OK, OK...

So it's been 5 days since I posted. Big deal. I've kinda been dealing with a lot of stuff.

• I went back to my fulltime job, even though I have pisspoor hours this pay period. 
• I got asked out by B, who I haven't seen since high school. 
• I bought new lip gloss. 
• I did laundry. 
• I bought a swimsuit. 
• I celebrated my friend's birthday, even though it involved me having to call a manager over. 
• I had a panic attack. A severe one. 

I found, in my box-o-pills, my old script for anti-anxiety meds. When I had the panic attack the other day, I took some. Still works, despite being a month expired. 

T and I were supposed to talk on Thursday, but again T blew me off. Then today, got all pissy when I called T out on it. I'm not going to apologize for calling it as I see it. And I can see right through it. 

B and I have been texting pretty much non-stop since the other night when we decided that B was going to buy me a beer. So, we'll see what happens. 

Tomorrow, I'll drive up to D's place, go to see D's spouse's band play, and on Sunday, I'll go out with B. 

Tonight, however, is all about me. I'm giving myself a pedi, a facial, and the longest, hottest shower I can muster... with some new bodywash. Night blooming jasmine, anyone?

No cheese at the end of this maze

I've been feeling like it would be OK to not exist any longer. Not that I have any plans to take care of that, because I don't have the means or motivation to do as such. Primarily because my means would be my car, and since P bought that car for me... I would feel really guilty if I ruined it.

But I did what I am "supposed" to do, and reached out to some others for help. The first step is getting someone to answer the phone. Most of them don't, because most of them don't want to deal with it. T doesn't even text me back any more, and that sucks, because T knows how I feel. BestFriend wasn't an option, of course, Bestfriend defriended me last week. I called M, K, T, M again... M finally answered the phone. Yes, I wanted to talk about how I was feeling, but instead of being able to get that out? I ended up listening to M talk about M's relationship problems. I was unable to get a word in edgewise about things that I wanted to talk about.

This happens to me a lot in my relationships. I take on a counselor role, where I listen, listen, listen, give advice, listen some more, catch when they fall, wipe away tears, and then when I need the help? They aren't there. I honestly shouldn't be surprised any more.

I drove two hours in radio silence today. I can't even listen to the radio, because every song reminds me of T. I can't deal with that right now, and, I don't know that I'll be able to deal with that tomorrow, either.

I didn't call E. I feel like I've already relied on E too much.
I texted K to ask K to call me after work... I never heard back from K.

I can't seem to make any of these things work.

Weekend

Spent the weekend with D and D's family, traveled 8 hours away to bury D's relative. Spent time with D's kids, and panicked... a lot.

I've been noticing that the only time I am not panicked, is in my bed, but even now, that's not true. I went to bed at 6:30 this evening, and now, at 2:33am, I'm up, of course. I'm feeling that old familiar feeling of pressure on my chest, throat tightening to the point of feeling totally choked by it.

6 hours from now, I'll be sitting at my first therapist appointment of the day. I'll be analyzed, scrutinized, quite possibly criticized for things that I have done, things that I do, things that I feel and the way that I react to outside forces.

4 hours after that, I'll be at my doctor appointment, and 2 hours after that, at my chiropractic appointment. It's going to be a long day for me.

Physical Symptoms

Laying in bed in a different time zone. My heart is racing, knees are weak, legs are shaking and I can't catch my breath. My brain is going in a million directions.

Looks like a sleepless night in Central Time.

On the Road

Went on the weekend trip with D to take care of D's family business. I'd like to say that I needed this weekend away, but I don't know that this is such a great idea. I've been panicked from the word go.

Seems I can't leave the house without feeling like a house has collapsed on me and I have a boa constrictor wrapped around my neck. The entire 7 hour drive, I've had the panicked anxiety that is nearly crippling at times.
I'm trying to keep myself composed when I'm around D's kids, but it's getting increasingly hard. I'm glad I was able to afford my own room for one night, and use points for the second night, because I don't think I could sleep in the same room without having the overwhelmed feeling that I've been having. Finally using something I've been accumulating... go team.

