sigh. the saga continues....well, after i was discharged from the hospital, it was no more work for me. my psychiatrist had took me off duty because of my illness, and i was told i was gonna be kept in the PHP program for about six months. six months? damn. i had NO money coming in, all my bills were piling up, shit was just getting completely outta control. i forgot to mention back in july '03 i had also filed for bankruptcy. i mean, i had credit card bills up the ass, payday loans that were past due, and just a whole slew of other bills that kept creeping up on me. i couldnt take it no more so i went ahead and filed. but it was the everyday bills that were also getting outta control, like my phone bill - it was due for disconnection, my light and gas bills too. all of this was steadily weighing extremely heavy on me, and though i would still go to PHP, i became more and more depressed by the day. at times i would just sit and cry or rock back and forth. i felt like the ground was giving way under me, and i felt like i had nowhere to turn. one particular day i cried and cried and cried so hard i nearly puked, and that's when i got a phone call from a male friend of mine. still sobbing, i answered the phone and he immediately sensed something was wrong and asked me if i was ok. still crying i told him no, that everything around me was going to hell, and i was losing my mind, and was still in tears. he told me that he kinda sensed something was wrong which prompted his phone call, and asked me if i could pull myself together and meet him up on 82nd and Cottage Grove. i sniffled and said yes, i thought i could do that and he said good, he'd see me up there.
i did manage to stop bawling enough to wash my face and put on a dress and some sandals and with swollen, puffy eyes, i walked up the street to the corner of 82nd & Cottage, and waited for him to arrive. after a while i saw him coming down the street and once he reached me, gave me a huge hug and said he was glad i made it out of the house. we walked and talked for a while, and he asked me if i had any cigarettes, and i told him no, i had none, and he bought a pack of Salem Lights 100s for me, and then we walked to the neighborhood pool room. he shot some balls, and coaxed me into shooting a few, which i did horribly (hell i aint Minnesota Fats a'ight?) and after that he had bought a couple of beers and we sat and drank and talked. i began to feel somewhat better after i told him my tales of woe. as the evening wore down, he gave me $10 which lifted my spirits a degree or two, and finally parting ways i walked back home.
i still was depressed and felt like crying again, but by this time i was all cried out so i took off my sundress and put on my funky old pajamas and sat on one side of the sofa and smoked and stared blankly off into space. there were many nights of crying and praying and asking the Lord to please ease my burdens and to forgive me for whatever wrongs i had done. i cried during group, i cried when i went home, hell, i was a walking talking tear machine. still i prayed and prayed and prayed to be released from the mental hell i was going thru.
august 2003. still going to PHP every day and now i had started zoning out and rocking back and forth as a comfort measure. still had no money coming in, bills were still piling up and my depression began to get worse and worse. i felt helpless, hopeless, and sigh, again, suicidal.
during one of the group sessions, i started crying softly at first and then started bawling uncontrollably and saying that i just wanted to die. i felt i had nothing to live for, i felt my daughters hated me, the world was against me and i had failed as a human being, a mother, and a person in general. so again, back into the cuckoo's nest i went. i wont bore you with the routine -- it was the same as the last two hospitalizations. i was in there for a week, saw Dr. Abrams again, only this time i acknowledged my anger, fears and also that i had been hearing voices, but i thought i felt ok enough to go home. this time he didnt pussyfoot around. he wrote the discharge order, along with medications i needed, and i went home.
around september of that same year, things began to look up a bit. the meds were doing their thing, i wasnt feeling like the whole world was out to get me, the crying spells lessened and i was told that i was making fairly good progress in PHP. my tentative discharge date was the early part of october, and in a way i was glad to be able to go back to work to play catch up with my bills and rent.
so...thus ends this episode of my time in the cuckoo's nest -- for now. there will be more to come so stay tuned.
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