Friday, 25 April 2014


After the second time my Psychiatrist sexually abused me I was starting to question my sanity. I really wasn't sure when I woke up whether my psychiatrist really was sexually abusing me? Or whether it was my subconscious playing tricks with me? Or was it the heap of strong psychiatric drugs that I had been forced to take? Or was I just lucid dreaming? It was so hard to know and I honestly didn't know whether what was happening was real or not? 

However I kept on remembering him stroking my hair the night before as well as him kissing me quite passionately on the lips whilst telling me that he "really wanted me right now", in the Consulting room. Now that was something I am sure any patient would have a very hard time forgetting! So at least I knew that this had actually happened to me back then.

But what was really getting to me was the previous night's exploits. What the hell was happening to me? Is this what happens when people go insane? I thought to myself surely this can't be happening to me especially as I had always been so strong my entire life. No matter what life threw at me, I always just coped with it somehow. But now my defences were so low that at times I couldn't quite remember my full name sometimes and my address or even where I worked? 

I seemed to be locked into a living nightmare where it seemed that I just couldn't wake up. What am I to do? I thought to myself. Then I realised if my boyfriend ever found out about what my psychiatrist was doing? That’s if he was really doing what I felt sure he was, he would want to get really want to get him. So I knew that I couldn't tell him or even my Mother. I could just imagine the shock she would feel. As well as being very, very angry at him. 

Then I thought to myself WTF do I do now? Whom do I tell and how can I even prove it even happened? Who of the staff are going to believe a woman in a psychiatric clinic (hospital) whom has had a major nervous breakdown to use layman's terms. Or would they believe my psychiatrist? I think it’s quite obvious whom they would listen to right! 

Then I thought to myself maybe I could tell another patient whom I had become friendly with like Fiona. The one I unfortunately lunged at whilst I was taking the SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor). I felt dreadfully guilty and ashamed about that entire episode. However Fiona who happened to also be an RN (Registered Nurse) in her own career seemed to understand that it really was the Zoloft and not me. As once I was taken off it all aggressive type behaviour disappeared with it thank goodness. 

I do remember being put on another type of SSRI but I honestly can't remember the name of it now unfortunately? But I was still taking 1mg of Xanax four times a day and that's a pretty high dose for somebody taking Xanax as all added up I was taking 4mg a day which  is a darn lot of Xanax which is the most highly addictive of all the Benzodiazapine group of drugs. Mainly because it hits you (works) so quickly. Far more quickly than either Diazepam (valium) or any of the other benzo's apart from Rohypnol of course. It took much longer to work but when it did. just hit my brain and body to the point where I had to lie down as soon as possible otherwise I risked collapsing in the corridor or somewhere else in the Clinic.

I was also taking 200mg Chlorpromazine, morning and night. I was also allowed to have a smaller dose of Chlorpromazine PRN (medical jargon for when you need it and ask for it). Then of course a large dose of Rohypnol every single night. I have no idea of the dosage as from what I remember nobody told me. One thing I did know for sure was that it was really strong and enough to knock out an "elephant" especially combined with all my other drugs.

I’d just been in the smoking room with Fiona and she told me that she’d heard that Dr C would be coming in tonight. I said that I had thought that he was'nt due to Consult with patients until tomorrow. I thought to myself, I wonder why Dr C is coming in tonight for?

Later on that night after I had taken all my sedating night time medication, I was in bed and heard what sounded like Dr C talking to one of the Night Nurses not far from my room out in the corridor somewhere. I couldn't hear exactly what they were saying. But I did hear them mention my name a couple of time and I wondered why?
I was to find out later on. But at the time I wasn't concerned and drifted off into my drug induced sleep.

That night later on, I honestly had no idea of the time or place. Or whether I was really awake or not? I heard footsteps in my room. I knew that someone was in my room, but whom? I was feeling really scared and quite paranoid about it all. Then I felt someone touching my hair and stroking it. I kept on trying to open my eyes, but it was as if they were paralysed and no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't open them. However I could still hear and feel and that’s all I had to go by at the time.

