Twice Institutionalized: The Experience of a Teenage Girl in Georgia
Kelly and Jackie were taking the stand and their stories matched – I was named the ringleader, the one who instigated it all, this attempted attack against this young girl my age. And so I was never to go back to the children’s home again but was placed in Northwest Regional Hospital, a medium-sized mental institute in Rome, Georgia at the age of 14. There, in an ironic twist I would get to know the definition of karma when five girls my age attempted to terrorize me on Halloween night.
My mom walked me down the long tiled hallway which was a little noisy but not the madness I’d grown accustomed to at my last facility. A nurse took my vitals, history, and checked my bags while my mom sat stone-faced and silent.
The leaves had already turned by now and I was greeting the new fall season again being admitted to another place, another home that wasn’t a home at all. It would get to be a tradition that about every autumn my environment would change and I would not be given a sufficient reason in my mind why. I was not a bad person; at least I didn’t think I was. I was not this violent, vile creature they had made me out to be. I was a bookworm, a nerd, for God’s sake who just wanted to be loved by my mom and was confused as to how the road kept winding in another cruel chain of events in my young life. I didn’t understand all this moving, these Inkblot tests, counseling sessions, diagnoses that were not me at all and why no one would listen except my sister who was away at college living her life.
After what seemed like an eternity, though clearly not long enough for what I was about to be exposed to, my mom stood up, walked me down the hall behind the nurse who we followed around a corridor with my familiar blue, battered suitcase with the broken lock and scratches.
“I’ve got to go now,” my mom said, turning to me and nodding to the nurse who approached me.
“No,” I said, disbelievingly, facing my mom. “Please don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me here!”
“I have to go,” my mom repeated and without waiting for my response, began walking away from me quickly.
She never looked back as I watched her dark hair disappear down the sterile hallway, carrying my fate with her.
“Come on, come with me,” the nurse beckoned, professionally yet firmly and I followed her reluctantly to the adolescent wing.
It was night time now. Very late at night and everyone was in bed except me. On the floor the nurse turned me over to another nurse, a large black woman who handed me special shampoo to treat Lice in case I had it, smelly soap, a towel, and a washcloth. She instructed me to shower while she watched outside the thin transparent curtain and I hurriedly did so afraid of what was to come. When I was through she watched me dress then took me to my room I was to share with a girl who was already sleeping.
“Be quiet. Go to sleep,” the nurse said and handed me my bags, disappearing behind the heavy wooden door.
I glanced over and saw a tall, thin teenage girl about 17 sleeping soundly in the next bed. I tiptoed to my bed, got in and lay there, disbelieving what just happened. I don’t recall sleeping though I must have eventually but sleep didn’t last long enough for me as it never did. I used to be such a heavy sleeper but those days had faded long ago and now everything woke me up.
In the morning I met my roommate, who was polite, not cheerful, although who would be given the circumstances? I don’t remember eating breakfast but afterwards I met the other patients, all female teenagers, troubled. I was somewhere in the middle of my age bracket and much to my surprise spotted a girl, age 12 who I remembered from middle school named Dina. She was chubby, wore lots of makeup and a trouble maker.
The day room had a TV, books, magazines, and games but all these girls wanted to do was smoke, plan some trouble, and talk loud. I didn’t smoke and never had although I got plenty of opportunities. I tried it once for two weeks but put it down with no problem and had never become addicted. I was quiet, shy, and kept to myself. This was the real me, one the judge didn’t see. I was not a juvenile delinquent although now I had a record. These girls were not me, I reminded myself silently as I watched them converse.
Soon one of the ringleaders’ eyes was upon me and the others including my roommate swiveled their heads around to check me out. Then the questions were fired at me with machine-gun rapidness:
“Who are you?”
“Where do you live?”
“How old are you?”
“What are you in for?”
The last question, a very loaded one.
“Well, they say attempted battery and assault, but I -“
The girls laughed.
“You? Attempted battery?” Dina asked. “No way!”
I was less than 100 lbs. after all, wore glasses, had braces, and looked like a poster child for the library’s reading program.
