The Alcoholic who Cried Wolf

My name is Kelly and I’m… well I’m not really an alcoholic but I’m here so.

There I was sitting in the middle of AA and thinking that I didn’t have a problem. I guess it didn’t sink in yet that if you’re in a mental home, regardless of how you ended up there, you probably have something that you need to work on.

Everyone was going around the circle, saying their name and then following up with their addiction; AKA what ultimately landed them in the same place that I would be stuck in for at least 72 hours. Whenever it was finally my turn to speak up, I felt like I had nothing to say. I didn’t feel like I had a problem. It felt as though I was there by mistake. Somehow I had convinced myself that there was no reason for me to be there.

When people make mistakes they usually focus on the mistake itself and not what led to it or how it affected not only them but everyone around them afterwards. I had made 1,001 mistakes that I didn’t even realize were some sort of wicked domino effect that completely turned my life upside down. If I didn’t get a grasp of the fact that these were not just simply mistakes that I was making but that I did indeed have a problem… I was never going to get out of the cycle that I was in.

Do you think you have a problem?

No.

Then why are you here?

I got drunk and called the cops on myself.

In a nutshell, that is exactly what happened but that wasn’t the full story. I knew that if I were to say anything more about what actually caused me to be here, that it would be me admitting that I had a problem and I did not want to do that.

It was just another day for me.

I had work that day but on social media I saw that my ex was having a party. Whenever we were dating, we used to do events together so I figured that I would still support even though we were no longer together. Not only that but it was a pool party that everybody was talking about and I figured a pool party would be a lot more fun than just another day at work. Once I got to work and realized it wasn’t going to be a busy shift, I talked to my manager about being let go early and she didn’t have a problem with it. I went home, changed and went straight to the party with some friends.

The party was packed. My friends and I all had some drinks and then I continued drinking more than they did. I met with some old friends at the party and they gave me a bottle of Malibu. That’s pretty much the last “sober” thought that I have of that day. Next thing I remember is someone telling me that some girl put her hands on my ex and for some reason that really pissed me off. I went from laughing and having the time of my life to marching around the party looking for this girl, threatening to fight her to everyone that got in my way. I was yelling and acting completely out of character. Someone that I knew even told me to calm down and I went off on him, probably embarrassing him and myself in front of everyone who saw.

My friends brought me home where I continued to act an ass and then my ex showed up trying to calm me down. After a while, I calmed down a little bit but then I texted the guy who I was dating at that point and tried explaining to him what happened that day. Once he realized that I acted an ass behind a guy that I wasn’t even involved with anymore, he let me know that he would be moving out and separating himself from me. Whenever I read that text message from him, I went from calming down to having a mental breakdown. At that point, I was so drunk that I don’t even remember what happened next until I was in my roommates bed yelling at her, my ex and my friends that dropped me off. They were trying to calm me down while I attempted to swing on all of them.

For some reason in the midst of all of that chaos… it hit me… I have to kill myself.

I figured the best way to do so would be by jumping off of the balcony. To this day, I find that so odd because the balcony isn’t even that high. MAYBE I would have died or maybe I would have just broken a leg or something. Either way, it definitely wasn’t a fool proof way to die though. However, this is the idea I had and it was the one I was sticking with. After letting everyone in the room know my plan by yelling and kicking, I decided the police were either going to come and get me or I was going to jump off of the balcony. Everyone tried stopping me and holding me down but somehow I got a hold of my phone anyway.

911, what’s your emergency?

You’re either going to come get me or I’m going to kill myself. I’m going to jump off of the fucking balcony. I’m going to do it!!!

Not too long after, there was a knock at the door and then boom, I’m in the back of an ambulance talking to a police officer about my life. He kept telling me that things were going to be fine but I did not give a damn about anything that he was saying. I was so drunk that I did not yet realize the situation that I had put myself in. I don’t think anyone who accidentally puts themselves into a mental ward realizes the situation until they actually get to the mental ward.

