On Dec 28, 2013 I got in my car, leaving the place I was using at, and was gonna drive my car into a brick wall. I picked up the phone and called my mom. I told her I wanted to die and she said just get home and she’d take me to ER. I white-knuckled it all the way home (2 hours away). It was the longest drive of my entire life. I just kept saying, “Higher Power (I haven’t figured out what to call my Higher Power yet), please get me home one more time. I need help so bad. If I could get on my knees right now I would.” I made it home and threw some clothes in a bag and mom took me to the ER and dropped me off. I walked in and on the sheet you fill out I put “suicidal-please help me”. They immediately took me to the nut ward. I’ve never been so happy to have a bed and a door and someone watching me. I stayed there for 2 days and was transferred to GA Regional mental ward. To say the least, this is not the Hilton. I didn’t care, they helped me. From there I was transferred to Charter Peachford where I stayed until Jan 4, 2014. I brought in the New Year in the mental ward. I knew I was going to make 2014 the best ever though.
I got out of rehab on 1/4/14. My Higher Power has a great sense of humor. I have not gotten sick these last few years (I think because I had so much alcohol and drugs in my system it killed any bug/virus trying to get in). I left rehab sick. I laughed thinking, damn, I can’t go to the ER this time (like I always did) and I’m really sick this time. Anyway, I went to a NA meeting last night and immediately felt better. Funny how that works. I went to my mental wellness appointment this morning and they told me that since I don’t have insurance yet, they couldn’t see me. They said they would give me the number to the county clinic. I told them I have that number but didn’t want to go there because it takes 2 months and I only have enough bipolar meds for one month. I thanked them and left. I remember when I was taken to the ER, a doctor told me if I ever started to run out of my bipolar meds to come up to the ER and they would write the bipolar prescriptions for me until I could get into the clinic. I’m so relieved I remembered that doctor telling me that. I could barely remember my own name at that time.