Story from Alcott

I had a request for an Alcott story, so here it is:

I’m not sure which year this was. I was incarcerated in Walden Behavioral Care’s Alcott Unit a number of times, maybe five. I was once on Thoreau, only once.

Lately I’ve been hearing stuff like, “I hated Alcott before, but then, I wasn’t cooperating. I didn’t want to get better. This time, I followed my treatment plan.”

This kind of thing saddens me. Who wants to be a slave to those people? Who wants them to run your life? Why blame yourself for their “treatment” not working? This is typical of abuse, you end up blaming yourself for the abusers’ inadequacies. You take on responsibility for them, since no way do you dare blame them. You are told over and over that you have an attitude problem.

Of course you do. Like anyone, you are human and you don’t take well to human rights violations.

The object of Alcott is forced feeding and forced weight gain. Period. This has nothing to do with listening and caring or how you feel inside. Do you think the insurance companies, who pay these places heaps of dough, really care how you FEEL? No. The object of concern is the number on the scale and nothing else. Yet they tell patients we’re disordered if we care about the number.

We’ve all seen it. The doctor comes and all that doctor has really checked is the number. Those other questions are to cover their asses regarding liability. See, if we die, they need to cover up that they caused it, and do so as quietly as possible.

So here’s the story. I was out in the hall one evening. I don’t think it was too late. In fact, this might have happened in afternoon. We don’t get much time in daylight there, so I only had the clock to tell time. I was probably standing in the “med” (drug) line, or otherwise waiting for the nurse in that little closet-sized dispensary.

Not too many people were out in the hall at the time. So I saw a girl in the hall curled up in a ball. Right in the hall, on the floor. I said to myself, “This is treatment-induced attention-seeking behavior.” But out loud, I said nothing.

They demanded that she get up, and she started acting like a baby, crying and carrying on. You’d think she was indeed a baby, but when they got her up, I saw that she was a full grown woman, taller than me. Most are. She continued to holler and they threatened her:

“If you don’t stop, we’re getting Security. Now.”

Are you laughing or crying right now? I didn’t know what to think. Maybe you’re thinking, “Oh, that girl had a personality disorder.” If there was such thing, she got it from the hospital. They used to call that a “nosocomial” condition, usually referring to hospital-borne infections. Treatment-induced “illnesses”  run rampant on psych units. All that childish stuff you see was caused by treatment. Ditch treatment, and suddenly you might scare yourself since you aren’t acting like a baby anymore. In fact, you’ll be a whole lot more capable. But you don’t have to believe me. Just keep praising the abusers instead, and see how far that gets you.

I can’t honestly recall if they ended up calling Security or not. I heard someone say, “If she keeps that up, they’ll send her to Thoreau.”

They did. They carted her off, while she screamed.

Feedback and comments welcome!