Psychiatry – A Place for the Wicked
This article is for everyone that thinks about going into a psychiatry or people must go there soon. I hope this will help you make the right decision and what I experienced does not mean that you will experience it too.
I am going to dig very deep here and I don’t feel comfortable writing about it. Going into a psychiatry belongs to the bad experiences. Before I am going to tell you my story about my stay in the psychiatry I need to say that the clinic itself was very clean and up to date. Let’s start with the story.
It happened to me six years ago (2010).
I already had depression for some years and I was just sitting in my room playing video games all day long. I had good times playing video games and I still do it every day for 2 hours. Becoming a pro gamer was what I dreamed of. But it would not happen because I am an introvert and I got the anxiety of shivering. And I do not write that lightly.
Years and years I only went out after I drank 2 beers because people were laughing about my shivers. Alcohol calmed me down and made me give fewer fucks. Over the years I isolated myself more and more and I often wished that I was dead. Life felt unfair (even more than for others) because of my anxiety. Of course, that is not the case anymore. I still shiver when I am nervous but that does not stop me from greatness anymore.
I have built my body and my business and I have done things where other people would have shit in their pants. It is a long hard road and the shivers will never go away.
Then at Christmas 2010 it finally happened. I lost my shit and I got really angry because it is the time of the year where everyone celebrates with the family and pretend like everything is going well right? Nothing was alright in my life.
I was 20 years old and already depressed for years, my hair started to fall out, I was skinny as fuck, poor, had no more friends and I was still somewhat mediocre at Warcraft 3 (and the game was slowly getting replaced by Starcraft 2 later) without hope for a better future.
I freaked out. While we were eating I took my plate and threw it away and kicked my door in because I could not take it anymore. I was crying, my mother started crying and my sister too. My mother then got her boyfriend to my room who tried to threaten me and my sister called the police. The police forced me to make a decision: Either you go with us and you can stay in open therapy (means I can go out), or you resist and we will put you into the closed psychiatry (means I can NOT go out). Well… easy choice.
I was a piece of shit and everyone treated me like that. That night I thought about jumping from the rooftop or hurting someone else.
So I came into the psychiatry and there were only Muslims because everyone else was busy celebrating Christmas. At least they were friendly. The nurses came to me and took my blood and gave me a room. I was sleeping in a room with a guy that thought that the roof will fall on his head. He snored every night… And the nurses refused to give me a new room.
Slowly I became insane but I also found people that were fucked up like me and that did somehow accept me which calmed me down and gave me a sense of belonging for the first time in my life.
And Medication? After the first week, they started to give me several medications and I had to take them otherwise they would kick me out and I would be homeless.
These medications did nothing for me. Any medication against depression or my shivers never helped. Nothing helped me. But I still laughed a lot with the other “patients” because they were showing me that other people have problems too and that I am “not alone”. The nurses and the doctors saw that I laugh a lot and They thought I was healed.
Bullshit. They did not even touch the roots of my problems. I had no purpose, I had no reason to live and I still have my shivers despite all the other problems.
I went to the therapist 15 times and we talked about finding work, purpose in life, love, hate and all that stuff you can talk about with your friends. That therapist also gave me some exercises to increase my confidence which was the only good thing. This therapist was not different from the 6 others that I visited in my life.
The nurses there were really incompetent. That kind of full dominant feminists that tell you to take this or fuck you. What they sometimes said to the people was so fucked up… “Don’t dress like this we are not in a whorehouse” and she didn’t even look like one.
The picture on the top is absolutely correct. The people there do not give the slightest fuck about you. They are just doing their job to get money.
I remember the story of that one guy called “Mario”. He had no drive or anything. We sat in a circle and everyone told their “how did they end up here” story. He said “I stood at the train station and waited for a train, police came to me and asked what I am doing here and I just replied “waiting for the train” and then they took me here“.
The whole group was laughing and it was hilarious and even Mario laughed (and he rarely laughed). Then a nurse came and said we are not allowed to talk about that.
Shit just happened too often. After my stay was over no one gave a shit about me going and I went home again…
The medication did not help, nurses were incompetent, people still don’t give a shit about you and they never will, time was wasted and in the end, I even had to pay 300€ for my stay against my will. Since then I know that SSRI and other medications are not good and alter the brain. The therapy was useless as always.
The therapists were effeminate males and the female therapists were feminists. The usual stuff. And besides that, the people cheered me up (because we were similar) they were pretty negative all around (like me).
Some even got drugs in there and fucked in their rooms. And the nurses always checked their bags, that still did not keep them from getting drugs in there and fucking in their rooms.
That was my uncensored and honest experience with the psychiatry stay. I hope this helps you to make the right decision.
About the Post Author
Philip Braselmann was born 1990 in Germany and suffered from depression for 12 years after being diagnosed with essential tremor. He slowly learned to cope with it and went the normal route that every man walks. After his girlfriend cheated he was depressed again and decided that he is going to live a good life. It took Philip another year to realize that masculinity was the answer to getting rid of his depression. He loves Modafinil, working out and building his Business.