At age 17 (January 2007), I was admitted to a psych unit in Charlotte, NC. Upon admission to the unit, I worked hard to get off suicide watch and worked with staff to bring together a proposal
for emancipation, for my day in court.
(In the State of North Carolina, when a minor is admitted to a psych unit, they are entitled to a judicial review within 15 days of admittance, to determine whether the individual should remain in the unit, or can be discharged.)
During this time, I was approached by one of the nurses and asked what had happened before I got to the facility. She explained, that there were warnings all over my file claiming that I was extremely violent and they had prepared to keep me sedated and in isolation, but the person who was detailed in that file did not exist in front of her. She did not understand, why I was living in North Carolina, while the rest of my family lived in the U.K. She did not understand, why I had already been in the U.S. system for two years. She understood why I wanted to go for emancipation.
She was stood outside my bedroom door, the night I was picked up. It was roughly 3 am. I was due in court later that day and I was ready to plead my case. Instead, I found myself in handcuffs, with a large man towering over me, telling me he knew all about me and was not taking any chances. There was a woman present too, purely for the fact that my parents declared I was female-presenting at that time–I had been struggling with that for a while by then–but she did not say a word. The nurse outside told them to let me get changed, but “I was too much of a risk,” and I was escorted off the premises in pajamas.
I was meant to go to court that day. Instead, I was taken across state lines in handcuffs, at 17. I knew exactly where I was going, my social worker had told me a few days earlier that my parents had decided to send me to Provo Canyon School. A level 14 lockdown in the state of Utah, used as a threat, and a horror story in other facilities.
I was strip-searched, forced to squat and cough, and given a thin grey t-shirt and pair of shorts to wear upon arrival. The second morning I was taken into another room, and held down by staff, as a nurse withdrew blood.
Within the first week, I had been threatened with isolation, purely because I had said my name was Matt.
“No, you’re a girl. Your parents admitted you as a girl. You’re clearly delusional, and if you can’t follow this simple instruction, you’re going into Observation.”
I was terrified. I had already heard girls screaming in Observation, followed by their muffled cries after being sedated. I told myself it was not worth fighting them on this and submitted to their orders.
I ended up in observation eventually though, almost every person does. About five or six months into my 11-month sentence I had a panic attack on the unit, and a staff member called a “dial 9.”
Before I knew what was happening, I was being pushed into the observation room, and the door was closed. A staff member stood on the other side, telling me, “The longer you take to calm down, the longer you’ll be in there.”
I ended up spending three days in isolation. After the first day, I was moved to the Investment unit and placed in their observation room, and on the third day, I had the privilege of having the door open, which was accompanied by the staff taunting, “It’s obvious you’re not loved, why else would your family send you to a different country? Clearly your family doesn’t care about you, or else you wouldn’t be aging out.”
And I did age out. I turned 18 in December 2007 and left the facility. I left the United States, and I have not been back since.
Mentally, I am back there every single night in my dreams, and those dreams have been coming back for 12 years now. As well as the dreams, I struggle with PTSD and claustrophobia, and the idea of being stuck anywhere makes my body shut down.
I tried to hide what I went through for years. Tried to convince myself that I actually deserved what happened, but those rose-tinted glasses are long gone, and I am #breakingcodesilence.