I thought back then that I must have been having a lucid dream as I usually tend to have them a lot, long before my breakdown. So I was dreaming that some handsome man was stroking my hair over and over. Then the man was kissing me all around my neck and then finally on my lips. It all felt sweet at the time as it was just a dream. Then the man in the dream gradually pulled up my PJ top and he then started touching my breasts and fondling them quite gently and then a bit tighter.

Then he really squeezed one of my nipples really hard and it hurt. I thought to myself, why is my dream turning out like this for? Then in my “dream” the man began to squeeze my other nipple but not quite as hard. My nipples felt totally erect and then he began to lick it and suck them. The man in my dream was making me feel so horny that it surprised me. In my dream I became really wet and just wanted my “dream man” to go down there and fulfill me.

Then my “dream man” whilst still playing with one breast and nipple, put his other hand right down on my pubic mound, he was touching it and then squeezing it with his entire hand and if felt so good. I just wanted my dream man to touch my clit and put his fingers inside me. I wanted it so much after all I thought it was just an erotic sex dream, nothing more at the time. Not surprising I thought as I was stuck in hospital and not sleeping with my boyfriend every night as usual. I also hadn't even felt sexual at all since my breakdown. So I thought it was a sign that I was gradually getting better.

After this my “dream man” began to stroke my inner thighs with his one hand. Then he began to gently stroke the outside of my vagina and again it felt so good that I just felt like I wanted my “dream man” inside of me so bad. Then after I don’t know how long he teased me, he then finally began stroking my clitoris. He gradually went faster and faster and I was getting wetter and wetter. Then just as I was starting to cum, my “dream man” stopped. I felt so cheated and thought why the hell did he do that?

He obviously wanted this experience to last for awhile, unlike the other much quicker episodes that I still wasn't quite sure of.  I often think I was like a live “doll” to him and that he loved having this “power over me”. He obviously enjoyed what he was doing or he wouldn't have done it, right!  Also by this stage everything was starting to seem a bit real to me. Then I suddenly realised where I was and who was doing this to me. I felt confused as I knew that he shouldn't be doing this to me. But at the same time it felt so good to me. I couldn't move properly anyway, so somehow my psyche went along with it. It’s really hard to put into words what was happening to me at that time. But at that exact time, whether it was a “dream man” or Dr C? I just knew that I wanted to climax as soon as possible.

So then “he” started all over again, teasing me and playing with my clit over and over. I wanted to arch my hips towards him but found it hard to do because of all the drugs in my system. Then as he was stroking my clit and all around my inner vagina, he suddenly plunged his longest finger so deeply inside of me. He started slowly but as soon as he went faster I came straight away. I just couldn't help it at the time I felt so incredibly wet. I knew that I really had cum as when I did my orgasm went on for ages and was really intense!

Then after I had been satisfied my “dream man” got out his penis and he got up at the bottom of my bed and began rubbing his penis outside of my vagina but without any penetration. He did this over and over again and was making me feel horny all over again. Then suddenly it seemed like he was convulsing as he orgasm'ed, he pulled right away from me and then all his semen went into his own hand. He then got off the bed quite quickly. Then I’m sure he went in my ensuite bathroom to clean up and tidy up before leaving my room.

In my next blog I will continue to write about how this unethical psychiatrist’s sexual abuse escalated and how the abusive “Nurse Ratchett” type Nurse literally went out of her way to “trigger” me and how and why I had to hide from her.......but for how long? And what was going to happen to me then?

Friday, 11 April 2014


I know it's been such a long time since my last blog post on here. However that is because I still find this entire dreadful episode so traumatic to not only remember but also to write about. Although it's considered to be cathartic by many. I will just give some brief background after my first post so that you readers can understand "why I was so frightened" with the threat of going to the State Mental Hospital lock up ward to supposedly keep suicidal people safe. Yeah right, Not!!

I will go back to where the nurses told me that if I didn't comply with taking all my "knock out" type medication that they were intending to ring Dr C. Then they threatened me yet again with incarceration against my will in the lock up ward in our State Mental Hospital. By this time I had been in the Private Psychiatric Clinic (Hospital) for nearly a week.

