[Stanley_19802]

Hello Everyone,

I am kind of new here to the forum. And first I would like to appologize for the long post I am about to post. And I want to thank you for taking the time to listen to just a small amount of things I have had happen that I am still searching for a way to deal with.

It's been quite the battle. Where to start. Well, my childhood involved much abuse. Physical and psychological. As a child, I was getting it darn near everywhere. Home, school and even in the one place I didn't think I would be harmed, the psych ward. A few examples, I guess I will start with school first. My mom has had me going to a special education school for as long as I can remember. (I have no memory of the first 10 years of my life). These schools were alloud to touch the students.

In the beginning, I was getting beat up by one of the kids in my class. While in the bathroom he would dunk my head in the toilet or put me in the trash can upside down, things like that. When I tried to report it, I was told "I didn't see it so there is nothing I can do about it". Out of frustration I would leave the classroom after an attack to calm down. The teacher would then call the "time out" room staff to find me and take me to their time out room. I tried to explain the problem to one of the staff from the "time out" room but instead he asks me what my shirt says. It didn't say anything as it was a plain t-shirt but I looked down to see what he meant. That's when he reached out and grabbed me, picked me up off the floor by my shirt, swong me around into the room and slammed me down into a chair and then was pushed up against the wall and told to look at the wall and not move.

As one can imagine, I was scared out of my mind and in shock at what had just happened. I wasn't thinking straight and just started cussing randomly. What I didn't know is in his desk was a tape recorder, he stayed silent and recorded me. When I got home my mom sent me to my room. When she came into the room I tried to tell my mom what the staff member did to me as she walked up to me, grabbed my face and stuck the nozzel of dish soap into my mouth and squeezed a mouth full into my mouth. After vomiting and spitting, a few hours later I became sick. Maybe back in the 20's or something soap was just soap. But these days soap has degreesers and other stuff in them to get the dishes clean. Says right on the bottle not to ingest.

One other of the major incident happened in the summer of 1997. It was my first day at a new school. I was looking forward to a brand new start. Instead, I almost died. That morning I was picked up at 7 in the morning for school. The weekend before I had gone to the store, got a new back pack, pens, paper and so on. Turns out, students are to only go to school with the clothes on their back and shoes. But I figured a pen couldn't hurt.

Anyway, I got up to the classroom and was given work. I took out my pen and began doing the work. About 10 minutes later this staff member came up and asked where I got the pen. I explained I got it from the 99 cent store. He said I was lying and that I had taken it from him. I don't steal. He then went to snatch it out of my hand. I again told him that it was mine and that I bought it from the store that Saturday. He again tried to snatch it out of my hand. I told him to leave me alone.

That's when he lunged at the pen in my hand again, this time knocking me backward in my chair/desk combo breaking a table behind me in half and smashing a small desk fan to pieces on the way down. The pen flew from my hand and landed by the window as I tried to brace my fall. The staff member then pulled me from the desk, laid me on my stomach and spread my arms and legs out holdin me down. Another staff member hearing the crash came in assuming I was "going off". They each took a arm, laid their leg on top of each of my legs and rested their body weight onto my back. That's when the first staff member saw the pen. He picked it up and says "now who has the pen?" as if it was some big feat of strangth or something.

A few moments later, this first staff member then takes his elbow and begins drilling it into my right shoulder blade till I am screaming out in pain. He did it harder and harder. I was powerless to make him stop. As I was struggling to try to get him off of me to stop the pain, they added more weight to my back. That's when I began having trouble taking in breaths. I was already having trouble breathing due to screaming out in the pain.

With the extra weight, I was having to take in very small breaths due to all the weight but it wasn't enough. I was feeling dizzy and that scared me that I was going to die. I said I couldn't breath but was told if I could talk, I could breath and they wouldn't get off of me. So I began wiggling trying to shift the weight off of me to breath. In responce to this, they added more weight. That's when I couldn't expand my lungs anymore. I couldn't breath. The dizzyness got worse, my eye sight began to turn blurry and my heart felt like it was beatting out of my chest. I was sure I was going to die.

On one hand, I didn't want to die, but on the other hand if I was dead, they couldn't harm me anymore. The very last moment, the other staff member who came in to assist shifted his weight off of me and I gasped as I was finally able to get a breath. It was beyond scary. Short time later I dropped out of school after yet another attack by this same staff. School, to me at least, just wasn't worth the risk of being suffocated to get. I didn't want to die there.

