Ing Says: Trauma Informed Care Must be Practiced; Not Just Talked About
What Trauma-Informed Care Could Have Looked Like — And What Happened Instead
Applying the Six Principles of TIC to My Experience at The Guidance Center, Flagstaff, Arizona
What Actually Happened
I was placed on a 72-hour psychiatric hold. By necessity, I arrived with my fully task-trained service dog.
What followed was an act of violence — emotional and physical — by staff who refused to honor my rights under the ADA and my rights as a human being living with mental illness.
Here is the exchange, documented as it happened:
Charge Nurse Kylie Hansard (also known as Kaia Marie Manas): “Your dog is not a service dog. We’re taking it to the shelter.”
Me: “She is an ADA-recognized task-trained service dog. I have handler rights.”
Charge Nurse: “No, you don’t. We have policies.”
Me: “I have the right to arrange alternative care. I need my phone.”
Charge Nurse: “No.”
After several rounds of this, seven people entered my room — including two uniformed animal control officers.
I was in a hospital gown, sitting on the floor, holding my dog. I had not made threatening statements. I had not made demeaning statements. I had simply asserted my rights as a service dog handler.
They restrained me while forcibly removing her.
That is not a clinical decision. That is domination. And it was entirely avoidable.
The Six Principles of Trauma-Informed Care
Before walking through what happened, it helps to understand the framework The Guidance Center was supposed to be following. SAMHSA identifies six core principles of trauma-informed care:
- Safety — physical and emotional
- Trustworthiness and Transparency
- Peer Support
- Collaboration and Mutuality
- Empowerment, Voice, and Choice
- Cultural, Historical, and Gender Awareness
These are not aspirational values. They are the operational standard. Every one of them was violated that day.
What Trauma-Informed Care Could Have Looked Like
This is not hypothetical. This is what should have happened — step by step — under any framework that treats patients as human beings.
Step 1: The charge nurse arrives and confirms I have a dog. I affirm she is a service animal.
Step 2: She says, “Because you can’t leave the unit, you can’t care for your dog during your stay.” I reply, “She’s a service dog. I have handler and disabled rights.”
Step 3: Even if the nurse didn’t know the law, she respects my dignity enough to check. A quick search. A call to legal. Within minutes, she returns — ADA printouts in hand.
Step 4: Together, we read the law. Then we cooperate to find a solution — contacting friends, arranging boarding, setting up a visit with my support network.
Result? No panic. No restraint. No trauma. No violence. And, My Trust Won!
That is not a difficult sequence. It requires basic respect, minimal effort, and a willingness to treat a patient as a person rather than a problem to be managed.
Walking the Principles Back Through What Actually Happened
Safety — Failed I was physically restrained. I was sitting on the floor in a hospital gown, holding my dog. I had said nothing threatening. I had done nothing threatening. I had asserted my legal rights. Seven people entered my room in response. That is not safety. That is a show of force against a person in crisis.
Trustworthiness and Transparency — Failed I was told their policy overrode federal law. It does not. I knew that. I said so. The response was not transparency — it was escalation.
Peer Support — Failed There was a peer present; their role was so diminished that they were unable to advocate for me. No one in that facility whose role was to be on my side. When my anxiety rose — as anyone’s would when seven people enter your room to take your service dog — there was no one there to help me. I was violated to the core of my being, and no one was there to speak for me.
Collaboration and Mutuality — Failed There was no collaboration. There was compliance or there were consequences. The power differential was not minimized. It was enforced — with violence.
Empowerment, Voice, and Choice — Failed I asked for my phone. I was told no. I asked to arrange alternative care for my dog — a right I have under the ADA. I was told no. Every avenue of self-determination was closed. What remained was force.
Cultural, Historical, and Gender Awareness — Failed This dimension will be addressed more fully on the accountability page. What I will say here is that nothing about how this unfolded happened in a vacuum.
The Problem Is Structural
The Guidance Center does not train for dignity, respect, or kindness. They put signs on walls. They restrain people in crisis. They call it care.
This is not a story about one bad nurse — though Nurse Kylie Hansard, also known as Nurse Kaia Marie Manas, made every decision that escalated this situation when de-escalation was available at every single step.
This is a story about a facility that failed at every principle it was obligated to uphold. My case is a blueprint for exactly how that failure plays out — principle by principle, decision by decision, until seven people are restraining a woman in a hospital gown for asking to use her phone.
If This Mirrors Your Experience
You are not alone. What happened to you was not inevitable. It was a choice made by a provider or a facility — and choices can be documented, reported, and challenged.
File with your state’s licensing board, the Office of Civil Rights, and the Attorney General. File knowing that these bodies rarely impose meaningful consequences — because the record matters regardless.
And then come to us. Between Trust and Trauma documents what happened, names the providers and facilities responsible, and connects survivors who experienced the same pattern of harm. Nurse Kylie Hansard. Nurse Kaia Marie Manas. The Guidance Center, Flagstaff, Arizona. These names are on this site because accountability requires that they be searchable.
One incident is enough. One person harmed is enough. We document it because it happened — not because we need a pattern to justify our pain.
“Nothing About Us Without Us.”
