Christ_empowered
Member
I was ECT'd (involuntarily) age 20, when I should have had my stomach pumped. I was left dead eyed, sickly. I didn't even know about the ECT until a brain scan a few years later. That same year, I received more involuntary ECT and abuse at another mental hospital in this state. Why?
Because I was a "trouble maker." Because they assumed no one cared. Because they figured I was just another victim of psychiatry, another living corpse on the rubbish heap. I was 23 when I got that second round.
At 24, bad things happened. My parents were going to send me to a mental hospital, probably the first one that did round #1 of ECT. I snapped. I attacked a family member. I could have gone to prison or a state mental hospital. Instead, my parents worked with the prosecutor (after I'd been in 23 hour lockdown for 6-7 months) and got me into Teen Challenge. The deal was, do TC, do community service, the charges will be dismissed and the official arrest record erased (expunged). I complied with my end of the deal, and so did the prosector.
26, I had to move back home. My lease on an out-of-state apartment had run out and I had no job prospects. If you're going to be living off your (fortunately, financially comfortable) parents, better to do it close to home, right? All Hell broke loose. I'd also taken my docs to the state medical board. They got it dismissed but, like I wrote above, I'm regarded as a "trouble maker," and they thought they'd destroyed me.
Somehow, lots of people in this area know an awful lot about me and my psychiatric treatment. My neighbors, here at my parents' house, used to openly taunt me. Men in particular despise me, because docs (not just shrinks--docs have solidarity) ruined my rep and accused me of promiscuity, masochism, all sorts of nasty things. I was low on the totem pole, so people believed everything.
I got frustrated--understandably--and started emailing an ex-shrink, the one I'd taken to the medical board. She works at a university, so they had her official email posted on the school website. I emailed about my ECT, about the abuse I'd suffered, about her own heavy-handed use of drugs, including controlled substances, in my "treatment."
She was less-than-thrilled, obviously. I was arrested locally on a misdemeanor, then taken down to the city she works in. A felony was added. If my parents hadn't gotten me an attorney, I wouldn't have even bonded out. As it was, my parents had to spend a couple grand to get me out, over something that could have been handled with a $1500 fine (if you're a mental patient, expect terrible treatment).
The lawyer kept everything out of court for 10 months. Then the haggling over a deal started. I got a misdemeanor, a higher level one than I was initially charged with, and the felony was (praise God!) dismissed. At sentencing, I pled guilty and was supposed to get (according to informal deal my lawyer reached with the DA) 18 months probation, no big deal. My former shrink got up and gave a long (2 pages!) speech about how dangerous I am. I got 3 years in prison, suspended to 5 years probation.
Because my parents used to be neglectful and not terribly parental, everybody assumed I was up **** creek without a paddle, so to speak. Nobody thought I'd have an attorney, much less a good one. The misdemeanor deal really makes them angry. So does the first deal, since everybody assumed I'd gone to prison or a state mental hospital.
So, yeah..now that my masculinity is developing (Praise God!), people around here, men in particular, keep saying I'm not a man/can't become a man/will never be a man. They also say they "can't respect me," since apparently rule #1 of being a low status male around here is to "know your place." Pshaw. I don't wanna "know my place;" I wanted to be left alone!
The info in all the emails I sent came back to haunt my shrinks. A good attorney can work wonders, really.
The sheer level of anger and resentment leveled at me, the town pariah/scapegoat, is intense. Its sometimes frightening, really. There's always a good reason why I was abused and ECT'd, why docs did these things, but there's no reason for a "loser" and a "faggot" to stand up for himself and have a good attorney. Apparently, I'm supposed to know my place, while "real men" should be permitted to exploit and victimize me. Welcome to The Bible Belt, USA!
Oh, yeah...and Jesus healed me. I should have mentioned that first--its kind of a big deal for me--but that's a problem too. I went from short, sickly, balding, and dead eyed to taller (I'm well within the average height range now), healthy and well-preserved, full thick head of hair, and bright, sparkly eyes. My IQ shot up above where it was pre-pills+ECT (I apparently started with around 120; now its 130+).
I'm getting a little angry. Clearly, God has spoken in my situation, right? But the world doesn't see it that way, especially around here. I'm not supposed to have privacy, live I comfort, be healthy, be smart, be a Christian, so on and so forth. Did I mention that some dudes from back in the day took pics of me while hooking up and those have been distributed around town? No, I didn't consent to the pix--I didn't even know about them (modern technology: isn't it wonderful?), but that doesn't matter.