As for abuse at home, my dad would beat me for all kinds of reasons. His place of choice, the back. I would curl into a ball and wait out the attack for him to get tired and walk away. My mom however was more psychological with her abuse. She wouldn't hit me, she would allow others to do the dirty work. Her favorite punishment when I did something she got mad at, she would call the local children's psychiatric hospitals in the area and tell them I was suicidal and just tried to kill myself. I didn't, but because of the report, in California it's law that any reports of suicide get the person a 72 hour stay in a psychiatric hospital. The shortest stays were for the 3 days, and my longest was 14 days. And it was the psych ward stays that caused the PTSD.

My very first stay was November 23rd 1990. I remember it like it just happened yesturday. It was traumatic to begin with because just moments before being admitted my very first memory is of waking up sitting in a chair just outside the principles office with no memory what so ever of anything before. It was like being born 10 years old sitting up in a chair. It's very difficult to describe. I knew I was at school, and who my parents were, how to walk and talk and everything. I just couldn't remember any events prior to that evening. So I was scared because I didn't know why I couldn't just go home. And was afraid that I was being put in a psych ward with no idea what I had done. I was in over Thanksgiving which was upsetting because I was only allowed to leave the hospital for all of two hours for Thanskgiving dinner and then returned. I felt like some rent-a-child or something. The ward was taken to play basketball but I really didn't feel up to it. They said if I didn't play I would have to go back to the ward. I was fine with going back to the ward, I figured I would just lay down in bed. Instead as soon as I was on the ward, when I tried to go to my room I was grabbed by the arm and led to the solitary room. She told me that since I didn't want to take part, that I would have to be locked in solitary till they group returned. Some 50 minutes. I was pushed in, she locked the dead bolt and then 3 additional slide locks, as if the dead bolt wasn't enough for a little kid. It was terrifying to say the least. The room walls were covered in tan leather padding with a wooden support with a plain blue waterproof hospital mattress on it with no sheets. Just the mattress. The room just made me feel....well...terrified. It was very scary. It was so silent you could hear your heart beatting. You couldn't hear anything going on outiside the room. No clocks within view. A minute felt like hours. I still have frequent flashbacks of that room. I was in there twice in that week there.

Another event has had me deathly afraid of the dark. I just got off the payphone with my mom finding out what I did this time to have her send me there. I was sent home from school for fighting. I was defending myself from a bully. Teacher only saw my swing, not his. So I was labled the attacker and was suspended for 3 days. I wasn't home more then 10 minutes when a American Medical Responce ambulance pulled into the drive way. Of course I was angry that I was being punished for simply defending myself from a attacker. And no more than was needed for the attacker to back off. I don't like to fight if I can avoid it. So anyway, I hung up the phone and with a angry face walked back to my room to lay down and cool off. This staff I walked passed told me I had to go to "time out" (solitary) to cool off, not my room. I just said I would be fine in a few moments and that I just needed to be alone for a bit. I laid down in bed and about 5 or so minutes later 3 staff members rushed in, grabbed me and dragged me to solitary where I was held against the wall while a nurse pulled the back of my pants down a bit and injected me with a seditive and let me fall to the floor as they all ran out, locked the deadbolt and activated the magnetic lock. Again, as if I could ever get past the deadbolt anyway.

The seditive didn't work, I didn't pass out. I sat down in the corner of the room across from the door and against the window looking outside that is covered with a steel mesh wire gate. It didn't take long to get dark and get cold. They wouldn't turn the light on for the room. As the sun went down all the way, the only light in the room came from the moonlight that happened to bounce off the building across from the hospital and into the window. It only lit about 6 inches into the room.

The other problem was that it was getting very cold, low 60's. All I was wearing was a pair of sox, shorts and a bearly waist long t-shirt. So to stay warm, I sat on the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest and pulled my shirt down over my legs as best I could and then pulled my arms inside. I was still very cold. I spent the night like that. From 7pm-7:30am the following morning.

Since then, I have been quite terrified of the dark. In my room is a lamp directly next to my bed that is on 24 hours a day. I placed a small barrier between my head and the light so it would be semi-dark enough to sleep, but still light enough to not be afraid. In the living room, the light in there is constantly on. Everywhere else, has nightlights that I took the covers off of so they would give off more light. Each room and most hallways. Some rooms have 2-3 nightlights in them depending on the room size. In addition to that, I sleep with a maglight flashlight next to my bed. If a nightlight burns out, I will wait till the sun comes up before I will go in to change the lightbulb. I am too terrified of the dark.

