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| Lake Winnebago |
I am really trying to put this all together, but I am finding it very hard to organize all of my thoughts, so I figured I am going to try and start from the being, my breaking point. I currently live with my boyfriend, his seventeen year old mentally disturbed son, my dog, my cat, and half of the time my five year old son, and my boyfriend's sixteen year old daughter. If that is not a formula for stress, I do not know what is. Throw in useless social workers from Winnebago County Child Protective Services and a couple of dead beat moms and you have the perfect cocktail that no combination of medication can cure. Skipping a bunch of the personal details for their sake, I left my house in tears after a argument with the boyfriend and found myself crying hysterically in the park.
I do not remember driving there, I just remember saying over and over to myself that I couldn't be here (home) and slamming the door behind me. The park is just blocks from my house and I probably subconsciously thought that sitting by the water would help, since the beach was always my refuge when I lived on the East Coast. Staring out at Lake Winnebago was the best Wisconsin had to offer at the time. After a few minutes of watching the small waves break, I knew I needed help. I wasn't right, something was wrong. I drove to the hospital, parked in emergency and sliced my wrist with a box cutter that I had in the truck. I walked through the doors, hysterical and could not even talk to the lady at the reception desk. She just had me write down my name and date of birth, and when she asked me my symptoms, I just held up my wrist (I just want to note that I am a chicken and barely broke the skin, the fact that I actually attempted to do this is really what had me in hysterics), she nodded and told me to go have a seat.
There was only one other person in the waiting area, she started talking to me. She asked me if I was okay, and all I could manage to answer her with were sobbing nods. She talked very plainly to me, and told me that I was going to be alright, I did it the wrong way, so I will be fine she said. I was having a nervous breakdown she said, she told me she had had a couple herself. The whole time I could not stop crying, a nurse came to get me shortly after, I did not even hear him call my name, the lady that was talking to me called him over to me. I vaguely remember talking to other nurses and the doctor, but I remember talking to that lady clear as day. Part of me now wonders if she was even there. I spent a couple hours in the emergency room, I fell asleep watching Despicable Me 2. When I woke up, I had no idea where I was or even what I was doing there for the first few minutes.
That night I voluntarily committed myself to the adult psychiatric ward.
