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Out Of The Frying PanI
got transferred to Fort Logan Mental Health Center, and I found that I did have
some more freedom. They let me have
my music, or at least all but Cyndi. I
got to bring in my stereo. They did
not let me have my pictures, and again I was quite upset. I don’t know why I never tried to record Cyndi on a tape
that was labeled otherwise. It
would have been so easy to get it in. Maybe
it was because I didn’t believe in being dishonest, even if it was to continue
in my religion. I did listen to her
music on my weekend passes. They
sent me to what they called music therapy.
This was an experiment at best. They
had a lady there who specialized in the therapeutic benefits of music.
I understand that, and believe she had done some good with many of the
patients. But, the reason I say it was experimental with me was because
they saw me as obsessive with music, and they wanted to find out what made me
tick. As important as music was to
me, it was not my problem. She
discussed with me what I heard in music. She
had me draw pictures to my impression of the music. I think she was confused by my reactions.
She never seemed to give me any feedback on my responses.
I don’t think she knew what to make of me.
Further, my obsession was supposed to be over Cyndi Lauper, and I don’t
think I ever asked her once to listen to Cyndi, nor did we talk about her at
all. All I ever requested of her
was to listen to Styx. I know I did
not get anything out of the Music Therapy and since it only lasted a few weeks
before they canned the idea, I don’t think she got anything out of it, either.
They
gave me more drugs. They tried to
talk some sense into me, but did not spend much time doing it.
There was as much free time in Fort Logan as there was structure in Saint
Luke’s. The actual therapy that
took place was minimal. Cyndi did
not go away because of their therapy or drugs.
This further confirmed my suspicions that this was not a mental health
problem, or a chemical problem. Unfortunately,
they did not see it that way. Their
reasoning was that there must not be enough therapy or drugs.
It was so typical. When
I got out of Fort Logan, the Mental Health system maintained control over my
life for several months afterward. They
put me in a private school run by Aurora Mental Health Center.
They continued to try and convince me that what was happening to me was
directly related to Schizophrenia. I
specifically remember responding to their statement about my illness being very
powerful. I told them that if it had so much power, I was going to tap
into it. They told me to forget
trying. I told them to watch me do
it. I was serious, too.
If indeed it was a powerful thing inside my head, I was going to use it
for my benefit. It
was a few more months before they let me go altogether.
Letting me go was a technicality. I
was 16 (1987), and this was officially a school, though it was really a place
where they could keep an eye on their mental health teenagers.
Since I was so rebellious at every step of the way, my case-worker
informed me, that since I was 16, legally, I did not need to attend school, and
I could get out of it using that reason. I
did.
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