Author Topic: Psyco Wards  (Read 394 times)

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Offline Gah

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Psyco Wards
« on: June 03, 2006, 01:16:00 AM »
How many have you guys been in after Straight? I am uh just curious?
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

Offline Anonymous

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Psyco Wards
« Reply #1 on: June 03, 2006, 01:19:00 AM »
500.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

Offline Gah

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Psyco Wards
« Reply #2 on: June 03, 2006, 01:22:00 AM »
::unhappy::
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

Offline 85 Day Jerk

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Psyco Wards
« Reply #3 on: June 05, 2006, 06:52:00 PM »
I crashed when I was 19 and did not get any help the first time around.  My "psyche ward" was a peice of shit Buick Century that I lived in near a concrete block plant that was shut down, but still had partial electric and running water.

I had been kicked out of the house because I was crazy and my family were assholes.  One morning there was a knock on the window of my car.  I was scared shitless because I thought it was a cop, and I had been stealing food and beer from a nearby grocery store for over two weeks.  It turned out to be my grandfather.  He had been looking for me for a whole month.  He invited me to come stay in a garage apartment until my induction date.  Oh yeah, I had signed on to join the U.S. Army in the coming year.  Because I wanted to go to Germany, my basic training would be held in the winter at Ft. Knox Kentucky.  Here I was, clearly insane from the time that I had enlisted, but the family all acted like it would all go away like magic or some shit, once I was in.  On January 3, my Grandfather drove me to the Greyhound Station.

We stayed in guest barracks for the first four days and had no real schedule or anything.  After that we were loaded onto a bus and taken to our station area.  There was a whole lot of yelling and cussing and stuff, but for some reason, it did not phase me at all. I did pretty good up until the second week, when they started fucking with our sleep.  After that, I slowly started to fall apart.  Also, being snappped out of depression every day caused me to vomit each morning while on our run.  I finally lost it one day when I threw up and a drill instructor accused me of sticking my own finger down my throat.  He started chicken pecking me with his Smokey Hat and I just snatched it off of his head and stomped it into the mud.  He about dislocated my shoulder pushing me, but I would not back down.
That is when the fucker had me go in for a psyche evaluation, only he disguised it as part of an "incident report."  The sumbitch even told me that I was gonna talk to a lawyer to prevent me from getting an article 15.  I believed him naturally and spoke to this real stern dark haired bitch that I thought was a lawyer, who was really a shrink!!  Basically, I gave her way too much information and that was all they needed to get me thrown out on a section eight.

Eleven weeks later, and I am back in St. Pete.  The army experience sucked because it took them so damn long to cycle me out that I only had 6 days left to graduate had that been their intention.  In reality, they held on to me to cover their own ass and sent me home a fucked up and angry young man.  

I had "snapped out of it" pretty much by then, but I drank like a damn rock star to control the mania.  Several wasted years later I was 25 years old and working in a tool & die shop when I finally snapped big-time.  All said, I only spent 10 days in the facility. You can read more about it in another post called  Twilight Zone or something like that.  I'm at the library and my time is pretty much up.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »
Inside a warehouse behind Tyrone Mall
we walked in darkness, kept hitting the wall.
I took the time to feel for the door,
I had been \"treated\" but what the hell for?