Whenever we reached the hospital, they did all the basics of intake and then brought me into a room with three recliners. I sat in one and began to sober up. The more sober I became, the more agitated my spirit grew. Someone in scrubs asked me if I needed anything and I said no but he brought me a cup of water anyway. For some odd reason, that pissed me off. I said I didn’t want anything and this dude brought me a fucking water. You know what I did whenever he brought it to me…? …

I drank it. I was so damn thirsty.

When do I get to leave? After the doctor sees me?

Well actually you’re on a 72 hour hold. The doctor will see you sometime between those hours and then evaluate when you can go home.

I’m not sure if I was still drunk or if I was just choosing not to understand what he was saying. I’m not sure what I responded or if I responded at all but I know that he tried making me feel better. He started telling me about his life and how so many people have been in my place and how it all gets better. Everyone kept telling me that… it gets better. What gets better? I don’t even know why I’m here! I was just drunk! I’m fine! I don’t actually want to die. That’s what I kept telling myself.

After hours of sitting in that hard ass recliner, in a room that had no one but me in it, they brought in two more people. One was a white older male and the other was a black male around my age. The white guy sat down and went straight to sleep but the black guy tried escaping at least five times before they tied him down to a stretcher and rolled him out. Apparently he and his girlfriend had gotten into an argument and then he threatened to drive his car into something. He kept begging and crying to them to call her so that he could talk to her but they refused. They asked over and over for him to sit down but he was hysterical and seemed to be on a lot more than just alcohol. I watched him and just thought to myself I am so glad that I am not him.

What the fuck was I thinking? We were in the exact same boat.

Once they rolled him out, the nice guy in scrubs brought a wheelchair in and rolled me into another room and before walking out, told me good luck. That scared me. What the fuck did I need luck for? Seconds later a woman walked in and immediately began asking questions. They were all just a way of asking me if I wanted to kill myself and if I was depressed. I did my best to answer them in a way that would get me out of there as fast as I could.

No I don’t want to die. I’m not depressed. I don’t drink a lot. I don’t hurt myself. I never have tried killing myself or anyone else. I am happy. I want to go home.

Okay, can you show me your arms and legs please?

So now, not only was I depressed and suicidal in their eyes but I was also a fucking liar. FUCK!! I was pissed. I didn’t know that she would ask to see my body. I showed her my arms that were covered in fresh scars from cutting and on my legs there were bruises and cuts as if I had been fighting all day. She didn’t say anything. All she did was continue writing on her paper and scanning my body. She took my clothes, my shoes, my jewelry and everything I had besides my underwear and then gave me a hospital gown. After, she walked me over to another room that had more of those hard ass recliners. Each chair besides one had someone sitting in it. Before she walked out, I asked when I could go home.

I don’t know sweetheart. Not today.

I sat in the recliner and started crying because I had finally realized what I got myself into or at least I thought that I did. The funny thing is that I still didn’t have a fucking clue.

That night/morning I cried myself to sleep. I woke up to some woman asking all of us if we wanted breakfast. I told her no but then she said that if we don’t eat, they take note of that so I took the breakfast and tried to eat everything on the plate. Unfortunately, I couldn’t force even half of it down. I just wanted to go home. I wanted to go back in time and work my full shift at work. I should have never gone to that party but I could not go back in time. There was nothing that I could do but see what would happen next and get through it.

After the breakfast plates were picked up, I walked up to the nurses and asked when I could leave. They reminded me of the 72 hour hold and told me that I would be transferred to a mental health facility. I asked where and told them that it needed to be close since I didn’t have a car but they then informed me that they had no control over how far they sent me.

I cannot go far. It’s not a matter of what’s available because if you send me far I will have no way back.

We will do our best.

A couple of hours later, two EMTs walked in with a stretcher and called out my name. They strapped me to the stretcher and I asked where they were taking me.

Alexandria.

