Quiet Confessions: Psychiatric Hospitalization Part Nine

In this latest "Quiet Confession," Chelsea takes us through the ninth installment of their postpartum psychiatric series. This episode covers their final inpatient hospitalization at the University of Vermont Medical Center—an experience they describe as the most traumatic and dehumanizing of their entire journey.

Chelsea opens up about the physical and mental toll of a mental health crisis, the feeling of being "just a box to be checked" by medical staff, and the agonizing reality of benzodiazepine withdrawal. From the dimly lit hallways of the psych unit to the moments of rare kindness from a hospital chaplain, Chelsea explores the thin line between being a patient and being a person. 

This episode is a raw look at the systemic gaps in maternal mental health care and a testament to the support systems—like their husband and local partial hospitalization programs—that ultimately saved their life.

Key Takeaways

• The Impact of Environment: How the physical setting of a psychiatric unit—windowless rooms and muted tones—can contribute to the feeling of dehumanization.
• The Struggle for Advocacy: The frustration of not having a clear care plan or feeling "seen" by attending physicians during a crisis.
• Redefining Worthiness: A powerful shift in perspective on why suffering or physical limitations do not make you "less" of a mother.
• The Reality of Withdrawal: Understanding the physical intensity of medication dependency and the shame that often accompanies it.
• The Power of a Support Team: Why having a partner, family, and a dedicated social worker is vital when you are too "dead inside" to hope for yourself. 

This episode discusses topics that may be triggering for some individuals. Please check the show notes for more information and be mindful of your own mental health and comfort levels.

Visit our Patreon to help support our mission to normalize the conversation and end the stigma surrounding PMADs!

Transcript

Chelsea Myers (00:00)
Hey, welcome back to another quiet confession. Little mini episodes where we get to connect just you and I, and we are quickly approaching the end of my postpartum psychiatric inpatient hospitalization series. I am once again recording from my phone, so I apologize if the audio quality is not the best, but

These are not easy for me to do and I find it much easier to record them cuddled up under a blanket in my recliner rather than sitting at my desk with all my podcast gear. So thanks for bearing with me. is episode nine

where I'm going to take you to the best of my ability through my final inpatient hospitalization. Up until this point, I have not named the hospital that I was at. ⁓ I kind of call it the big state hospital. And I was thinking about it and I'm not really sure why I did that. just going to go ahead and for sake of

just transparency and because I'll probably slip up and say it anyway while we're going through this episode. It was University of Vermont Medical Center, is our the biggest hospital in our state. And on December 26th, I found myself in the ER with my mom. I had been there since the night before, so since Christmas.

⁓ because I was once again and in mental health crisis. So of all of my hospitalization experiences, this was the most traumatic, the most dehumanizing, the least helpful. So this is the biggest content warning, I think, out of this entire series.

For me, this is difficult to think about. It's difficult to go back to this space. ⁓ And it may be difficult to listen to whether you've experienced something like this yourself or you've supported someone through it. So this one is challenging for me, but I am gonna do my best. And I'm just gonna get right into it.

Yeah, I was in the ER when I talked to you last week. I told you about my medication journey and that led me through the ER Christmas night and the next day. ⁓ And I am looking at my journal right now and it's a very, very short entry, but the doctors had put me in

the mental health section of the ED. I had someone waiting outside my door, just like the last times I had been in the ED for this exact same situation. And I currently at that time had referrals put in at two inpatient facilities in Vermont and another at UNC again, because I had asked to go back.

⁓ they do have a psychiatric inpatient unit at UVM. and that is where I ended up getting a bed. It took three days, I believe. but the biggest thing that jumps out at me from this journal entry is I said, I feel like I've failed. I want to go home and have everything go back to normal. I'm completely out of control.

I feel like I'm going to explode. I think Ben is mad at me. Ben was never mad at me. That was my anxiety brain sort of projecting onto him because I was so mad and frustrated with myself and he was so burnt out. is December and my daughter was born in June and we've been going through this cycle of

crisis after crisis after crisis with my physical health and my mental health. So he was not mad at me, but I was pretty mad at myself and my body.

