AvelynDesbris
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2012
- Messages
- 5
Hello everyone!
I just got out from a compulsory psychiatric treatment sentencing without ever having a psychological illness in the first place.
This is how it all started.
As I was enjoying a midnight stroll in the full-moon lit sky of northern Sweden I was manhandled and abused by two police officers so severely that I fell into a chock and suffered a concussion, upon refusal of responding to any of their questions after the arrest, they expediently sent their catch of the day to a emergency psychiatric facility.
All I remember upon arrival is getting shot up with some kind of drug that completely knocked me out in a matter of seconds. As I wake up the next day (or so I believed) I found my self in a room hearing a fat booze smelling fella snoring so hard I have to cover my ears, after getting dressed I try to get out of the room with a head full of questions.
As I get outside of the room I see a young nurse sitting in a comfortable chair lift her eyes from the magazine she was reading, she seems to recognize me and so I ask her "what the fuck is going on?". But for some reason, probably the drugs they put in me, I can't quite form the words. She looks very startled, afraid even, and then she takes of running down the corridor.
I try to follow her but I only manage to shuffle into the opposite wall and fall down hard on my face. As I hear several pairs of footsteps returning from the way the nurse took off I try to get up from the floor, but before I'm able to fully put my legs under me, two huge men lift me up by holding me feet and hands stretched between them and they carry me off to a different room.
This time it is a bed with leather strapping. They handle my feeble drugweakend limbs with ease and strap me face down on to the bed, then I hear them exit the room and the lock on the door clicks shut.
All the wile I tried to say something to make them listen but my tongue just wouldnt cooperate, forget the feeling you have after drinking a wee bit too much alcohol this was a completely different effect I was under.
Anyhow after a few hours I hear the door open again but since I cant get a view of the entrance with my head turned down into the pillow I only feel the jabb of a needle in my ass and I slowly drift off to oblivion again.
The next time I wake up I'm alone in a different room, I cant feel much of the effects from the drugs they shot me up with.
Seeing as I had no idea where I was, I decide to make a cautionary exploration. It is still dark outside from what I can tell from the window with the blinds down, I make sure that no bitch is hiding behind the door this time before I go outside the room and I find that it is probably very early in the morning or late at night as the lights inside the corridor are dimmed.
Paranoid as fuck I sneak about like Jack Bauer caught behind enemy lines and fruitlessly search for a way to the outside world, the air is extremely dry and I then realize it got the sterile smell of hospital about it.
As I progress down a corridor into something that looks like a receptionist area I get a glimpse of a computer screen's flickering lights on the wall next to me, coming out from a cubicle as if someone is watching a movie.
Sure enough as I get closer I get a view of a man dressed in scrubs giggling silently at a youtube video he is watching with earplugs on.
I wonder if I should crawl under the counter and get some more exploration done but the decision is taken away from me as a woman's tormented scream comes from inside a room I had just passed. I almost shit my pants as the giggling doctor turns around and sees me, but apparently he was as scared as I. He stutters a question of what I'm doing sneaking up on him like that.
Seeing his humane response in not deciding to call in the muscle on me just for being there, I feel a bit ashamed. I realize then what kind of place I must be in, so I ask him what is going on and if he can explain why I'm here.
He goes on to explain I'm under some bullshit law for insane people or the mentally disabled, that my case is under review and I should be getting home in a week or two more.
Me only being conscious of two days having passed, I ask him how much time has passed since I was turned in, he tells me it has actually been three weeks since I got there.
I then start to try and tell him my side of the story, how the police came up to me only asking routine questions at first, then after letting me walk away they attacked me from behind, kicking my legs from under me so that I hit my head so hard I couldn't feel my hands getting cuffed behind my back or even realize they where carrying me into their police van.
I still have the scars the cuffs made on my wrists only it takes abit of convincing people who notice that I'm not suicidal, but he wasn't bothered much about the story.
He said to me that any normal person is supposed to be able to handle an arrest without going into chock, clearly this doctor have a few screws loose himself and shouldn't beable to make decisions for other people's mental health.
I realize now in hindsight that there is quite a mutual relationship between the police and psychiatric clinics, they could care less about helping others. All they care about is keeping their job relevant and in demand, as the government is cutting down on jobs they want to make it look like theirs is fulfilling a necessary function for society.
Anyway long story short, no charges where ever put on the cops as they are in full godlike status around here, and I was put under rigorous tests to see IF there was something wrong with me, they did everything in the book.