D's family is here, and they are aware of what is going on with me over the last week. My face has been smooshed and threats of being smacked around if I ever try anything like that again have been hurled as tears welled up in my eyes. I kept it down as much as I could, but it's been a real struggle to deal with it.

I don't know how much more overwhelming panic I can handle. I really don't.

Finally, some good news

Heard back from Partial Hospitalization program at Local Hospital. They had me call financial, and after I got off the phone with them, I was told to call back on Monday to set me up for Tuesday morning. This is great. Shortly afterwards, I got a call from the community mental health program, and they did an over the phone intake for me, and I will go in to see them on Monday morning at 8:45am.

I have decided to go across the state with D this weekend, it's just a matter of driving up there now. We'll see how that goes. I really want to talk to T, but I doubt he'll answer his phone. *sigh*

A little more from the notebook...

5.31.11

At dinner my tomato soup was missing. How can you have grilled cheese without tomato soup? Oh well. I'll survive. I've been through worse. 

They did bring crackers for the soup, and I will admit that having my calories right there on the ticket for my meal is really a nice touch. A girl could get used to that. It made me conscious of just how little I eat in a day. No wonder I am at 162 right now. It's the lowest I've been in years and I am sorta proud of myself. Another 40 lbs and I'll be where I'd like to be. Someday the number on my scale will be low enough for someone to love, unconditionally. Hoping for an email from NA when I get home. I don't know if it is good to have, but I sure do appreciate having someone to talk to at times. 

Sitting across from Ben at dinner, and I notice that he's quite quiet. He's in his 40s and to look at him you would never believe he is one to have mental problems. Just goes to show you that even the ones who look like they have it all together are the ones who surprise you the most.

This afternoon I met Lynn. She's probably in her 30's, and she has cut up her arms like a fucking Christmas ham. She was working on the island and was air lifted off after her suicide attempt. The cuts are visible and are not very deep. They look more like a cry for help than a valid attempt. There were no stitches, and no bandages. She is convinced she will get out early, however. She is searching for an easy out with anxiety pills and pain meds. She has family, but doesn't want to stay with her sister or grandmother, she would rather be homeless and claim that they are negative, though from what she has told me, they are nothing but positive influences against drinking and drugs and self harm. I fail to hear any positives come from her about her situation.

Lynn's arms are cut poorly on her right arm, across the road, but on her left arm she has cut down the street. She also have marks on her neck, probably ligature marks from trying to hang herself. I can't imagine the scrapes on her arms being enough to warrant a suicide attempt, and if she were actually going to do it, it would be with the neck. She will not have a job when she gets out of the hospital, her job has told her not to return because she needs to focus on getting herself better. 

Daphne was discharged this evening, prior to dinner. We exchanged phone numbers, so at some point I will send her a text message to see how she is doing.

Mikel will be discharged in the morning. I feel for him as he doesn't have the options to go home to a greatly supportive environment. He comes from a family of alcoholics, and his friends are of the age where the most important thing is drinking and having a good time. It's sad that society has such a sway on how we view things. 

Al Qaeda asked me when I am leaving and I told him tonight. Hopefully he gets the help he needs.

I am so excited to get out of here.  

 Al Qaeda is now telling us about his tattoo from the "gang" he was in. He claims he was a "Crip" and that he is shocked that there are no gangs here in our Town. Of course not. It's our Town, after all. His haircut is bizarre, like a mangey buzz cut. In reply to Gania's comment of "It's wonderful to be free" he shouted back "It's wonderful to smoke crack". 

A new patient is moved into the room across the hall from me. Her name will be Wendy and I probably wont' meet her. Her hair is matted to her head, and she appears to be in her 40s. I wish her the best on the unit.

Ben and I will be in partial hospitalization together. It will be nice to see a familiar face. He describes it as "life altering". I certainly hope so.

