When the Helpers Become the Ones Who Harm
Psychiatric Hospitalization and Retraumatization

Three years ago, I underwent knee replacement surgery. What should have been a routine recovery of my procedure, became a nightmare that exposed the dangerous gaps in our mental health system's understanding of trauma. My experience illustrates how psychiatric facilities can retraumatize the very people they claim to help, particularly survivors of childhood ritual abuse, mind control, and trafficking.
When Medical Procedures Trigger Trauma
Recovery from surgery is challenging for anyone, but for survivors of medical experimentation, trafficking, and torture as in ritual abuse and mind contorl, medical procedures can trigger intense flashbacks and trauma responses. The ice machine my husband used to help with my recovery felt eerily similar to being hooked up to electric shock treatments as a child by people posing as researchers. I didn't know it at the time, but I was extremely triggered and had intense and fearful responses to his attempts to help me. The vulnerability of being dependent on my husband for care, combined with physical pain and triggery medical interventions, activated parts of me that had been trafficked and abused. For two weeks, I existed in a constant state of fight, flight, and freeze responses. Sleep became nearly impossible. My nervous system was stuck in survival mode, interpreting every sensation as a potential threat. After 2 weeks, my husband, overwhelmed and not knowing how to help, called 911 in desperation.
The Emergency Room: Where Trauma Meets Ignorance
What happened in the emergency room exemplifies everything wrong with how our medical system treats trauma survivors. When staff attempted to administer a COVID test by shoving a swab up my nose, I had a natural PTSD response - pulling my head back slightly to create distance from what felt like an invasion. This normal trauma response was immediately labeled as "combative behavior." Sleep deprivation after two weeks of hypervigilance, combined with fear and medical trauma, created symptoms that were misinterpreted as psychosis rather than recognized as trauma responses. Not once did anyone ask if I felt safe. Not once did anyone inquire about my trauma history. Not once did anyone truly look at the scared parts of me who were now locked in a constant state of panic, paralyzed in fear of everything; even my own husband who had been my greatest support person since 1989. Once there in the ER, the staff saw behaviors they didn't understand and immediately pathologized them. No one looked at sleep deprivation as a possible culprit even though I said I hadn't been able to sleep much for 2 weeks. The decision was made that I needed psychiatric hospitalization. I was told my physical medical needs would be met, since I was still recovering from the knee replacement surgery, that I would be able to use my ice machine and keep my leg elevated as required for surgical recovery. These promises were lies.
Sixteen Days of Institutional Retraumatization
The behavioral health unit became a place of systematic retraumatization disguised as treatment. The environment itself was designed in ways that triggered trauma survivors. Men nurses came in the room at night and shone flashlights into the room and on my face. When a loud noise startled me and I jumped - a normal PTSD response - several male staff members surrounded me while I was seated. Their towering presence activated my trauma response, and I became afraid. Instead of recognizing this as a trauma reaction, they placed me in isolation as if I were dangerous. What felt dangerous was my environment and being isolated and alone. No one to talk to. No one to share my deepest fears and tears with. I held onto my little girls Inspire coloring bible. There was no coloring, nothing except asking God to be with me. He was but the trauma responses, and the lack of sleep continued. How can you sleep while everyone is saying, "You need to get some sleep", and then just shove sleeping pills your way and then leave. Now, cameras monitoring my every move (particularly triggering for someone who has been used in child pornography), in a small space with prison-like accommodations with impossibly low toilets and no handicap railings, and being in an isolation room that felt like punishment chambers.
My basic medical needs were ignored. I couldn't elevate my leg as required for post-surgical recovery. I was denied access to my CPAP machine, which I needed for sleep, because the cord was deemed a "risk factor" - despite never expressing any suicidal ideation. The very thing I needed most (restorative sleep) was denied to me based on unfounded assumptions about my mental state and the psychiatrist I saw didn't listen to me, but told me what was going to happen.
Forced Medication and Loss of Autonomy
I was forced to take psychiatric medications I neither needed nor wanted. For survivors of childhood abuse, having substances forced into our bodies recreates the powerlessness we experienced during our abuse. The lack of informed consent, the dismissal of our autonomy, and the chemical restraint of our minds through unwanted medication represents another form of violation. I wasn't suicidal. I wasn't psychotic. I wasn't a danger to myself or others. I was a trauma survivor in a triggered state who needed safety, rest, and trauma-informed care. Instead, I received institutional abuse that compounded my existing trauma.
The Systemic Problem
My experience isn't unique. Survivors across the country report similar retraumatization in psychiatric facilities. Despite decades of research on trauma and its effects, any advances in mental health care, many mental health facilities continue to operate using outdated, punitive models that cause more harm than healing. The staff weren't intentionally malicious - they were poorly trained and working within systems that don't understand trauma. When someone has been conditioned through abuse and trafficking to fear authority figures, surrounding them with male staff and using physical restraints or isolation recreates the very dynamics that caused their trauma in the first place.
What Trauma-Informed Care Actually Means
True trauma-informed care requires understanding that behavior is communication. When a trauma survivor appears "combative" or "difficult," they're often expressing terror in the only way their nervous system knows how. Instead of punishment, they need safety. Instead of isolation, they need connection. Instead of forced compliance, they need choices and control.
Trauma-informed facilities could:

• Ask about trauma history and current triggers

• Provide choices whenever possible

• Understand that medical procedures can be triggering

• Recognize trauma responses versus mental illness symptoms

• Prioritize safety and stabilization over compliance

• Avoid retraumatizing interventions like isolation and restraints

The Ongoing Harm

The sixteen days I spent in that facility caused trauma that I'm still processing years later. Instead of healing, I was harmed. Instead of feeling safer, I learned that the very institutions meant to help trauma survivors can become sources of additional trauma.This is particularly dangerous for survivors of organized abuse and trafficking, who already struggle to trust authority figures and institutions. When we finally reach out for help and are met with retraumatization, it reinforces our belief that nowhere is safe and no one can be trusted.
The Need for Change
Our mental health system must evolve beyond archaic models that treat symptoms without understanding their origins. Trauma survivors don't need to be controlled, medicated into compliance, or isolated from human connection. We need to be seen, heard, and treated with the understanding that our behaviors make sense given what we've survived. Every survivor deserves care that honors their experiences, respects their autonomy, and supports their healing rather than compounding their trauma. Until psychiatric facilities become truly trauma-informed, they will continue to harm the very people they claim to help. We must demand better. Our lives, our healing, and our humanity depend on it.
If you're a trauma survivor who has experienced retraumatization in psychiatric settings, please know you're not alone and your experience matters. Your trauma responses are valid, and you deserve care that supports your healing rather than causing additional harm. Please reach out to a therapist you can trust for understanding and support.