ECT'd my brain twelve times with no ill effects thank god, put me on five different psychotic drugs, gave me shots every week just in case there was something wrong with me.
Let me be crystal clear here, they only suspected a mental disorder yet that gives them all the power in the world to drug me up like a fucking rabid dog and dulled my mind so hard with all the different drugs I got severely depressed because of the inhumane treatment, and how they where all so business like in its execution gave me the chills.
As I was grabbed by the police they decided to go on and search my house for any illegal things, so they found my two cannabis plants that I had just harvested. I had not smoked any pot for a couple of days before I was arrested but they took a urine sample and claim I have a substance abuse problem.
And since I was still under observation 6 months after I got out of that place when I had to go to court for the hearing on growing deadly hash plants, I was sentenced to an undefinable amount of time at a compulsory psychiatric treatment clinic.
Yet again as I got to this prison for the mentally ill I was to undergo a barrage of tests to see if there was some mental illness I was suffering from, I no longer had to receive compulsory shots and the drugs i could simply spit out when none was looking, but the people who I shared my meals with where clearly in need of serious help. They kept asking me what kind of drugs i get, clearly fishing for amphetamines and benzo, but upon realizing I wasn't even diagnosed yet they kept telling me how to act in order to receive ADHD diagnose and then receive appropriate drugs that I later could give to them...
Well, I didn't make many friends the first couple of months in there. Things got ugly after only a few days as two of the other inmates wanted to pick a fight with me, but I knew better than to act reckless and extend my "undefined treatment period time" by having a manly two on one fight. So I ran like a scared little girl to the staff and ratted them out, the fool I was for thinking it would make things better.
They where only sent to a disciplinary ward for a few days to cool off and returned later more furious than ever before.
All smiles and laughs when the staff was present, but them morons who decide to work at a mentally ill prison are not very bright, for the most part. And after knowing they would only be returned to the same ward I was in, even more angry than before, I realized it was best to be acting like a pussy.
Even though I could floor them both with ease it wouldn't be worth the extra time that would get slapped to my stay there. So I meekly avoided their gaze and generally tried to avoid them, letting their threats die off and befriending the staff as much as possible.
Oh god 4 hours and I havent even gotten to the point yet... Ill just have to add that later i guess.
I just got out from a compulsory psychiatric treatment sentencing without ever having a psychological illness in the first place.
This is how it all started.
As I was enjoying a midnight stroll in the full-moon lit sky of northern Sweden I was manhandled and abused by two police officers so severely that I fell into a chock and suffered a concussion, upon refusal of responding to any of their questions after the arrest, they expediently sent their catch of the day to a emergency psychiatric facility.
All I remember upon arrival is getting shot up with some kind of drug that completely knocked me out in a matter of seconds. As I wake up the next day (or so I believed) I found my self in a room hearing a fat booze smelling fella snoring so hard I have to cover my ears, after getting dressed I try to get out of the room with a head full of questions.
As I get outside of the room I see a young nurse sitting in a comfortable chair lift her eyes from the magazine she was reading, she seems to recognize me and so I ask her "what the fuck is going on?". But for some reason, probably the drugs they put in me, I can't quite form the words. She looks very startled, afraid even, and then she takes of running down the corridor.
I try to follow her but I only manage to shuffle into the opposite wall and fall down hard on my face. As I hear several pairs of footsteps returning from the way the nurse took off I try to get up from the floor, but before I'm able to fully put my legs under me, two huge men lift me up by holding me feet and hands stretched between them and they carry me off to a different room.
This time it is a bed with leather strapping. They handle my feeble drugweakend limbs with ease and strap me face down on to the bed, then I hear them exit the room and the lock on the door clicks shut.
All the wile I tried to say something to make them listen but my tongue just wouldnt cooperate, forget the feeling you have after drinking a wee bit too much alcohol this was a completely different effect I was under.
Anyhow after a few hours I hear the door open again but since I cant get a view of the entrance with my head turned down into the pillow I only feel the jabb of a needle in my ass and I slowly drift off to oblivion again.
The next time I wake up I'm alone in a different room, I cant feel much of the effects from the drugs they shot me up with.
Seeing as I had no idea where I was, I decide to make a cautionary exploration. It is still dark outside from what I can tell from the window with the blinds down, I make sure that no bitch is hiding behind the door this time before I go outside the room and I find that it is probably very early in the morning or late at night as the lights inside the corridor are dimmed.