As we were sitting in the TV lounge, post-dinner, waiting for a group therapy session that never happened, and really just buying time until visiting hours began, E showed up. We were sitting in the lounge, and in walks Jenna. She points at every single one of us in the room, starting with me, then E, then Doc, Gania, Al Qaeda and Ben, and says "You're not my friend" to each and every one of us. She then returns to her room and gets a notebook and pen and writes down all of our names. She worries me. 

Debbie, a nurse, comes into the room to have me sign my discharge papers and ask me if I have received my items back from lockup. I told her no, but that I had a few things in my room. E and I walked to my room to gather my things as she went to go get my things from lockup. I'm going home. She gives me back my hoodie and my wallet, I sign a few things and I'm free to leave. As she is unlocking the door and wishing me well, Jenna walks up to me and says "Goodbye and good riddance." The ignorance of some people amazes me. Though E and I had a good laugh on the walk down to his vehicle. I'm glad to be going home.  

Update (And a little more notebook)

I just got off the phone with partial hospitalization at Local Hospital. I can start on Tuesday, and so that's good.

A little more from the notebook...

Jenna just came into the TV room where Mikel and I were sitting. My book being read. She asked what we were doing and Mikel told her about leaving tomorrow. She went into a diatribe about how she can't live with guys because they are always sitting there and reading her mind. Then she went on to say she could read my mind, and Mikel's, just as we could read hers. Girl is nuts. And again, she called me "peanut". 

Great news came about 4:45pm. I am going to go home tonight. My foray into the world of darkness and psychiatric disorders will come to a close tonight... less than 24 hours after I slipped into what is my deepest moment of dispair. I think it's some kind of record to get out of here in that short of time. Just a little break to get myself together. Hopefully T will be acailable to talk to me tonight. I want him to know about the panic that sent me into this spiral that landed me in this place. 

I also hope to talk to K tonight. Of all the guys I know, I still feel a strong connection to him. Part of me is hopeful that he gets a job at the local Casino because I would love to see him more. Doesn't hurt that he's super hot, and tons of fun to hang out with. I miss that guy.

Mostly looking forward to being home tonight, being able to close my door and not have it opened every 15 minutes to have someone watch me sleep. That was creepy and unnerving. With that, I hope to close the door on the darkness of the last few days.  

 It's almost dinner time, and one step closer to going home. Tonight I have ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. I'm actually looking forward to it. For hospital food, it's actually really good. I called E to come at visitation hours to pick me up. He could come sooner, but I really want to see what happens with the remainder of the group sessions that I am scheduled for. A 45 minute "wrap up" is supposed to happen, but doesn't, so it seems almost fruitless to have stayed. Could it be that I am actually enjoying the chaos that surrounds me right now? 

As we were sitting and talking in the TV room, Al Qaeda just shouted out "Alcohol makes you feel so much better though!" This had nothing to do with the conversation that was taking place in that room, and I fail to see how he has any chance of being released any time soon. 

On the board is a quote "THE PAST IS A TOOL FOR THE NOW WHICH DETERMINES THE PRESENT WHICH DETERMINES THE FUTURE"

Hope my few readers are having a good day, I'm watching some news stories unfold and trying to determine if I want to go across the state with D and her family for the weekend. It's a 7 hour drive, so hopefully... hopefully... it would clear my mind.

 

Small amounts of normalcy

I took a small step this afternoon and left the house briefly to take lunch and cupcakes to R. Sadly, being around that many people made me incredibly anxious and left me wanting to hide under my car. I got a call from the partial hospitalization program and was told that I needed to call financial services, who then told me that no, I didn't need to have the first full day payment up front.
I don't know who to believe.
I guess I'll call back and try to get into the program starting Tuesday, as I have Dr. appointments on Monday, and I really can't miss them. I already missed on this past Tuesday because of my hospitalization.

I stopped by my job today and talked to the manager, B, my coworkers A and C, and basically dispelled the rumors about why I was in the hospital. They were understanding, but I don't know that they will look at me the same any more.

Guess I should hop offline and get on the phone with partial hospitalization again to set up to start on Tuesday.