Now to I definitely know that my fear of the State Mental Hospital was totally justified. As they not only out people in the lockup ward who are severely mentally ill and suicidal. But also people who are even more mentally ill whom are "homicidal". What a dreadful combination having frightened really sick people locked up with potential murderers. Pretty darn stupid right! However sadly this is all true as many years after what happened to me, I met somebody who has had the misfortune of being detained in there. This person was so frightened the entire time they were in there as they were suicidal and not homicidal. It's not unusual for people to be assaulted there badly quite regularly as well as stabbings also. No wonder the Staff that work in there are so tough because they need to be for their own safety.

So as you can probably guess I ended up complying and took my medication. I remember the head nurse saying to me, "now that your a good girl you can participate in the downstairs art room 
and group sessions". She was a very intimidating women and I could see that she loved the power trip that she had over all the patients as well as the staff.

Then two days went by up eventfully thank goodness. The day after the above comments I decided to finally go down stairs to the afternoon art therapy room. Where upon I was greeted by the woman in charge whom I will call Lee. Lee was really friendly and seemed to have a nurturing quality to her persona. Far more than most of the psych nurses working there that's for sure. She chatted to me brightly and introduced me to the five other women sitting in there and two men. One in his early twenties and the other in his mid forties. Everyone seemed very calm and quite friendly.

So that afternoon I found it quite peaceful and I made a jewelery box from plain wood. I painted it totally black. Then I found a picture of two cute Botticelli angels which I stuck on the front and surrounded the picture with silver glitter. I know it sounds so childish. LOL I think the fact that I chose to paint it totally black much to Lee's discouragement as she couldn't understand why I didn't want to pick a prettier colour. However my mood was so dark filled with deep depression and so much self loathing that black fitted what I wanted to express totally.

However for me just making that whilst I was so mentally ill was quite an achievement for me. As well as being so drugged up I really had to concentrate on what I was doing just to stay awake. Otherwise I would've slept the afternoon away in my room. Like I had on all my previous days in there.

After my afternoon session in the Craft room finished around 4pm, I then went up to my room for awhile to rest. Then spent the next half hour in the smoking room chatting to a nice lady just around my own age back then. She seemed really nice and told me that she was a qualified Registered Nurse who had suffered a major breakdown too. I found that I had a lot in common with her and much later down the track we ended up really good friends.

I then uneventfully had my dinner at 5.30pm in my private room. I was still too afraid to go downstairs to the dining room. I was afraid to go down there as it was so large with so many tables and patients had to to up and pick out their own food. It was basically set out like a help yourself restaurant with both hot and cold food and deserts as well. But at that time I was suffering from severe panic/anxiety attacks all the time during the day and I was afraid that going down there and eating with so many people would just freak me out totally. Especially as everything and every body's voices seemed to echo so loudly because of the acoustics of the room. As you can well imagine my psyche and what little sense of self I had left was too intimidated to go down there yet.

When all the patients came back upstairs the Registered Nurse I had been talking to in Craft came up to my room about two hours after dinner. She asked me if I wanted to go to the smoking room with her to have a smoke. I was hesitant at first but after her reassurances I went along with her. She had already been in the Clinic for about a fortnight before I had arrived there. So she was a lot more confident than me as she was further ahead in her recovery.

We were in the smoking room she was chatting away about putting one of her kids in Foster Care as she found her too much to handle. Now for me as a person who works with young teens I was totally horrified to hear her plan. As sadly there are far too many Foster Parents who just do it for the money and nothing else. I also had worked with teens who had been abused in various ways whilst in Foster Care too. I'm not saying all Foster Parents are bad as there are so many who are really dedicated and truly make the child or teen in their care feel like one of the family. But as I knew of some rare "horrific cases of abuse", I told her that she shouldn't put her teen in Foster Care unless she honestly had no choice like being disabled or something equally bad.

She (whom I shall call Fiona) was quite adamant that it was what she wanted to do with her teen. The I remember like a person "possessed" I got up like lightening out of my chair and grabbed her by the shoulders and whilst I was just about to throttle her I said, "if you put your child in Foster Care? I will make sure that you regret it for the rest of your natural life because I'll get you"! Now this was so totally out of character for me to do such a thing so dreadful. I had lunged at Fiona quite violently and scarily. I was told later by others a after I had cooled down what I had done. One of the male patients in the smoking room had to pull me off of her as apparently I was about to try and strangle her. I was obviously out of mind and what she had said was a major "trigger" for me because of where I worked and what I did.