“I know, it’s crazy,” I said, hoping their interest would wane.
“Do you smoke?” one asked, offering me a cigarette.
“No,” I said, which was the wrong answer.
Thus began the separation between me and them not that there wasn’t already a big line drawn. They ignored me for awhile, dancing to music and singing along in bad tones while I sat and flipped through reading material, nervous and anxious.
“Med call!” a nurse hollered and they all jumped up and got in line.
I followed them and stood at the back of the line, familiar with this process and listening to the others.
“I’m going to get me something good today!” one girl exclaimed while the others laughed.
“What are you talking about?” one girl asked her.
“I’m saying I’m going to ask for some heavy duty drugs!” she said, leaning back, hands on hips while the others burst out laughing.
“You crazy!” one said.
“Yes, I am! And proud of it!” the girl boasted, folding her arms triumphantly.
I just looked down and refused to look any of them in the eye for fear they’d target me.
It was best to keep quiet; I later learned when one of them got riled up. We were each given a cup of medications to take while the nurse watched us wash it down with a small amount of water. Everyone got most of the same stuff I noticed with a few variations here and there. When it came my turn I don’t know what I got but I just took it for fear of being reprimanded.
Our days consisted of activities fit for an elementary school student like crafts but also included group therapy and sports, the latter of which I hated and was bad at. Most of our time was a waste of time spent in the day room as the girls spun the same garbage round and round of past escapades and adventures like beating up other girls, cutting school, stealing cars, doing drugs, and the time they were “so drunk they…..” (Fill in the blank). They completely ignored me and I was fine with that. I never lent myself to any stories, not wanting to give them any ammo for their “guns.” They played pranks on each other and the nurses and always got caught, stole things from the nurse’s station when they weren’t looking, and talked about getting out – a lot.
Visitation days were scattered and unorganized and some didn’t get any visitors at all.
Then I guess one day I got a little too relaxed, a little too sure of myself, comfortable as anyone could be in my surroundings.
I made the grave mistake on Halloween night of all nights in a mental institute to ask if I could turn the TV. channel to my favorite show while they and my roommate were all crowded around the TV. having hogged it all night. So many pairs of eyes jumped at me, large and surprised, angry, intent on doing something to me but I had no idea.
“What did you say?” one asked me, wickedly.
“I wanted to turn the channel so I could watch something else,” I said, standing my ground.
“Oh, you do?” another asked, standing up.
Now I was scared.
“I mean, you have been watching TV. all night and I should have a turn,” I said in a meek voice.
They all stood up now like lions hunting prey.
“Well, you’re not getting a turn. You’re the new girl. You don’t get turns,” another girl said.
“And, besides we don’t like you!” another chimed in.
“All right, okay,” I said, backing down and out of the room.
They laughed together and followed me down the dimly lit hall.
I pushed open the door to my room, hands shaking and they pushed in too, much to my disbelief and horror. They and even my roommate cornered me in our room, pinned me against the wall with their hands and arms, and began taunting me.
“So, what are you going to do now?” one asked.
“Nothing,” I said, feeling tears well up in my eyes.
“Awwww, are you going to cry?” Dina asked, peering into my eyes.
The laughter got louder as a tear rolled down my cheek before I could stop it.
“No,” I said, but it was too late.
“Here’s what you do, Dina,” one girl offered, taking her hand. “You take your fist and you just RAM it into her cheek like so!”
She pretended to hit me in the air as I flinched and the other girls laughed.
I looked around, helplessly.
“What are you looking for?” Dina asked. “No one’s coming to help you. No one’s around.”
I could feel the cement wall digging into my back, the coldness a reminder of where I was.
“So, are you going to leave us alone?” a girl asked me.
“Yes,” I said, thinking it was over.
Dina was having no part of it.
“Let me tell you about this girl,” she began to her small audience. “I knew her in middle school. She was a dork, she read books, she’s not tough. She’s not one of us. She thinks she’s so bad. She’s nothing!”
I had no choice but to listen as the girls nodded their agreement.
“Really?” one asked Dina, laughing.