We'll see what happens.

more observations

More from my 5.31.11 notebook as I was on the unit

Jenna, the annoying touchy one and Ken, the Al Qaeda kid are related. When they get out, they were planning on living together. Just no, in the hall, Jenna declared that Ken is not living with her"You're just not" is all she declared. Granted, there was no argument from him.  

Now Phillip is pacing the hall, hands in his pockets, nervous as ever. I kind of feel his pain. Of all the people here, I think he would be the one to follow through with his suicide threat.

My heart goes out to most of these people. Most of them are not crazy, they just have a lot going on in their heads. I've been there, so it's hard to judge, not that it's really my place. I think being here has given me some perspective.

I really miss T right now and I fear that my weakness and needing to be here will have me losing him forever. I love him and don't want that, I just wish he were open about how he feels about me. 

As lame as it is, Daphne, Mikel and I are all enthralled with the weather channel. It almost feels normal to know what is going on outside, because we are unable to go out and experience it right now. Just a small reminder about what is happening in the real world. I don't know how people can be in here for any extended period. Even working here has to drive you crazy. I miss my ability to be online, and as much as overconnectivity annoys me, I miss it.

Philip has joined us in the TV room. He talks to himself under his breath and I think he may be a touch schizophrenic. I am not relishing the thought of being here another evening. Granted, I don't have the fear as I did on my first day in, but I am a bit anxious. And if Jenna doesn't stop her predatory pacing, I'm going to need an Ativan. I just cannot be confined any longer. I don't want to be asking for meds, because I think that will slow my progress of getting the fuck out. 

Here's hoping that T will be talking to me and I'll be able to see him on Thursday.

E said he would stay at my apartment with me if I get out. I hope he is able to spring me from this joint. I think he will have earned the Arts and Crafts project.

I have a few things I need to do if I am going to go see D tonight and spend the weekend in the other part of the state. So I suppose I should get on that.

 

Psycho Arts & Crafts

Another excerpt from my notebook as I was on the unit.

The doctor just came in to talk to Mikel. He is a good person to talk with and I hope he does well in his life. With any luck, I'll be out of here tonight. 

The Al Qaeda kid just came to sit and talk with me. He's 22 and he came in after attempting suicide while "drunk on ten shots". He is unemployed, and from the vibe I get from him, terribly unstable. At 22 though, I was in chaos, too. So I can understand this. Not the getting drunk and trying to kill yourself thing, but the being so disorganized and uncertain that you feel there is no way out. 

Jenna is still pacing rapidly through the unit. This is unnerving to me. So bizarre.

At 2:45, scratch that, 2:30, there was an Art Class. I couldn't find a canoe to make for my friend, N, (kind of an inside commentary between N and I) so I settled for "stained glass". A plastic tropical fish scene, which I filled with goopy paint and little motivation. It's 3:30 now and I have asked again if it would be possible to go home today. As time goes by, I think my chances are dwindling. But I have to try. 

At this "art class" a woman by the name of Gania (pronounced like Tonya with a G) kept telling me how pretty my stained glass project was. I just wanted to finish the damn thing and swim by looking like I was participating. What I learned from being on the unit for this short period of time is, you are more likely to get out if you pretend like you are trying really hard and participating in all the inane activities that they make you do. If you go to your room and just nap, they won't mark you down as "involved in your daily life". 

The Nurse facilitating the art class, Cindy, kept asking me ad nauseum if I had ever been snorkeling. I explained that I had lived in Key West and had been many times. I also told her about my travels to St. John and now I was once a travel agent. I told her about my plans to travel this fall, to Belize and Honduras. 

 

 I'm home after my chiropractic appointment, feeling OK in my back and neck, but not really feeling like I am OK emotionally today. I tried calling E, but got his voicemail twice. R called me and we spoke for a bit, I also talked to D. I think I am going to go with D to a different part of the state for the weekend, as I don't have any appointments until Monday morning, and I haven't heard back from the partial hospitalization program. Perhaps just being out of this area and being around people, I will be able to be OK for a while until I am back to work full time. I also talked to M for a short amount of time.