Of course after that event I was reported to the nurses on shift. I told them I was sorry and honestly didn't know why I had reacted that way as I am a total pacifist and don't believe in violence for any reason apart from self defense of course. It was found later by Dr C my treating Psychiatrist that I'd had a very bad reaction due to the antidepressant he had put me on which was Zoloft which is an SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) with very similar chemicals to Prozac. I found out later that apparently quite a few people have a bad reaction like this to either Prozac or Zoloft and that it's not uncommon for this sort of thing to happen to people. Before this episode with Fiona I was kept on being "told off like a child" not to be so aggressive especially when it was "medication time". Lol And yes this Clinic had one nurse who obviously took her "bedside manner" from "Nurse Ratchett" of One Flew Over the Cuckoos a Nest" fame. But believe me at the time it was no laughing matter at the time.

So of course the nurses called my Psychiatrist Dr. C to come in that night to evaluate my medication schedule as even they could see that after only a few days there my personality seemed to have changed abruptly and that I was becoming aggressive. Whereas before the Zoloft had kicked into my system, I was intimidated by almost everything and everyone and spending most of my time alone in my room either  crying and/or lying there looking up at the ceiling or out the window. Then this sudden dramatic change. When I look back it was all quite scary for me at the time especially as I myself didn't seem to realise what had been happening to me?

Now if I had been treated by an ethical psychiatrist I would've been fine and my medication would have been adjusted accordingly and I'm sure that I would've recovered far more quickly without his abuse and later his enabling of me becoming addicted to Xanax by his over prescribing it. As well as him literally giving me boxes of it from his "Doctors drug samples" that all Doctors get from the never ending drug reps that come to them peddling their particular company's drugs of choice.

Back to that night after I had tried to assault poor Fiona whilst on Zoloft. Dr C didn't see me until nearly 10.30pm again which wasn't unusual for him at all. Although even back then as broken as my true psyche was, I often wondered why he always saw me last out of all his many patients that had to have Consultations with all the time? Of course with hindsight now I truly understand why I was always the last patient to be seen.

So I walked into the Consulting Room when he called my name as I had been sitting in one of the lounge areas waiting for over an hour since the nurses had called me to come and see him. He started off by asking me about my aggressive behaviour in general and especially the "incident" as he referred to it in the smoking room with Fiona. I didn't know what to say in my own defence. Then he just started to crack up laughing at me saying, "your a real character aren't you? And your feisty too, I like that in a woman", and then he smiled at me. In a way that suggested to me that he was laughing at some "in joke" that I wasn't privy to.

Dr C spent some time listening to me complaining about all the strong drugs I was on and how they were making me into a walking zombie. That's honestly how it all felt to me at the time. So he agreed that I should come off the Zoloft. He then explained to me how unfortunately Zoloft doesn't always agree with anyone and it's actually know to make some people aggressive. No kidding "Einstein" I thought to myself. I kept on thinking even back then WTF is going on here?

After we had been talking for over half an hour, which was overtime compared to most his patients who only had 15 minute consults. I should have realised way back then. But I didn't because I was still very mentally ill at the time.

Then out of the blue he got out of his chair and took his suit jacket off and put it over the back of his chair and said "you don't mind if I sit next to you do you"? I said, "no" as I was sitting on a sofa. He sat down and began telling me all sorts of good things about myself. I thought it must be part of his type of psychotherapy, trying to build up my shattered self let alone self esteem. Then he remarked on my long blonde hair. Then he begin to stroke my hair very slowly and intimately. I guess he made me feel special and he was a very charismatic and handsome man for his age too. So I just sat there for around 10 minutes or so whilst he was stroking my hair.

