The next couple of days, I had my daily check-in with the doctor as I kindly asked, "will you release me today?" He said, "no." (By the way, the doctor was in his 50's with an arrogant persona and he wore the exact same khaki pants and striped button-down shirt every single day.)
Doctor: Your father seemed to think that you have a problem with heroin, and it needs to be addressed.
Me: I already told you...I did it a couple of times. It is not a problem for me.
Doctor: You have done it more than anyone else in this room (There sat, him, me, and another doctor sitting- in on my appointment.) I do not feel like you are in touch with reality. For the time being, I want to start you on a new medication called Naltrexone.
"This medication is used to prevent people who have been addicted to certain drugs (opiates) from taking them again. It is used as part of a complete treatment program for drug abuse (such as compliance monitoring, counseling, behavioral contract, lifestyle changes). This medication must not be used in people currently taking opiates, including methadone."
Me: I am very in touch with my reality right now. I will not take Naltrexone.
Doctor: Okay. Your choice.
Later, it was medication call. I walked to the nurses' station as she dispensed my medication (my anti-depressant meds). The nurse and I got along, she said, "The doctor added another medication." I told her, "I am not taking it. "
Nurse: Okay, Hope. The doctor will not like you being non-compliant with his orders. The longer you refuse, the longer you will stay here.
Me: I am not taking it. He cannot keep me here forever. I am not a harm to myself or others. Eventually, He will have to let me out.
This is fucking ridiculous! There have been two girls in here that cut their own wrists that have left already. It is not fair what he is doing!
I swallowed my other medication and walked away.
I walked back to my room and curled up in my bed. I refused the Naltrexone because it is an opiate blocker. I knew when discharged, I would get high. I did not want to get sick. My plan was to find a way back to Georgia and drown myself in substances. I was severely depressed. The anger manifested itself in front of others, when alone the sadness ached every bone in my body. I believe the saying is true, "you can die from a broken heart." My heart was broken. The intensity of the hurt overwhelmed me.
I laid in bed and prayed. I asked God to give me rest. Instead, he gave me a dream.
I had a vivid dream I was on an arena stage singing Taylor Swift's song, SOON YOU'LL GET BETTER. Here are the lyrics:
The buttons of my coat were tangled in my hair
In doctor's office lighting, I didn't tell you I was scared
That was the first time we were there
Holy orange bottles, each night, I pray to you
Desperate people find faith, so now I pray to Jesus too
And I say to you...
Ooh-ah
Soon, you'll get better
you'll get better soon
'Cause you have to
I know delusion when I see it in the mirror
You like the nicer nurses, you make the best of a bad deal
I just pretend it isn't real
I'll paint the kitchen neon, I'll brighten up the sky
I know I'll never get it, there's not a day that I won't try
And I say to you...
Ooh-ah
Soon, you'll get better
You'll get better soon
Cause you have to
And I hate to make this all about me
But who am I supposed to talk to?
What am I supposed to do
If there's no you?
This won't go back to normal, if it ever was It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because Cause I have to
Soon, you'll get better You'll get better soon Cause you have to
As I was singing the song, I was dressed in a long black dress. I was sitting at a piano with "demon" dancers dressed in all black around me. On top of the piano were vodka and wine bottles. It was an intense scene where I felt I was battling out all my demons around me. At the part in the song where it says, "And I hate to make this all about me..." I swipe all the bottles with my right hand to the ground. I stand up on the piano as the "demons" move closer and were trying to pull me down. I erratically, transform into a beam of light. I had a white dress on looking like a true angel or goddess. I climbed up a ladder as the demons were continuing to chase me. At the end of the song, I was flying in the air saying, "soon, you'll get better cause you have to."
I woke from the dream in tears. I grabbed my journal (a composition notebook the psych unit provided) and wrote the dream down. I did not understand the dream, but I hoped one day I would soon get better...because I had to.
{Whenever I have extremely vivid dreams, I write them down and I get them interpreted if I feel strongly, in my spirit, that God is speaking to me. I will tell you that God speaks directly to me in dreams; he has given me direct warnings of upcoming battles, and he has always sent me clear signs. Whether you believe in it or not; you believe in 'something' and my 'something' is Jesus. Following Jesus has never led me astray.}
The following day, I was sitting in the community room talking to Katelyn and Justin. It was close to their release. The doctor walked to the door and said my name. It was family visitation day. My dad had come to see me. I did not get up from my chair. I told the doctor no. I have nothing to say to him. He looked at me, "Hope, I suggest you come listen to what your dad has to say." No. He is off of my contact list. You should not be discussing anything with him. He walked away from the door. I started on another rant. Speaking my mind how it is illegal for him to share any of my treatment information with my father.
I had made a very poor decision. Now, I strongly had a disadvantage with the doctor. He "kindly" advised me the following morning that he place me on another psychiatric hold.
Me: How exactly are you placing me on a psych hold when I am clearly not a harm to myself or others. (I was dumbfounded.)
Doctor: You are not compliant with your current treatment and have yet to advise me on a safe discharge plan. You tell me you are going back to Georgia, and I do not think that is a good plan. You have refused further treatment when you leave, and you are refusing to speak to your father who is trying to help you. Get a better plan together and then we can discuss your release.
Me: Okay. I have a plan. I will go back to sober living.
Doctor: Your father has already advised me that he will not pay another dollar for anything other than long-term rehab. Him and I both agree.
Me: I am not doing that. I will pay for it myself.
Doctor: Speak with your case worker and she will help you.
Me: Okay.
A little advice: If you ever find yourself locked up in the nut house, do not act like I did. I had a long, drawn out 13 days simply because of my non-compliant attitude and argumentative nature with the doctor. I thought "I knew better" than the idiotic doctor. I questioned every decision he made comparing him to the previous psychiatrists I worked with. I thought of him as a joke and honestly, I did not take him seriously. He was simply thinking about the liability he had on his hands. He was aware that I was not done yet. If anything did happen to me, he did not want to be responsible (He actually told me that in one of the many conversations with had.)
As I am mentally taken back to that place in time, I still do not agree with his decision making but the lack of respect and nasty attitude I carried was so not-like myself. The once matured woman I was...had been lost along the way with my moral compass and integrity. The saying is: hurt people, hurt people. It is very true. But guess what? Heal people, heal people.
Today, I unapologetically share the not-so-pretty parts of myself and life to give you (the reader) HOPE. You see, we all have our demons we carry and fight. We all have at one point, or another have been burdened with addiction, sin, lies, or some form of a hang-up. The good news is we are never alone. God will fight for you just like he fought for me. My story is not over-it has just begun.
Psalm 33:11
The counsel of the Lord standeth for ever, the thoughts of his heart to all generations.
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