Tales from the Hell-hole - Part 1

My husband said the most touching thing to me yesterday when I told him that I was considering writing some posts about my experiences in South Oaks Mental Institution, circa 1985. He said that it hurts him so deeply that I had to go through all this crap with my family and that he wishes to put as much space that he can between then and now.

I tried to explain that there are just some events in one's life where you will never forget --traumatizing, life altering events. Almost 25 years have passed, and I can still feel the sting of my parents' betrayal. They created an elaborate ruse in order to lock me in an institution when I was 15 years old. I wrote about it in a previous post.

I yearned for freedom ever since I can remember. Nothing could have prepared me for life in a locked institution where some of these kids actually had REAL problems like being violent, stealing, alcohol or drug problems, schizophrenia, psychosis, Bulimia and many other anti-social behavior problems.

As with the bullying and the tormenting which I endured throughout my childhood during school, I will never forget those who made my life hell. Some victims of extreme bullying chose to bring weapons to school and annihilate those who victimized them. I could understand their desperation and frustration. I had often wanted to do harm to those that bullied me too and those that betrayed me - my parents.

South Oaks Unit NW 2

Life in 1985, South Oaks Unit North West 2 was never dull. There was always someone who was angry and about to "go off." "Going Off" was a phrase that was frequently used in the institution. Basically, it meant to have a temper tantrum or some other violent outburst. This could consist of violence to staff or another patient, destruction of property or self-mutilating behaviour.

Throughout the hospital, an alert system was implemented to deal with these all too frequent incidences. For example, if an ashtray was flung across the room, the person who tossed it was then tackled by the male staff on the unit. (3-4)


If they received any resistance from the patient, an announcement would be made over the PA system. "222 North West 2." This meant that there was a patient on our unit who was "going off" and all available male staff members should RUN to the aforementioned unit to provide back-up to the staff.

The decision to call a "222" was publicly heard by all of us on the unit, since the male staff would have to yell to the nursing station, where the PA system operated, typically across the unit, during the heat of a confrontation. We, the patients, would gawk and some would cheer or yell for the nurse to "Call a 222." This, I'm sure, contributed to confusion among the staff.

But it was then where it was decided how much action we would see. Would the institution raise the level of violence by bringing in the forces?

When a "222" was called, we would watch as 10-20 adult men in white coats, ran into our unit from all 4 entrances, looking for the commotion. Meanwhile the female staff members were attempting to protect the remaining patients who were still trying to get close to the action.

After 8-10 men pile on top of the angry adolescent, they would tie him into a straight jacket and then give him a shot of Thorazine to calm him down. The patient is then dragged or hauled by the male staffers to "Flight Deck" to be evaluated by his doctor.

Flight Deck is where the REAL crazies were housed.

There were some memorable characters locked up with me. One guy, Tony, was a leader of a gang from Brooklyn and he was ordered to be in South Oaks by the court. It was either hospitalization or incarceration. So, we were subjected to Tony's gang mentality and behaviour.

Morning Meeting

Every morning after room check and breakfast we had a unit meeting. This forum and the weekly mandated "Women's Group" became a bitch fest. But it was here where we received all the important information from staff -- who was running low on cigarettes and had to call their parents to deliver more or who needed to bathe more because they stunk.

Anyway, one morning, we were informed that a staff member had lost her keys. This set of keys included her personal car and house keys and also the keys to unlock the doors within South Oaks. We were not allowed to have keys or any such objects, lest we try to use them as a weapon on others or ourselves.

We were told that we were under lock down until these keys were located. This meant that we would not be enjoying our daily outing of walking 50 feet to participate in mock school, RT (Recreational Therapy - AKA -Fucking GYM) or OT (Occupational Therapy - AKA - Fuckin' Arts and Crafts.)

Violations

During this period, we had our rooms stripped bare and searched. We were taken one by one into the nurses area and strip searched - every cavity.

We were also interrogated individually by hospital administration who threatened us with the wrath of the entire administration of South Oaks.

Despite their effort, no keys were found.

A Reprieve

After about a week of this, I suppose they realized that they couldn't keep us in lock down forever. Teens were required to be educated and to participate in recreation and all the usual crap that public schools offer.

The first day back in the educational building, I sat on the bleachers to read a book. Tony, the gang member, was shooting hoops in the gym. He was alone, and I was ignoring him. I heard a clank and saw keys fall to the floor when Tony jumped up to throw the ball.

It was apparent that these were the keys that the staff and hospital administrators were searching for the prior week since keys were considered contraband.

Threats and Fear

Tony's eyes locked onto mine. He didn't have to say a word. His eyes said it all. His look was threatening. I had every reason to be afraid since he claimed to have connections in a gang

I said nothing to anyone. Not only was I afraid for my life but I had no idea what Tony planned to do with these keys. Was he planning to break out? Was it just him or were other people involved? Maybe he was planning to have someone else break in. I didn't know what Tony planned to do with these keys or how much of a safety threat this was.

I was on high alert, waiting for something to happen. I decided to confide in my roommate, Laura. I guess she was scared to have this knowledge because that evening I was called into a meeting with the staff. I was told that they found the keys in Tony's possession and he is no longer a threat to me.

Busted anyway

I was relieved. But then I was informed that all my privileges were revoked -- smoking whenever I wanted instead of having to wait for the allotted 'cigarette times', going outside for recreation, having visitors other than your parents, having passes to leave the grounds with parents.

I was so pissed. I was being punished because I didn't rat on Tony. This is the way these institutions operated and still do, to the best of my knowledge. They rely on a system of rewarding rats and punishing those who don't fall in line. It didn't matter that my life was endangered and it still was, as far as I was concerned, because Tony had ample time to give my name out to his gang pals in Brooklyn.

Sorry, but I just didn't have the confidence that South Oaks had the ability to protect me from dangerous gang members. And I still don't. How dare they punish me for putting the value of MY OWN LIFE above following the rules and the functioning of the institution?

This seems to be a repeated theme in my life - having to endure unjust and disproportionate consequences for not falling in line and following the rules that are apparently expected.

It has not been in vain. I still have my integrity and my identity, though the price has been high.