Journal entry from my imprisonment 2/2/18

I thought this was relevant this today and isnt a song or poem, but as many people are still being pushed the same treatment without care, and seroquel for off label treatments. heres the journal entry during my incarceration from that day 2/2/18, a preview of what will be from my 20 year memoir of journal entrys, poems, and songs.

Journal Entry: Sedated Into Silence

“A pull to make you dumb, a pill to make you numb, a pill to make you anybody else.”

That line has been looping in my head because it feels less like a lyric and more like a diagnosis of this place.

They give antipsychotics to almost everyone in jail. Not because everyone is psychotic, but because sedation is easier than listening. Because a quiet tier looks like order on paper. Because a medicated body is easier to manage than a human being with fear, anger, or questions.

What scares me isn’t that they medicate us—it’s how casually they do it.

I ask how a medication works and I get blank stares. I ask what receptors it affects and I’m treated like I’m being difficult. But I’m not asking to be smart. I’m asking because I’m afraid of dying. I’ve spent my whole life terrified of death, studying medications the way other people study sports stats. I know what these drugs do to the brain. I know what happens when you stack them. I know what withdrawal looks like when no one is watching.

The doctor couldn’t explain how a basic heart medication worked. Couldn’t tell me what it did to the kidneys. This is the person signing off on forced psychiatric treatment for inmates. This is who we’re trusting with lives.

When I first got here, they gave me two SSRIs at once. No taper. No discussion. No doctor called. When my body started reacting—when I got sick, confused, overheated—they said it was “dope withdrawal.” The death rate is high, and exponetiates the longer its administered. The CO’s here at Seneca forced me to take it both, the nurse didnt take my request to verify it was a change of med schedule and taper, even if you ask to simply look up basic knowledge, they wont take the time of day to look, they are too busy walking around flirting and provoking inamates. maybe thats why somone just died in a cell here. But over and over they said im going through heroin withdrawl, never did it, never tested me for it, just assumed it was that. Two weeks and it exponetially goes up in death rate from 12percent to almost 70 if its kept readminsterd. Now Names there are that should be named, but it means nothing. back to it I’ve never done dope. They didn’t believe me. They never do. It’s easier to blame the inmate than admit a mistake, and I cant refuse them, or I was threated with solitary confinement because my past history in mental health treatment. They read that and not basic drug knowledge. I never talked, only read, and never caused problems. Too many power hungry individuals untrained and unprofessional.

That wasn’t just negligence. That was dangerous, finally when the real doctor came after 45 days of not seeing him, they took me to hospital and treated me and tested for kidney failure. I didnt get one apology, they were too busy flexing muscles, or power tripping on my fellow inmates worried about extra sheets then rehabilitation.

They hand out Seroquel like candy. Not for mental illness, but “conduct disorder” the most common thing for prescribing it in jails. From what I see most conduct disorder besides a few are from being treated with disrespect, and not helping them rehabilite. Seroquel A drug known to mess with heart rhythms. A drug that can cause sudden cardiac arrest, especially in new patients or when mixed with other substances already in someone’s system. And people in jail always have something in their system—stress, withdrawal, dehydration, fear.

Someone died in the jail across the street while I was in from medication mismanagement. I think about that every time they line us up for pills. I wonder how many times they blamed the body instead of the protocol.

What really breaks me is the hypocrisy.

They refuse to give me a medication I’ve been on for twelve years—a scheduled drug for schizophrenia and panic disorder—because they’re afraid someone might abuse it. Meanwhile, they sedate entire units with antipsychotics. The people who want to abuse drugs will always find a way in here. All they’re doing is punishing the people who actually need consistency.

They deny treatment and call it safety.
They force sedation and call it care.

Non-nurses pass out meds. People who couldn’t tell you the difference between dopamine and serotonin decide what you can and can’t have. If you can’t explain how a drug works on the brain, you have no business giving it to anyone—let alone forcing it on them.

Therapy here is a joke. A worksheet. A facilitator who doesn’t listen. Boxes to check. No one takes it seriously because no one running it does. I try to lead by example. I talk honestly, and people open up. I see it work. But the system doesn’t care. Healing isn’t efficient.

My roommate can’t read a wall clock. Not because he’s stupid—because he was failed long before he got here. How is he supposed to do anything when he gets out except what he already knows? How is anyone surprised people come back?

They lock people in a room for six months with nothing to do but talk to other criminals and plan the next move. Then they release them and act shocked when nothing changes.

The COs we have are have sex with inmates. The nurses don’t question orders if they are every there, and dont take questions, your not aloud to talk about anything wrong. They assume your evil before speaking. The doctors don’t know the drugs they prescribe. And the state gets paid per body, per day where im at. At least seneca county got there 50k per person here.

This isn’t correction.
It’s sedation.
It’s warehousing.
It’s silence bought with pills.

And the most dangerous part isn’t the medication—it’s the certainty with which they hand it out, the confidence of people who don’t know what they’re doing but never have to answer for it.

I’m not crazy for questioning this.
I’m not paranoid for being afraid.
I’m alive because I pay attention.

And that shouldn’t be a requirement for survival.

2025 update

I was in with hundreds of people, one block in the jail of 70-80 every single person close to 80 percent died of heroin overdose. Is that the treatment we need in correctional facilitys? Most every other person I see outside is still struggling 9 years later to keep jobs, or while in these prisons made friends and connections from the unstructered days and poor rehabilitation programs inside. I have meant only 2 successful people from my entire time in my stay. Most ended up back in jail from being uneducated or yelled at in front of there peers when they tried, so naturally they said fuck this, its instinct. They will put ppl on probation, violate them, and lock them up and make them loose jobs, and release them back out. What the fuck else were they suppose to do.

Seneca countys system when I was there was severely broken. It probaly still is, they hire CO’s and therapist for 15 dollars an hour on INDEED, who the hell are you going to get for that.

Its all that needs to be said. They should have done more, the system doesnt work. just a insight to one of my journal entries in jail that really irked me.