What about the bad things Treatment centers do to us? Does anybody actually care? I mean I was in a bad place when my parents sent me but honestly I was no worse then than I am now, in fact I feel worse more often now than I ever did then. So why the hell did my parents send me off when I started to communicate with them how suicidal and depressed I was? I was sad and alone and somehow shipping me off to be more alone and vulnerable seemed like a good idea? First off my dad lied to me to get me to go so instantly destroyed my trust in him. Second I was strip searched 6 months after being raped so being naked in front of these people brought back a lot of that trauma. Third it reinforced every idea in my head that I wasn't worthy of love or attention and that I was broken because it seemed like my parents didn't love me enough any more to help me themselves.
So why the fuck did they send me? I remember sitting there crying as my "therapist" told me it was my fault that I was there, that I made my parents send me, that I should be grateful that they can afford to send me somewhere so nice, that really I should be in a psych ward, that if I didn't try harder she would tell my parents that I was threatening to hurt myself so that I'd have to stay longer. I remember being forced to eat and then later people threatening not to feed me. I remember being terrified at night because girls would scream and yell things and bash their heads against the tile as a 250 lbs man sat on them to restrain them. I remember the redhead who would pace the room at night and threaten to kill all of us. I remember not being able to reach any of my family because I had written a letter home (that was read and not sent of course) scared that someone was actually going to hurt me. I lied and hid and pretended that everything was okay so that people might forget I was there and let me go. Instead I lost a year of my life to that place. I spent a year in silence where no one listened to my fear or pains and where I was so afraid I would wake up at night screaming. Now I wake up screaming after dreaming about that place. It haunts me. I hate my parents for sending me there and for not ever listening to the shit that went down. I hate myself for letting it happen to me. I hate the world for making a place like that. Most of all I hate that I can't tell anyone about it because they'll just say how much better I came out and how I am exaggerating but what they don't understand or care about is the fact that I only came out hiding everything better. I wasn't better, I was in disguise because I was afraid if I said anything, they'd send me back. Sorry I'm okay just having a lot of flashbacks and needed to let someone know how I was feeling.... I'm okay because I know that no matter how bad I feel right now, I have a purpose and I could never leave my niece behind. So all I am trying to do is Survive. Sincerely- A Survivor
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A SurvivorA couple of stories and experiences from one of the many survivors of self mutilation, suicide attempts, and mental disorders and illnesses. Archives
February 2017
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