctor had seemed so kind that I thought I would humour him. Again, my partner drove me to this appointment. Again, as I now know, through the notes, the doctor and my partner had been having very long conversations behind my back.

I saw the nurse and the nurse said that he saw no point in seeing me again. I didn't consider the matter any further until I kept getting phonecalls from something called the MHT. I kept explaining as politely as I could that I didn't want to see anyone or hear from them and that the source of the original problem, the skin infection, was almost completely cleared up.

These phonecalls simply would not stop and I took them as double-glazing levels of irritation. I asked for their line managers, range their line managers and asked for them to stop. They didn't. I then put a complaint in writing about what I, by this time, regarded as harassment.

I was prettty pissed off by this stage and was moaning to dp about it. He was still talking to them all behind the scenes, but didn't tell me that he had basically orchestrated the whole thing, except the sceptic hand.

I answered a knock on the door in December and there were two drs and a woman there wanting to talk to me. I didn't invite them in -by this stage I was getting thoroughtly pissed off by what seemed to me to be harassment. I talked to them at the bus stop and tried to explain, and show them, that my hand was better. The fact that I didn't let them in was seen as yet another symptom of mental illness. Again, I knew nothing of what my partner had been up to behind the scenes. I was making various complaints about unsolicited phonecalls by this stage and couldn't understand what was going on.

They spoke to me for 20 minutes (it is in my notes; 20 minutes) and left. I was confused and pissed off and went up to the top (2nd) floor and was reading in bed, not thinking anything else of it, apart from vaguely planning to write another asking for this absurd harassment to stop.

I could vaguely here someone knocking on the door and I ignored it. The next thing I knew I had 6 policemen in my bedroom, manhandling me down the stairs, ratcheting the the handcuffs on me and dragging me into a waiting policevan. You know the rest. There was a woman social worker in the sitting room scooping up my sick dog.

You know the rest.

My partner visited me in hospital and we tried to piece together how this could have come about. He didn't mention his role in this at all. He only admitted it when I showed him the paperwork showing his very comprehensive role.

If I had known what had been going on behind the scenes I would not have wondered around in barefeet and tears begging to know why I was there, and, in the process, earning myself a diagnosis of psychosis.

Once I was put on section 3, meaning I had no right to refuse treatment, (forced injections in the bottom if I did not co-operate) he told me he was ending the relationship. I only found all of this out on 1 March.

Hope this is clear. It wasn't clear to me or to my legal team until three and a half month later.

Partner said that he had no idea that this would be the outcome.

He visited me and told me to talk to my 'cousellors and therapists'. There are no 'counsellors and therapists'. There was only drugs and grinding boredom and terror in there.

So, on top of the sheer horror of the whole experience was the sense of utter lies and betrayal by someone who has been proposing to me for the last 6 years. Of course I told no one about this. I didn't dare to speak to staff in that place. My heart was broken in private silence.