At this point I couldn't possibly be embarrassed about anything.
So yes, I am going to share this experience.
Not for attention.
Not because I'm a bit crazy.
But because at some point this information may be useful to someone else.
you ought to know by now,
I love a good story,
and I think this is one.
I also don't ever want to forget this experience.
Wednesday was a normal day.
I fed my kids
We went grocery shopping
I took them to the park for a picnic with friends.
We stayed there most of the afternoon.
That evening Superman came home from work very concerned about me.
He'd seen my post.
He'd talked to others who'd seen my post.
He'd heard that others were ready to call the police about me.
He'd heard that should the police get involved our children would be taken away.
I don't know how much truth lies in those words,
but it scared me.
Supermans dad came to our house and picked up our kids and took them out for dinner.
Superman and I had a heart to heart.
An hour later I asked him to take me to the hospital.
I was scared.
I was suicidal.
I was on the very edge.
The end of my rope.
The only reason why I had the balls to do so was because it scared me to death to think of my children being taken away.
(I am laughing about that last line, "scared me to death", lol!!! It's FUNNY, accept it ;)
So because I love my children I went to the hospital to get help
that Superman and my family couldn't give me.
Superman was nervous he wasn't sure where we were supposed to go,
he didn't know which part of the hospital to go to.
I calmly (too calmly) knew we needed to go to the emergency room.
I told him I would do all the talking.
I walked into that emergency room and said,
"Hi, I'm all like suicidal and stuff...."
They checked me in without delay.
We went back to one of the little rooms and waited.
We waited and waited and waited.
I had my ipad and took a walk around Facebook while we waited.
I told Superman every little thing that he'd have to remember to do while I was gone.
Finally a doctor came in and talked with me.
He said that I'd need to talk with the social worker.
We waited and waited and waited.
While we waited I had blood drawn and gave a urine sample.
They needed to make sure that, other than mentally dying, I was healthy.
Finally after several hours the social worker came in.
He asked me the same questions the doctor did.
And then admitted me to adult psych.
I had to take off all of my clothes and put on a hospital gown.
They put me in a wheelchair and the social worker pushed me down the hall
away from Superman and the rest of the outside world.
We were accompanied by a security guard because the psych ward is under complete lockdown and thus we needed the security guard to open the doors with his keys.
By this time is was midnight.
I was wheeled into the dark entry of what would be my prison for the next little while.
I had no idea how long I'd be there.
Superman had sent my things up and it was gone through by the staff.
They separated out what I could have and what I couldn't.
A female tech
(The tech's were basically the babysitters of the crazy people)
came and talked to me,
asked me those same questions I'd already been asked twice and had me sign some paper work.
I then had to strip off my hospital gowns
(this was in the bathroom)
so she could check that I wasn't hiding who knows what on my body.
Under my armpits, between my legs...
It was not, fortunately, a full cavity search,
so I wasn't traumatized too much, lol!
I put my hospital gown back on,
was shown to my room,
which I shared with another crazy lady.
I lay down in that horrible hospital bed and thought,
"am I seriously here?"
I was in a bit of shock to be completely honest.
I kept wondering how I'd gotten so bad.
How had I ended up there?
Over the next few day's I'd find out...