Somehow, I am going to get through this.

On the Unit...

From the notebook I wrote in for the duration of my stay on the Mental Health Unit...

5.31.11

I really hope that someone comes to visit me today. I am sure E will be here, but I don't know if M, or K or T will come. I hope someone does. At least with E bringing my phone, I'll be able to check texts and facebook and other things. I think I never should have checked in to begin with. I'm occupying a bed that would be better filled by someone who needs it. Just waiting for that knock on my door to tell me it's time to go home

I think if I stay here, it really will drive me insane. I feel like a caged animal here.

Another person, a girl we'll call Jenna. A total wacko. She comes up to me and says "are you new on the unit? You need a hug." and hugs me. I generally don't turn down a hug, but this seems bizarre. Add to the fact that she smells weird, and I don't touch smelly things. And then there's the mustard stain on her grey shirt that is falling off her shoulders, exposing a dingy bra strap. She walks around, smacking her gum, barefoot like a tiger waiting for the chance to devour a pile of raw meat or an antelope carcass. She tells me I am "cute as a button" and calls me "peanut". 

It's 2:20 pm right now, and the nurse, Sharon, is talking to my social worker and doctor to see if I can be released into the care of E. I'd love to go home, get a real shower, and sleep in my own bed. As it is, sitting on this rock hard bed, I keep going back to the thought that if I stay here any longer, I am going to actually go batshit insane.

At this point of June 2, I have a Chiropracter appointment shortly, I will add more later today of the chronicle of my stay on the unit. I can't believe how much I wrote in the short time I was there.

Childhood friend, D, has invited me to go to another part of the state this weekend to be with her as she buries her grandmother's ashes. I will likely go, as I really have nothing else going on, and at least I won't be alone.

 

 

 

Excerpt from an IM conversation

From D, a childhood friend who I have told about what is going on, the PTSD diagnosis, and how I don't feel that I can function as an adult or have a stable, non-co-dependent relationship.

mom wanted to take you out of your house all those years ago and i wish she had cause you could have been loved and you would not be feelin like this now.
you had a shit life growin up
your dad is a bastard
your brother is a piece of shit
your mama was wonderful and was taken from you

Well, that about sums that up. At least I'm not imagining those things.

First Impressions of a Mental Unit

I wrote in a notebook for the time I was on the unit. Because I was there for less than 24 hours, these are only my observations and the names have been changed. None of the following should be considered factual or used to determine anything about others.

5.31.11

Met a few people today... thought they would be crazier. No one who comes across as batshit nuts just yet. Talked to the doctor and have a good feeling that I will be released either today or tomorrow.

My immediate neighbor is Mikel, a 22 year old male who has suicidal thoughts and alcoholism. A burly guy, who at first, scared me considerably. Spent the morning talking with him. He's from a few towns over and several towns north. He worked in the medical field prior to being let go for coming to work hung over. 

Across the hall is Phillip, a man of retirement age who has had suicidal thoughts as well. If you ask him how he is, he will tell you that he is nervous. This reads on his face, as well as in his general demeanor. He talks to himself during group therapy.

Ben is down the hall and is here not because he wants to hurt himself, rather he wants to hurt his wife. From what I gather they are going through some tough times with living together and despite having been married for over a decade, she is still not a US Citizen, nor does she have a greencard. 

Ken is a male of 22, who frequently talks about smoking crack and joining Al Qaeda.

Karl is a male of 30 who is diagnosed BiPolar 1. He is being released after only being in for two days. His hygiene is deplorable, and he is a fucked up guy with a lot of issues. If he can get out of here that quickly, there is definitely hope for me. 

Daphne is here because she is severely depressed. Like me, she checked herself in, unlike me, she drove herself here. She has nowhere else to go when she is out and will return to the local Women's shelter. She injured her back and had surgery on it. She walks with a cane and likes angel food cake with vanilla ice cream and tapioca pudding. She has a siamese cat and three sons. She is the most normal of all the people on this unit.

