When Crazy Isn’t… Crazy: My Story of Rising Above Labels and Persecution.

When Crazy Isn’t… Crazy: My Story of Rising Above Labels and Persecution.

Raise your right hand if you’ve ever been labeled crazy, even in jest, then raise your left hand if when you’ve been called crazy someone really did think you were crazy. Now, stand on one leg if someone else actually took steps to put your allegedly crazy ass in a mental hospital. Finally, hop on one leg if those crazy-sayers committed you to a mental hospital for 30 days without the legal means of a 72-hour hold or court order.

My hunch is that I’m the only one in the group with both hands raised and hopping on one leg. The saying “truth is stranger than fiction” definitely applies here and I won’t blame you at all if you remain skeptical about my story after reading this article. Over 20 years ago now and what eludes me to this day is who was responsible for my illegal imprisonment. That’s really what it was because I was placed on the locked side of a psychiatric unit of a mental hospital in Colorado after admitting myself under family pressure and then was threatened with two consecutive 72-hour holds if I tried to leave. A bit like the chicken and the egg scenario – except it isn’t as I had already been deprived of my rights under the law.

I had been told that all new admissions go to the locked side of the unit – which, I discovered later, wasn’t true based on other patients’ admissions history. Some were kept on the unlocked side of the unit even after they admitted to suicidal ideations and some had the 72-hour hold paperwork following an actual suicide attempt. It wasn’t until 2012 and after our mother’s death that a sibling revealed to me that the hospital hadn’t wanted to admit me because I hadn’t been declared a danger to self or others in spite of 2 arrests for violating a restraining order against a former colleague – more on that later. Yet there I was – already on the locked side of a mental hospital in Colorado when the psychiatrist assigned to my case stated that if I tried to leave he’d put me on a 72-hour hold and if I tried to leave at the end of that hold he’d place me on another 72-hour hold. This same sibling acted shocked when I revealed that I had been diagnosed with PTSD as a result of this event and exclaimed – “you were only there for 3 days!” A revelation years ago from this same sibling now fell into place. She previously told me that while I bowed to family pressure to agree to admission my family was notified by the hospital that they wouldn’t admit me. My soon-to-be ex-husband and I were already making the snowy day trip to the hospital and my sibling ran into the street to stop us from making the trip for nothing. As it turns out that trip was everything.

With this latest evidence of the hospital refusing admission I knew that my family’s original plan to gain control of what they perceived was my erratic behavior and place me on a 72-hour hold had been altered dramatically. Something – or someone – intervened in a powerful way and intercepted my arrival at the hospital with a much different plan in mind. Yet there had to have been communication between my family and this mystery force – how else would it/they have known I was being admitted? Who kept the information flow going? The hospital itself, now closed? Law enforcement who knew of my arrest? Who could have that kind of power to override an entire established legal system and place pressure on the mental hospital to imprison me for a month? What possible motive could there have been to attempt to stain my reputation and permanently brand me with the letter “C” for crazy? I have my suspicions and I’ll let you, gentle reader, draw your own conclusions and really, what’s important here in this who-dunnit is not really who-dunnit. It’s my rising like a phoenix from the ashes of a presumed- to-be decimated spiritual place to be stronger and more vibrant every single day.

Occurring at the time and for some months before my stay at Bethesda, was a perfect storm of what would be the end of my HR career colliding with my newly uncovered intuitive abilities. The unraveling of my career included my being asked to destroy information related to risk management and refusing to do so, my subsequent “lay-off”, information coming to me from a former colleague who was a lawyer and who urged me to “sue the crap out of “ our mutual corporation. That same individual placed a restraining order against me which led to my arrests and I discovered that the police reports supporting the restraining order were possibly fabricated. I had filed an EEOC charge due to inaccurate statements from my employer about their knowledge of my body’s disability, MS. I received notice of my presumed withdrawal of the charge from the EEOC and when I protested as I hadn’t withdrawn the charge it was reinstated by that agency. Last, and certainly not least, was the filing by myself of a federal lawsuit against my former employer alleging racketeering actions violating their non-profit status as well as retaliation against me. This last wound down as expected although the judge’s dismissal without prejudice was significant at least in the eyes of opposing counsel.

Underlying the employer situation I was also beginning to understand that I was a spiritual being in a human experience and my intuitive senses were on hyper-drive, trying to catch up from what wasn’t a life wasted as it was a repression of my true nature – a born shaman. As I was naively open with my husband at the time about these abilities I can see how that could have been used as a catalyst by my family to punish me for even considering these to be real. After all, my “conversations with angels” that brought my terribly Catholic family into the heretofore employer-only fray was a recipe for disaster as that’s just not typically thought by humans to be possible (angelic communication) unless you’re the Pope or another similarly-situated ordained individual – or a saint – which I most definitely am not. The knowledge of these same abilities also could have been used as a means to cast aspersions on any allegations of wrongdoing I was pursuing against the ex-employer and of which they had knowledge via a work-related therapist. From that standpoint a mental hospital would be the perfect answer – to call someone crazy in order to discredit the information they were promoting.

Certainly not one of those things by itself – a lawsuit, the arrests, and my family’s initiation of a 3 day hospital stay was responsible. As I said, I’m confident my family lacked the power to keep me illegally confined without being backed by a significant outside-the-family force that was out of their control. That leaves my former employer with numerous indirect healthcare affiliations at the time whose intention would have been of intimidation and to keep me from telling the truth about anything, really.

You might think that with all of the tools and spirit helpers available to a shaman – or psychic if that fits better in this story for you – I would have avoided this whole sticky wicket. In the time since my forced stay at Bethesda I’ve learned a bit about what I came into this world with soul-wise and what needed to be repeated again in this life for that same soul’s evolution. Perspective is everything, I’ve discovered, as is the knowledge that inner truth is the only one that really matters – the outer truth doesn’t exist as the world operates on facts. And you might also think that afterward I would have run away screaming from anything that even hinted at intuition, angels and the like as I certainly did feel – at that point – led astray by my spiritual team. I did – for a long time – keep them at arm’s length because my trust had been severely damaged towards them and towards my biological family as well. I found that I could successfully eliminate contact with my family while separation from the spiritual team was another matter altogether – one was merely related by blood, the other was my soul’s life essence. Needless to say there are still some unanswered questions about how and why I came to be imprisoned there for a month absent legal channels being accessed that wasn’t planned by my family. And actually I’m fine with that. I wasted too much time and energy attempting to access my health records whose last known address is at a Catholic Health Initiatives partner – the parent corporation of my former employer – and over time came to understand that what was most important to my soul’s path was my recovery from this ordeal.

I returned to the study of spirituality and was welcomed back with open arms by community both in the physical dimension on Earth and in the spiritual dimensions elsewhere. It hasn’t been easy and my guides would be the first to tell you that because they tend to be a rather bossy group and prone to giving terse directions and I get why they do that – because time is of the essence here. I’ve learned to embrace my past and know beyond bone deep that without it I wouldn’t be where I’m at now – a professional shaman whose practice incorporates both animals and humans and their tender, wounded places in need of self-healing just as I once embraced my own wounds. I’m not sure if my process of recovery and healing is over – maybe it won’t ever be – as that is the nature of things in this duality-based dimension called Earth. I’d like to think, though, that my story of strength and desire to point north again toward my authentic talking-with-angels-and-other-light-beings self might just be the support someone else out there needs to begin again when the end is all that can be seen. For it is in the endings that new beginnings become shiny, resilient beacons of hope as they are birthed like diamonds under extreme pressure in the darkest mines and serve to remind us that without the dark we wouldn’t know the light. Namaste.


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