He then began to kiss me all over my face and neck, then finally my lips. Then he whispered in my ear, "I really want you! I wish that I could have you here right now"! I was stunned to say the least. I remember saying with great shock "but you know that I'm in a serious relationship with my boyfriend. Why are you asking me this"? "Because your special to me and believe me I have never felt this way about any woman before that's been a patient in my entire career of over 20 years". Dr C said and looked so sincere that I felt somewhat touched by his words but I wasn't going to go along with it. I then ended the session and stood up off the so and tidied my hair from his playing with it. Then we said our "Goodbyes" and ended the session for the evening or so I thought.

By the time I left the Consulting Room it was after 11pm and the strong night time cocktail of royhpnol at such a high dose, chlorpromazine (Largactil) and Xanax. So I was like a "dead woman walking", pardon the pun. But that's what I was by that time as all the drugs seemed to hit my brain all at once.

So I went into my nicely furnished private room with a TV. No big deal now but back then the a Clinic had hardly any small TV's for patients to have in their rooms. However I had one as Dr C had arranged it and made sure of it the day before. By rights another patient should have got it as nearly everyone had their name down to get one from the time they were first admitted. Looking back now, no wonder some patients couldn't understand why or how I had gotten my own TV so quickly. Like most situations in life, it's not what you know, but who you know at times. I hadn't asked Dr C for this favour either but he had done it anyway. So naturally I accepted it didn't I.

Then I took off my dressing gown and got into bed and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. The next thing I remember is hearing something, I thought it was my door and that some other patient was just walking down the passage to the Nurses Station. I then fell asleep into the coma like sleep that these drugs gave me.

Then I remember waking up with Dr C lying beside me on my bed and he was fingering me and sucking on my left nipple at the same time. I couldn't believe it as I had been busy telling myself that the previous incident had just been a dream and this was another four days later. Again I couldn't move. I honestly didn't know what to do or how to get my "drugged out" body off the bed or anything?

I could feel and hear his heavy breathing upon my breast. I hate to admit it but whilst he was sexually abusing me and overstepping every single boundary that a Dr is supposed to live by. He actually made parts of my drugged out, zombie like body come alive. He kept on fingering me first one finger, then two. Whilst using another finger to stimulate my clitoris whilst still sucking and playing with one nipple and then the other. He then began to squeeze my breasts quite firmly. At times it actually hurt me as he was squeezing my pretty ample breasts far too hard. He then bit my nipple lightly and I caught my breath as despite my unbelieving fear of what was happening, he had almost made me cum. I was truly trying my best not to, as in my mind that was like giving him my permission which he didn't have.

He then went on fingering me and playing with my clit for about another five minutes. Then just before I was about to cum he kept on saying my full name over and over and who I was, where I lived and worked and a number of essential details about myself that I seemed to have problems remembering since my breakdown. Then just as I was about to cum he whispered, "say your name now, now, right NOOOOWWWWWW!!!!! As I came I gasped out my full name to him as I squirmed under his touch. He was obviously using some kind of psychological yet unprescribed technique on me to make me remember who I truly was. It wasn't until many years later that I figured out what and who's methods he was using. Which I will blog about later in another blog post.

Even though he had sexually abused me the bastard had made it all feel so good that it was very hard for me not to cum. Especially as I've always been an intensely sexual person. To me sex is just as essential as food and water. It keeps me alive just as much!

After I had cum he got my arm and put my right hand around his penis and because I was so drugged out I found it hard to get away, let alone do what he wanted me to do. So he got round that by putting his hand over mine. So that basically he was masturbating his own penis using my hand to do it. It didn't take much until he had made himself cum too as he was obviously so overexcited by what he had just done to me. I felt so yucky and dirty as his semen was in my hand. I kept on thinking to myself is this real or am I dreaming? That's because my drug regime was so powerful.

I then remember him getting off the bed and cleaning himself up at the washing basin in my room. Then he got my wash cloth and wet it with warm water and cleaned my hand with his semen I it over and over. He obviously needed to do a very through job so that there was no tangible evidence of what he had been doing.

Dr C the walked over to my bed and pulled up the blankets almost like a Father would to their child. Whilst straightening me up and tucking me in he said, "sweet dreams and remember this is just a dream"! Using the power of auto suggestion to my consciousness as the drugs were so strong that I was literally falling asleep whilst he was saying all this. Then I remember just blacking out in a deep sleep for the entire night.