  As I observed on the unit while I was in, I took detailed notes. I will be transcribing them into this blog as I continue my search for treatment.

Afternoon

This afternoon, after a hard day of not being able to convince myself to get out of bed... I finally did. I walked across the woods and a street to get to the home of E. We had lunch, and then decided to go out for soft serve ice cream (not that E ate it, but I did) and then sat on the beach of Local Town for a while and mocked some people for what they were wearing that was inappropriate for the weather.

Afterwards, we went to E's job to pick up E's check, and off to the KMart to purchase a few task chairs.

Despite having an afternoon with someone else, I still feel overwhelmingly anxious and alone.

The high cost of mental health

I spoke today with a woman from intake from the partial hospitalization program from Local Hospital. Being uninsured, if I want to use this program, I need to come up with the total amount of one day's services as a down payment. $550.

Because being diagnosed with PTSD and going through some really hard times isn't enough, let's add to the crisis I am already feeling like I am in.

I have two jobs, and so because of that, I don't qualify for Community Mental Health services - I make too much money. But I can't afford insurance, and I certainly can't afford $550 a day to be "better".

I guess the next step is to find a physician who will prescribe me Ativan to deal with the anxiety, and then just medicate instead of actually cure. It seems like that's the only option at this point.

Dealing with Loss

When I took the pills I called my best friend. I left her a message. She called me back while I was on the phone with another person, M.

I told my best friend what I had done, how I had ingested a bottle of pills, and how I was driving home, and how I wanted to die. She fails to realize how when I told her I didn't want to be found, I meant I really didn't want to be found. Yes, I was in the process of taking my own life. No, I didn't want to live any more.

I honestly don't know if I want to, but I lack the means to make that happen, so I guess I have to go on for a while longer. Maybe tomorrow. I don't know. Maybe in the time it takes to figure it out, I'll change my mind. Right now, I am just holding on for a phone call. Maybe I'll forever be holding out for a phone call.

Maybe, just maybe, that hearing from someone is all that has kept me going for the last 32 years.

Perhaps I do need to be on drugs. Maybe I need something that will control the anxiety, because that seems to be what always triggers me to doing stupid things that lead to me feeling like absolute shit.

I got a facebook email from best friend telling me

We have been friends for too long -- too long to remember, too long to count the years, and as I've realized over the last couple of days, too loo long for our good.

You called me to tell me you had ingested a bottle of pills. I was 2200 miles away -- there was almost nothing I could do. In fact, if Stepmother was not a 911 operator, all I would have done was panicked for hours knowing there was nothing I could do but listen to my best friend fade away. Do you realize the impact that has a person? I bet you don't. (As it was, I think you should know that there were cops and 911 operators in 3 counties looking for you.) 

But, you did call me. And, I listened to you. I listened to you talking about being alone -- believe me, I empathize. More than you know (although, if you ever actually listened to me, you would know.) I listened to you tell me that you were in your car somewhere. Most importantly, I listened to your voice get more groggy, more slurred, your words coming more slowly. 

Then, I listened to the police knock on your door. And heard your voice again -- normal, almost to the level of cheery. I listened to you tell the police that you had only had 5 vicodin. 

And I read the text message. "You lied to me." Well, AnxiousGirl, you lied, too. While I was trying to save my best friend's life, she was manipulating me. I do not know, and will likely never know if you lied to me or the police -- did you take a bottle of vicodin? Or did you take 5? 

I could forgive you lying to the police. I could never forgive you lying to me, not while I was 2200 miles away, while I could do nothing, while I cried on the bus trying to figure out how the hell I could possibly get back home for somebody who needed me.

And now, I am finding that I also cannot forgive not knowing which was reality. Not being able to give you the benefit of the doubt. That tells me everything I need to know about this friendship. 

This is goodbye, AnxiousGirl.
Bestfriend

So adding to the losses that I have had, now I am coping with the lost of my oldest friendship.

