[do it like a band aid, or that gauze you hate so much]
the other night, Saturday we had a party. it wasnt really a party considering we had partied ourselves out on friday and on sat we were more or less going with the motions. a group of people over 5, a dwindling bottle of vodka, and a byob warning equaled party for us. dawnelle had come by, we had scrabbled and talked, it was nice. when she left though it started to go downhill. the black cloud was waiting, it was just crouched out of my sight, waiting. and the sad thing. even when it started to wrap fingers around all the ends of my mind i just let it. ive been so used to the feeling lately. i had no idea. me and abe had a fight. the black crept. dawnelle gave me clothes i knew were too small for me. the black laughed. after a while i made the adult decision to leave. i called jonathon and we left. he had beer. we drank. parked in the parking lot of some corporate building and talked. i was trying viciously to fight it. it was epic in my head. i was bold but in no way stronger. after a while we went to ihop and the blurry forgetfulness started in on me. jon sat across from me with a look of concern and pummeled me with antics, trying to get me to keep my smile on. it was rather sweet of him. at one point he ran his finger across the pre-existing cuts and said softly, thats one big cat you got there stephanie. i smiled absent mindedly. he bought me a pack of cigarettes and dropped me off. i stumbled up to my house and looked at the front door for a while. Alarms were going off. this was bad. i needed duane. i went inside and went to his door. i knocked and opened it, thinking he was alone, remembering him telling me that jenn couldnt stay over because of her daughter, thinking of all the things that were pushing to get out. he wasnt alone, i had caught him and jenn in a moment of ... erm..... extreme affection? hah. i closed the door quickly and ran to the back room. the black took me. ive lost all memory of what happened next. apparently i sent a bunch of drunken angry messages, on myspace and on my phone. i posted the hating blog before this one. i called a few people. then i apparently walked into my room and slashed open every empty spot on my left forearm. i dont remember it, i didnt feel it. after i did that i must have passed out. i barely remember waking for a second and hearing duane and jenn leaving. he was taking her home. then more black. black black. fucking black. the next sounds i heard were from duane. he had walked in. he had walked in and saw me lying there in my side, one bleeding arm draped over the side of the bed over a huge dark spot on my sheets, over a huge pool of blood on my floor. god. i can only imagine what hit his mind at that time. he let out a stream of frantic curse words like never before then after a few seconds asked me "are you dead?" i stirred and said no. i didnt know what was going on, didnt even know i was hurt. he told me to get up we were going to the hospital. i repeated. no. he said fine im calling and ambulance. this got me awake a little. i said no, what the hell, dont call them. then i finally saw it. huh. thats all i said. then i laid back down and drifted back into the dark sleep i was in. he must have called tom because a while after i heard him come in. he came to me and i sat up. at least i tried. i was fucked up. drunk and bled out. they got me standing and out to the car. the time was about 5. i sat in the car. scared and half gone. catatonic. meanwhile duane was cleaning up the blood, my blood. i cano nly imagine. god. we went to the hospital. we walked in. a spectacle. me in a trance and tom holding me up. duane trailing a little. we found the er and walked up to the window. all i could do was lift my hurt arm a little and i was being rushed to the back. it had dried up by now, it was no threat, not as bad as immediately thought. but bad. the woman taking my vitals asked me questions. i must have answered. begin: stephanies hospital hell. i got 26 stitches and a barrage of people asking me why. during the stitches tom and duane switched off holding my hand while the student doctor stuck a needle into each of my cuts and numbed them. they held my hand while the stitches held my skin. i cried. hard. i could feel the cold coming off duane in waves. it hurt more than the needles. it hurt more because i deserved it. i was sewn up now. and abe had been dropped off by gale. we sat in the er for hours and hours. waiting. we're sending you to psych. were going to evaluate you stephanie. this isnt normal. insert my sigh. sfter the long wait, and after sending duane and abe home for rest me and tom went to the psych dep. a small room, set behind two double doors that lock from the inside. chairs and individual rooms for consultation. we were there. i was gauzed up and finally starting to become lucid. i was getting scared now. after another bout of loooong waiting we finally saw a doctor. i talked to him i opened up to him. i was in my right state of mind. i talked to him and he listened to me. i felt comfortable. i told him everything. everything that had ever happened to me in my life. the whole ugly thing. he liked me, and told me i was a sweet person. told me that i have a handle on the situation like no one hes ever talked to. it meant alot. i do. ive read about this kind of stuff, lived it for 9 years, been in it. he told me it would be ok for me to go home. he talked to tom alone. he told tom the same thing. we were had. after about an hour another doctor came. he wasnt very nice, i instantly bristled at his condescending smile and his short speech and laughter. he told me, you have a problem and we cant let you go hom, i wont let you. your sick. i stared to cry again. i missed the other doctor. i hate hospitals. the panic started. the desperation started. i told him that i had a plan. i have a support group, i have it all in my grasp. but i have to do it at my own pace. he said no. just no. he said that this kind of behavior doesnt "cut it" oops i mean fly out in the world. i told him im 21 im a fucking adult. he said too bad and slammed down the court order. i died a little. i called him a fucking fool and told him he could make someone heal. he left. me and tom slept in the psych ward. i was now in a hosp for 24 hours. we had holed up in one of the individual rooms. there were strange people about in the lobby, peeing with the door open and walking with blankets on their heads. god. when tom left to work abe came in with me. I slept a little more then waited with him for the sheriffs to come for me. To take me to the state hospital. We picked at the hospital breakfast. We talked. We delayed the anxiety. Then they were there. And I was leaving. Never before in my WHOLE fucking life have i ever wanted a cigarette so fucking bad. But no. during the ride I fell asleep again and apparently snored the whole way to the fucking place. Hah! Take that coppers. My snoring is horrible. [not really I swear] but you know. I was escorted in scanned for sharp things and admitted. They threw away the cigarettes that jon bought me. [I nearly sobbed] They made me sign so much shit. Fucking hell. From THERE I was bussed back to the "
Dad, tom and abe came for me. I stood by the windows, longing to see the red of my dads truck of the blue of toms focus. They saw me there when they finally found the building, waving like a madwoman and almost in tears. They took me home. Heavy with stuff. Mostly medication. I am now on: Depakote and Seroquel
These medications are supposed to help me. They are supposed to fix whatever is wrong with my brain. I have to say im wary. I hate pills. But im also sick of hurting. Physically and mentally. And im willing to do anything to be me again.
The boys came through for me with such a violent shade of love and care that i cant even write this without crying. I would be dead without them. thank you guys. really I love you.
So those were my last two days.
Im fucking exhausted.