I could understand why he stopped trying - what was the point? After all, he was doing everything he was supposed to do, but was still stuck in that place. A Peer Perspective From OutsideĪs Greg was telling me his story, I felt frustrated, sad and heartbroken. I just stay here” and “learn to adapt.” He tried to do everything right, but having been in the state hospital for so long, he was tired and knew he wasn’t going to get out. “I make my bed” and “stay out of trouble…. There are treatment groups every day, but “I don’t feel like going to them and don’t go anymore – it’s no use.” Greg said he followed his treatment – breakfast, lunch and dinner. Greg attended the memorials in the courtyard, and “there was music and talking.” They were kept in a separate unit while they were sick. He shared that some of his peers on his unit had died from Covid. I asked if he felt safe with Covid spreading around – he said he feels safe, wears a mask and got vaccinated. Greg said “I don’t mind,… I can do the routine.” Because of Covid, he and his roommates eat in the same building where they sleep, instead of in the dining commons. He said, “Most days I am in a good mood and feel good every day.”īreakfast is at 7 am. When asked to describe a regular day in his life, he immediately told me, “I don’t get into any fights,” “I don’t misbehave,” “I take my medications” and “my mind is clear.” Greg said he is not suicidal and doesn’t hear any voices. Greg Roberts (name has been changed) has been at Patton State Hospital for the past 41 years. While their day-to-day lives are similar, their experiences vary as they talk about “the good, the bad and the ugly” of living in a state hospital. But they are used to daily interruptions, whether it be early morning wake-up calls, treatment group meetings, standing in the medication line or structured “free time.” Loud voices, background conversations and people walking by make communication hard. Although they have a “right” to confidential phone calls, anyone and everyone can hear what they’re saying. The patient phones hang on the walls in the middle of the unit halls. Some were in their rooms, often sleeping, or in the day room watching TV. When someone did, we asked for people by name, those peers with whom we had a connection.
We called the patient phones, but most of the time no one answered. We interviewed some residents and asked them to share their personal stories with us. Most outsiders don’t know they live in confinement, not for crimes but for “treatment.” Their Lives, Their Stories They are not receiving meaningful treatment for their conditions and have not been able to seek help outside the state hospital.īut no one wants to admit they probably won’t get out.
#No escape hospital at end code#
Many pled “Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity” (penal commitment code 1026.5) because of their mental health and the crisis they were in at that time. Most are men who have been accused of committing a crime. Some have lived in confinement for over 30 years, with no hope of ever leaving. We are talking about people - they are our loved ones, family and friends, neighbors, musicians, engineers, teachers, … they are our Peers - just people, like you and me. You do not have your own clothes, you cannot choose to have a cup of coffee or sit outside, you cannot even decide to change your hairstyle just because you want to. Imagine not being given the chance to decide what you can and cannot do for every choice in your life. These state “hospitals” control every aspect of their day-to-day lives.
Many people are still living in large, over-populated and locked settings simply because of their mental health. Now we are adding a new and valuable focus, to acknowledge residents who presently live in those same institutions for mental health “treatment.” We decided to talk with residents who have lived most of their adult lives inside a state hospital in honor of our peers who have gone before us. The CMP continues to recognize our peers from the past. Since that time, we still house people involuntarily for years on end, they still die away from their loved ones, and they are still being held against their will for “treatment.” The California Memorial Project (CMP) was established in 2001 to honor our peers with mental health disabilities who lived and died in institutions.
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