If that wasn't bad enough, the attack that came the following stay I would say is the worst of all. The attack resulted in a severe spinal injury. This particular stay was partly a surprise. I was suspended again for fighting. When I wouldn't fight the bully, he went into the schools solitary room next to the gym, shut the door and began throwing himself against the wall yelling "Stanley, why did you lock me in here, let me out, let me out". All I said was that the door was open, that I didn't lock anything and just went back to grading the papers the teacher gave me to do.

Not long a staff member came to see what the yelling was about. When the teacher opened the solitary room door, the bully came out with a bloody nose. He told the staff member that I hit him and pushed him into the room. I never touched him once. And I think the bloody nose came from him throwing himself against the walls in the room. I was sent home suspended. This time the ambulance was already there when I got home. I knew I was going to be admitted for it. That wasn't a surprise. I was still scared of being hurt again, but not suprised.

What I didn't know is, my mom was lumping things together for this particular stay. A week before, it was a Saturday morning, about 10am or so. My mom was working and it was just me and my brother. We were board out of our minds. We found a wooden board and drew a bulls eye and were tossing some steak knives at it. Was it safe or smart? No. We were two board boys looking for something to do. We had a good time and later went in to play some SAGA games and stuff till my mom got home. No big deal.

But for still some unknown reason, the woman upstrairs told my mom I was throwing knives at my brother. Never happened. No knives were thrown till we were both behind the line 10 feet away. The woman never liked me so my best guess at saying something like that is beyond me. But that was lumped onto the same report. So it sounded like I beat up a kid at school, and then when I got home went to throw knives at my brother. Who wouldn't sound crazy with a report like that? I wouldn't find all this stuff out for several hours.

So I was hauled off in the ambulance taken to the psych ward. After being checked in, the nurse asks me "do you know why you are here today?". Of course as always I didn't. When she told me, I was quite in shock. After I was finished being checked in I made my way to the phone. My mom picked up. I asked her why she told them those things? All she said was "Child services is here and wants to take your brother away. If they take him I will never forgive you" and hangs up. Because of the false report of the knives, the want to take my brother for his safety. I got rather upset. No one would listen to me to try to explain what all really happened. I figured if I could go home, I could fix everything. Explain what truely happened and sort or everything.

I wasn't exactly thinking straight but I was frustraighted that no one would listen to me. Listen to the truth. So I just started walking, crying all the way to the ward door. I knew it was locked and that I wasn't going anywhere. And I was in sox. I couldn't walk 5 miles home in sox. I was upset, felt out of control and just wanted to fix things and go home.

Halfway down the hall, this staff member comes up and keeps pace with my walking asking me what I am doing. I tell him, I need to go home. I need to fix things. He didn't even try to talk to me or help talk to me and calm me down. Instead, he stopped. This surprised me so I went to look back. When I did, that's when he grabbed me from behind, and spun me around and threw me face down to the floor.

Then he kneeled down, place one knee directly on my spine, halfway up my back and applied pressure till he was lifiting his body off the floor, applying his full body weight to that spot of my spine. After a series of VERY loud cracks, there was nothing but pain. I screamed out in pain. It hurt more than anything I have ever felt. Other staff took the yell as me "going off". As others arrived, I was picked up off the floor and dragged by my arms to solitary. That's when I knew something was wrong, I couldn't move. It felt like there was a searing knife in my back. It was beyond scary. I was laid face down on the restraint bed, injected in the butt with seditive, turned over and placed in restraints. I was just happy to be put out so I didn't have to feel the pain.

I woke up several hours later in my room. I had no memory of being moved. I was still in much pain. It took almost 20 minutes or so just to sit up. But I made my way to the med window to ask for some Tylenol. I was instead handed liquid Thorazine. I said no thank you and asked for the Tylenol. They refused. So I slowly walked back to my room. Not long after, I was rushed again which hurt like hell, the violent jerking as I was picked up and carried. As exspected, I yelled out in pain. I was taken back to solitary and injected with the Thorazine, put back in restraints and locked in solitary. All because I wouldn't drink the Thorazine. But again, I was glad to be knocked out after again being put in pain.