So, please pray. I've run through this story before, but I just heard the neighbors on *both* sides of my parents' front porch talking about me again. The idea is that I'm supposed to accept abuse, privacy violations, abject poverty, misery, psychiatric control/slavery without complaining. I'm supposed to "know my place." I'm just a "weakling" (that's a direct quote), a loser, a sissy.
I am no such thing, at least not now that Jesus has seen to intervene. There are even doubts about this Bipolar I diagnosis I've got because, well, over the last 18 months since I was called to repentance (trust me; I *had* to be called. I was too far gone for anything else), I've not only become more intelligent and masculine, my mental state has become...well...surprisingly normal, for the first time ever.
Phew. If you made it through all that, thanks. Deal is, I need prayer. I'm doing Liberty Online come May 12th and I'm trying to build a whole new life for myself. My once neglectful, not terribly parental parents are now taking a keen interest in me and helping me build a life independent of them. My health is good, I'm a surprisingly decent human being (I'm not godly yet, but a decent human being, in this day and age, is a rarity, so I'm proud of that), and I'm making forward progress.
Our fight is not against flesh and blood, but against powers and principalities. I'm not really up against the shrinks or the neighbors; I'm up against satan, his minions, and his worldly ideas. Loser don't count. Weakling don't count. Nobody cares what a used up faggot goes through. These are things I've heard countless times since I moved back home, and its intensified since I sent off those emails.
Only satan and those on his team would think "Hey, this 20 year old is dying of a massive poly-drug OD. Let's electroshock him, then keep him here for 3 weeks and break him down! Good idea!" Only satan would put a human being through what I've been subjected to. ECT on a 23 year old with a concussion (did I mention getting mugged?) and severe brain damage? Yup...has satan written all over it, in bold letters.
I don't know what, if anything, I am to do. I stay at the house most of the time. I get disability because, you know, I'm "crazy" or whatever (actually, they wouldn't let me order my meds from India, so they put me on disability for medical coverage). I get to work on a useful degree. I'm blessed.
The way I've been treated makes me sick, it makes me angry. And I'm only 1 person. I don't want to sound like some Scientologist or whatever, but...ummm...shrinks do this to people. Always have. Read the history of psychiatry. Its filled with doing "more harm than good," in the name of "Treatment."
Ramble, ramble...please pray. Thanks
Because I was a "trouble maker." Because they assumed no one cared. Because they figured I was just another victim of psychiatry, another living corpse on the rubbish heap. I was 23 when I got that second round.
At 24, bad things happened. My parents were going to send me to a mental hospital, probably the first one that did round #1 of ECT. I snapped. I attacked a family member. I could have gone to prison or a state mental hospital. Instead, my parents worked with the prosecutor (after I'd been in 23 hour lockdown for 6-7 months) and got me into Teen Challenge. The deal was, do TC, do community service, the charges will be dismissed and the official arrest record erased (expunged). I complied with my end of the deal, and so did the prosector.
26, I had to move back home. My lease on an out-of-state apartment had run out and I had no job prospects. If you're going to be living off your (fortunately, financially comfortable) parents, better to do it close to home, right? All Hell broke loose. I'd also taken my docs to the state medical board. They got it dismissed but, like I wrote above, I'm regarded as a "trouble maker," and they thought they'd destroyed me.
Somehow, lots of people in this area know an awful lot about me and my psychiatric treatment. My neighbors, here at my parents' house, used to openly taunt me. Men in particular despise me, because docs (not just shrinks--docs have solidarity) ruined my rep and accused me of promiscuity, masochism, all sorts of nasty things. I was low on the totem pole, so people believed everything.
I got frustrated--understandably--and started emailing an ex-shrink, the one I'd taken to the medical board. She works at a university, so they had her official email posted on the school website. I emailed about my ECT, about the abuse I'd suffered, about her own heavy-handed use of drugs, including controlled substances, in my "treatment."
She was less-than-thrilled, obviously. I was arrested locally on a misdemeanor, then taken down to the city she works in. A felony was added. If my parents hadn't gotten me an attorney, I wouldn't have even bonded out. As it was, my parents had to spend a couple grand to get me out, over something that could have been handled with a $1500 fine (if you're a mental patient, expect terrible treatment).
