The Claire Scrolls

Institutionalization is Evil

Background #

In 2015, I was involuntarily committed. The details are personal; suffice to say, undiagnosed mental health problems caught up with me. However, what I needed was community support, care, and resources; being locked up was actively detrimental to my health and life. More than that, just about everyone who knows the details of the story are shocked that I was even involuntarily committed at all. When I was taken to the ER, the paramedics said I’d be home by the evening. The doctor that was taking care of me said they doubted I would need inpatient care, but they needed to run it by a social worker. They told me they would be surprised if the social worker did commit me. Even the police, who came to do a wellness check for me the following day, were absolutely shocked when my wife (then fiancée) informed them that I had been committed.

And yet, I was committed anyway. A social worker finally arrived after nearly twelve hours of waiting in the ER. He interviewed me. My paperwork mentioned I had gender dysphoria. He asked if I was on HRT. I said yes. I was twenty; I had started at nineteen. He was shocked. Told me that was far too young, that my mental health emergency proved that I was incapable of making that decision at my age. So, in the great liberal state of Washington, I was involuntarily committed, in large part because of my gender identity.

My time in the hospital was not pleasant. A lawyer working for the hospital told me that I could go to see a judge and try and get out of it. But they also cautioned me against it, saying it would be “embarrassing”. They asked me to sign a waiver, allowing the hospital to hold me for two weeks without needing to see a judge. I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept. The lawyer told me it was doubtful I’d be held for two weeks. I signed the paper.

Two weeks later, the hospital asked for me to sign an extension on the waiver. They wanted to keep holding me. This time, I refused, said they would have to take me to court. Rather than doing so, they simply let me go the same day. I can only assume they knew they had no case to hold me; I had pretty good insurance at the time through my family, and psychiatric hospitals commonly hold patients with good insurance to milk them of all they are worth. I watched suicidal people get kicked out because they could no longer afford care, while I was held for essentially no reason. It was disgusting. I still feel disgusted remembering it.

The Fallout #

Being hospitalized was the worst experience of my life; no other experience comes even close. Beyond the humiliation, beyond being subjected to medications I did not want, and beyond even having to leave college, my life was permanently set back. I had no degree. I couldn’t return to school. I didn’t want to return to school; the hospital had made me more depressed than I was before. I didn’t even want to try anymore. Were it not for the kindness of the trans community in Seattle, I would not have been able to get a job; even then, my opportunities have been severely limited.

For years I felt worthless, unable to do anything right. Like I had failed myself, my loved ones, and the world. Like I was broken, dirt. I avoided therapists because I no longer trusted them. I sunk deeper into depression.

I’ve gotten better since then. I’ve started seeing a therapist I trust. My relationship to mental health is better in general. And yet, it is ten years later now. I am thirty, and only now do I feel like my life is back on track. Those two weeks in the hospital ruined an entire decade of my life. Thinking about it makes me angry. I want to cry even as I write this. Much of my life since then has been motivated by one thing; avoiding returning to a psychiatric hospital.

Institutionalization Is Returning #

You might ask why I am writing this. Well, it’s because of politics. President Donald Trump has signed an executive order that pushes to send homeless people into psychiatric wards. This enrages me, because I would not wish that fate onto my worst enemy. But more than that, it also scares me.

I’m not homeless. In fact, I’m relatively privileged, with a secure housing arrangement and a robust support network. So I should be safe from this order. Except it’s a harbinger of things to come. Trump and RFK Jr want to bring back asylums. They want to bring back involuntary confinement as the default for anyone with visible psychiatric disorders. To accomplish this, they wish to cut funding to community mental health programs. This has the effect of creating a two-tiered system, where the wealthy can see private therapists and everyone else will get committed the moment they so much as have a panic attack.

I’m afraid. I have mental health diagnoses – and not just the “fun” kind. I have a personality disorder. I have gender dysphoria. Both of these are routine targets of society. Both of these put me at risk.

When I say this, I do not mean to be hyperbolic; I would rather die than return to a psychiatric hospital.

Please stand in solidarity with the disabled. Please stand in solidarity with those deemed mentally ill by society. Please don’t let us be disappeared into the night. Hear us, and fight with us. This effects everyone. Everyone knows someone impacted by mental illness. Today, it’s homeless people. Tomorrow, it’s your cousin; your aunt; your brother. Tomorrow, it’s me.

Save us.