I'd like to share my experience with being involuntarily committed. I had a nervous breakdown at my job. I was going through a lot with the end of a long term relationship, the near death of my mother and the death of my father. My boss was super cool and accommodating with what I was going through. After a particularly rough morning and my subsequent breakdown we both decided that I needed to see a doctor ASAP. My primary care physician was not available for weeks out so I went to a Med 7 clinic.
I was still visibly a wreck when I got there and had obviously been crying. I could only really get out that I needed mental help. I was quickly ushered out of the waiting room and into an exam room. A doctor quickly came in and asked me 2 questions. "What is wrong" and after I answered that "Well... If you were to kill yourself, how would you do it?" At this point in my life I had very little experience in the mental health world, so without missing a beat I answered "Shit, I don't know... I have a kitchen knife and 2 hands? Isn't that enough?" The doctor nodded and excused herself. She came back about 10 minutes later with 2 big burly cops. I immediately knew that I had fucked something up.
I stood up and said that there's clearly been some sort of mistake. I was just there for... Meds? Emergency Therapy? I have no idea what I was there for, I just needed some help. From there, the cop frisked me and told me I was going to be handcuffed and escorted to the nearest hospital. At this point in my life, I'd never even been so much as pulled over for speeding, let alone cuffed and perp walked to a fucking squad car. Luckily the hospital was close by...
Once we made it to our local hospital I found out that this was only a waiting point for transportation to the actual mental hospital. Okay... Weird... Why didn't he just take me in the car? IDK. Policy I guess. Once we arrived I was force to change out of my suit and into hospital gown. All of my possessions were bagged and taken away from me and I was then handcuffed to a bed in the middle of the main hallway. When I arrived it was around 10 AM I think... I was cuffed to that bed until 2AM when an ambulance was finally available to take me 15 miles down the road to the mental hospital. The hospital security guard kept me company the whole time. Really nice guy and the last person who wouldn't treat me like I was insane for the next 7 days.
Upon arriving to the mental hospital, I was sure this was some kind of wack ass dream. But once I was processed, strip searched and led to my bed... I knew it wasn't. Believe it or not I actually fell right to sleep. When I awoke in the morning I opened my eyes to see my HUGE bearded bunkmate staring at me. He looked me dead in the eye and said "Do you believe in Jesus?" in a real slow voice. I said "fuck no" and rolled over until hospital staff came to get me.
I found myself in the "Danger to Self or Others" wing of the hospital. While trying to find out exactly WHAT the fuck they had in store to me, I had a weeping woman grab my arm and scream "THEY WONT LET ME OUT OF HERE!". Staff came and took her back to her room. Oh boy. I went and waited in the TV room while I assumed they would process my release (HAHA). While I waited 2 young guys got in a huge fist fight over the TV channel being changed. I got out of that wing within an hour and moved to the "non dangerous" wing.
While I could go on and on for many more paragraphs about all the people I met, I'll do my best to sum it up. After ONE meeting with my assigned doctor and providing my insurance information, I was changed from a 5150 to a 5250, which means they could have kept me for up to 14 days. I was kept for 7 days total. I got to see a doctor 3 times. I was cold turkey'd off of my antidepressant and put on Lithium.
In my time there I learned a few things. First, was that basically everyone in the world has it so much worse than me. There was this sweet little old lady in there who had taken a bunch of pills and drove into someones house. In group therapy she told her story of how she was adopted in the 50s by a couple that would basically use her as a sex slave. Absolute nightmare... But she met her husband at the end of high school and they both ran away together. They had 3 sons and the reason she'd tried to take her life (then drive to the hospital) was because her husband had just died.
I met a guy who cut his own throat in front of his wife and daughter. He survived. He had to sign a form saying he would not use or handle knives for one year in order to be released. His trade? HE WAS A CHEF. Anyway I'm off in the weeds again, but I remember all of these people and their serious attempts at taking their lives and the reasons they gave for it.
The main thing I learned? If you don't have insurance? You're much more likely to get out on a 5150 instead of held longer. Giving my insurance was about the worst thing I could have done. There was a guy who came in AFTER me and got out before me. He was brought in after cops came to his house because he was trying to kill his wife and then himself. He actually got "in trouble" because he almost broke the public phone in the hallway. He was on it screaming at his wife "WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD YOU CUNT" and smashing the receiver against the wall. He was there for 72 hours... I was there for 7 days.
(side note: "Do you believe in Jesus?" guy... I heard from other patients that he was "preaching" in the dangerous wing that he was "The antichrist and put on earth to rape and molest children". I got to share a fucking room with that)
The most important thing I learned from this? Never fucking tell a doctor a thing. Ever. Again. I'm sorry mental health professionals, but as you can see this is a hugely traumatizing memory for me. Having people treat me like I was insane, while surrounded by WAY crazier people than what I was going through was one of the scariest experiences of my life. I learned NOTHING to help me cope with my own issues and felt like shit for weeks after being taken off my meds and switched abruptly to Lithium
And to TOP IT OFF?! As I walked out the front door (and had to IMMEDIATELY get to work lest I be fired and lose my job and home) they tried to hand me a bill. For my involuntary stay, for answering what I though was a hypothetical question. I laughed and told em to send me to collections. I never received any further bill.
I've basically only declined in my mental health in the many years since this happened. But I have not been back on an involuntary hold because the lesson I learned was NEVER tell a doctor the truth again. I've sought help and gotten some great therapy over the years and my first question to a new doctor is ALWAYS what their threshold of suicide hold reporting is.
OP, I'm sorry you had to go through this and I'm sorry that this is the only way we can seem to "help" people.