More abuse done by x Hospital and others…I am not surprised

As always, my commentary….

So you all are so shocked that these renowned “hospitals” are so abusive?  You do not believe that I went through these horrors in these places that were supposed to provide care but instead, treated me like I was a caged animal?

For those of you that assume I am lying, exaggerating, or delusional, know that there are plenty of others who are now coming out with strikingly similar stories of abuse. As a matter of fact, I am hearing of the same health care workers (doctors, therapists, hands-on workers) doing the exact same things to patients that were done to me, the same cruel acts.

It is time to unite and speak out and get the perps removed from their jobs.  It’s time to end patient abuse.

There was originally a link here, but I removed it. Sorry!  🙂

Link: Boston Children’s Hospital’s Psych Ward Under Investigation (and a bit of commentary by “yours truly”)

Here’s the link:

This article speaks so much for itself and will tell you so much about the history of the case that there isn’t too much I need to add, except the following:

As you can see, these institutions are indeed very powerful. Everything in this article is 100% true to my knowledge.  I’ve been trapped inside these places, helpless and physically weak and sick, and yes, I’ve heard them put those very same things on my “care plan.” They really do deliberately cut off your communication with the outside world ILLEGALLY in order to prevent “leaks,” that is, in their words, I QUOTE:

“We don’t want you exposing us.”

Now, much later, my own shrink told me I was “trivializing.” Really?  She told me the Five Fundamental Rights were trivial, but you can see them right there in this article and I think our patient rights here in Massachusetts do matter.

These powerful hospitals really hope that their patients are so “out of it” and medically sick that they “forget” such “trivial” stuff.  This is why abuse toward the elderly, hard of hearing,  and demented runs rampant. This is why those who are very, very thin and weak get abused, too.  This is why folks in wheelchairs get abused. This is why those that are overmedicated get abused.  We’re “out of it” and can’t report abuse, so it won’t matter and they can get away with it.

They’re all hoping we will forget.

People, the abusers wanted me medicated. They wanted me put away. They wanted to make sure I stopped writing…for good.

I think they were rather upset to find out that I have an impeccable memory. Sorry, dudes.

That DSM is so inaccurate that it has had to go through five revisions now, and no one can agree on it. It has killed thousands of innocent people, too, torn apart families, and ruined lives.  My memory is made of metaphorical manila folders and little paper cards and it’s worn on the edges.  It’s kept me, one person, alive over half a century DESPITE ALL ODDS.  The DSM is an overpriced book.  My card catalog brain?  I’m not even sure it’s inside my brain, cuz all it is is metaphor, and you know something?  Its priceless.

MindFreedom Shield Alert: Free John Rohrer, raising public awareness, including portions of my own e-mail to John, already sent

Here is a link to the Facebook page which contains all sorts of information:

Please help out in any way that you can.

Hi John,

You don’t know me.  My name is Julie Greene….

I heard about your nightmarish situation via MindFreedom.  I, too, have a Shield.  I have been subject to horrible psychiatric abuse myself and have escaped by the skin of my teeth.  These folks will stop at nothing.

I know how the hospitals can be.  Whatever you say is discredited. They assume you lie about everything, they will walk away shaking their heads acting like you are delusional if you try to report wrongdoing.  Complaining is a sickness.  You are an automatic dirty sinner in the Eyes of God to them. Stupid, deaf, illiterate, useless, a waste of a life.  Of all abuses, it is the lowest of the low.  It erodes your soul.  In the end, the human dignity with which you were born can be almost totally lost.

I say almost.  Because a tiny bit of it, however small, remains as long as you are alive.  Your body will fight to be alive no matter what your thoughts tell you.  After I was badly abused and battered, I came home and found afterward almost all my friends had dumped me, many friendships damaged beyond repair.  My bio family hasn’t been there for me for decades.  My surrounding community rejected me.  They refused to believe a hospital could possibly abuse a patient. I was alone with no one but my tiny dog to comfort me.  I cried alone for over a month and held onto that dog for dear life.  My mind always thought of the horror of the abuse.  I was, and still am, so angry.  I want to shake the world and ask why this injustice happened.