Until the next morning that is...........I awoke feeling very confused and remembering this sexual dream about Dr C. or so I thought at the time. I knew that I had to talk to someone about all this, but whom could I trust in there and could they or would they believe me??

I will continue on more from here in my next blog post about how I coped that day and what happened next to me with Dr C?

Saturday, 10 November 2012


This is something that I find really hard to talk about, however it has been suggested to me that I should start blogging about it. Not only is it cathartic for me, but I hope that it may give other "survivor's/victim's", as well as mental health professionals, an idea of what it is like to endure and survive. Not only a severe mental breakdown. But sadly, how easy it is for an "unethical psychiatrist", to take advantage of someone much younger than themselves.

I had a severe mental breakdown in the mid 1990's. In the beginning, when I was first admitted to a Private Mental Health Hospital, that I had Post traumatic stress disorder, Major Depression, anxiety and suicidal ideation. At the time this diagnosis was correct. But sadly over time my then treating unethical psychiatrist added to my diagnosis as suffering from Bipolar with Schizoid Affective Disorder. Which I know now is totally incorrect. As well as having PTSD, Major Depression, Generalised Anxiety and Suicidal Ideation. A lot of "labels" for one person isn't it!

In subsequent years I have been seeing a very ethical, reputable and highly qualified psychiatrist/psychotherapist. Who diagnosed me and told me that I definitally don't have schizoid affective disorder at all. However I still do have Post traumatic stress disorder which is well under control now and has been for quite a few years now. At times I do suffer from Major Depressive Disorder and some anxiety occasionally at times too. Which over time I suffer from far less now. I have also been diagnosed a couple of years ago now as actually having Bipolar II.

After quite some time with my new psychiatrist, I was told that I actually have Borderline Personality Disorder, as well as PTSD etc. I wish my original psychiatrist had treated me properly , instead of sexually, emotionally and psychologically damaging me. He could have healed me, however he chose to "groom me". Just like a paedophile does to a child. What he did was so "wrong", it's beyond most people's comprehension.

I believe if I had'nt had the help of my newer psychiatrist, whom for purposes of this blog, I will call Dr. J, I would have died (suicided), very long ago. As well as psychotherapy helping me so much.  My desire and interest in discovering the truth in all things, both  psychologically and spiritually have saved me. I have studied and been involved in many different spiritual  studies and paths for years. But it was finding my link with "The Craft", that has saved me also. As well as my wonderful, loving and sacred relationship with my husband. He is truly the most beautiful soul I have ever met, and I love him so. Especially for his unconditional support , love and care. Times have been very tough sometimes, however he has "always been there for me", even in times of dreadful psychological crisis.

Now back to what happened to me, after being admitted by him. I was put into a double room, with a very young girl. She was approximately 15 years younger than me. Not that I took alot of notice to begin with. I was too upset and afraid, as I had never been inside a psychiatric hospital in my life. I found it frightening, as well as the fact that I was so disoriented. At times the psych nurses would aske me my name? Honestly at times, I really didn't know? That was the most frightening aspect of my PTSD induced breakdown. I had no sense of self identity, I had lost so much of my "authentic self". It basically no longer existed at all, at that time. To be so vulnerable and totally at the mercy of those around you. Not only the psych nurses, and my treating psychiatrist, but at times also the hostility, that sometimes is manifested by other patient's. According to the severity of their mental illness, of course. I felt frightened, alone, abandoned, horrified, scared and worst of all I was so heavily drugged.

I remember now, (and it's taken me years to remember), that everynight I was given high doses of the drug Rohypnol. Which is also known as the "date rape" drug, where predator's are known to dope people up by spiking their drink's and then raping them.

As well as that, I was injected with Largactil (chlorpromazine). Which is the oldest antipsychotic drug, that's use was discovered back in World War II. I digress here, sorry. I was given such a high dose, that once I was in a deep sleep on this, it was incredibly hard to wake up at all. Even to go to the bathroom.

As well as this, he put me on the SSRI antidepressant "Zoloft", which is alot like Prozac. Then he also prescribed on my drug chart the benzodiazapine drug "Xanax". Which of course is highly addictive, and when your not used it, it really knocks a person out as well.