⁓ yeah, December 28th. So it was, yeah, from the night of December 25th until about 9 PM on December 28th, I was in the ED and then they said that a bed opened up. I don't know how that works that a bed opens up at nine o'clock at night, but I was moved upstairs, to the psychiatric unit at UVM.

and I was the most sick I had been. Doctors were trying to convince me that I had like a stomach bug or that I was just really anxious, but at this point I had collapsed prior to, like during the day I collapsed. My heart rate was off the charts. I was dizzy. And that's when they had given me the IV Ativan.

I, yeah, I, on the first day, it was a weird sensation because I was, just was so tired. And again, kind of like going back to the very start, I just needed to hand over control because I didn't have any and I needed someone else to take control. but this time felt different.

and not in a good way. as far as I understand, there are two units and one is for severe or combative patients. And I was not in that one. I was in the lower level.

This was like everything you picture. When you think Psych Ward or at least when I did like the windows were so small, had to like literally stick your face in them to see anything and they were only in the bedrooms and they face they face walls, so. You couldn't see the sky, you couldn't.

any sort of nature, you just were looking at a brick wall. It was a rectangular unit and they actually had like marked down like if you walked the unit like you could you I don't know how they did the units of measurement but like they counted how many laps were a mile so that you could know like

how many miles you were walking. don't know, it was awful. was dimly lit. was...

So just bare walls. Everything is like muted tones, very dark and dim. ⁓ The beds, the bedding on the beds were like attached so you couldn't take the covers off. It was kind of like being in a sleeping bag.

everything was so outdated. The washer and dryer on the unit were broken. There was a very small day room that had a TV and chairs for group therapy. And if you wanted some art supplies, there were some art supplies. And then across from that, there was like a visiting room with a little kitchen attached to it, not like a kitchen in terms of like

there wasn't a microwave or anything, but you could get drinks and there was a sink in there. Nobody really hung out in either of those spaces. I did a few times, which brought a couple of other people and then there was the nurses station at the head of everything. And that

Again, like the window was tiny. You could see all the nurses in there, like talking to each other and doing their jobs or whatever, but no one really paid attention to you. took a lot of effort to try to get someone's attention. There were the people who I really, still to this day don't know what you would call them. ⁓ because I do know that like,

therapists, psychotherapists and things like that and psychiatrists, they do have to like do that sounds wrong, but like on psych units to learn about that whole experience. That's not what these people were doing though. Like I think they were like, they were the people who did the 15 minute checks and they were the people who were logging

Like if anything was amiss, they were the wanderers. ⁓ and the nurses would come out to distribute meds and take vitals. And then they kind of just went back in their little area. And the difference with this unit was that the big locked door, cause it's a double locked locked unit. I mean, it was right there in plain view. So there was like no.

Mistaking where you were why you were there and that you weren't getting out ⁓

There were only three or four, there were only four single occupancy rooms. All of the other rooms were double occupancy and there was a lot of shuffling going around. I only moved once, but I just remember this constant shuffling because of patients being like discharged and the new patients.

coming in and you couldn't have co-ed patients. So people would have to move around a lot. My first night there, I had my own room and I was like, okay, I can do this. I can do this. And then literally the next morning they moved me into a double occupancy room. And when in the episode, if you go back where I'm talking about the relationships that I made, I was with a roommate who was going through some things

in a very loud way. And she also had guests and visitors, the same guest frequently from the moment guests were allowed until the moment that they were required to leave. And that was late at night. Like that was like 8 p.m. I mean, that's not late in the real world. But like to have someone there from

