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    Solitary Refinement
    Solitary Refinement
    Solitary Refinement
    Ebook92 pages2 hours

    Solitary Refinement

    By I.M. Areal Person

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    About this ebook

    Solitary Refinement is a true story about a real person who was forcefully detained, drugged, and held against her will inside a "mental health" facility for nearly two months during the 1990s. The incident had a significant impact on her life. In this book she shares the journal she maintained while she was locked up, and offers an explanation of what happened before and after her time on the inside.

    "I considered publishing openly, using my real name, but after discussing with others who’ve been similarly abused and subsequently judged, I’ve chosen to publish anonymously. The words are verbatim, straight from my journals, all I’ve changed are the names. I’ve also included some of the hospital’s documentation so you can compare what was going on in my head with what they said was going on in my head."

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherI.M. Areal Person
    Release dateNov 28, 2014
    ISBN9781311455352
    Solitary Refinement
    Author

    I.M. Areal Person

    A story of betrayal, abuse, and survival. This is a true story from a real person who was forcefully detained, drugged, and held against her will inside a "mental health" facility for nearly two months during the 1990s. She met lots of interesting characters there, and wrote about what she witnessed happening them as well as herself. In this book she shares the journal she wrote while she was locked up, with additional information about what happened to her before and afterwards. Areal has survived, and is living a contented life of voluntary simplicity. She hopes her hospital friends survived too.

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      Book preview

      Solitary Refinement - I.M. Areal Person

      solitary refinement

      by i.m. areal person

      Copyright 2014 i.m. areal person

      Smashwords Edition

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, and if you can afford it, please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy.

      Thank you for respecting this author.

      table of contents

      introduction

      my journal: notes from the inside

      what they said about me

      questions and answers

      letters and documentation

      how my life evolved

      afterword

      introduction

      Some say the unexamined life isn’t worth living. It’s a strong statement.

      I’d say life is a gift. A difficult gift sometimes, but definitely worth the challenge of living it. An unexamined life is certainly less satisfactory than one that’s been examined, contemplated, reviewed, analyzed, and perhaps finally understood and accepted. Depending on your personal belief system, it could be that refusing to do the work of self-examination may mean you’re destined to learn life’s tough lessons over and over again, from lifetime to lifetime, until you finally realize whatever it is that’s necessary for your own soul’s growth evolution. Or, it could be that living selfishly and shallowly, with concern only for your own ego gratification, really is the way to go.

      Most of us don’t live in a society that encourages, or even accepts, deep self-analysis. The dominant consumer culture teaches us, especially women, that we’re not good enough, we’ll never be good enough, and the best we can do is embrace our youth (as imperfect as our skin and clothing may be) because there’s really nothing left for us after those fertile years have past. The dominant consumer culture prefers that we shop and obey and then shop some more, it prefers that we never search for or find our true purpose. Because if we did, it would be revolutionary.

      Remember when you were a kid and people tried to get you to colour inside the lines? Well I’ve dared to live "outside the lines" and it hasn’t always been easy. In my early thirties, single and intentionally childless, I took a complete time-out to examine my life. It wasn’t something I merely wanted to do, it was something I had to do. My soul called to me from deep inside … Go! Explore! Find your Self! People, my family and some of my friends, didn’t necessary understand what I was going through. I didn’t entirely understand what I was going through! But I trusted the process, even when it frightened and confused me.

      Then, a really scary thing happened. At the age of 35 I was forcefully institutionalized, held and drugged inside a mental hospital for nearly 7 weeks. That gave me a lot of time to think, and write. Many years later I still struggle to find peace with that experience. Will offering my story to the world help, or hinder, my personal healing?

      Publishing is also an effort to explain what was going on in my life and in my head before, during, and after that unmentionable time. It’s my side of the story. If it helps others find peace with their own experiences, find courage to tell their stories, that’s fantastic. If it offers food for thought to doctors who have fought their patients, insisting they know best while wondering if they really do, that’s even better. And if it can help us, as individuals within a human society, learn to respect and honour each other’s differences, choosing to talk to each other and work things out rather than imposing uninformed judgement and then deferring to authority figures, that’d be incredible.

      The following pages contain the actual words I wrote during my time in a Canadian psychiatric hospital, and in the years that followed. I considered publishing openly, using my real name, but after discussing with others who’ve been similarly abused and subsequently judged, I’ve chosen to publish anonymously. The words are verbatim, straight from my journals, all I’ve changed are the names. I’ve also included some of the hospital’s documentation so you can compare what was going on in my head with what they said was going on in my head.

      They insisted they knew what was troubling me, and that institutionalizing me was for my own good. I’ll admit I was faced with some big challenges leading up to the hospital experience. I was poor, unemployed, and depressed. It was a difficult time in my life and I was doing a lot of soul searching, which is a challenge when you don’t have the financial means to remove yourself from the distractions of daily life. I would have preferred to hire a counselor or go to a retreat. Instead, I was locked up. As if that was the only option. I wasn't offered any other.

      With gratitude to all who love me for the sometimes eccentric individual I am, who’ve helped me survive this trauma and realize my potential, I offer you … a significant portion of my examined life.

      my journal: notes from the inside

      July 5th, 1995

      Apparently there are some people in the world who are so concerned about me that they had 5 large men break into my apartment this morning and admit me to the Psychiatric Hospital.

      When I refused to open the door (how had whoever it was gained entry to the building?), they used a ladder and climbed into my second floor window that was facing an alleyway. I was hauled up off my bed, handcuffed, and strapped into a bed in the back of an ambulance.

      It’s almost bedtime here now, I’ve been unable to have the assigned interview with a psychiatrist that I was promised upon admittance, denied a shower, and now look forward to a very cold sleep due to a lack of blankets.

      Some of the staff are actually amiable, thank goodness, and dinner was edible. I have cigarettes and a decent room with a view of the grounds, but I’m unable to leave the building and there’s not much to do here except watch TV, listen to music, or play cards. The cops didn’t allow me to gather anything to bring with me, although I did manage to grab some cash.

      There are interesting people around and I’m making the best of my weekend retreat to this country resort. Hopefully this visit won’t last beyond the weekend.

      There’s entirely no excuse for men to have broken into my apartment and taken me away in the manner they did. I asked them if I’d missed the news this morning that announced the police state that had been created overnight, but apparently they didn’t understand my sense of humour. Whatever happened to civil rights, rights to privacy and freedom, democracy?

      It’ll certainly be interesting to see what happens.

      July 6th

      There’s a pregnant woman sitting across from me. She’ll be here for

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