Mindfreedom Oral Histories: Janet Foner

[Guest guest]

Janet Foner

Born: September 09 1945

 

Click here for contact information.

 

Currently Doing: Janet leads Mental Health Liberation workshops in

many parts of the U.S. and other countries. She consults, develops

leaders, writes policy, and serves as a board member of SCI. Janet is

a wife, mother of two young adults. Her hobbies are making quilts,

cooking and redoing various rooms in her house.

 

Psychiatric Labels: Schizophrenia

 

Mental Health Experience: Inpatient, Outpatient, Commitment,

Psychiatric Drugs, Forced treatment, Coercive treatment, Solitary

Confinement, humiliation, patronized by some staff, cruel and unusual

boredom, analysis as a " case " —especially by being " presented " at case

conferences

 

Click here for psychiatric drugs taken in the past.

 

Off Psychiatric Drugs Since: 1968

 

Recovery Methods: Self-help, Peer Support, One-on-one therapy, Diet,

Social Activism (I consider this a way of life, not a recovery

method), Art/Music(again, a way of life for me all my life, not a

recovery method), getting a job, moving out of my parents' house to an

apartment of my own, getting married and moving from the city where I

was incarcerated to another part of the country where no one knew me

as an ex-patient, learning to sew, co-counseling

 

Greatest Obstacle: The lies of the mental health system, i.e. the idea

that you are a " mental patient " for life, there is something

mysterious and wrong with you that no one knows how to cure. Had I not

got off the psychiatric drugs, they would have been my key difficulty.

 

Brief History: When I was " admitted " , I was told I was not being

admitted or given papers or info or anything. I was in the admissions

office being loudly upset, in metaphors. No one asked me or told me

anything. The doctor called for reinforcements (3 people) who forcibly

dragged me upstairs to the locked women's ward and forcibly injected

so much Thorazine into my butt that I passed out shortly thereafter.

They put me in seclusion immediately upon drugging me.

 

The next day I wouldn't take the drugs via pill as I did NOT want any

drugs, so they injected me again. A few days later (don't remember how

many), I refused the drugs via pill again and they put me in seclusion

again. If I had a choice I'd have NEVER taken the drugs, but they only

actually forcibly injected me 2 or 3 times I think with Thorazine. The

doctors said these drugs " helped " me, that they were not addictive,

that I could do better in therapy with them. They NEVER told me what

the effects were until after some of them occurred. No reasons were

given at all for my solitary confinement.

 

The worst parts of being in an institution were being locked in

seclusion twice (like one huge nightmare); being on drugs and not

being able to stay awake, be aware, or move much, not to mention

gaining 30 pounds; being made to stay there in confinement so long,

boredom, not getting to go outside much. I wasn't allowed outside at

all until a month had gone by. Not ever knowing when I would get out.

Activities that were patronizing, boring, or humiliating — if you

didn't go you were not " trying to get well " and VERY bored on the

ward. Group " therapy " was a farce. Seeing most of the women on my ward

come back from electroshock. Hearing them scream while in seclusion or

restraint. Terrified the whole time that I would get shock. Hearing

people's very sad stories.

 

Seclusion felt like a complete nightmare. I was terrified beyond

[belief], thought I was going to die or jump out the window—the window

was tiny and barred. I felt like I was a spy in a spy story who was

captured by the enemy and/or an inmate in a concentration camp during

the Holocaust and that I was going to be killed any minute. My

feelings may have been intensified by huge amount of drugs. I was

desperate to get out of there and screamed for help — a logical

reaction, interpreted as " mental illness " . No one told me I had to be

quiet to get let out of there. I was VERY alone. It took years and

years of Co-Counseling on other subjects before I could begin to talk

about and begin to heal from the seclusion.

 

My group therapy experiences were terrible. Not helpful AT ALL because

the psychiatrist (not mine) in charge of my group was very unfeeling

and the whole process consisted of several patients " acting out " and

the psychiatrist analyzing all of our feelings as a group in relation

to whoever was " acting out " .