Where do you find any hope at all?  How does a person such as you or I regain faith in humans and ourselves?  You will never, ever find it in an office with some guy who has a zillion degrees on the wall.  If you are paying the guy for human conversation, it’s prostitution as I figure it, not love.  It’s so tempting for lonely people to go back to the “professionals.” Cuz gee, no one else will talk to us.  If “insurance” pays for the shrinks, and doctors urge us to go to them, it’s so tempting to go get therapy and get abused all over again. But I realized this was gonna be the Road to Hell.

No, hope isn’t there, no answers lie there.  I went and found others who had been abused in hospitals, and there, I found companionship and camaraderie.  I am still angry but I rant a whole lot less nowadays and I’m an easier person to be around.  I cry a whole lot less.  I find joy in reaching out to folks like you, John, and offering friendship and understanding.  Not everyone has been there.


I had to edit out a few things from what’s here.  I have stated, and I’ll state again that I believe at this point relocating out of state and ensuring none of my psych history follows me is my best option, perhaps my only option.  I’m not sure what John’s options will be once he’s out.  Everyone’s situation is different. Some folks actually have families that still love them.  I wasn’t so fortunate.  If my family members love me at all, they’ve had a weird way of showing it all these decades.

Reflecting on the past few months: severe anorexia nervosa and subsequent abuse in a hospital

I guess this is a story of how I got better from anorexia nervosa, in a nutshell.  It’s not a pretty story about a horse farm.

While cleaning out my computer today, I opened a few old video files and watched them.  One was done not long before I entered the hospital last summer, and the other was shot only a few days after my return.

I am not at all surprised at what I saw. Before the hospital I was rather “out of it,” seeing as I was starved, rather spaced out and in my own little world.  I didn’t talk about starvation at all, but of course I appeared rather shockingly thin.  I didn’t show my full body but it’s quite clear just looking at my face.  I never look like that unless I’m “bad off.”

However, I appear to be enjoying myself.  I showed some of my belongings to the camera, dumb little things, then picked the cam off the computer and showed the viewer a peek at little Puzzle.  I laugh frequently, too, and seem surprisingly carefree considering that in the back of my mind, I assumed it wouldn’t be long before I would drop dead.  Also in the back of my mind I was panicked thinking that at some point, I might get “caught” at what I was doing, and sent to a hospital. I was scared, because I’d been abused before, so I had no intentions of showing up at one again.

So what were my options? I figured my two choices were to get “help” or die.  I dreaded what I’d seen of “help” and didn’t want to put myself through all that. So I figured death was the better option.

I hadn’t considered the alternative: eat.  Yes, eat.  That would have solved everything. I guess if I’d realized just how badly I needed to avoid hospitalization on all costs, I would surely have seen things differently.  I knew hospitals were bad, but my experience  that began perhaps a week later, August 12 through 22nd, at Mount Auburn Hospital was by far a worse nightmare than I could ever have imagined.

The other video I am doing from my bed. I was so physically ill after the hospital that I could barely do anything except lay in bed and cry.  I was told to go to a day program, but this was out of the question because I had so much edema in my lower body.  It went right up from my huge feet to my bra line.  You could make dents all the way up my legs, on my buttocks and even into my stomach. The kidney doctor said he wanted me in a lying down position with my legs raised high, at every moment I had that I didn’t have to be doing something else. This isn’t the same as “bed rest,” as it’s known, when a patient is instructed not to leave bed due to dangerously low blood pressure or another danger.  I wasn’t in that kind of danger like that, but I was instructed to lay down to reduce edema.

I was also feeling very sick when I did the video.  After all, I was recovering from acute renal failure.  It takes a long time to get better after that.

But there was one more thing I noted that in fact overwhelmed me.  This was the loss of dignity I felt following the horrendous abuse done to me in the hospital. You can’t undo that loss overnight.  I was alternately tearful, shaken, and full of rage.  I was also physically exhausted.  You can see that the incidents of abuse are still playing like movies inside my head.  I appear ed distracted and pummeled by these memories, and I had a lot of trouble putting a sentence together.

This, to me, is tragic. Sure, I had a lot of weight restored, but the damage from trauma ran deep.

Today, I don’t feel those things half as much.  I was crying all the time after the abuse, and to make things worse, there was no one I could talk to about it. People couldn’t believe a top notch hospital could be a prison like that if someone is being treated for a serious medical condition.  I was not in there for psychiatric treatment, and in fact received no counseling.  I was only force-drugged.  I was belittled by a majority of the Mount Auburn personnel.