“Oh, yeah. She says she’s in here for attempted assault and battery! No way! She couldn’t beat up anybody. We’ll beat her up!” said Dina, loudly, giving me a hateful gaze.
“Please, don’t. I’ll leave you alone,” I whimpered as they all enjoyed a laugh.
After what seemed like forever my hands were released.
“Nurse! Nurse!” I cried out but no one came.
“I told you no one’s around. There’s no nurses around!” Dina said, angrily. “And you better not say anything anyway!”
I stopped and fell silent as they leaned away from me for the first time.
“So, we’re going to watch TV. and you’re going to stay here,” Dina announced to me as they all filed out of the room. “Understand?”
I nodded, looking at the floor. The door slammed behind them as they went running down the hall back to the TV. room, their laughter vibrating against the walls. I lay on the bed and cried, feeling utterly and completely alone and helpless. Hopeless as to what would happen to me.
The next morning I heard them again, laughing in the day room and talking about last night’s events to each other, recapping their victory.
“Did you hear her? Nurse, nurse!” Dina mimicked while the other girls cackled in glee. “There weren’t any nurses on this floor! They were all on a break!”
That next day was hell because I had to face them at breakfast, at group, at all the day’s activities and I couldn’t breathe a word of what happened for fear it would happen again. I had to go back to being “the good little patient” I learned how to be in my first institution, a yes woman, quiet, obedient, an “everything’s fine” kind of girl.
At least I had the visits with my dad to look forward to. My mom and step dad visited, too, but always too brief and just to drop stuff off to me always with an “I can’t stay” explanation. At that time in my life my dad was my hero and so I clung to him like a life preserver since my sister was away at college though she wrote letters and called a lot. He and I began plotting how to get me out of there unbeknownst to my mom who had no plans of getting me discharged any time soon. I was only 14 and terrified. Because my mom had custody it was going to be very hard for my dad to get me out, he explained, but he would try his hardest as I begged him to. I didn’t tell him or my mom and step dad till two months later what happened to me that night. I was too ashamed and embarrassed and wanted to forget it all.
One night a new patient strung out on drugs was admitted and my roommate let her sleep with her when the girl came to our door in the middle of the night, afraid and paranoid.
“You want to hold my hand?” my roommate asked her, softly and they fell asleep together.
I was so sad and felt so left out. Guess you had to be really wasted to get any of these girls to like you; I reasoned and drifted off to sleep.
My mom was adamant about not getting me out before Thanksgiving though I pleaded and promised her I’d changed while I hadn’t. She told me she might bring me a plate of food but that my step dad didn’t want me home again – ever. So my dad and I talked to my counselor and my dad struck a deal with my mom that I’d live with him.
And after a three-week stay in that rural hospital I was discharged to my dad’s house. He was on his second marriage and she had two daughters, also teenagers. I’d known them since I was nine and only one of the sisters liked me. I was so grateful to my dad for rescuing me that I promised to be good forever and do whatever I had to do to stay out of another hellhole like Northwest Regional.
In the daylight, my dad and I passed through the small town that I swear I’d never visit and I saw what it looked like for the first time. I remember passing a Mr. Bojangles Restaurant, some stores, and a few traffic lights before we were on our way, hitting the highway, making tracks meant to erase those nightmarish few weeks for good for me. My family never understood why it didn’t go away for me, why I was such a prisoner to my memories. I guess it was because I’d been through my own war, as a therapist later told me and the scars remained. I had been trained to be such a robot, to put up with so much that I lost my dignity, personality, my spunkiness. I had to give in too many times to bullies, doctors, parents, teachers, professionals, people wanting to fix me and only approve of me on their terms, with their religion, their demands, never liking me for me or admiring my gifts, but squelching my spirit with their high-heeled shoes or battered briefcases full of psychological tests to label me something or other but never seeing through my mask to the real me.
I never had a chance, not from the beginning, not from childhood, not from age three. But I didn’t know any of this then. I only knew what I had to do and that was to survive any way I could, any way that would keep me away from being doomed to supervised showers and i.d bracelets.
And so survive I did.