 

There were absolutely ZERO positive effects of the Thorazine and

Stellazine I was given. Negative, many: sunburned very easily, numbed

out, could not focus or think clearly or be aware or " alive " , " forgot "

how to draw (scary, as I was a painting major), could not read, lost

interest in sex, stopped having periods, was constipated a lot and had

trouble urinating. First few days I vomited and had diarrhea. Heavy

emotional " depression " that I didn't have in such a severe form before

the drugs. Hallucinations and " delusions " that I never had before or

since being on the drugs. Did not realize this at the time, but a key

negative effect was stopping or slowing in the process of emotional

release, i.e. crying, trembling, laughing, etc. One day I could not

move my neck at all. Currently I have many physical distresses in my

body, showing up in the form of back pain, neck pain, etc., and I have

a feeling these are related to the length of time I was on Thorazine.

I basically lost almost two years of my life due to the drugs. The

worst part was eventually believing that I " needed " these drugs to

" calm me down. "

 

There was no really good part about the institution, but I guess the

best of many not so great things was some of the friends I had among

other " patients " there (we could have had better times elsewhere. .

..), some friends from " outside " who visited me in the hospital, my

parents visiting me regularly, an attendant who held nightly informal

" meetings " about how we were going to get out of there.

 

Once off the Thorazine, I had no withdrawal difficulties and felt

absolutely GREAT, compared to being on drugs. After my wedding day, I

never took any psych. drugs ever again and at some point soon after

that threw out the rest of the ones I had left.

 

Lots of people who know what I do for a living act scared of me,

distant from me, feel like I am going to " fall apart " . When I got out

of the hospital and wanted to look for a job in the mental health

field, my cousin, who is a psychologist, told me he wasn't sure I

could handle that.

 

Recovery means two things to me. Recovery from the oppression and

other distress imposed on us as " mental patients " . And recovery from

the hurts we experienced as very young people, growing up. The latter

needs to be done by everyone, whether or not they are ex-patients. On

the other hand, if " recovery " is seen as meaning " recovery " from

" mental illness " , I wouldn't use the term at all, as I don't believe

there is any such thing as " mental illness " . We absolutely need to

redefine mental illness. Let's start by saying there is no such thing.

 

Most of my friends were extremely helpful in my recovery. My mother

continued to assume I would be fine and that she would help me get

where I needed to be, which included encouraging me to go out to eat

with the family even though I felt people were talking about me,

encouraging me to look for a job even though I felt I couldn't get

one. My dad was a paraplegic and even though very difficult physically

and emotionally for him to visit me in the hospital, he did come on

every visiting day. One time I felt like I would NEVER get out of

there and he said I should take it one day at a time and I WOULD get

out. He had been in a rehab hospital for two years, so he knew what he

was talking about and this was enormously helpful. My children were

not born until a few years after I was in the hospital, so they did

not know about it until I told them. My younger son immediately

started crying. He was outraged that anyone could have treated me like

that. My older son made a very insightful cartoon about how bad the

mental health system is.

 

The best peer support I have received has been from Co-Counselors

and/or ex-inmate movement leaders whom I have taught to Co-Counsel.

One of the best Co-Counseling sessions I ever had was with David Oaks

when we exchanged ex-inmate stories. When I told him about being in

seclusion, he said " We're a little late, but we're here. " This was

VERY helpful and emotionally moving for me.

 

I won my human rights by getting out of the hospital, never going

back, and co-founding Support Coalition, though in a sense, my rights

as an ex-patient are still not secure. My work with re-evaluation

counseling and the survivors' movement has been very good for my

recovery. Specifically, in terms of getting me over my fear of " coming

out " , helping me heal emotionally from the mental health experiences,

and getting me to realize I am in charge of my life. I would never

choose a different kind of life. I often say to people, " If you decide

to lead `mental health' liberation, you will never be bored again! "

 

Interviewer's Comments:

 

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