I was sexually assaulted in a psychiatric hospital

A shocking truth about mental health care

“It’s completely illegal,” said Dr. Miller. It was strange to see him surprised.

“Every doctor knows that you never undress someone who is unconscious. No excuses. It’s black and white.”

Oh.

As I hung up, I realized how unprepared I was for those words. For years, I felt deep embarrassment when I thought about how I would react when I woke up in different clothes. According to my medical records, I had told a fellow patient, “You’re going to have to break down the doors, break everything, maybe pull the fire alarm or call 911.” The hospital staff drugged me because I was very upset when they refused to let me file a complaint.

A disturbing hospital memory

I don’t remember checking in the night of my first sedation. I still remember sitting next to my mother in the waiting room, trying to stay calm.

Thoughts that weren’t mine invaded my brain and threatened me. They seemed to come from my mother. I ran down the hallway in fear.

Several employees grabbed me and held me down. One injected haloperidol, a sedating antipsychotic, into my left thigh. My body shut down.

“Am I dying?” I wailed into the fluorescent hallway. “Why does it feel like I’m dying?”

To my surprise, I woke up strapped to a bed, my arms and legs bound with bright yellow cuffs. I realized I was no longer wearing my flannel shirt and leggings. Now I was wearing blue pants and a cheap synthetic shirt.

For what seemed like an eternity, I asked every staff member, “Please, kill me.” I had no idea why I was tied to a bed in different clothes. The only explanation was that I had been sexually abused. And I was sure it would happen again.

The hidden reality of assault in psychiatric hospitals

I wish I knew how many women are sexually abused by mental health workers. ​​Research on sexual assault by psychiatric patients remains limited and overshadowed by patient-on-patient cases.

But I know I’m not alone.

Earlier this month, a New York Times investigation into one of the largest psychiatric hospital chains in the United States uncovered numerous inspection reports of rape and assault. A facility in Utah was closed after state regulators investigated dozens of these reports.

Ella Janneh from the UK won a lawsuit against a therapist who raped her during a panic attack. Prior to her lawsuit, Janneh attempted to appeal her criminal case twice. The board, which rejected her appeal, said the issues surrounding consent were too difficult for a jury to understand.

Dismissing the complaints of psychiatric patients

I faced a similar dismissal after a therapist told me, “You’re suffering from psychosis?” Well, we can finally talk about this sexual tension.” I reported him to the California Board of Behavioral Sciences. But I had to state in my complaint that I was placed in involuntary psychiatric placement the next day.

I might have avoided the hospital if my therapist had helped me instead of taking advantage of me.

The board rejected my complaint. At least I think they did. Although I called and emailed to inquire, I never received a response.

This man is still a therapist and only accepts private health insurance and UC Berkeley student health insurance. That’s why I became his customer for the first time in 2015 as a 20-year-old student.

I was fortunate to have the resources to file a formal complaint. Many don’t.

The search for justice

My illness prevented me from holding the hospital staff accountable when they stripped me in 2019. Although I did everything I could to get someone with power to listen, no action was taken.

I was still convinced that my life was a hyper-realistic psychological experiment. My parents thought the last thing I needed was a lawsuit. Even if they had gotten me a lawyer, it probably would have been too late.

My case depended on security footage, but most hospitals only keep records for ten days – I wasn’t discharged for three weeks.

The footage proving my assault could be lost forever, and I have no written or recorded evidence of the harassment. But I have something more meaningful.

After I didn’t respond to his sexual harassment, my therapist didn’t book me in for the next session. A week after he normally would have, he emailed me a Zoom link that I hadn’t joined. Even though I owed him money, he never contacted me again, not even to pay.

I also know about the sexual assault after I was sedated. It’s a gut feeling.

Unlike delusions, I lived this in real time. And I have no further delusions from that night. Delusions tend to come in groups, and if I had had this delusion, I probably would have had others.

Maybe this doesn’t make sense to someone without schizophrenia. Maybe it wouldn’t hold up in court.

But I know. A woman knows.

The effects of unresolved trauma

It hindered my healing that no one believed me, not even in therapeutic spaces. A therapist once said, “There are usually warning signs. Something like this doesn’t come completely out of the blue.”

She could have asked, “Were there warning signs?” I would have told her about my therapist’s suggestive smile, how he encouraged me to talk about my sex life, and how he called me a “sexy blonde” a few sessions before the murder. I would have explained that I was so desperate to feel better that I ignored the signs and kept going back.

But she didn’t ask. To this day she probably still thinks I was delusional.

Sexual assault and harassment are traumatic enough. Not being believed can be just as painful.

When my psychiatrist confirmed the illegality of my experience, the memory felt muddier after five years of gaslighting. It wasn’t until a few months later that I learned to trust myself again.

I found notes on an essay I had written a year after psychosis, when I still thought that stripping unconscious patients was common practice in psychiatric hospitals. There it was in a Google Doc with a time stamp of December 2020: “When I was psychotic, I was stripped without my consent.”

Reclaim my voice and my rights

I may never receive justice for the abuse and harassment I endured during my psychosis. However, I’m still glad I asked my psychiatrist this question. I reclaimed my rights and my worth.

During my last hospital stay, a nurse took me to a private room and began taking off my shirt. Outside, I reported the nurse to a psychiatric nurse during the admission. Her eyebrows shot up in concern.

Finally someone believed me.