Paranoid as fuck I sneak about like Jack Bauer caught behind enemy lines and fruitlessly search for a way to the outside world, the air is extremely dry and I then realize it got the sterile smell of hospital about it.
As I progress down a corridor into something that looks like a receptionist area I get a glimpse of a computer screen's flickering lights on the wall next to me, coming out from a cubicle as if someone is watching a movie.
Sure enough as I get closer I get a view of a man dressed in scrubs giggling silently at a youtube video he is watching with earplugs on.
I wonder if I should crawl under the counter and get some more exploration done but the decision is taken away from me as a woman's tormented scream comes from inside a room I had just passed. I almost shit my pants as the giggling doctor turns around and sees me, but apparently he was as scared as I. He stutters a question of what I'm doing sneaking up on him like that.
Seeing his humane response in not deciding to call in the muscle on me just for being there, I feel a bit ashamed. I realize then what kind of place I must be in, so I ask him what is going on and if he can explain why I'm here.
He goes on to explain I'm under some bullshit law for insane people or the mentally disabled, that my case is under review and I should be getting home in a week or two more.
Me only being conscious of two days having passed, I ask him how much time has passed since I was turned in, he tells me it has actually been three weeks since I got there.
I then start to try and tell him my side of the story, how the police came up to me only asking routine questions at first, then after letting me walk away they attacked me from behind, kicking my legs from under me so that I hit my head so hard I couldn't feel my hands getting cuffed behind my back or even realize they where carrying me into their police van.
I still have the scars the cuffs made on my wrists only it takes abit of convincing people who notice that I'm not suicidal, but he wasn't bothered much about the story.
He said to me that any normal person is supposed to be able to handle an arrest without going into chock, clearly this doctor have a few screws loose himself and shouldn't beable to make decisions for other people's mental health.
I realize now in hindsight that there is quite a mutual relationship between the police and psychiatric clinics, they could care less about helping others. All they care about is keeping their job relevant and in demand, as the government is cutting down on jobs they want to make it look like theirs is fulfilling a necessary function for society.
Anyway long story short, no charges where ever put on the cops as they are in full godlike status around here, and I was put under rigorous tests to see IF there was something wrong with me, they did everything in the book.
ECT'd my brain twelve times with no ill effects thank god, put me on five different psychotic drugs, gave me shots every week just in case there was something wrong with me.
Let me be crystal clear here, they only suspected a mental disorder yet that gives them all the power in the world to drug me up like a fucking rabid dog and dulled my mind so hard with all the different drugs I got severely depressed because of the inhumane treatment, and how they where all so business like in its execution gave me the chills.
As I was grabbed by the police they decided to go on and search my house for any illegal things, so they found my two cannabis plants that I had just harvested. I had not smoked any pot for a couple of days before I was arrested but they took a urine sample and claim I have a substance abuse problem.
And since I was still under observation 6 months after I got out of that place when I had to go to court for the hearing on growing deadly hash plants, I was sentenced to an undefinable amount of time at a compulsory psychiatric treatment clinic.
Yet again as I got to this prison for the mentally ill I was to undergo a barrage of tests to see if there was some mental illness I was suffering from, I no longer had to receive compulsory shots and the drugs i could simply spit out when none was looking, but the people who I shared my meals with where clearly in need of serious help. They kept asking me what kind of drugs i get, clearly fishing for amphetamines and benzo, but upon realizing I wasn't even diagnosed yet they kept telling me how to act in order to receive ADHD diagnose and then receive appropriate drugs that I later could give to them...
Well, I didn't make many friends the first couple of months in there. Things got ugly after only a few days as two of the other inmates wanted to pick a fight with me, but I knew better than to act reckless and extend my "undefined treatment period time" by having a manly two on one fight. So I ran like a scared little girl to the staff and ratted them out, the fool I was for thinking it would make things better.
They where only sent to a disciplinary ward for a few days to cool off and returned later more furious than ever before.
All smiles and laughs when the staff was present, but them morons who decide to work at a mentally ill prison are not very bright, for the most part. And after knowing they would only be returned to the same ward I was in, even more angry than before, I realized it was best to be acting like a pussy.
Even though I could floor them both with ease it wouldn't be worth the extra time that would get slapped to my stay there. So I meekly avoided their gaze and generally tried to avoid them, letting their threats die off and befriending the staff as much as possible.
Oh god 4 hours and I havent even gotten to the point yet... Ill just have to add that later i guess.