The lawyer kept everything out of court for 10 months. Then the haggling over a deal started. I got a misdemeanor, a higher level one than I was initially charged with, and the felony was (praise God!) dismissed. At sentencing, I pled guilty and was supposed to get (according to informal deal my lawyer reached with the DA) 18 months probation, no big deal. My former shrink got up and gave a long (2 pages!) speech about how dangerous I am. I got 3 years in prison, suspended to 5 years probation.
Because my parents used to be neglectful and not terribly parental, everybody assumed I was up **** creek without a paddle, so to speak. Nobody thought I'd have an attorney, much less a good one. The misdemeanor deal really makes them angry. So does the first deal, since everybody assumed I'd gone to prison or a state mental hospital.
So, yeah..now that my masculinity is developing (Praise God!), people around here, men in particular, keep saying I'm not a man/can't become a man/will never be a man. They also say they "can't respect me," since apparently rule #1 of being a low status male around here is to "know your place." Pshaw. I don't wanna "know my place;" I wanted to be left alone!
The info in all the emails I sent came back to haunt my shrinks. A good attorney can work wonders, really.
The sheer level of anger and resentment leveled at me, the town pariah/scapegoat, is intense. Its sometimes frightening, really. There's always a good reason why I was abused and ECT'd, why docs did these things, but there's no reason for a "loser" and a "faggot" to stand up for himself and have a good attorney. Apparently, I'm supposed to know my place, while "real men" should be permitted to exploit and victimize me. Welcome to The Bible Belt, USA!
Oh, yeah...and Jesus healed me. I should have mentioned that first--its kind of a big deal for me--but that's a problem too. I went from short, sickly, balding, and dead eyed to taller (I'm well within the average height range now), healthy and well-preserved, full thick head of hair, and bright, sparkly eyes. My IQ shot up above where it was pre-pills+ECT (I apparently started with around 120; now its 130+).
I'm getting a little angry. Clearly, God has spoken in my situation, right? But the world doesn't see it that way, especially around here. I'm not supposed to have privacy, live I comfort, be healthy, be smart, be a Christian, so on and so forth. Did I mention that some dudes from back in the day took pics of me while hooking up and those have been distributed around town? No, I didn't consent to the pix--I didn't even know about them (modern technology: isn't it wonderful?), but that doesn't matter.
So, please pray. I've run through this story before, but I just heard the neighbors on *both* sides of my parents' front porch talking about me again. The idea is that I'm supposed to accept abuse, privacy violations, abject poverty, misery, psychiatric control/slavery without complaining. I'm supposed to "know my place." I'm just a "weakling" (that's a direct quote), a loser, a sissy.
I am no such thing, at least not now that Jesus has seen to intervene. There are even doubts about this Bipolar I diagnosis I've got because, well, over the last 18 months since I was called to repentance (trust me; I *had* to be called. I was too far gone for anything else), I've not only become more intelligent and masculine, my mental state has become...well...surprisingly normal, for the first time ever.
Phew. If you made it through all that, thanks. Deal is, I need prayer. I'm doing Liberty Online come May 12th and I'm trying to build a whole new life for myself. My once neglectful, not terribly parental parents are now taking a keen interest in me and helping me build a life independent of them. My health is good, I'm a surprisingly decent human being (I'm not godly yet, but a decent human being, in this day and age, is a rarity, so I'm proud of that), and I'm making forward progress.
Our fight is not against flesh and blood, but against powers and principalities. I'm not really up against the shrinks or the neighbors; I'm up against satan, his minions, and his worldly ideas. Loser don't count. Weakling don't count. Nobody cares what a used up faggot goes through. These are things I've heard countless times since I moved back home, and its intensified since I sent off those emails.
Only satan and those on his team would think "Hey, this 20 year old is dying of a massive poly-drug OD. Let's electroshock him, then keep him here for 3 weeks and break him down! Good idea!" Only satan would put a human being through what I've been subjected to. ECT on a 23 year old with a concussion (did I mention getting mugged?) and severe brain damage? Yup...has satan written all over it, in bold letters.
I don't know what, if anything, I am to do. I stay at the house most of the time. I get disability because, you know, I'm "crazy" or whatever (actually, they wouldn't let me order my meds from India, so they put me on disability for medical coverage). I get to work on a useful degree. I'm blessed.
The way I've been treated makes me sick, it makes me angry. And I'm only 1 person. I don't want to sound like some Scientologist or whatever, but...ummm...shrinks do this to people. Always have. Read the history of psychiatry. Its filled with doing "more harm than good," in the name of "Treatment."
Ramble, ramble...please pray. Thanks
