It is so hard being locked away where those in charge can do anything they like to you. If a convicted felon speaks of injustices they will find an ear. If one is mentally ill, all credibility is lost along with any counted voice of protest.


"It's too much! Your trying to give me too much!" I pleaded with the medication nurse. She wasn't really a nurse, but she had a certificate allowing her to dispense drugs to us.
"It's too much! Look at them, they look the same but they are different doses!"

I did not understand why Thorazine looked the same whether it was 100, 200, 400, or 700mg( I don't even think they come that big anymore) tablets. They were all round, and brownish in color.
My anxiety over this was quickly reaching monumental proportion. I took 1800mg of Thorazine daily, if I was given even one or two 700 instead of a 400mg pill, I was taking more than the law allowed. I knew I took at least 2400mg on many days.
I had no voice. I had no choice. I could not win.....but I just had to try.

"It is too much! I don't want it! Just look at it! It says 700 on it. They look the same! You do this every day!"
Louder now... "I can't take that much, please, it's too much, please!" Even in my numbed out state of mind I had to hold back the tears. "Please?"
"Why, why, why" tears began breaking through the mental barrier I put up.
I saw her hand reach for the "need assistance" button.
"Noooooooo, I will take it, never mind, please, just give it to me."
It was too late, she pressed it. Even through my tear filled eyes I could see her smirking, delighted over what was to come.
Even though the shot they gave me was not of the dose the "nurse" attempted to give, the fact it was injected made it much more potent.
Thorazine no longer brought about a dark veil to cover me, but time and dosage, allowed it many other disturbing powers.
Sitting in the corner of the "quiet room", leaning my head against the padded wall, I disappeared. Others could see me, and touch me, but "I" was gone.
I had lost.....again.