Saturday, 10 November 2012


This is something that I find really hard to talk about, however it has been suggested to me that I should start blogging about it. Not only is it cathartic for me, but I hope that it may give other "survivor's/victim's", as well as mental health professionals, an idea of what it is like to endure and survive. Not only a severe mental breakdown. But sadly, how easy it is for an "unethical psychiatrist", to take advantage of someone much younger than themselves.

I had a severe mental breakdown in the mid 1990's. In the beginning, when I was first admitted to a Private Mental Health Hospital, that I had Post traumatic stress disorder, Major Depression, anxiety and suicidal ideation. At the time this diagnosis was correct. But sadly over time my then treating unethical psychiatrist added to my diagnosis as suffering from Bipolar with Schizoid Affective Disorder. Which I know now is totally incorrect. As well as having PTSD, Major Depression, Generalised Anxiety and Suicidal Ideation. A lot of "labels" for one person isn't it!

In subsequent years I have been seeing a very ethical, reputable and highly qualified psychiatrist/psychotherapist. Who diagnosed me and told me that I definitally don't have schizoid affective disorder at all. However I still do have Post traumatic stress disorder which is well under control now and has been for quite a few years now. At times I do suffer from Major Depressive Disorder and some anxiety occasionally at times too. Which over time I suffer from far less now. I have also been diagnosed a couple of years ago now as actually having Bipolar II.

After quite some time with my new psychiatrist, I was told that I actually have Borderline Personality Disorder, as well as PTSD etc. I wish my original psychiatrist had treated me properly , instead of sexually, emotionally and psychologically damaging me. He could have healed me, however he chose to "groom me". Just like a paedophile does to a child. What he did was so "wrong", it's beyond most people's comprehension.

I believe if I had'nt had the help of my newer psychiatrist, whom for purposes of this blog, I will call Dr. J, I would have died (suicided), very long ago. As well as psychotherapy helping me so much.  My desire and interest in discovering the truth in all things, both  psychologically and spiritually have saved me. I have studied and been involved in many different spiritual  studies and paths for years. But it was finding my link with "The Craft", that has saved me also. As well as my wonderful, loving and sacred relationship with my husband. He is truly the most beautiful soul I have ever met, and I love him so. Especially for his unconditional support , love and care. Times have been very tough sometimes, however he has "always been there for me", even in times of dreadful psychological crisis.

Now back to what happened to me, after being admitted by him. I was put into a double room, with a very young girl. She was approximately 15 years younger than me. Not that I took alot of notice to begin with. I was too upset and afraid, as I had never been inside a psychiatric hospital in my life. I found it frightening, as well as the fact that I was so disoriented. At times the psych nurses would aske me my name? Honestly at times, I really didn't know? That was the most frightening aspect of my PTSD induced breakdown. I had no sense of self identity, I had lost so much of my "authentic self". It basically no longer existed at all, at that time. To be so vulnerable and totally at the mercy of those around you. Not only the psych nurses, and my treating psychiatrist, but at times also the hostility, that sometimes is manifested by other patient's. According to the severity of their mental illness, of course. I felt frightened, alone, abandoned, horrified, scared and worst of all I was so heavily drugged.

I remember now, (and it's taken me years to remember), that everynight I was given high doses of the drug Rohypnol. Which is also known as the "date rape" drug, where predator's are known to dope people up by spiking their drink's and then raping them.

As well as that, I was injected with Largactil (chlorpromazine). Which is the oldest antipsychotic drug, that's use was discovered back in World War II. I digress here, sorry. I was given such a high dose, that once I was in a deep sleep on this, it was incredibly hard to wake up at all. Even to go to the bathroom.

As well as this, he put me on the SSRI antidepressant "Zoloft", which is alot like Prozac. Then he also prescribed on my drug chart the benzodiazapine drug "Xanax". Which of course is highly addictive, and when your not used it, it really knocks a person out as well.

These were all the drugs that I remember being prescribed from day one. Over time my the psychiatrist whom I shall call Dr. C, for the sake of the blog, would prescribe me so many different antidepressants, as well as different antipsychotic's and higher and higher doses of xanax.

