Nuthouse Memoirs

I was put into a few mental hospitals when I started cutting myself at 15. My mom called our family doctor, Dr. Magee and he made the referral.
I was sent to a hospital called Youthdale in Toronto around 1998 and while in there I was given a cocktail of pills. I was only 15 and had no diagnosed mental illness yet. I would spend my days sitting on a chair drugged so badly I couldnt move. They gave us our pills in little white paper cups and I remeber counting the pills. There were 10 in my cup and I had to take them 3 times a day. The most violent staff was Mark and he would twist my arms up behind my back until I screamed. I witnessed a child being held in restraints for around 3 days. He would scream and scream, then he was just gone. If I freaked out or tried to escape they would jump on me and give me what they called a PRN. They would yank my pants down a bit and put a needle in my upper ass (kinky right? lol). Then they tied me up for what felt like days, just staring at the ceiling and lights using what they call mechanical restraints (leather straps with buckles). When I tried to tell my mother they were hurting me, they would say they didnt like where the conversation was going and hang up the phone. She remebers all this and seeing constant bruising on me. The psychiatrist said the medication they had me on was too much for my body weight and that my thyroid was damaged. Youthdale was a nightmare.

I was also in Whitby psych, it was the brand new one back then. (the original Whitby psych can be seen in Billy Talents video Try Honesty) The beds had pink blankets and there was a basketball court outside. When Dragula by Rob Zombie came on tv we would gather around the set mesmerised. We also went swimming (they have a pool) and played endless games of Skip Bo. They also had an N64 which had just come out. I enjoyed playing Wave Race and Mario. I would get tied to beds all the time in the quiet room, where I would belt out Green Day songs at the top of my lungs. The restraints there were blue instead of leather like Youthdale. I had an amazing ability to get out of them and then walk out of the room triumpantly. The staff would look up from their Skip Bo game just shocked and then tackle me, bringing me back to the room. One new guy named Richard came in there with black sunglasses, trying to look cool. He would start grunting every night and it just drove me nuts. So one night I yelled SHUT UP. He was in the room like a flash and dragged me out of bed by my hair. The staff came running and got him off me. He was screaming that no one told him to shut up. They put my clump of hair into a little baggy in case anyone sued. I would sneak plastic silverware from the cafeteria and me and another girl would break them and sit and cut ourselves. One day she said, why dont we just stop? She was released soon after and I cut alone. Im the time out room they got sick of me punching the walls so they drew a face on a mattress and put it in there for me to hit. I usually still hit the wall. It was there I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality and fetal alcohal effects.

After that I was in 3 group homes and on the street.
It just got worse from here. I jumped off of a group home's roof that was run by Kinark in Newmarket. I fractured my back and was placed on pediatrics for awhile. I was given a walker to use but I refused to. The nurse would yell at me to get my walker, so I would get it and carry it beside me. My room mate and I would sneak to the maternity ward and raid their fridge.

After 2 weeks though the doctor came and told me I was well enough to go to the psych floor. I grabbed my things and ran for the staircase. As I ran down them I heard Code White being called. Guys ran up the stairs and said, I hear your coming to stay with us today. I couldnt get past them and they grabbed me and carried me up the stairs. Halfway up I told them I would walk if I could have a smoke when I got there. They agreed.

The smoking area was at the end of the ward and was three chairs and a table. It seems unbelievable that you could smoke in the hospital then, but you could. There was a long row of chairs back to back and a tv, a payphone and the shower room. The rest were bedrooms. I was off and on that ward alot. There was also an unlocked side for not as crazy people. I varied among the two depending on why I was in.

There was always interesting people there and one guy was Micheal. His wife had left him so he slit both his wrists. They were both wrapped in white bandages. I would dedicate myself to making him laugh and the staff often got upset because I would sit on the floor beside his chair. Since you could smoke on the ward, he would just chainsmoke non stop. He made this sound like he was eating the ciggarette and his fingers were yellow from nicotine. I knew he was special, he was so quiet and I was the only one who could make him smile.
Out on the patio this guy named Darrel would play me Beatles songs with his guitar. It made me feel so excited to have friends. Hey Jude was my favourite, I can still hear him singing. One day though his psychiatrist told him he had to leave. Darrel was so upset because he had nowhere to go. They told him his guitar playing was affecting the other patients treatment. He lived in a group home for awhile after that, then went back to his wife.
My other friend I made on the ward was Daniel. He thought he was a wizard and always had sandals and a walking stick. I remeber once I was on the unlocked side of the ward and he was wheeled past me on a stretcher to the locked side. "Hey Jewel (my nickname), Hey Daniel..." We called to each other. We would listen to Offspring together on the stereo when he  I was on the unlocked side and we would play ping pong. Somehow he got a dog while released and he spray painted his tail purple.

Eventually I lost touch with all the people I met in those hospitals, but they live in my memory and my heart. The first time I ever made a real friend was in a nuthouse or a group home. Life is like a series of fleeting moments. At the time they seem like they will last forever but then when you look back on them you realize just how short they were. Maybe the short ones are most precious?