8am to 8pm. Like I felt like I couldn't be in my room ever. And, but I also like, I didn't know where else to go. So basically, throughout that entire stay I walked. I walked and walked and walked and walked. there were days where I

felt like someone else was moving my body for me,

beyond that, I mean, every day was exactly the same. was still taking the I was again, switched to a bunch of meds. met, I didn't meet with a doctor right away. And that was really confusing to me because

there were doctors there, but no one was meeting with me. And then when I did finally meet with the doctor, they told me, just so you know, I'm not going to be your regular doctor. There's going be somebody else meeting with you tomorrow and after that. So I didn't get a plan. didn't get like, this is what we're thinking about for you. This is how like we foresee things going this way. This is what we think the issue is. It was nothing. It was so very dehumanizing.

where I just felt like I was a box to be checked off. Like, yep, we met with them, the end. That didn't go away when I started meeting with the doctor who would see me throughout my time there. And I was only there for, I think, like nine days, maybe 10 days. It was past.

The new year, must've been more than that.

the doctor that I would meet with regularly was so frustrating. I felt like she never looked at me. She never really saw me. Again, I just felt like I was a box to check off on her daily list.

I would go into a little room. She would ask me the same questions every day. Are you feeling suicidal today? Are you having thoughts of harming yourself today? Are you having thoughts of harming someone else today? Okay, thank you. And then I'd be on my way. There were times when I literally asked her like, what is my plan?

and I never got an answer.

The social worker on the other hand was amazing. She actually knew my personal therapist. So she was in communication with my therapist while I was being hospitalized. So they were coordinating a care plan for me for when I would be discharged. She reassured me that while the care I was receiving

was incredibly frustrating and not sufficient that we were going to make sure that I had everything set up when I left to be able to get the help that I needed. also connected the chaplain. I think she was the chaplain. She was one of the spiritual

counselors. ⁓ And I believe she was of the Christian faith. ⁓ But that again, if you go back to my time at UNC, like, you know that I kind of leaned heavily into this idea that I was being punished for leaving my faith. And that, I don't know if it had completely gone away, but I remember her coming and offering her counseling. And I explained to her like, I'm

I don't identify as a Christian or Catholic, but I was raised that way. And I did ask her again, just like I did in North Carolina, like, is God punishing me? And I remember her being so kind and so gentle and saying, that's not how this works. She also totally validated that I was

not in alignment with her faith, but she was so invested in just being present with me. She would come back whenever she could and just ask if she could walk with me or sit with me. She never gave me any spiritual guidance. She really followed my lead if I wanted to talk, if I didn't want to talk. She just made it very clear that

just wanted to be with me and to sit with me in what I was going through. And I hate that I don't remember her name. I hate that I don't think I'll ever be able to thank her properly for that. But that was a kindness that was so rare in this setting.

We had group therapy, we had group therapy, which really just consisted of me trying desperately to stay awake because I wasn't sleeping at night or sobbing uncontrollably. And other people would talk. And when it was my turn to talk, just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and kept saying over and over again, like,

I just want to be a mom. I just want to be a mom. I just want to be a mom. There was only one counselor who came and he kind of he was more of a grief counselor and he popped in like this wasn't he wasn't scheduled to be there. But he did a session with all of us and he was the first person to ask me point blank. Why can't you be? Why can't you be a mom?

And it did kind of stop me in my tracks. But I was like, because I can't, I can't even take care of myself. Like this is so horrible. I can't take care of myself. I can't eat. I can't sleep. And that doesn't mean that you're not a mom.

And he didn't much, like he didn't walk, he didn't like give me all of this toxic positivity, like you're a great mom, even on your worst days, I say that too, but like, he just kept asking me, why don't you feel worthy of your role as a mother just because you are suffering? And that really challenged my thinking.

I didn't fully wrap my brain around it until I was out of crisis and until I was in my next episode, we'll talk about outpatient therapy. But once I was through that, I kind of thought about that more. And I think about it still every day, especially now with navigating chronic illness and disability and how my capacity to do things that I've just done always has changed so significantly.

I will stop and ask myself, why do I feel unworthy of my role as a mother just because I have these limitations or because I'm suffering or because this, that, or the other thing? I'm not any less of a mother because of those things.