I called for the partial hospitalization program at Local Hospital today, where you go in the morning for intense therapy, then go home after.  The intake woman told me that even though I was told I could go to work after therapy, that they don't want me to. I don't understand how people can be working, but not have insurance, and be able to take care of themselves mentally. I will likely be denied the program, and I will go back to what I have been doing. Waiting for the phone to ring so I can save myself for another day.

The Apex

In this blog, I will talk about my childhood, my adolescence and my adulthood. I will talk about what brought me to the point of taking an entire bottle of Vicodin and being committed to a mental unit for one single day. Less than 24 hours to convince someone I am sane enough to go home.

I have always been depressed and anxious, ever since losing my mother at a very young age. I don't think I ever really learned how to be an adult or have functional relationships, as every relationship I was exposed to when I was younger was dysfunctional and full of chaos. 

Here in post one I'll admit that I was admitted to a mental hospital for less than 24 hours. Apparently I am smart enough to know exactly what words to say to someone to get them to do what I want, when what I want is to not be in a Mental Hospital. 

I don't feel like I belong in a unit with people who are locked up because they tried to hurt themselves. I don't feel like that's what I was doing. I feel like all I was trying to do, was make the pain and the thoughts and the feelings of inadequacy stop. All I wanted to do was feel loved, cared for, and to have that concern come from my friends. I wanted someone to come see if I was OK. I did not want police and medics at my apartment. Their concern comes only from a place of doing their job. Their concern is not whether someone is OK or is going to be OK in the long run, rather that they don't want to do the paperwork on finding a body. 

The fact that I am done dealing with the emotional pain and scarring, the fact that I am so beyond fucked up that I can't even deal with my own self, perhaps I would have been better off if I had never come home on Monday. If I had stayed in my car and forced myself to keep the vomit in, I would potentially be in a better place to not be dealing with the pain. 

Instead, I checked myself in. Because at least when you check yourself in, they are more likely to let you out than if you are being held on a 72 hour minimum mandatory hold. So that's what I did. 

As I lay in the emergency department of Local Hospital, I kept thinking how I wished I hadn't answered the door when I knew it was the police out there. I should have rolled under my bed, and just have "not been home". I doubt the Vics I took would have done anything to me. As it were, they didn't pump my stomach or feed me charcoal. They didn't do any of that. Instead, I laid in a hospital bed, watching Seinfeld, and occasionally throwing up. The Emergency Department discharged me, and my friend E picked me up to take me home. I told him what I had done, and he insisted that I go back to the hospital and check in for the evening. I made him stop twice on the drive back to my apartment, so I could vomit on the side of the road. He allowed me to change clothes, and then took me back to the ER, where when I was taken to a room, he had to leave and go to his friend's for a BBQ. It was memorial day, after all. I laid in the ER for another few hours, while a bed was prepared for me on the mental health unit. 

You are not permitted to walk onto the mental health unit, you must be pushed in a wheelchair to this location. I was somehow OK with this, because they took my pants. I didn't want to flap around Local Hospital in an open backed hospital gown. 

That evening, as I checked in, the woman doing my intake mentioned that she knew I had PTSD. This is the first time I had heard of this, but I can imagine after reading what I had told the ER psychiatrist, that this is an accurate description of what is going on. And all the while I thought this was just the anxiety and depression. 

They took away my wallet and my hoodie, because they both had strings, but left me with a hospital gown that had strings, which made no sense. I wasn't suicidal. I just wanted to not exist any longer. 

I fell asleep on the rock hard hospital bed, but awoke every 15 minutes when the nurses opened the door to do checks. My overnight was very unpeaceful, with me waking up at 5am because I just couldn't stand it any longer. 

One of the nurses came to take my vitals and talk to me a bit, because I was up so early. She could tell I was anxious, and gave me a half an ativan to calm my nerves. As the drug started to course through my body, I finally felt relaxed enough to go to sleep for an hour or so. So at 6am, I went to sleep, until 730, when I was woke up because I needed to eat breakfast and get to my first group therapy session.