I Feel Crucified

I realize people who say they are involved in a conspiracy are considered nut cases. To say conspiracies do not exist is completely irrational. In the history of history to say there have been no conspiracies ever is actually more irrational than saying they do exist.

If you go back into this blog you will see other essays about what I’m trying to express.

For the first 40 years of my life I lead a fairly normal happy life. I was born to a poor family but I was later lucky enough to be go to University, travel the world, had careers that were highly respected and successful. I got married and had a child. It was not until I got post partum depression is when I was encouraged to psychiatric drugs all my life.

I had spiritual experiences like synchronicity in my life. Where amazing coincidences lead me down paths to make my life seem to be guided by God forces that got me to amazing places. I got married. I had a beautiful baby boy. I was a good Mom. I was a very hard worker. However, at six weeks post partum in 1992, my OBGYN talked me into going on Prozac. He had been sold the pill by Lilly and probably got a free golf vacation in Hawaii to promote it. Now I feel this was the first criminal act by a doctor against me. Instead of saying, the Post Partum will go away, he said I needed to be on this med the rest of my life. I didn’t know anything about these drugs then. As soon as I went on them they changed my personality and made me manic. I ended up divorcing my husband. That was when Dr.s started the life long forced drugging with psychiatric medication. He was not a a psychiatrist and if I had known better I would have never taken it. This is when my life changed. These horrific drugs they prescribe for everything now, controlled my life. Later in the late 90’s I had stopped this drug. I felt normal again.

Jump to Sept 2003 a clinic overdosed me (by accident?) on my thyroid medication. I did not notice the increased dosage on bottle. As the medication changed my body I began to have ringing in my ears, unusual thoughts and suicidal ideation. I did not realize they had upped my synthyroid. I experience some pretty horrible effects over a period of two weeks due to too much thyroid in my body. I ended up in an ER, where they put me on a gurney in a storage room while waiting for Dr. I was with my partner at the time. When I had arrived I said I was having symptoms of feeling like I was going to die. All this due to thyroid. We waited for hours to be seen. We gave up and tried to leave when a security guard threw me down on the bed and screamed in my ear YOU AREN’T GOING ANYWHERE! I was terrified. A doctor came in and ask me my symptoms. I told him how I felt and instead of asking about my health and my thyroid (doing no blood work) which if they had done would have shown my manic behavior was due to an overdosed thyroid. He immediately in fifteen minutes diagnosed me Bi Polar. I had had only had low grade depression all my life. I could not understand how he could come to this diagnoses in minutes.

I was immediately put in a psych ward ER holding facility where I was locked in a jail room. I was watched and ignored. They would not let me go to bathroom. They let me pee on myself. They took me upstairs to the psych ward and immediately gave me an MRI. While in machine they started asking other techs to come in and look at the scan. They all seemed really concerned about something. While I laid there I got this weird idea that i had a chip in my head. As if they were acting like there was something wrong. Putting a suggestion into my mind. Afterwards I ask them what was all the drama about. They said “oh nothing.” I think they call that a hypnotic suggestion. Why all the techs rushed into the room was beyond me. That was the first time I ever felt I might have a chip in my head. I didn’t want to think of that I’m too rational to entertain that but I’m also not blind when medical people do things I consider odd.

For the next 10 years I was pursued by psychiatrists. They gave me every new anti psychotic made. Since I believe I didn’t have Bi Polar, I believe my mis diagnoses of Bi polar is what made me think I needed the pills. I lost my job. I was put on disability. I was so drugged at times I could not stand. My relationship with my partner deteriorated. If someone takes psychiatric drugs that do not need them, then a brain on these drugs can be damaged which actually creates a mental illness. This happened to me.

Terrible, terrible things happened to me in psych wards. I had no advocate but just one good friend who helped. I know I have PTSD from all this. I also have brain damage from taking these drugs I did not need. My life was terrifying. Meanwhile there were good things that happened.

In 2011 I did research on how to come off psychiatric medication safely. The way they are designed is if you stop cold turkey, the side effects mimic the condition you are taking them for in the first place. I was withdrawing from these meds and my Dr. had left town. I had no doctor. I  had gone to an ER and told them I was withdrawing from psychiatric medication. They only said to take them again. That night the ER sent me home with no help. I went to bed. The next morning at 7am, I was fine, sitting at my desk, just drinking coffee. My partner came out and said causally you have to move out today. We had lived in that home for 10 years and I was on lease. I was actually moving in two weeks as we were breaking up. I was just waiting for the apt to be painted. When he told me to move today I laughed. I can’t move today. How can I do that. He went into his room and locked the door. I started crying and threw some books around. Little did I know he was calling the police. 4 cops showed up at my door. I was calm and respectful and told them I was ill and that I had been in ER night before. I had a piece of paper I showed them that said to come back to ER next day if I felt worse. They arrested me for harassment and I went to jail for three days. I was in shock.