These were all the drugs that I remember being prescribed from day one. Over time my the psychiatrist whom I shall call Dr. C, for the sake of the blog, would prescribe me so many different antidepressants, as well as different antipsychotic's and higher and higher doses of xanax.

Most psychiatrist's know, (which he obviously would have too), that you don't prescribe such a heavy drug regime, ever. As this can lead to not only physical dependence, but also lead to psychological addiction also. Especially xanax, which is what happened to me. Much later down the track.

After sharing a room with my younger "room mate" for four days, I was then given a private room. At the time I thought this was a "good thing", and so did my husband , family and close friends. However Dr. C had a much darker reason for transferring me to a "private room". I think most of you whom have read this far,  probably know why?

As Dr. C was well known for either visiting patient's extremely early in the morning, before seeing his outpatient's for the day. He was also known, (compared to other Consulting Psychiatrists), for seeing some patient's extremely late. I mean from 9.30pm to 11.00pm. Everyone said it was because "he was so dedicated to his job".  At the time I believed it too, I truly did. I kept thinking how lucky I was to have such a caring psychiatrist who came in late especially to see me. As when the psych nurses tried to wake me up to see him early in the morning it was impossible. I was so drugged up, that I literally could not wake up enough to get out of bed and even shuffle down the corridor to the adjoining consulting rooms.

After I had been in hospital only five days, not knowing what day of the week it was? Let alone the month or maybe the year? I was too afraid to go to the communal dining area. I  felt so alone, afraid and intimidated, that I refused to go down and eat. I either hid in my room all day, or sat in the then "smoking room", for most of the day and night. I had always been an on and off cigarette smoker during my life. However after my breakdown, whilst I was in hospital I was averaging 2 1/2 packs of cigarettes a day. I noticed many psychiatric patient's also smoked a lot in there too. Even those who normally don't. I later realised that many mentally ill people smoke to either relieve severe "anxiety", mood disorder's , severe depressive episodes and also because they are so stressed because they are in hospital.

Because I was unable at that time, to go down to the dining room. Dr. C told the staff to make sure that my meals were delivered to my room. Obviously he did this as I was not eating much at all, and this had concerned the  psych nurses who were looking after me. So that was ordered and so it happened, and so it all began.

As I was hardly ever coming out of my room, accept to smoke, I must have been an "easy" or what they call a "soft target". I was very mentally ill and unable to know who I really was. I really find it hard to explain how such a huge loss of identity affected me back then! I remember my Mum and my husband admitting me, on the first day. I still knew who I was then at least. However after five days of being so drugged out, that I had forgotten who I "truly was", and lost so many of my early memories. Right from my childhood,  right up until the age of 32. I had become a stereotypical psych patient, shuffling up and down the corridor, due to all the chlorpromazine and later Olanzpine in my system.

On the fifth night in hospital, I remember seeing Dr. C, in the consulting room's of the hospital, late that night at approximately 10.30pmish. Then I went to my room and went to sleep. As when the drug's really "hit me", I was just bombed out totally. No movement, no dreams, I literally couldn't move.  It was so bad that I remember that night, and sadly, quite a few other's when I couldn't even get to the ensuite bathroom in time in my room. It was so dreadful.

I remember not long after I had fallen into my "drug induced" coma like sleep, that someone came into my room. Then I wasn't sure if I was having a "lucid dream"? Or whether what was happening was real?

I felt his presence hovering over me, and I felt frightened of what was going on. First of all I was afraid that it was one of the male patient's in the hospital. It wasn't. I was my psychiatrist Dr. C, which I didn't realise until quite a long time later. I felt him slobbering all over me, kissing me supposedly. Then he opened my pyjama top, and touched, massaged and kissed my breasts. He was sucking them and pulling my nipple's really hard. 

I didn't like it, he was hurting me. I was frightened of what he was going to do next? I tried to stop him, but the drugs that he had prescribed were enough to knock out an elephant. Let alone me. I felt like I was trapped in a coma or in space, where no one could hear me scream. I couldn't move a muscle, let alone scream or talk. He kept on mumbling something, whilst he kept on slobbering all over my face and breasts.