Most psychiatrist's know, (which he obviously would have too), that you don't prescribe such a heavy drug regime, ever. As this can lead to not only physical dependence, but also lead to psychological addiction also. Especially xanax, which is what happened to me. Much later down the track.

After sharing a room with my younger "room mate" for four days, I was then given a private room. At the time I thought this was a "good thing", and so did my husband , family and close friends. However Dr. C had a much darker reason for transferring me to a "private room". I think most of you whom have read this far,  probably know why?

As Dr. C was well known for either visiting patient's extremely early in the morning, before seeing his outpatient's for the day. He was also known, (compared to other Consulting Psychiatrists), for seeing some patient's extremely late. I mean from 9.30pm to 11.00pm. Everyone said it was because "he was so dedicated to his job".  At the time I believed it too, I truly did. I kept thinking how lucky I was to have such a caring psychiatrist who came in late especially to see me. As when the psych nurses tried to wake me up to see him early in the morning it was impossible. I was so drugged up, that I literally could not wake up enough to get out of bed and even shuffle down the corridor to the adjoining consulting rooms.

After I had been in hospital only five days, not knowing what day of the week it was? Let alone the month or maybe the year? I was too afraid to go to the communal dining area. I  felt so alone, afraid and intimidated, that I refused to go down and eat. I either hid in my room all day, or sat in the then "smoking room", for most of the day and night. I had always been an on and off cigarette smoker during my life. However after my breakdown, whilst I was in hospital I was averaging 2 1/2 packs of cigarettes a day. I noticed many psychiatric patient's also smoked a lot in there too. Even those who normally don't. I later realised that many mentally ill people smoke to either relieve severe "anxiety", mood disorder's , severe depressive episodes and also because they are so stressed because they are in hospital.

Because I was unable at that time, to go down to the dining room. Dr. C told the staff to make sure that my meals were delivered to my room. Obviously he did this as I was not eating much at all, and this had concerned the  psych nurses who were looking after me. So that was ordered and so it happened, and so it all began.

As I was hardly ever coming out of my room, accept to smoke, I must have been an "easy" or what they call a "soft target". I was very mentally ill and unable to know who I really was. I really find it hard to explain how such a huge loss of identity affected me back then! I remember my Mum and my husband admitting me, on the first day. I still knew who I was then at least. However after five days of being so drugged out, that I had forgotten who I "truly was", and lost so many of my early memories. Right from my childhood,  right up until the age of 32. I had become a stereotypical psych patient, shuffling up and down the corridor, due to all the chlorpromazine and later Olanzpine in my system.

On the fifth night in hospital, I remember seeing Dr. C, in the consulting room's of the hospital, late that night at approximately 10.30pmish. Then I went to my room and went to sleep. As when the drug's really "hit me", I was just bombed out totally. No movement, no dreams, I literally couldn't move.  It was so bad that I remember that night, and sadly, quite a few other's when I couldn't even get to the ensuite bathroom in time in my room. It was so dreadful.

I remember not long after I had fallen into my "drug induced" coma like sleep, that someone came into my room. Then I wasn't sure if I was having a "lucid dream"? Or whether what was happening was real?

I felt his presence hovering over me, and I felt frightened of what was going on. First of all I was afraid that it was one of the male patient's in the hospital. It wasn't. I was my psychiatrist Dr. C, which I didn't realise until quite a long time later. I felt him slobbering all over me, kissing me supposedly. Then he opened my pyjama top, and touched, massaged and kissed my breasts. He was sucking them and pulling my nipple's really hard. 

I didn't like it, he was hurting me. I was frightened of what he was going to do next? I tried to stop him, but the drugs that he had prescribed were enough to knock out an elephant. Let alone me. I felt like I was trapped in a coma or in space, where no one could hear me scream. I couldn't move a muscle, let alone scream or talk. He kept on mumbling something, whilst he kept on slobbering all over my face and breasts.

