1/6/14

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.

 

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