3 weeks later my boyfriend moved his new girlfriend into our home.

In jail they put me in isolation. A doctor came to the door and gave me a Valium and said “you should not be in here.” This was one of the most terrifying moment in my life. I can hardly type it out. They said I would have to go to court unless I said I was guilty and I would be on mental health probation for two years. I took that. It was wrong. All of it was like being crucified.

I can’t begin to type 16 years of the traumatic events. I moved back to Indiana where my family was from. I had to get out of Seattle. Too many shrinks chasing me around. Seattle kept me in the psychiatric system by making me continue to go to shrink in Indiana when I had finally got off all drugs. This is when I felt something, someone was trying to harm me.

The terror did not stop when I moved home. My son who was 20 by now, was my only joy.

One day in 2013 I experienced so much bladder pain, I was peeing all over my house. I did not know it at the time but I had Interstial Cystitis. A chronic bladder condition that makes your bladder shrink and causes severe pain.

There is a true story about a woman named  Eleanor Riese who sued the system to stop forced drugging and a patients right to refuse medication. The side effects of these drugs caused damage to Eleanor’s bladder. It was not until I saw this film, did I see similar situation in myself.

So back to the first time I had intense pain in my bladder. I called an ambulance. They took me to the ER in the hospital where I had my son 20 years before. They gave me morphine and said they could not find anything wrong with my bladder. They had no idea about IC. While I was on morphine, they started to quiz me about my bi polar. Oh God here we go again. They ask if I was stressed. They saw I had good insurance. I told them I was stressed because I was in pain! They gave me something to drink and hours later I woke up on the floor of a psych ward The nurses at desk just sat there as I woke up. Let me lay on floor. I was forced to take drugs against my will. I was in there for two weeks and they never diagnosed my bladder condition.

Two years later the same thing happened again. I was coerced while drugged to admit myself into psych ward even though I was in ER for bladder condition again. I told them I had Interstitial Cystitis. While in psych ward, I was in severe pain. They put me in an empty room with mat on floor because my cries where bothering other patients. I was crying hysterically asking for a urologist. They ignored me. I prayed and prayed and what I heard was “keep crying until they do something.” Finally some “doctor” who was not a urologist came in. He ask me to take down my underwear. He stood six feet from me and ask me to spread my legs. He looked at my vagina from across the room and said “it looks fine to me.”  Both of these incidents took place at St. Vincent Hospital in Indianapolis, Indiana.

This is where I have to stop now. I hate to write things that sound crazy but there have been too many incidents with the psychiatrists and all the drugs. I am normal when I am not on these poisons

Now I live alone. I have PTSD. I meditate. I am very spiritual. But my life story over the last 16 years seems like someone who is being oppressed. Or crucified in a metaphoric sense. The new problems are Urologists who often deflect my bladder problems onto a psychiatric diagnoses.

I often feel there may come a day I may kill myself although I do not want to do that. I have two little grandchildren, but I have so much trauma that I can’t even think somedays. I do have a psychiatrist now who I like since I’m stuck in the system now. I take Lithium. I do have horrible night terrors for last 6 years. My Dr. believe in psychic abilities and has encouraged me to develop them. I’ve also felt like I’ve developed telepathy in last 10 years and never says he thinks I’m schizophrenic. Sometimes angels come to me and say that I am special and all this hell I’ve been through, something wonderful is going to happen to me.

All I feel as I end this never ending essay is how terrifying my Mother is to me. How she can hit and run my mind. If the thing that grew you in her belly, talks to you to make you feel like you want to die, sometimes you wish she would die so I don’t have to be bullied ever again by my first enemy. My Mother. Who tells me I’m nothing and crazy and basically a piece of shit.

Have to go and try to overcome writing this incomplete essay, always feeling like I’m involved in some kind of experiment. I feel like a lab rat. I’m such a loving person and care about the world and I don’t understand how I ended up in this living crucifixion.

I’m mostly alone. No one is there at night when I have nightmares. No one comforts me during panic attacks. I have some good friends who help at times. I only know one thing that will save my life.

For me to meet someone who understands what I have been through and who will make me laugh and never disregard the horrors I’ve seen. I’m so scared I’m unloveable and at 56 it’s almost too late to dream of a better life with someone who loves me.

Maybe I can continue to live by writing and imagining even if they aren’t real, some savior will come save me. Jesus understands. I know he does.

Thank you for reading all this crap. I didn’t believe in conspiracies until all this happened to me. I hold onto my faith as much as possible until it’s not there.