Kelly Behlen

Review of Anoka Metro Regional Treatment...

I was sent here in 2007. I'm unashamed of the men...

I was sent here in 2007. I'm unashamed of the mental illnesses I have suffered, as they are not my fault. As such, I am not ashamed to have my name linked to this review.

I was housed on Unit C, under Dr. Lesk. We butted heads immediately upon meeting. I am fiercely independent and did not take kindly to being locked in a facility, and told how I would act in every aspect of my daily life. I don't know what his governing motive was, but I assume it was control. He seemed to me as if he wanted to control, utterly, those under his care. He was a king, and we were his subjects.

He systematically made my life hell from then on. Basic rights were not afforded to me, such as mingling with other units in the lunch room, and thereby enriching my own personal well-being. While my unit marched to the lunchroom I was required to eat my meals on the unit, alone.

I was never allowed to leave the unit. There was no recreation time in the central courtyard, under the sky, in the breeze. There was no time on the circular track ringing the outside of the courtyard, connecting all the units; this track, a source of exercise for many patients, and socialization.

I was not allowed to enjoy the commissary, either. No chocolate for me. Nor was I allowed to use the library. No losing myself in a story. Even my own books were taken from me, and my drawing supplies, which I loved so dearly, were removed from me.

The drawing supplies... they were dangled in front of me for 1/2 an hour a day, if I was "good". The nurses understood that my treatment was over the top, and harsh beyond any reasonable application. As such, when Dr. Lesk would go home, they would give me my drawing supplies back for as long as I wished to use them that night.

I have my illnesses, but schizophrenia, and bipolar are not among them. Besides myself, and one other person, our unit was made exclusively of schizophrenia patients. My life was dominated by cat-people, angels, demons, famous people's children, mind readers, and kung fu masters. The nurses would take time, when available, and sit with me, just having a conversation. They knew that I had secluded myself in my room, to assume a sense of normalcy. But, once again, Dr. Lesk came to the rescue, and ordered my door locked during the day, taking away my refuge.

The only reason I was freed from these tortures (for that is what they were) was because Dr. Lesk went on vacation, and a new doctor took over for him. Seasons had passed. The new doctor seemed, to me at least, appalled by the fact I was still there after so long and of my treatment to date. It wasn't even half a week before I was released, but not before speaking to a number of well-suited men sitting on the opposite side of a large, large table from a very mentally battered, and beaten, scared individual.

Where was the oversight? Where were the checks and balances on this seemingly omnipotent power wielded by one individual over so many? Why, when the nurses knew this was happening, did they not blow the whistle? If they did, why was their warning not heeded?

Mine may seem an isolated case, but I have spoken to others who have had horrifying experiences at AMRTC, themselves. The girl across the hall from me was required to live a nightmare everyday as her roommate felt as if her clothes were part of her being, and as such never changed them, never showered. You cannot imagine the smell. What did Dr. Lesk do? He housed this poor girl with a massive fear of germs in the same room as the girl who refused to clean herself. Can you imagine placing these two together? That's not therapeutic, that's traumatic.

Yes, I was mentally ill. Yes, I was committed. I do not ramble incoherently. Further, my writing elucidates my claims to a sharp and focused mind. These words are true. They are fact. 13 years later I am still struggling to move forward. I am struggling, hard, to forget the memories in my head from my awful time at AMRTC.

I will never let Dr. Lesk forget what he did to me.