So, happy fathers day first off. Secondly, I apologize for my almost 2 month disappearance. It was, however, much needed.
So on April 19th, I don't even remember what happened. I was so depressed and suicidal and I was just done. I couldn't go to class. During first period, I went to my assistant principle and asked if I could just sit in TOR so I didn't have to go to class. He said that was fine. He also asked me if I was okay, because apparently I looked like I was about to cry.
A few hours later, my guidance counselor came down to talk to me. She said that I didn't look right either. I basically just said fuck it, and told her everything. That I was cutting and burning almost every night, suicidal, and how I planned on being dead before graduation, which is why I gave up on grades and in school.
Of course, they had to call EMS because they knew my parents weren't going to be helpful. So that was a long and incredibly stressful day. I got sent to the "psychiatric emergency room", and ironically enough, it was the same cop that took me last time. I like him. My guidance counselor and school social worker met us at the hospital. That made me happy. At like midnight the same day, I got admitted and sent into a hospital. The ambulance transported me there and I was of course scared.
I ended up loving it in the hospital. There were 10 girls on my unit and they all loved me. I fit in and was able to help others and the staff loved me. I was discharged 11 days later. I wasn't happy. I didn't feel like I was ready to go.
I went back to school on a Wednesday, and was in TOR all the rest of the week. I relapsed by Friday. By Sunday I was back in the hospital. I knew I wasn't ready.
I was happy to be back though. My friend who I was with the first time also relapsed, so we spent the entire month in the hospital together.
I was there for 12 days the second time. During this time, I did a lot of thinking. I know why I'm depressed and suicidal. I know my road blocks and I know my triggers.
It's frustrating that I can't get better. Me and my friend created an amazing picture together. It basically looks like a road map of my life and all the obstacles I've had to overcome, and all the arrows point to the words "new start". I framed it and hung it next to my bed as soon as I got home.
I also broke my hand during this time. I was frustrated and angry with myself and anxious and I just punched a wall. Hard. They x-rayed it 3 times and said it wasn't broken. It was swollen and bruised all the way up to my elbow. So on Mothers Day, I got sent to a medical hospital,(sorry mom), where they again x-rayed my hand. Still not broken apparently. 12 days after my second admission, I got discharged again. This time I got put into a partial program, from like 12 to 8 pm.
My friend who relapsed the same time that I did was also put into this program. I loved it. I love group therapy because I can help others, and they all liked me again. I was there for 3 weeks, and Thursday was my last day. All because of my stupid insurance. I once again did not feel ready to leave. I'm having a hard time.
My mom took me to a legitimate orthopedist a few weeks ago, and my hand is broken in 3 places. Good job to all the other doctors. I also may have torn my rotator cuff, but whatever. My own fault. So yeah, that's where I've been. I'll give more details later.
