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I Am Okay. Part One.

Updated: Mar 28, 2023

November 2019, the day my daddy drove to Georgia and found me in a very distraught state -of -mind was the last day I lived in Georgia. It was that serious. He found me underneath the bed, and I assume; barely conscious. I do not recall much. I remember My daddy and Charlene there. I remember laying in my bed eating a hamburger and fries as I was in- and- out of consciousness. I vaguely remember telling them I was "okay", and I was not leaving Georgia. I do recall one moment in particular, where my dad seemed at a loss for words. There I stood, his Babygirl, in the physical but "I" was nowhere to be found. He told me, "Jill, you have to go get a full examination. Head -to- toe because I do not know how to help you. If you stay here, you will die. And you know Daddy is not leaving here without you. I will not watch you kill yourself."


My next memory is my daddy driving and we were close to Montgomery. I told him I wanted to see my Mama. He was in route to go there. It was about twenty-five minutes away. I was like a child again. I needed to feel my mama hug me and tell me I would be okay.


When we arrived at my mama's house, it was the first time I would see her new home she had built. I got out of the truck and gave her a hug. She proceeded to take me around her house to show me how beautiful it is. She made me a sandwich. I had gained consciousness and knew exactly what was going on. I wanted to go back to Atlanta. My parents were scheming a plan to hospitalize me, and I was not going to permit it. And I was not going to check-in to another treatment center. Now, I felt they needed to 'leave me alone' and take me back to Georgia. I clearly explained to them, "I had been taking drugs and that is why I was so out-of-it. I would not do it anymore. I needed to go back home."


My mama blurted out, "how I needed help, and the kids were better off without me. I was not no mama. Mama's do not leave their kids to get high and do the kind of shit I did." Cut me to my core. She told me, " I did not have shit. I had no job, money, car, and kids." What I needed was to be evaluated and then go to treatment for help so I could get visitation rights to the kids. My daddy, although he thought the same thing (I am sure of), did not express it to me. He handled me much better when it came to a crisis. My mama flies off the handle and says whatever she wants without thinking about the impact the words she speaks hold. My mama gently advised me to tell the doctors when I get to the emergency center, I tried to kill myself, that way, they would get me a bed immediately. I told her no. I did not try to kill myself and they can do whatever they wanted, but the hospital cannot keep me for testing positive for drugs.


Finally, I agreed for my daddy to take me, and the doctor can examine me and that is it. I knew, once I was examined, they could not hold me in a psychiatry unit. I was not talking to imaginary friends or seeing people who did not exist. As far as I was concerned, my parents could kiss my ass. I had friends in Montgomery I would hitch hike or walk to their home.


I left my belongings in my Daddy's truck. He told me the longest I would be there was 72 hours. He would pick me up and we would figure out a plan from there. Well, I knew what the "plan" was, and I would not allow "them" to persuade me into another treatment facility. "I knew what to do in my recovery. I needed to do it." As we walk into the hospital, I was not happy. I meant that I would not say anything that would even slightly incriminate me to be locked up in the nut house! I sat down, and my dad checked me in. Not long after, I was directed to a small room. I thought, "here we go." Whatever my daddy told them worked because I was treated like an incompetent nut case. The doctor evaluated me, and I overheard my Daddy stating his concern for a 1013. For those of you who do not know what that means, you are lucky! It is an involuntary psych hold.


"If an addict is a threat to themselves or others law enforcement may be called. If they assess the situation and determine that the person is no longer thinking clearly and poses a risk, they can take them on involuntary psych hold. This is sometimes called a 1013, because that is the code police officers use."


I was upset thinking on what fucking grounds do they have? Well, clearly, when your father states his concern and how I was found underneath my bed...sparks up massive concern.


I stripped down in a hospital gown, freezing as I thought about running. But I had no energy left in me to fight and I was on the South side of Montgomery. It is a very bad part of town and not even I, would feel comfortable walking around in it. I handed my daddy, my heirloom diamond ring. I did not want anything to happen to it. I was left with the clothes on my back...that was it. I said my goodbyes and made my daddy promise to pick me up three days later.


After my vitals had been monitored and I was okay, I asked the nurse for an extra blanket and sleep aid. She handed me Benadryl. Later, walked in a woman who sat in a chair at the end of my bed. I asked why she was in the room. She said, "to monitor me." I curled up and cried. I laid in bed awaiting a bed to open up at the crazy unit. I had no clue what to expect. All I did know; I did not belong there. My addiction had taken everything from me that I loved. I had never felt so alone and unloved in my life.


If someone would have told me at the young age of 25, you will end-up deep into addiction and will lose everything you love dearly. I would have bet a million dollars they were crazy; and there I laid five years later, at 30 years old; in a hospital-fighting for my life.


In my mind, that evening, I was okay. My addiction was the problem. But- I was not okay. Nothing about myself, my mind, heart, soul, spirit, and life was okay. I was merely surviving. God called me for more. A spiritual fight was happening in the spiritual realm; if the devil could keep me blinded, I would remain lost. God was not done with me. He was fighting for me. And guess what, I would be okay...one fine day... much later.



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