But I know that I'm I'm like rabbit holeing and winding and going down all these different paths. But like, this is the only way I can do this. The most upsetting and dehumanizing and just I don't even know how to describe it. It sort of happened in the middle of this.

hospitalization and it was again, I was going through withdrawals and I didn't understand that that's what was happening. But it to every one else who has ever like looked at my medical files and talked to me about the experience, like it's very clear. I had been up for like 48 hours. I couldn't sleep. I was crawling out of my skin. I remember another patient who was there because

They were addicted to benzodiazepines and had mental health challenges. I remember them looking at me and just my behavior and me saying like what I was experiencing and they were like, honey, you're in withdrawal. What are you going to do when they offer you your PRN? And I had this huge internal battle with myself. Am I going to take it or am I going to tough it out and,

I don't know. Again, I looked at myself as an addict, which I was not, but I had become, my body had become dependent on Ativan. And I was so ashamed. Spoiler alert, I took the Ativan and we'll get into that journey more in our final episode. But it had been 48 hours with no sleep. I was pacing. was...

My skin was crawling, itching. was nauseous. I was manic. ⁓ I had a nurse, because it's like one o'clock in the morning, two o'clock in the morning, and I'm still walking the halls and I'm like a zombie. Like this is one of those moments where I felt like someone else was propelling my body. It wasn't me. I'm writing this down in my journal. 315 a.m. Guess who's reliant on Ativan? Yup, me. I've been up all night.

I don't know what the day will be like, but I'm really scared. And that next day, well, and I started writing down these things again, just like I did way back in the beginning, like, I addicted? Can I get a higher dose and then start tapering? Is there some alternative? Do I need to get ECT? ⁓ How long would a detox take?

And then from there I spiraled and I wrote for pages. I filled pages. I am safe. This will stop. I am safe. This will stop. I am safe. This will stop. Like pages trying to convince myself. And then at some point during the next day, I collapsed on the floor.

hit my head on the floor and I just couldn't get up. And a nurse came out and was sitting with me. And I honestly don't remember the full events. I just remember at one point another nurse came and got her and pulled her away and everyone left me there on the floor. I don't know how long it was, but I eventually like pulled myself up.

And one of the doctors pulled me in to one of the little rooms and essentially scolded me like I was a child and said, you cannot behave that way. If you're going to act like that, you need to go to your room.

And I just, I don't, I don't know if I even said anything. I just went back to my room.

The rest of the time, I mean, it was like that every day. I got to go outside once and it was also the same day that I was discharged. Throughout this entire experience, my phenomenal husband who also works for University of Vermont College of Medicine, which is just...

a very short walk like the buildings are attached. The hospital and the College of Medicine. Well, the building he works in. He came every single day at lunch. He spent his lunch with me and I didn't want him there. I was so beyond hope at this point. I was so dead inside. I was so lost. Every day he would come.

And I don't even remember most of those encounters. He recalls them very vividly. He remembers me telling him that I just wanted to die and that he and my kids would be better off if I died.

and that I wasn't going to get better.

I don't remember that. I mean, I remember feeling that way. But I do remember this deep feeling of, I don't want him here. I don't want him to see me like this. When he's here, I have to act like I'm okay and I'm not okay. And I can't even act like I'm okay anymore. But he came back every day. I don't, I

Honestly, I could do episodes on the appreciation and the love and the... I could never ever thank my husband enough. But we have both been through some pretty... pretty crazy life experiences and we're a team. But he never gave up on me. He never ever gave up on me.

And yeah, I there were other little experiences while I was there. I developed a blood clot in my arm at one point, but even that was like it was barely a blip for the doctors and nurses that there was a there were buttons in our rooms that we could push kind of like a panic button. And I would push the button when I was getting really, really

just out of control and the suicidal thoughts wouldn't stop and they, people on the other end just kind of were like, all right, take some deep breaths. There was only, I think, like one or two nurses who were actually kind and friendly to me. There was the one who encouraged me to sing and I sang with other patients. There were...

