By discharge day no one had any ideas of keeping me past the hold
I signed, they knew that my husband and I would not allow that to happen. Care coordinator #3 got the brunt of the experience. She was in actual tears as we explained what had happened. When she saw how completely scared, I was. And I was, I was paranoid, I was trembling, I was exhausted, I was in pain, I was weak from three days without eating enough to sustain. It is a foggy memory talking to her in my room with my husband there and he said, “you don’t understand; that's my love!” There were tears in his eyes and he was pointing at me.
One of those moments in a relationship that is etched into your memory, plays in your head when you need that push to keep working on your marriage. “That’s my love!” It also gave me a much-needed reality check that I was safe, I didn’t internally feel safe but logically I knew that my husband would not let them do anything more to me. I knew he was getting me out of there.
At some point Dr. Sehr took me into a private room to apologize. He told me that this hospitalization could have really helped someone like me but that it went terribly wrong. That instead of helping they had traumatized me. He then brought up IOP, Intensive Outpatient.
To be honest I was in complete flight mode and I would have signed ANYTHING that meant I got to walk out that door. I also genuinely wanted help. I knew I was not okay, I was very aware of that. I agreed to meet with the IOP therapist while they got discharge paperwork put together.
The nurses were literally in a panic to get me out immediately on time. They had, had enough of me and enough of my husband’s bombardment for the last three days.
The IOP therapist was the therapist you can’t believe they are hiding in that building. She was calm and kind, made me feel at ease in her presence. The only other therapist I remember being “therapeutic” was the group therapist inpatient. We went over the details and the cost. I know this woman did not know me, she probably had no idea what had transpired. I have no idea if I was even kind to her. I only remember the exchange on her end. $7500.
This is how business is run in the United States of America. You can go in and pay tons of money for inpatient care, care that is not received. Contract void. But you still must pay for it? Then pay for the therapy you then require more after the traumatizing experience you just paid for. So, I signed up for six weeks IOP.
Now, I am pissed that they even had the audacity to ask me to pay for the IOP. I am so grateful for the IOP program, my fellow group members, and the IOP therapist; but I was not stable enough to sign that. I wasn’t in a place of equal power, I was not in a state of mind that was seeking anything other than freedom. I had just been kept inside for three days in a ton of pain fighting just for basic kindness. I was mentally broken. I still am, I still am processing slow, I have more panic attacks than I did before I went into the hospital, I have greater anxiety. I am struggling. Every Day.
The light (that I have been promising for a few blogs!) is that I am making progress. IOP has helped because it is more academic, and I learn better that way. I have learned a lot of skills to help me set boundaries that are healthy, how to communicate hard conversations, breathing, meditation, and most importantly the friendship of other woman and men from all walks coming together with the same extreme internal struggle. It has further stripped my ability to judge anyone else, I am convinced there will come a time when I am incapable of a judgmental thought at all, in fact I hope so.
This experience has brought me to my knees. No one deserves to be broken that way. Especially someone asking and paying for help.
They had me ready for discharge on the dot. The nurse was literally repeatedly checking the clock as she was returning and going over my personal belongings because my husband was pacing the waiting room.
I am not the only one that was traumatized by this situation. The toll it took on him was huge. He was holding our family together while trying to advocate for me. He also had extreme guilt because he took me to the hospital. Even though I needed to be hospitalized. I just did not in anyway deserve the treatment and abuse I received.
I am not the only one that was traumatized by this situation. The toll it took on him was huge. He was holding our family together while trying to advocate for me. He also had extreme guilt because he took me to the hospital. Even though I needed to be hospitalized. I just did not in anyway deserve the treatment and abuse I received.