10 days later in A day in the life...

I got home from the hospital today. The psychiatric hospital.

I’m sorry to say I didn’t handle the situation well…at all. After my last post here I texted a few people asking if they could talk but it was kind of late and no one responded until after. After I took almost 40 anti-anxiety pills. I don’t remember everything about that night after I took the pills. I remember opening the bottle of sleeping pills and seeing there were only 5. Then I opened the bottle of clonopin (anti-anxiety pills) and saw how many there were. I stared at the bottle for several minutes before pouring them into my hand. Then I stared at them in my hand and kept asking over and over, will you forgive me, God? The phone rang and it was my friend. She knew something was wrong by my voice and I told her that I was standing there staring at a handful of pills. She insisted that I go wake my husband up and I refused. She insisted I call a suicide hotline with her on the line and I refused. I told her I needed, HAD to do this, told her I loved her, and hung up. I grabbed my bottle of water then remembered there was one thing I needed to do first. I walked into my bedroom, told Tony (my husband) to make sure he told Josh (my son) that I loved him and that I was sorry. Tony jumped out of bed yelling no! but it was too late. I had already shoved the pills in my mouth and swallowed them.

After that things get a little fuzzy. I remember Tony talking to my friend on the phone. She had called the police here in Michigan from her home in Illinois. Tony called 911. I vaguely remember grabbing a cigarette and walking outside to smoke it. I have a fuzzy recollection of Tony following me outside and taking my face in his hands and asking in a horrified voice, why did you do this??? I remember sitting on the couch after that and saying over and over, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.

The only thing I remember about the ambulance is that on the EMT’s first attempt at an IV he blew the vein and it hurt like hell.

Then I was in the ER and being given the option of drinking the charcoal or getting the NG tube. I drank it and tried not to throw up. I wasn’t entirely successful but I kept enough of it down to do the trick. The next day I was transported to Havenwyck, the psych hospital where I spent 6 days in November of 2013.

It wasn’t a fun 10 days. Very little sleep, tons of group meetings, daily visits with the psychiatrist, a few visits with the medical doctor because I had a UTI while I was there, and a very emotional visit with my appointed social worker. I also had to deal with the fact that my sister, who has been clean and sober for a little over three years (from drugs and alcohol), had decided that she was qualified to diagnose me and map out a treatment plan for me. She also convinced my parents and step-parents not to speak to me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so hurt in my entire life…or so alone. My husband was so angry with me that he was talking divorce, and my family wasn’t speaking to me. My sister called me twice while I was in the hospital and both times the call ended with me sobbing so hysterically that I almost qualified for the “booty dart” (a shot of Haldol in the ass that knocks you out). The first few days were horrible. Things got better after that. I’ll provide more details in future posts, I’m sure, but if I try to now I’ll end up crying and I really don’t want to cry right now.

The psychiatrist changed my anti-depressant from Cymbalta to Pristiq and also put me on Abilify. We also discussed ECT. It’s not the horror story it was back in the day. Today it’s very safe and effective and if the new meds don’t work it might be a last resort option for me. If it comes to that I will do it. I’ll do whatever it takes to get better.

Right now I’m feeling okay. A little anxious, but okay. It’s my first night back at home. I wasn’t going to come here and write tonight but the anxiety was getting to me and since I no longer have access to anti-anxiety meds, I needed to do something to get it out. This is helping. I also sat outside for a little while tonight. Over the last 10 days I (and the group I was in) was allowed outside only 4 times, for about 45 minutes each time. It was in a gated area and there were recreational therapists outside with us to keep an eye on us. So it was nice to sit on the porch and just enjoy the fresh air tonight.

For some reason I’m nervous about trying to go to sleep tonight. I don’t know why.

For now the plan is to continue my therapy for the PTSD and see a new psychiatrist. My new therapist, the one I mentioned in my last post, called me twice at the hospital to check on me and told me that we were going to back up and we would be doing some “prep work” to better prepare me for handling the sessions when they get too painful. I’m very grateful for that. I know he felt horrible I ended up in the hospital, but I don’t blame him. It wasn’t his fault at all and I don’t want anyone to think that. I thought I could handle things at the rate they were going and I couldn’t, so it’s my fault for not speaking up and saying I needed to slow down. Now I know better.

So that’s a brief version of how things went down. My dad and stepmom still aren’t speaking to me, but my mom and I are talking now and my sister apologized to me and we’re okay now. I’m still a little hurt but I know in my heart she wasn’t trying to hurt me, she thought she was helping.

I will do this, though, and I’ll do it by myself because that’s what has to happen. I have people to support me through this and I am eternally grateful for that. Most of all, though, I have God. He’ll get me through this. I just have to remember to rely more on Him and on myself and less on others.

Any and all prayers are much appreciated.

Last updated September 26, 2015