Fed Up

Miss Hell.

That’s what I’ll call her for the purpose of this blog.

Miss Hell is a nurse at the crisis facility.

She’s always been kind to me and seemed supportive…until two days ago.

Amidst the turmoil of all of this, it was refreshing to have someone who was nice and who listened and offered support…so unlike the rest of the staff.



After the last trip to the ER, EVERYONE in DBH has major attitude with me. More than normal.

They (always) act like I’m doing all of this to somehow cause them problems…like I’m a menace to society, something terrible that needs to be obliterated for the greater well-being of mankind.

Not that I’m sick, mind you, I couldn’t just be sick…in need of medical care.

No, according to them, I’m purposefully just trying to make all of their lives and jobs harder.

Miss Hell, I trusted, because she acted like she was on my side.

She’s not.

I called her to ask her some questions the other night, which I’ve done from time to time when I can’t get any information or help from other DBH staff. She’s always been helpful before.

But this time, her response was, quite literally, shocking. I had a hard time wrapping my mind around it.

She said:

1. I did so much better at the state hospital, I should just go back.

2. That I only harm myself or make suicide attempts that I know will fail just for the attention.

(Attention seeking is apparently the worst crime known to humankind, so far as the Utah Mental Health System is concerned. Attention seekers are far, far beneath even chronic sex offenders.)

3. “What are you going to do, just keep hurting yourself for the rest of your life?”

Well, if DBH holds me hostage that long, I just might!

Not because I want to…but because they seem to be enjoying this little game…

Traumatizing me, aggravating me, manipulating and emotionally/psychologically tormenting me…driving me to self harm…and then villifying me for it.

Like some sick, twisted sadistic psycho dies to his captive in a horror movie.

I’ve heard all the same bullcrap before from plenty of mental health workers over the years.

But I was absolutely stunned to hear this coming out of Miss Hell’s mouth. She has NEVER belittled me before…

And I’ve come to the realization that I cannot trust a single soul employed by the mental health system.

I don’t know if these people can actually help me or not, but I feel quite certain they don’t want to.

Even when they’re nice to me, it seems to be a means to an end.

I feel foolish…like I was set up!

I trusted her, reached out for support, and got my face slapped…again.

With no warning, just out of the clear blue sky…the shock of it was worse than what she actually said!

No more, I’ve had enough.

I’m not trusting anyone here ever again.

Notes from Ghostwriter:

We’ve observed time and again what seems to be a “good cop/bad cop” routine among the staff.

Repeatedly, the “mean” ones drive the patient to the “nice” ones, where she leans heavily for support. Each and every time, when things get difficult, the “nice” ones inevitably turn on her and echo the “mean” ones.

The hard part is, because she trusted the nice ones and opened up to them, they know exactly how and where to strike to make it hurt the most.

Definitely not accidental or coincidental.

Pretty diabolical, yet effective way to silence victims, in my opinion. Many clients are stuck in the system with no family or outside support. They cannot trust staff, and they just…shut down.



My therapist told me today that DBH isn’t going to make me go inpatient because it makes me “worse.”

She claims that the crisis facility is an exception, though, and really helps me.

Anyone else see a problem with this?

–via the Ghostwriter


Feeling very cautious about blogging these days. Hackers, lurkers, subtle threats from staff…

My therapist is pushing for me to start trauma therapy with her…but still inducing trances and I’m worse off with each visit.

She put me in a “seeking safety” group…I had to leave because I randomly burst into tears and couldn’t calm down during the group.

Not exactly “safe.”

Seems life is pretty much ok…so long as I have no contact with DBH.

As soon as I have contact, I take a mental health plunge.

⚠️ Trigger warning! Self harm. ⚠️

Had another blackout tonight.

I lay down and went to sleep around 6 pm.

Next thing I knew, I was looking around panicking and wondering where I was…

And then I recognized the ER.

I now have 7 staples in my neck.

In all my years of self harm, I’ve never cut my neck before this last month…this is the second time.

The crisis worker in the ER was mean, drove me to sobs.


Because it’s my third time there.

What do these people expect from self harmers?

I think I may want to learn how to stitch my own wounds just to avoid further mistreatment…from a freaking crisis worker, no less.

He contacted DBH.

They told him if it was a suicide attempt, they wouldn’t pay for anything.

He said it looked like a suicide attempt. (I’d have to agree, but I wasn’t feeling suicidal when I went to sleep.)

DBH’s recommendation:

Make a safety plan with me and send me home.


(Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad…but I recognize how messed up that is…)

Now, that’s the same ol’ Davis Behavioral Health I’ve grown to know and loathe.

I was starting to not be able to recognize them…when they kept me three weeks (when I wasn’t really suicidal) in the crisis facility…and when they actually made me feel suicidal while there.

It’s much more like their norm to send me home after a suicide attempt…or even while I’m expressing a desire to kill myself.

(That’s how I got to the state hospital, in the first place.)

Now, I’m back home…waiting.

Waiting for tomorrow to find out my fate.

I could be kicked out of housing.

I could be sent somewhere inpatient.

It’s pretty unpredictable…their responses are never the same…or very logical.

One thing is for sure…this cut is going to hurt like hell while healing.

I can’t even find the weapon…I’ve searched the apartment, I see nothing…again…to indicate how I might have cut myself.


It may sound crazy, but sometimes I wonder if someone else is doing it…

I’ve had bruises on my hands and a jammed finger at times, too. (Happened somehow during blackouts, and looks like maybe there was a struggle.)

I just don’t know.

–via the ghostwriter


Well, the struggle continues.

I spent a few days with my aunt, and then with a friend. Quality of life seems tolerable…except when I’m in this apartment.

I have three roommates now…all three are barely tolerable and making life very difficult. I can hardly wait to get into my own place.

After being gone over weekend and Monday, I came back here yesterday afternoon…and the overwhelming depression set in again.

I lied down around 7:30 pm to take a nap.

Next thing I knew, it was after 11:30 pm, and I was driving.

No clue where I’d been.

I was only a few blocks from the apartment heading home. A quarter tank of gas missing.

I called my friend…who had texted me hours earlier. She said she was wondering where I was for hours because she got no reply.

I discovered the culprit once inside because my arm was aching. 19 stitches…and a hospital bracelet.

And no memory of it.

I logged in my health account online and read the ER notes.

They said I was “low risk” for suicide and sent me home…even though they reported I told them I was suicidal.

It makes no sense…

Most of the time I tell them I’m NOT suicidal and they don’t believe me.

Now they say I told them I was, but “low risk.”

Because I have no memory of any of it, I can’t say for sure happened.

But I’m really tired of this…and pretty freaked out.

This dissociation and blackouts are getting worse. Seems to be increasingly worse with every interaction I have with my APRN, therapist, or the group they gave me attending.

The only time I seem to be ok is when I’m out of DBH completely and with friends or family.

I need OUT permanently, it seems pretty clear.

–via the ghostwriter


Temporarily, this blog cannot receive email messages.

Some unknown person or persons reported the email associated with this blog, claiming that they’ve been harassed by it.

The email server suspended the account.

We have lurkers here, saboteurs…

Which would likely be certain someone’s who have a particular, personal interest in what’s being said.


All self harm and blackouts stopped after the last blog.

The facility did not keep her but one night.

So, “hello” to our lurkers!