Then if that wasn't bad enough? He then put his hand down below and started touching me, down there. I thought, "Oh my God", I can't believe this was happening, but it was. My consciousness kept going between kind of awake, and then into a dream like state, because of the drugs. Of course he knew that, so now I know why he prescribed so much medication to me. Especially as  up until then, I had never been in a psychiatric hospital in my entire life.

Then it got worse, as he pulled my pj pant's down, and put his hand right on my vagina. He was still slobbering and  sucking on my nipples, whilst he was rubbing my clitoris. I did become wet, even though I was afraid. It's just the female body's automatic response when being stimulated in such a way.  He obviously knew what he was doing, as even though I was not participating in this, in any way and was horrified at what he was doing. He then went from my clit and plunged his finger, and then  another, deep inside me.

He was going out of his way to make me cum. I couldn't believe what was happening? It was so horrific but that bastard made it also feel really good. Whilst he was doing this he opened his fly and got his penis out and rubbed it against the side of me whilst masturbating himself on me. He kept on fingering me until I felt quite sore. Then he kept on masturbating on me, until he came. I was mortified, disgusted and shocked. I thought I was actually going insane. I couldn't move, all as I could do was "lie there" and feel absolutely powerless and frightened. I just wanted him and his disgusting body weight to get off of me. Because after he came, I was nearly squashed by his body weight on my chest. It really hurt,  it felt like he had cracked a rib. That's how  heavy he was, as at that time he was a very largely built man and very tall.

Finally, thankfully it ended, with him pulling himself off me. Then he wiped all of his semen off one of my breasts. After he had done his fly up and straightened himself out, he whispered in my ear, "Just remember that you are a very sick girl, and that your lucky to have someone looking after you". Yeah right! Not!! sic "Because if you don't get better in here? I will have no choice but to detain you, and put you into the "lock up ward" ! He meant in the State's Public Mental Hospital. Which from what I had heard over the year's, was a really scary place.

Dr. C. obviously used his knowledge of psychiatry against me. He instilled in me such a fear. So not only did he paralyse my body at night with very strong sedation, but he also instilled in me, the fear of being incarcerated against my will in a State Mental Hospital. When a psychiatrist does that here, they have the power to detain you for as long as they deem fit. Unless, (as I found out later), you have a hearing where  various mental health professional's access you. Then they make a decision whether you can be released or not?

As if I didn't have enough to deal with? I'd just had a major nervous breakdown. Then this dreadful psychiatrist, made me more of a victim, than being sexually abused as a child  ever did. His unethical conduct was against everything that  the  doctor's "hippocratic oath" stand for.  What he did, and continued to do more of was worse than bad, it was evil and hurtful to me and other's too.

In the morning when I finally woke up, I felt really weird and disoriented. Far more than I knew from the drug's I was taking.  I asked the  psych nurses , "Did anyone come into my room last night"? They said of course not, you must be imagining things, and/or it could be the drugs you have been prescribed? Especially because you are not used to taking them before coming in here. I kept saying, "No, I have a weird feeling that someone? A man, was in my room doing things". Then one of the nurse's on duty said, "You must be hallucinating"? Then they both laughed. It wasn't very funny at all.

For the rest of the day, I was confused and upset and didn't know where to turn? Or whom to trust in there? I was truly trapped, and I was so confused at the time. I kept on thinking about it all day. Did that really happen to me?? It seemed so outrageous, that my own tortured mind just couldn't accept the data. My mind fought hard to process this that morning. But after lunch, it's like I didn't stand a chance.

I tried to talk to the nurse's on shift, telling them that I didn't want to take any more of their damn drugs. They insisted that I take my "Medications" after lunch. I continued to argue with them after lunch, as I really knew that I didn't want to take any more medication. I may have had a breakdown however I was not psychotic or insane.

They then insisted I take them after telling me that if I didn't co-operate and take my daily and nightly medication's as prescribed. That they were going to contact Dr. C. and tell him that I was being "difficult". They said, "this won't be good for you, you know, and if you continue to be "aggressive and non-compliant towards taking your medication", you will end up  being detained in the ..........State  Mental Health Hospital.