#5—The Behavioral Health Unit: Part One
Creation Date: 2022/11/30
Prep Talk—
I am abundant in faith in Christ, Jesus, and I am a man that knows the seven virtues well. I love and hate my life at times, but I am making the best of my life experiences. The Good, the bad, and the ugly. I want what's best for not only me, but for those who are with me, for it is multiplicity that creates a better world. I am both deconstructed and reconstructed in my cognitive functioning thus far with the experience of the Office of Mental Health's affiliated programs. I have acquired wisdom I may share with the world my insights. Though the stigma runs deep, as Christ, Jesus, proclaimed Himself the light of the world, I live in Christ, and I will work to bring to light the good and the ugly sides to mental health programs. No matter the amount of time I will spend in the revolving door, there is and has been great insights into how to approach mentalities when considering experiencing something new and I have gained and will maintain a healthy attitude towards mental health academic professional's intentions in how they operate their affiliated programs.
The Unit: Intake
Finally, I have arrived at my first experience in an Office of Mental Health affiliated program. It was a Behavioral Health Unit accessed through the Emergency Room at a local hospital. And the experience was a shock.
The emotional turmoil I was experiencing for about a month before walking into the Emergency Room at the hospital was strong. Insight into what the trauma was will come in another blog article that delves into my experience inpatient at a facility dedicated to "Psyche science". But in this article I was stick to the first time speaking with a Psychiatrist.
During the day I had quite enough emotionally and accepted that I should talk to an academic professional with expertise in Psychology to check my mentality back into a state of calm so I could have a better outlook after years of emotional build-up that I suppressed by letting loose through-out the weeks after I had turned 21 years of age. I had strong feelings about trauma, that I would never want another to experience the bad of what I had experienced in life up to that point, but I had often found myself in great company, meeting new people, sharing the good experiences, and having good drinks with them. It was a wonderful time for multiplicity in the years after becoming of age to buy a round at a bar, or take a trip somewhere with companions and enjoy a weekend perhaps in another country. Life can be epic with great companions. The multiplicity of interpersonal companionships, experiencing the same environment together and yet having personal meanings for life events and then sharing the experience with companions and them accepting me for me. Great faith in a better world seems easy to have faith in the life of Christ, Jesus, because everything feels so wonderful, everybody has such unique experiences, and we build each other's confidence to go be great in life whenever finding ourselves in singularity, cherishing the multiplicity! Wow, I need to digress.
So, before heading down to the Emergency room, I was on the telephone with a woman whose name I cannot recall, but also rather insignificant because I never met her after entering the Emergency Room at the hospital, someone whom the Psychiatrist assigned to the Behavioral Health Unit told me they didn't believe she ever existed and I was delusional. Del-u-sion-al. I have some choice words for them after they said as much to me that I won't write that here. But, I did feel betrayed by the one on the phone.
I saught psychological help with my mentality struggles following years of traumatic abuses that I carried on well with in life, and the first thing the receptionist at the Emergency Room said to me was that they will contact the woman I spoke to, and I'll buzz you into the ER where they will direct me on where to go next.
After entering the Emergency Room area, I was directed to a waiting room. I waited for 3 hours total before I was moved to the Behavioral Health Unit up a couple stories in the building that could only be accessed by elevator wherein a locked door sealed off an entrance area right out of the elevator door. But, let me tell you what happened in the waiting room in the ER.
A security guard appeared outside my door and told me he was there to look after me. I didn't quite understand why, I barely gave it a thought. One hour after the security guard posted outside the room, I started to experience anxiety, like where is the woman I had spoke to on the phone. As my thoughts raced, a nurse came in and told me that they needed to draw blood samples and that I needed to give a urine sample. Like, wowzers, this seems outrageous just to talk to someone to help me calm down and stop crying. I had been experiencing flashbacks of trauma I had been through and these people wanted my blood and urine! Wouldn't you be outraged? I said that I wanted to leave. They said I was allowed to leave, and that I was heading up to a secure unit to get help in the behavioral health unit. And I was there for one week, before returning home. But, I told them I wouldn't give a sample of blood or urine, so they then proceeded to bring in some muscle to get me strapped to the bed in the room I was waiting in, and they took my blood without my permission!
On the unit—
The experience of the waiting room, having my blood drawn without my permission because I was in a trauma crisis created a crisis in itself. This is a practice of Emergency Room access to Behavioral Health Units that should be scrutinized, and I will use my platform to make this practice known. I was in the room for two more hours after the sample of blood was taken, and then finally I was taken to the unit. When I arrived I was told I wouldn't see an academic health professional until Tuesday. I walked into the Emergency Room on a Friday evening. They did not give me nutritional meals until saturday morning.
I was assigned a room near the day room which had a desk and a bed, with one arm-chair in it. The door could not be shut to the room because I would not be allowed privacy while I remained on the unit. I was horrified by how the nurses in the Emergency Room just treated me, so I could barely sleep, but I did get some shut-eye for a few hours at least before morning.