There I was, in tears again… sobbing again. Alexandria is hours away from where I live. Now not only did I have no idea of when I would be sent home but I had no idea of how I would get home. I also had no idea of where I was going and what this place would be like. The whole ride there, I cried and just thought about my choices and how if I would’ve just stayed at work… none of this would be happening. After what felt like the longest and bumpiest ride of my life, we arrived at a place that looked like a retreat on the inside but a jail from the outside. They finally unstrapped me from the stretcher when we arrived at the lobby and I waited there for about two hours before I was brought back to where I would be staying for the next 48 hours.

The best way to describe how it looked was like a group home or nursing home. I can definitely say that if you have ever seen a mental home in movies, that is exactly what it looks like in real life. I was brought to what is called Ward C. Ward C is the area of people with no specific issues but they seemed to all be in a specific age range. No one was younger than 18 but no one looked to be over 30 or maybe 35 at the oldest. Whenever I walked in, everyone looked at me and just stared. This was the last place I wanted to be so I told myself I would last these next two days by not talking to anyone and just staying out of the way.

I sat down at a table that had crayons, markers, coloring book pages, blank paper and cards. I grabbed a crayon and a piece of paper, since they told me that I could not have a pencil, and I began writing. In the middle of writing, a guy who looked around my age sat down and asked me what I was doing there.

You don’t look like you belong here.

You either.

It’s funny how quick people will tell you their life story whenever you have nothing else to do but talk. I don’t remember exactly how he ended up there but I know something traumatic happened and it ended in him trying to kill himself. The biggest difference between him and I was that whenever he was telling me his story, he made it clear that he needed to get the help that he was getting while he was in there. He also made it clear that he hated it there but he did admit that he belonged there for the time being. At first glance, you would not look at him and think… oh you look like you need mental help but I guess it is true whenever they say that looks can be pretty damn deceiving.

A month?!

Yeah. You never really know how long you will be in a place like this.

Well, I’m only going to be here for my 72 hour hold and then I’m free to go.

Yeah, I was only supposed to be here 72 hours too but you know how that goes.

No, I don’t fucking know. I can not and will not be here for a fucking month. Of course I did not say that outloud because I did not want him to feel as though I was judging him BUT A MONTH??? Just the thought of a month in a place with people that I had no connection to made me sick to my stomach. Tears started forming in my eyes and after talking a bit, I think he caught the vibe that I was feeling pretty uncomfortable with being there so the conversation shifted to something more light and he offered to play a card game called hanky panky. I had no idea what the fuck hanky panky was but I was in no position to turn something down that might take my mind off of the current situation at hand.

SMOKE BREAK! 15 MINUTES!!

I know it sounds silly but for the first time in 24 hours, I didn’t hate myself. Like WHATTTTT?! These people get a smoke break? I remember thinking to myself that hey… Maybe things will get better! God put me in a mental home that allows the patients to go outside and SMOKE! I walked outside, extremely excited and then I realized… I didn’t plan to come here… I don’t even have a change of clothes, what makes me think I would have a joe to smoke. So instead of hanging out outside, I walked back inside and sat down with tears in my eyes. The first moment to make me feel better, washed away just like that. Then I felt a tap on my back but I refused to turn around.

Hey, do you smoke?

That will do the trick though. I turned around and there was an older male with three cigarettes in his hand reaching them out to me.

Let me know if you need more. I got you.

GOD???? Is that you????!!! I wiped my tears and said thank you and damn near ran outside. I smoked my joe and cleared my mind while staring at the sky. I knew that this was a moment that I should pray but I was too embarrassed to sit in front of God and ask for anything other than an ass whooping. This situation was my fault and I deserved to suffer.

SMOKE BREAK OVER! GROUP TIME!

Oh my goodness… What the hell is a group time? It felt like every ten minutes, this place was hitting me with something new. Everyone sat in the living area while a counselor sat in the middle and we did an activity. Everyone was pretty involved but I decided to stay quiet.

Alexis, what do you think?

I don’t know lady, I wasn’t even paying attention.

I’m not sure honestly.

She wrote something down on her clipboard after I said my nonchalant ass answer. Damn. I have to get more involved.

Part 2 will be posted soon.

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