I don't know, just little things, but nothing could shine bright enough to take me out of that incredibly dark headspace. And when the day came that I asked the question again, what is my plan? The doctor, think, had just kind of gotten fed up with me and said, we're going to discharge you the day after tomorrow.

And I remember being flabbergasted because I was worse physically and mentally at that point than I had been when I was brought in. But I didn't care anymore. I didn't care about anything.

So I just waited.

And I was discharged. And I did the whole WRAP plan where you have to plan for your safety after discharge. I had set up another intake to go to the Seneca program for partial hospitalization ⁓ therapy, which we'll cover next episode.

But when I was discharged, I mean, my husband and I both knew it. I near okay.

I came home that first night.

and the kids stayed with my in-laws because of how rough a state I was in. The following day was the darkest day of this whole postpartum I actively had

Like the thoughts in my head were screaming at me to end my life and how to do it. And I could see it vividly and it just wouldn't stop haunting me.

⁓ my husband was instructed by my therapist to lock up all of the medications and sharp objects in my house and that we just had to get to, I think it was Tuesday, it was a Sunday at the time and we had to get to Tuesday because that's when I would start Seneca again. And we just needed to keep me safe that long. But I

spent that entire day screaming and crying and pacing and rocking and that is the closest I came. Like if my husband had not been watching me 24-7, I would not be here today.

I ended up spending the next, I think, week living at my in-law's house while my father-in-law was here at my home with my husband taking care of our kids. My mother-in-law was with me in their home, monitoring me, bringing me to therapy. because I couldn't

I couldn't be around the kids. That's how out of control my crisis was.

This is already a longer than usual episode, but...

that experience between the hospitalization at UVM and just those few days between being discharged and starting partial hospitalization through the Seneca program.

It is the hard, still have not fully processed the trauma. I still struggle. I have to go to UVM all the time because of my medical issues. I have to go get blood work done there. I have to go there to get MRIs done on my brain ⁓ because of the tumor. I have to go there for follow-up appointments and it is so difficult for me.

even be in the vicinity of that building, which is difficult because my husband works in the building next door. ⁓ I'm there a lot. I'm getting much better with it. And now I kind of look at it as a separate entity, like the psych unit. Like, I don't even know how to find it. If you put me in there, I know how to get to where

the cath lab is and I know how to get to where the MRI is and I know how to get to these places. I don't know how to find the pysch unit and I don't want to. There's a lot of work to still be done to process that. But that's where I'm going to leave you today. And I am going to really do

actual mindfulness activities. ⁓ I'm going to use my DBT skills that I learned in outpatient treatment. I'm going to use the skills that I use with my PSI peer mentor program that I've completed and that I am now a PSI peer mentor. I am using those skills today because this was hard.

This was hard, but it's important. It's important. I also am going to reiterate that if you are in crisis, you should not hesitate to get help to get to a safe environment. And unfortunately, if that means an emergency department or a psychiatric inpatient facility, please do that.

I think I referenced it in an earlier episode, but someone throughout this journey called them like basically prisons where they make sure you won't harm yourself. If that's what's needed in the moment, then that's what's needed. Because you deserve to stay. You deserve to see another day. You deserve to know that it gets better.

because it does get better. It doesn't mean that every day is going to be rainbows and sunshine and that it's going to do a 180 and go from the darkest of the dark to the brightest of the bright. But there are so many glimmers and there are so many things waiting for you. So, do not let my experiences deter you from getting help, whether that be medication, whether that be

Hospitalization or whether that be seeing a therapist or a psychiatrist get help because I would not be talking to you today if I didn't get help and if I didn't have the support of my therapist, my husband, my in-laws, my parents, so many people.

have my complete gratitude for ensuring that I stayed alive long enough to feel like I deserved to. So I'm going to go take care of me and I hope that you take care of you and I'll see you next week.