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Tuesday, January 1, 2019
The black hole of 2018...
At the start of a new year, I try to reflect back on the year that is ending, hopefully feeling proud of some accomplishments and growth. If I'm honest, I have to say that I just survived one of the hardest years to date. There's not a lot of obvious reasons for me to be really proud of. There are, however, many ways God carried me through each and every day. On May 11th, 2018 I started my work day as always but quickly became completely and utterly consumed and swallowed up with my depression from my childhood abuse. I didn't want to fight, I didn't want to do therapy, I didn't want to take medicine, I didn't want to face it any more. I found myself on the bathroom floor wanting to exit this earth. I was anxious and shaking. Everything was too hard, too exhausting, and caused too much anxiety. It was too difficult, too heavy, too consuming and too depressing. I told myself that my life was not worth the fight, my kids deserved better, and my husband deserved a stable wife. That was a very deep, dark, ugly consuming place to be. I really became selfish in my thinking, found ways to hurt and sabotage myself and saw no way out. I wanted to end my life. In my mind, that was easier.
Even with the numb feelings that I had, some fear existed. I text my doctor to tell him that I was scared and I was having crazy thoughts. He immediately instructed me to leave work, stay on the phone with him, and continue to talk to him. I got to my car, sat in silence and didn't know what to do next. He called my professional support system, got me an appt. and I showed up to their office at noon.
Why am I writing about this? This is so private. Well, I've had "tell your story", "share your story", "people will learn from your story" stated boldly to me through movies, sermons, commercials, and conversations ever since May. I interpret that as a "God thing". So, I am continuing to share my story for a few reasons. One reason is that I am exhausted from keeping secrets. I want my situation to help others. I want people to understand just how low depression can take you. I want my loved ones to understand me completely. Depression can affect the christian, non-christian, rich, poor, working, non working, extrovert, introvert, loved, unloved, strong and the weak. It can affect all races, and ages. It's POWERFUL and it takes you down to where you could care less about yourself or what happens to you. I remember thinking to myself that maybe my car would break down somewhere unsafe, and someone would just kill me and things would then be over. Wow.
With professional advice, it was determined that I should go to the ER at OLOL to be evaluated. I was triaged and sent up to the psychiatric floor, escorted by a male tech and a large armed security guard due to the nature of my admittance. Again, I'm the victim of sexual abuse, it wasn't my fault. I live with the shame and guilt. I'm the one who has been affected in every aspect of my life, yet I'm being wheeled up to the Mental unit as the possible threat. It was protocol but It felt like everyone was looking at me, labeling me a "crazy person". I honestly didn't care what happened next. My husband was informed of my admittance but at this point, he wouldn't be able to see me for many hours. I would not have known what to say to him anyway but I can't imagine the rage and fear that he dealt with. After evaluation, I was deemed a threat to myself and was PEC'd until further notice. A PEC is a Physician's emergency certificate that admits and detains the patient for observation, diagnosis, and treatment for at least 3 days. I had only dealt with PEC's from the healthcare side - caring for those with them. This day I found myself the patient who was PEC'd. I was numb, emotionless, and in a deep, dark, lonely place. I was stripped of all of my belongings, purse, clothes, phone, shoes and socks. I was given an XXL hunter green paper scrub set to wear that all psych patients wore, a pair of socks, and I was placed in a holding room. There was screaming, crying, cussing and loud TV playing non stop in the holding room from others waiting to be assessed. I tried to pray - that was hard too. I was offered food twice but had no appetite.
I hope this post isn't too much. I know my family will not enjoy reading this but luckily I am on the other side of this now. Again, I just want to completely be understood. They have offered so much support to me for the past 7 months. I am so grateful for that.
At 7pm, 6 hours from when I arrived at the ER, a social worker informed me that she had found a bed for me across town. I was transferred via Ambulance to a Behavioral Health hospital to be treated for my depression. This facility was also a detox facility as well. This information is important for my next post. Shamefully - I was transferred in the Green xxl paper scrubs with wrist restraints on. Humbling to the core. This EMS protocol caused the first silent tears to fall from my eyes. All I could think was...God be with me!
It's been almost 8 months since this terrible ordeal. I've struggled with feelings of unworthiness and guilt. Just like everything else, forgiveness is a process. Depression is powerful - abuse sticks with you - God is getting me through it!
Happy New Year!
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