One thing helped me, though, and I can see this clearly now.  I was determined to meet others that had also been abused in hospitals.  I knew I hadn’t made up or imagined or incorrectly perceived what had happened.

Most people have the capability to distinguish caring from abuse.  No way were these abusive personnel doing acts of caring. This was abuse.   I have never questioned my judgment here.  Not once have I questioned the validity of my perception of what happened at MGH in 2011.

Some were convinced I was psychotic and “imagining things”…of course not. I wasn’t so “out of it” from starvation not to recognize abuse.  I was a good girl and took an antipsychotic as instructed for a period following the abuse at MGH, and yet I continued to maintain everything I originally said, that I had been cruelly abused.  Why should I not? All of it indeed happened and no pill will change the facts.

Now we know about the severe abuses masterminded by Boston Children’s Hospital and Child Protective Services, I think more people are waking up to the fact that this indeed can happen. If it happens to vulnerable children, then surely, it happens plenty to adults.

It was the answer for me to find others that had had this experience.  Together, we are working to make these horrors stop.  Today, I don’t look like I did in the first video, because I am not starved.  Nor do I look so devastated as I did in the second video.  I am able to lead a productive life again, but it has taken time.

I have joined forces with the antipsychiatry movement and I don’t ever intend to see another shrink of any type, ever.  I love the new person that I have become. I am free of mental health care.  I am the rebel kid I always was inside.  I am a former girl hitch-hiker who loves her dog, nothing more.

Rethinking…and realizing that some docs will even tell horrible lies to get people to take antipsychotic drugs….

I have been thinking and thinking, looking over my records. No way did Dr. P ever want me on Zyprexa or back on Seroquel or any drug that would cause ridiculous weight gain or had polyphagia as a side effect.  She acknowledged the devastating effect that Seroquel had on me.

But when I was in Mount Auburn Hospital, where I was literally imprisoned, the docs told me that Dr. P wanted me on Zyprexa and was in full support of what was amounting to forced drugging. The doc at Mount Auburn told me he refused to discharge me unless I took Zyprexa, and said for now, it would be PRN.

I took one and prayed it wouldn’t do too much harm.  I was scared to take even one pill, remembering having taken Zyprexa and the intolerable effect it had on me in 1997. Within days, I was pigging out uncontrollably, nonstop, during every waking moment I had. Sure, I was underweight and needed to eat, but not like that!  The doc I had back then took me off Zyprexa right away. Another thing it did was make me sleep 16 hours a day and during the few hours I was awake, I acted like a zombie.  If they’d kept me on it much longer back in 1997, I guess I would have ended up hospitalized very quickly, since I was too dopey, even on the lowest dose, to care for myself, and the nonstop eating was rendering me unable to function anyway.

But I took the one pill, asking myself how on earth I would get out of forced drugging once I got out of there. I had no clue what my fate would be, if they would stick me on some psych ward and then court-order me onto the deconate, or if I’d be able to get out of going to the psych unit.

As it turned out, they couldn’t get me onto the psych unit.  Finally, finally, finally, someone actually spent time with me, evaluated me, and determined that in no way am I violent or suicidal and they should never have put sitters on me in the first place. The person who took time to listen to me concluded that the sitters shouldn’t be there, since they were unnecessary, and what they were doing was stressing me out and making me pissed off.  The person who actually listened understood my need for privacy and that the sitters had not only broken patient privacy laws without good medical cause, and also that I was telling the truth about the abuse.

This evaluation done by the outside organization was done on a Tuesday I believe, and they found no medical reason for me to be incarcerated on a psych unit or tormented any further.  Unfortunately, the interview ended well after business hours and the person didn’t leave paperwork in my chart. She left and forgot.  I lay in bed and waited and waited, knowing something would happen, something had been proven, but nothing happened.  I knew somehow, something was amiss, but I had no clue the person had left without leaving paperwork.

The next morning, the med student showed up and when I inquired, she started to tell me I was completely psychotic and had imagined the interview. Told me it never happened, that this outside person didn’t exist, and that I was either lying or delusional.  I got pissed off and demanded that she go to my chart, surely, this person couldn’t have left without a trace! But the med student came back and said there was no evidence of this interview.