Then if that wasn't bad enough? He then put his hand down below and started touching me, down there. I thought, "Oh my God", I can't believe this was happening, but it was. My consciousness kept going between kind of awake, and then into a dream like state, because of the drugs. Of course he knew that, so now I know why he prescribed so much medication to me. Especially as  up until then, I had never been in a psychiatric hospital in my entire life.

Then it got worse, as he pulled my pj pant's down, and put his hand right on my vagina. He was still slobbering and  sucking on my nipples, whilst he was rubbing my clitoris. I did become wet, even though I was afraid. It's just the female body's automatic response when being stimulated in such a way.  He obviously knew what he was doing, as even though I was not participating in this, in any way and was horrified at what he was doing. He then went from my clit and plunged his finger, and then  another, deep inside me.

He was going out of his way to make me cum. I couldn't believe what was happening? It was so horrific but that bastard made it also feel really good. Whilst he was doing this he opened his fly and got his penis out and rubbed it against the side of me whilst masturbating himself on me. He kept on fingering me until I felt quite sore. Then he kept on masturbating on me, until he came. I was mortified, disgusted and shocked. I thought I was actually going insane. I couldn't move, all as I could do was "lie there" and feel absolutely powerless and frightened. I just wanted him and his disgusting body weight to get off of me. Because after he came, I was nearly squashed by his body weight on my chest. It really hurt,  it felt like he had cracked a rib. That's how  heavy he was, as at that time he was a very largely built man and very tall.

Finally, thankfully it ended, with him pulling himself off me. Then he wiped all of his semen off one of my breasts. After he had done his fly up and straightened himself out, he whispered in my ear, "Just remember that you are a very sick girl, and that your lucky to have someone looking after you". Yeah right! Not!! sic "Because if you don't get better in here? I will have no choice but to detain you, and put you into the "lock up ward" ! He meant in the State's Public Mental Hospital. Which from what I had heard over the year's, was a really scary place.

Dr. C. obviously used his knowledge of psychiatry against me. He instilled in me such a fear. So not only did he paralyse my body at night with very strong sedation, but he also instilled in me, the fear of being incarcerated against my will in a State Mental Hospital. When a psychiatrist does that here, they have the power to detain you for as long as they deem fit. Unless, (as I found out later), you have a hearing where  various mental health professional's access you. Then they make a decision whether you can be released or not?

As if I didn't have enough to deal with? I'd just had a major nervous breakdown. Then this dreadful psychiatrist, made me more of a victim, than being sexually abused as a child  ever did. His unethical conduct was against everything that  the  doctor's "hippocratic oath" stand for.  What he did, and continued to do more of was worse than bad, it was evil and hurtful to me and other's too.

In the morning when I finally woke up, I felt really weird and disoriented. Far more than I knew from the drug's I was taking.  I asked the  psych nurses , "Did anyone come into my room last night"? They said of course not, you must be imagining things, and/or it could be the drugs you have been prescribed? Especially because you are not used to taking them before coming in here. I kept saying, "No, I have a weird feeling that someone? A man, was in my room doing things". Then one of the nurse's on duty said, "You must be hallucinating"? Then they both laughed. It wasn't very funny at all.

For the rest of the day, I was confused and upset and didn't know where to turn? Or whom to trust in there? I was truly trapped, and I was so confused at the time. I kept on thinking about it all day. Did that really happen to me?? It seemed so outrageous, that my own tortured mind just couldn't accept the data. My mind fought hard to process this that morning. But after lunch, it's like I didn't stand a chance.

I tried to talk to the nurse's on shift, telling them that I didn't want to take any more of their damn drugs. They insisted that I take my "Medications" after lunch. I continued to argue with them after lunch, as I really knew that I didn't want to take any more medication. I may have had a breakdown however I was not psychotic or insane.

They then insisted I take them after telling me that if I didn't co-operate and take my daily and nightly medication's as prescribed. That they were going to contact Dr. C. and tell him that I was being "difficult". They said, "this won't be good for you, you know, and if you continue to be "aggressive and non-compliant towards taking your medication", you will end up  being detained in the ..........State  Mental Health Hospital.