Chapter 16

I need to write. I need to journal. The past few months, journaling had become my outlet. My mind was not right but my thoughts seemed to come together when I wrote them down. I remembered a paperback book they gave me hours earlier. It was a "patient guide". Information about the nuthouse. I opened it up. I could write in the spaces. I could write in between the lines. I went to the nurses station and asked for a pencil. It was dull and it was about 2 inches long. The reasoning behind that didn't cross my mind at the time. It would later.

Journal entry, Sunday morning, November 1st
I can't believe I'm here. I'm in a psych unit. The doors are locked to the outside. I stare at the piece of paper that Robyn gave me with with a list of phone numbers on it. She wrote them down in the ER last night when we were told that I wouldn't be allowed to have my cell phone with me once I got here. I'm in a psych unit. I'm not allowed any personal items. I didn't have any place to put my contacts last night, so I wore them to bed. I don't know what time it is. There is no clock. I can't help but wonder just how much Mark hates me for what I put him through last night. I wonder what my friends must feel after seeing what used to be a kinda together woman completely lose it right in front of them. I had every intention of ending my life. I had enough pills to do the trick in a matter of minutes. When I heard sirens, I felt myself go crazy inside. I don't think I've ever been that scared. I knew my plan was completely busted. I would look like a fool for the rest of my life, at least to those that were there last night. I just wanted to be with my Lord. I wanted to feel His face against mine. But what about my precious children? What must they be feeling? I can't go there right now. What my family and friends must be thinking today. How disappointed in me they must be. They believed in me, in what I stood for. I had let them down. But worst of all, how disappointed my Lord must be in me. You trusted me with this journey and I blew it. I'm so sorry. So now I'm left looking at these blank walls and I'm so full of shame. I wish that I would have succeeded. Perhaps I would be held in my Savior's arms. Perhaps I would be dancing with my precious Molly.

I needed coffee. I went to the nurses station just a few feet from my room and asked where I might get some coffee. They pointed down the hall. I began to walk where they had directed me. The tears began to flow. There weren't very many people around. It must be early. I found the coffee, poured a cup and went back to my room. This is surreal. This does not happen to "normal" women. I remember my clinical rotation in a locked down psych unit. I knew I did not want to be a psych nurse. I didn't know how to talk to 'crazy' people. I felt sorry for them, but did not want to try to relate to them. After all, I was normal. Hmmmm....normal. I'm not so sure what that means anymore. The walk that I just took down the hall told me that I was no longer 'normal'. I had lost my mind. I just couldn't quite grasp any part of that, not right now.