Thank goodness for telephone access.  I was strong and alert enough to be able to use the phone and make calls, so I remembered the name of the organization from which this person had come, and I phoned them.  It took many calls before I finally reached the correct office.  The person told me that the interviewer had most likely written up SEVEN PAGES about me, and that the fact that these seven pages were missing was an oversight.  I asked if please they could phone the unit and arrange for immediate faxing of these seven pages.  Of course, the staff was thinking all this frantic calling and arranging was some kind of delusional scheme on my part and that maybe I was “agitated” and about to off myself.  Oh, the lovely misunderstandings!

So very shortly afterward, the fax arrived. This was Wednesday, around 11.  Changes immediately happened, and 3 the sitters were finally out of my room.  Not only that, I was allowed to close my door completely to have privacy and shut out the godawful hall noise. The following day (not that I had any clue this would happen before it did) I was released and allowed to go home.  Liberated at last.

So since then, I’ve been asking myself, as I said, why on earth Dr. P would support my being forced onto Zyprexa?  Know something?  I don’t think she was at all in support of it.  I plan to get my records ASAP.  I’m sure they were completely lying that Dr. P wanted this Zyprexa deal, and were only saying it out of desperation to get me to take the stuff.

Wow, what an ordeal, and this is only part of it. I’m glad I got out of that imprisonment and am free now. Those people there were the insane and illogical ones, not me.


Are you an army of one? Try using social media…and don’t give up!

So say you were the victim of mental health stigma, discrimination, or medical or psychiatric abuse, whatever you want to call it.

So now what?  Everyone around you tells you the following: “The doc/hospital/therapist was right. You were sick and that person was justified doing what he/she did.”

Of course, most well-meaning, caring people will tell you this.  It’s NORMAL for them to do that cuz no one wants to be accusatory or point a finger. That’s uncomfortable, right?

So, for instance, I was told by a very well-meaning, caring friend that the therapist who made a pass at me last spring, called me Honey from the start, and invited me out on a weekend-long date was a good therapist and right in doing what he did. Okay, I’m used to this sort of thing, this “justifying abuse” thing. People don’t mean harm by saying stuff like that. They want you to stop being pissed off, right? They think they are being helpful by justifying the abuse and smoothing it over.

The man who raped me was nice to me too.  He had his good qualities.  Of course he did or I never would have gone over there for coffee that night.

I didn’t talk about the rape afterward except to the rape counselor. No way did she once say the man who raped me was “justified” in what he did, or that I should forgive, or turn the other cheek. She encouraged me to never speak to him again and take steps to change my life so that I would never have to run into him, ever again.

Yes, you can compare. Abuse is abuse.  They say if a child is verbally abused, or physically abused, no way should we justify it and tell that child, “You deserved to be bullied,” or, “You asked for it.”  We hope we don’t tell a child that it was their own fault that they were bullied over their weight, do we? If a kid gets his lunch stolen, do we tell that kid he was delusional and maybe exaggerating, and maybe it’s cuz his grades need improving and the other kids were teaching him a lesson? If a kid from another country gets beat up, do we tell him it’s his own fault because he speaks another language at home?

But no, mental patients are told regularly that abuse by “treatment” is just fine. We are told we were sick and deserved to be locked up, battered, shoved aside, ignored, yelled at, deprived of basic needs, wrongly accused, threatened repeatedly, and repeatedly the victims of force and further bullying.  Many are physically or sexually abused.  Verbal abuse is a given.  Disrespect is a given.  Everyone has to fight to get quality care and you are lucky to get it at all.  Our privacy is stripped from us and this, too, gets justified. We were sick and that makes it okay. Why? The abuser didn’t want a lawsuit in case of some accident. The abuse is justified because it’s okay and legal for the abuser to cover his ass.

I say no more. We patients have asses too.  We need them covered, not stripped bare and lashed.

So if you have been abused and you tried to report the abuse and got NO RESPONSE from the human rights people…what next?