Pep Talk—
Yes, the waiting room area before stepping foot into the BHU was not how I wanted to start my journey in the Office of Mental Health's affiliated programs, but I can't let it remain in my mind that this is the way it's always going to be to access academic professionals to cope with trauma when I need it ASAP. If I work at this experience and can effect change in how Emergency Rooms accept those struggling, it can be better for the next person who needs help like I did. Yes, life in Christ, Jesus, is the way, the truth, and the life, but I could have Google.com searched psychology services and saved myself grief because I would have found there were "outpatient" services affiliated with the Office of Mental Health I could have accessed. Yes, I was practically tricked into an Emergency Room visit by someone I will probably never meet, like ever, but I have to accept that my emotional turmoil clouded my cognitive functioning to the point I was willing to seek needed help. I can now share my experience with the world so that others may not know the troubles that I had to go through just to find assistance regaining proper mentalities and outlooks to what great adventures I have yet to partake in. I have got to stay positive even now.
The Others—
After I woke up on Saturday, because my room was right next to the "Day room" where meals were eaten, I heard people gabbing it up, and so I entered. I was met with handshakes and greetings. It was mostly other men, and like one woman. I do not recall their names, but all except perhaps the woman were active duty soldiers. I did not ask much of why they were there, but I have so much interest in Global Studies when I pursue academia I wanted to limit my interactions with the others because my trauma experiences I saught help coping with and understanding better was not something I wanted to express until I had more information on where exactly I was and what purpose it serves to the community. Soldiers have their duties, and I wanted to have as little impact on them when they returned to duty. I hid my trauma from not only the other clients, but from the Psychiatrist and employees during my week's time spent on the unit. I was so discombobulated with the experience I just wanted to leave as soon as possible. I mean it was feeling like I was in a trauma prison. A "safe" prison. My hopes for academic professionals assisting with regaining proper mentalities and outlooks on experiences yet had, and coping with the trauma attempting to lay it to rest once and for all was becoming undesirable as a client in the Office of Mental Health's affiliated services. But such thoughts to try other types of services became an afterthought, because I found that once I was in the revolving door, I would find exiting the system nearly impossible. A "dosier" had been started, and it started to follow me in mental health facilities, programs, and services.
Return home—
The dosier about my mental health struggles, the records, the documentation of my interactions on unit by other clients and staff alike led the Psychiatrist to believe that upon arrival in the Emergency Room, I appeared to be suffering psychosis. And by the end of the week before "allowing" me to return "to civilization" it was suggested that I may be suffering from schizophrenia.
Let me ponder the diagnosese. I had blood extracted from my body before being forced to urinate in a jug to be tested for street drugs, and then put on a unit with active duty soldiers, all because I was seeking help to calm my nerves after a month of reliving visually traumatic experiences. Yes, I should haved used Google.com to find an outpatient service somewhere and stayed far, far away from a Hospital's Emergency Room.
No explanation for what the diagnosese were defined as being was given to me. Therefore, I dismissed the dis-orders and simply waited to be picked up the next friday, a week after entering the unit. I do debate the positive and negative outcomes that could have been if I simply explained the traumatic experiences to the staff once on the unit, but I am so ashamed of what had happened to me I had no desire to explain my life experience in front of soldiers who were there for God knows what and I didn't want to be a negative impact on how they would return to duty if I had been forthcoming about why I sought academic professional help. Tensions seemed high at times and the whole experience was a totally stressful experience from the start. I pondered whether or not I had made a mistake, if I could trust the academic professionals after the Emergency Room intake experience. I shut up, and when I returned home, I sat in silence and hated myself for a while.
Pep Talk—
I am getting worked up recalling the experience. As I reflect, I will be okay having faith in the Living God, in my academia studies, and that I should always communicate in a healthy way. I had no control as to how I was treated in the Emergency Room. I could only control my actions under their direction so the outcome of how I my return home could be realized. I know I was placed with a group of soldiers, but I realize now that when I limited my interactions, tried to calm myself, I may have made my presence on the unit least desirable for those who were there for similar reasons and I though I felt I wanted no part in such behavioral health services after arrive on the unit, I didn't make the most of it. Not making the most of a situation is unlike me, is unlike what I have learned to do in the past. My emotions could have been such a hinderance I didn't make the most of it, but I should always remember that in the life of Christ, Jesus, He is with me and see me through trials of humility and I should persevere to the end, for this is life: "C'est la vie!"
After the shock—
The experience was shocking at the hospital. Not at all as I imagined it would have went. After I returned home, and after sitting in silence hating myself, reflection took place and I felt I should be proactive and study academia for a while. This lasted for about 4 months. What I studied was the behavioral health field, what the diagnosese were, and I felt so slighted by the academic professionals who treated me so poorly at the hospital I let go of my experience on social media. Police officers showed up about a week later and forced me back to the same place I have written about in the blog article, but this time, I would eventually be shipped out to an inpatient psychiatric center after a month on the unit.
The next blog article will be about my time during the month on the unit leading up to my first inpatient stay at a Psychiatric hospital because this time on the unit, I would not be allowed to return home. Doctors orders. The BHU suggestion that I move to a psychiatric hospital because they insisted I was schizophrenic was not a suggestion, it was an order.
Time to end this blog article with a dedication.
I am going to dedicate this blog article to trauma survivors who are told that they should seek help in Office of Mental Health affiliated services.