From then on to avoid further injury, I took the meds. Which I think probably not only saved me from having to be in pain as I was sleeping nearly 24 hours a day. So there was no strain to my back and probably allowed for my back to be straight while the swelling went down from the injury. Scared the hell out of my family during one visit. It was the one and only visit in the psych ward I ever had.

I was woken 2-3 days after the second solitary room visit to be told I had visitors. I was so groggy from the high dose of Thorazine they had me on. I sat down. I was aske how I was. I was told later that all I said was "I am....". After saying that, my head hit the table as I passed out. Apparently it was quite a scare. They thought I died. I didn't wake up from that for several hours. I woke up back in my bed. But was up only long enough to be giving more Thorazine.

At the time, I had already been dealing with bed wetting issues for 4 years already at the time. But the spinal injury not just caused them to be worse, but more frequently. And as of 2000, I began having daytime break through wetting. Thankfully so far, I only have 2-3 day time accidents per day. I wear diapers for them as I never knew when the accidents will happen. As I understand it, I will be in diapers, 24 hours a day for the remainder of my life.

The worse wetting is just one problem due to the spinal injury. The worst is the severe pain. When I first got out, it was Tylenol every 6 hours for the pain. They was what I had to do, because my mom wouldn't believe it happened. The chart doesn't mention the injury. So in the end, the staff member was never charged for what he did to me. These days I have seen a doctor about it and the pain is under control. I take 3 pain meds (a 10mg Baclofen, 2 Vicodine 5/500, and a 10mg Methadone) along with a 10mg Flexiril muscle relaxer. All this is taken ever 6 hours 4 times per day.

A constant dose is needed to keep the pain in check. The reason the pain is such a big deal for me is because the pain in the spine directly triggers flashbacks of the event of the spinal injury. Since pain can't be totally gone 24/7, each stab of pain is a constand at least daily reminder of the attck in whole as it playsback in it's entirety.

This is just a little bit about my living nightmare that is my life. I have tried to get help for the PTSD while is so bad that I am on disability insurance (SSI). I am told by mental health that they don't take my insurance. Which I think doesn't make sence as the medi-cal is a state funded medical insurance which is supposed to be taken by any county hospital or doctor. I wanted to do their buy in program which is $7.00 a month. But they said I have insurance. But yet they won't take the insurance.

When I tried to talk to the director I was told that they won't help me no matter how many times I come back. That "if you really want help bad enough, you will get off SSI, get a job and pay for it yourself". First of all, if I could work, I wouldn't be on disability. I had a therapist up till 4 years ago when I moved up to Northern California.

So it's been quite the battle trying to cope without having therapy to lean on. The constant "No" I have been getting with each try for help makes me wonder if I will ever be able to get better. I have just been trying to deal the best I can alone with it. Takes so much energy out of me which of course makes the depression worse. Sorry for it being as long as it is. I will stop here right now. There is much more to this, but it's far too much to put here. I have a bio that has all the details for those who might be interested which I have posted at: http://www.bedwettingabdl.com/Stanleys_personal_page.html Thank you for the ear everyone.

-Stanley

[JustAsSmall]

Stanley,
Thank you for sharing your experiences. I am also a survivor of physical and psychological abuse with severe PTSD. I can relate to some of your writing. While I am unsure as to what to say or how to respond, I wanted to tell you that you are not alone. We all deserve to be better, we didnt ask for these horrible things to be done to us. We are not to blame.

[Stanley_19802]

Hello JustAsSmall

Thanks for taking the time out to read my post. I have found it helpful to be able to vent to those who can relate. Then on the other hand, I am sorry that there are others out there that can relate. No one should have to be abused, in any form. Especially children. I did get the chance to meet two people about 3 months ago. One person was abused at the same school I was abused at, and the other was abused as a child at one of the psych hospitals I was at as a child. So it was kind of nice to be talking to someone who knew pretty close to what I went through. I was really starting to think I was alone as far as the locations I was abused in, at school and at psych ward units (both for children and adults). Now I know I am not alone with the location anymore. It does help. And your totally right, we didn't ask to be harmed. And most important, No one, for any reason deserves to be abused. Again, especially children. Abuse doesn't solve anything. And research has even proven that abuse is a learned thing. Often those who were abused, go on to be an abuser. I am happy to say I broke the chain. No future child of mine will fear being hurt in my home. Thanks again for taking the time to reply. Take care.

-Stanley

[Gus1234U]

remember to be kind to yourself, do not perpetuate the abuse~