Don’t give up!  I know what it’s like. A lot of people around you telling you you are lying, making it all up, exaggerating, telling you it couldn’t have happened, or telling you to “forgive,” or telling you you are now even sicker and need more pills. No, you’re just pissed off and scared, not sick, and I don’t think any of this should happen to a person. The social rejection that follows abuse sucks. I don’t care for the religious zealots telling me to pray for the abusers, either.  I won’t do it and yes, I have in the past.  It never helped, and I was always sorry I said, “I forgive.” I was sorry I let it go and didn’t follow through.

I think if I’d followed through and DONE SOMETHING about bad quality health care, about uncaring or abusive therapists and staff, I would have gotten better lots faster than I did. Decades sooner, in fact.  Isn’t that amazing, the thought of it, that TAKING ACTION really helps?  It does!

If no one is listening right now, if you feel hopeless right now, get on social media.  Give that a try. If one venue isn’t working (like if you get slammed down and told how sick you are) try another.

Yesterday was my birthday and honestly, I had 90% of my birthday on social media.  I went for a run and went out with Puzzle and cuddled with her. I did a lot of writing as usual. Oh, I bought some books for myself too.

I had a great birthday and I mustered up some support on social media, too.  Wow, that felt so good.  Honestly, I can’t get anyone around here to go out with me for coffee, but I bet many of my Facebook friends would go out for coffee with me if they lived nearby. That feels wicked decent, about as decent as it gets.

Don’t stop trying. Don’t give up.  Please, our voices WILL be heard.

Renaming: “psychiatric abuse” becomes “medical abuse”

This broadens the definition, for one thing, and my intention isn’t to pin it on one branch of medicine but to say that our whole system is based on


however, THE PATIENT KNOWS BEST.  Now why do I say this seemingly dumb thing?  Our doctors are trying to steal our bodies from us.  We are being managed.  We don’t need management. We need to reclaim our bodies and choose for ourselves and make our own decisions. Yet the medical world is trying to take the decisions out of the hands of responsible adults and families and put these choices in the hands of profit-makers.

So if we decide we want a second opinion, or we disagree with the determination of “expert,” whether this is a psychiatrist or another medical specialty, our rights and freedom are legally taken away.

Psychiatric abuse is one form of medical abuse and I think often, medical abuse involves psychiatry because psychiatry is the one medical profession that actually imprisons its patients.  Psychiatry can also put a legal order on someone and forcibly make the person do something via the courts.  All it takes is the opinion of a psychiatrist, who uses no specific scientific proof, just his word, that you are WRONG, and poof!  Court order.

We are also seeing parents lose custody of their children, that is, minors, because the parents disagree with the all-holy doctors.  The kids have no voice.  No one listens to the kids and they are caught in the middle.  The parents are silenced, called abusers, and the giant institutions legally take away any decision-making ability they had.

So I need to use new words.  Medical abuse. Which includes psychiatric abuse of course…it is a given. These go hand in hand.

I am going to start my newsletter…at some point…I am so tired right now.

Protest in Boston: Are you going? Boston Children’s Hospital IMPRISONMENT of a child, Justina Pelletier

Here’s the petition:

Please sign!

There will be a protest in Boston coming up on Sunday the 5th. I will be there.

Ted Chabasinski (now that’s a tough one to spell) will be there, too!  Here’s a link to his article:

I’m all psyched for this one. Watch for me…I’ll most likely be there holding my sign saying, “Never, Ever Shut Up.”

End Psychiatric Abuse!

Gang mentality and psychiatric abuse

It might be a far shot…bear with me for a sec…remember I said I actually WATCHED those You-Tubes of the police beatings of that homeless guy that was brutally beaten a while back in California?

What happened was this: a homeless guy named Kelly was hanging out.  A bunch of cops started harassing him.  Suddenly, the cops, maybe four or five of them, were beating him senselessly!  For absolutely no reason!

Yep, it all got caught on security camera and it is most likely still up there on You-Tube and I have watched it.  It’s painful to see.  Now this was a big eye opener for me on many levels.  But one level was this: gang mentality.  I doubt one cop, acting alone, would have done that.  But acting together, something happened.  It’s that ganging-up thing.  Bullying multiplied.

I believe psychiatric abuse can happen very much the same, even with everything electronic, in fact, our electronic system is working against patients sometimes.

So, “She’s crazy,” gets passed around and the whole crew gets together in their gang meetings.  Ever see a bunch of doctors in a huddle?  Sure looks that way to me.  Bunch of bullies.

See ya later.