Collecting Psychiatric Survivor Stories



As people with lived mental health experiences, each of our stories is unique. We are gathering stories, poems, and art pieces to paint an overall picture of the impact forced treatment has had on our community as a whole. Please complete the form below to add your story to ours!

Submit your Stories, Art, and Prose


Submissions Below 


"As someone who has been involuntarily hospitalized, I firmly believe there is no better way to undermine trust in the mental health system and ensure that people do not seek out the treatment they need. I was placed against my will in a facility and over-medicated, with no say in my treatment plan. Despite being at a hospital with a great reputation and receiving better than average care, it was an experience I wish to never relive, and I shudder to think about the awful conditions those who receive average or below-average care will endure. It will never make sense to me that proponents of this approach claim this is for a patient's safety, when I was taken away from those who love me and everything that was familiar to me, and placed among providers more interested in controlling me than helping me. Where's the safety in that?"




"Within these walls, a tomb of stone, No whisper stirs, no life is known. A silent cage, my soul confined, No voice escapes, no hope entwined.

The air hangs heavy, thick with dread, Each breath a struggle, words unsaid. My heart, a drum in muffled beat, No rhythm shared, no solace sweet.

I pace the confines, bare and stark, Echoes bounce, mocking the dark. My cries for help, a whispered plea, Lost in the void, unheard, unseen.

The shadows gather, long and thin, Mocking whispers, drawing me in. The silence presses, crushing weight, A tomb of self, a sealed fate.

But wait, a tremor, faint and small, A crack in stone, a light I recall. A whisper born, a spark ignites, Pushing back the endless nights.

With trembling hands, I claw at stone, Each shard a hope, a seed to be sown. The echoes fade, the darkness wanes, A breath of dawn, the silence drains.

I break free, stumbling into light, The walls dissolve, and morning's bright. The air, a song, the world unbound, No longer walled, no echoes to wound.

Though scars remain, the memories deep, I rise anew, where shadows sleep. For even walls, in their cold might, Cannot contain a burning light.

So let me sing, with voice unbound, No echoes here, only solid ground. The walls are gone, the silence broken, My voice, unbound, a new path spoken." -SINK



"In hushed chambers, stone and cold, My voice a captive, story untold. Shadows cling, in corners curled, Whispering secrets to a silent world.

Brick by brick, they built the shell, A fortress forged of doubt and fell. No windowpanes to let light through, Just echoes mocking, "Me and you."

My heart, a drum with muffled beat, Longing's rhythm, bittersweet. Each breath a sigh, a whispered plea, To break these chains, and finally be free.

But hope, a ember, flickers low, In dreams of skies where wild winds blow. One day, I'll crack this granite tomb, And sing a song that shatters gloom.

Till then, I'll dance with ghosts unseen, And let the echoes chase between These walls, a haunting lullaby, Until the dawn paints freedom in the sky." -SINK