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I Do Not Belong Here. Part Two.

Early the following day, I was transported to the psych unit. I was very quiet as I went through the motions. Once I arrived at the nearby building, I walked into a room where I was advised to wait until my room was available. A nurse walked in to take my vitals. My vitals were fine except for having low blood pressure. I advised the nurse it was a 'normal number' for me. She walked out of the room as I curled up on the bed. Not long after, another female (I think she was an aid) walked in to ask what would become the most annoying questions on earth to me.

Female: Jillian, how are you feeling?

Me: I am okay. I go by my middle name Hope.

Female: Okay, Hope. Do you know where you are at?

Me: Of course. I do not belong here. I am an addict not legally insane!

Female: I am required to go through a series of questions. Answer them the best of your ability.

Female: Have you wanted to harm yourself in the past 24hrs?

Me: No.

Female: Have you wanted to harm anyone else in the past 24hrs?

Me: No.

What brought you to the hospital?

Me: I was on a binge. I am an alcoholic. I have been in recovery and recently had a relapse. My family made me come.

She asked a lot more questions and examined every part of my body. I felt disgraced as I was evaluated from head-to-toe as my father requested. My answers were short and sweet. I did not feel like talking to anyone. I felt humiliated. I wanted to forget everything that had happened and get my life back. I wanted my babies. I wanted a do-over. If there was a magic wand that could have made the past three months of my life disappear- I would have given my left arm for it. The female(aid) walked out. I dressed myself in my clothes. I heard a man outside my door walking the halls non-stop talking to himself. I could not believe it...I was really in a nut house. I walked to the window. I thought, "what in the hell? My parents have no clue what I am about go through. I do not belong here."

Finally, a nurse walked me out of the clinically insane unit unto the "less insane"? I was happy to walk through the double doors to a calmer unit (I thought.) I was shown my room and I did not have a roommate. That was a relief. I wanted to sleep the next couple days away. I wanted to drown in my self-pity...alone. It was not long after that I was bombarded once again with questions, paperwork, and a schedule. The nurse on the unit asked me about psych medications. I told her that I had taken Lexapro and Wellbutrin for a couple years with Trazadone to sleep. It was for my anxiety and depression. She asked who prescribed it. I told her, I originally was prescribed it by my family doctor, but I had worked at Amen Clinic in Atlanta and had my medications transferred to a psychiatrist there. I explained I originally relapsed on Adderall I was prescribed but had mis-used it. She told me, "Your doctor will see you Monday."

I was angry, sad, and full of fear. I laid in my bed for a while then I was told lunch was there. I did not care; I was not hungry. I was advised to go eat because it would be documented, and the doctor examines everything. Apparently, "if you eat, participant, take your medication, and follow protocols you are released early. " I was livid.

Me: You have to be fucking kidding me right now? If I do not fucking eat, I will be punished to stay in this nut house? What in the fuck? This is not helping me get well from my addiction!

Lady: Ms. Wilson, the best thing to do is make the best out of your current situation and be compliant.

I walked into the "meal room area." I looked and found the most normal looking girl I saw and sat beside her. She was very nice. Her name was Katelyn. She was a young girl in her early 20s, pregnant, and had a small child at home. She told me her gynecologist sent her to the hospital when she voiced her concern of depression. She was upset she was there, but I think she enjoyed the break away from her responsibilities. A guy named Justin sat at the table with us. He had dark hair and was mildly attractive. He was an alcoholic and went to the hospital to detox. Apparently, it was normal for him when he had been on a long binge to check himself in. After eating lunch and having the tech document what I ate (my mind was blown), I went to the community room where there was a couple of tables, games, books, television, and plastic couches with chairs. I played Uno with a few of the people there. I began to laugh and tried to make the best of it. But-I was still very pissed. I wanted out immediately.

Later that afternoon, an addiction therapist came to the floor to evaluate me. As I sat across from this older gentleman that smelled like cigarettes, I already knew every question that was about to be asked. All I kept thinking was, "I want a cigarette and I do not belong here!" He asked a lot of questions stemming from childhood up to past addictions and current ones. He asked about home life, hobbies, and every personal question imaginable. Towards the end, he talked about long-term treatment facilities as I voiced, "I am not staying in Alabama. Georgia is my home, and my family cannot make me do anything." I expressed how I was educated of my rights. Then, I looked at him and asked, "how long have you been sober?" He smiled and said, "what gave you that impression? A long time. Trust me Hope, you are a smart woman and still have a chance to live a good life. Do not waste your time being stubborn and not making the right choice. You can have all the knowledge in the world; you cannot when this fight alone." Tears rolled down my face. He broke through my hard exterior and knew I was a big softy inside and extremely sensitive and empathetic. I told him, "I will go to my meetings and find a job. I have to get my children back from my in-law and I cannot do that sitting in another treatment facility teaching me 12 steps and wisdom I already know. I have been through it. I have been to three treatment facilities already." He said, " You are missing something, or you would be sober today and your dad would not have found you the way he did. Do you know why you were up under your bed?" " I guess I was hiding. I do not know. I was high." "Hope, exactly. You could be dead. Consider yourself one of the lucky ones that have this chance. So many do not get a second, third, twenty, chance at making it right. Use this opportunity, if not for you, for your children. Think about it." I shook his hand and told him thank you.

I walked down the hallway to my room-thinking about how exhausting that was. Although, I was not fazed by anything he said. He tugged at my heart in that moment, but I was on another mission. Speak to the doctor on Monday and get the hell out of this place. I wanted to go back to Georgia. I felt I could not face my reality WITHOUT substances. "If only...I can get back to Georgia...I will get back on my feet without attending another treatment facility for my family."

I wanted to run away so bad. If I felt I could have escaped, I would have tried.

I had no idea what was to come the following days...

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