(…continued from previous post)
Saw my shrink this morning (btw, I haven’t even mentioned that he did put me back on my Lamictal starting with 25mg daily to slowly ramp up to my normal dosage of 400mg daily, along with 2mg of Ativan QID and 20mg of Ambien @ hs—ironic, huh? Two of the same drugs that popped on my tox screen). I’m guessing that I’ve pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes sufficiently. He agreed that I could be released from this Godforsaken place tomorrow, the seventh “legal” day (what crap that weekends “don’t count”). The one catch is that I’d have to enter their three-day-a-week 0900-1200 outpatient program for two weeks. So, my head will continue to get shrunk for a little while longer—two more weeks of mastering my perfected façade. Then I can get back to my master plan.
I must say that my one savings grace has been my Army vet compadre. Over the last couple of days we actually started talking about all the bullshit we’ve been through that ultimately landed us both here. I could so identify with everything he said and vice-versa—we’ve sorta become comrade-in-arms. What’s nice about developing a connection in a place like this—full of strangers that you know you will never see again—is that you might just find that one person to whom you can remove your mask.
I am at a crossroads right this minute. I know I am only here because it was court ordered. I know the actions I chose (not that I still remember a damn thing) prior to the paramedics rushing me to the ER were stupid—stupidly resulting from the alcohol. Yet, even at this very moment, even now knowing that I am being discharged tomorrow, I feel more suicidal than I have in a long time. All that has been accomplished during my stay here has been the opportunity to reflect and dwell on just how pathetic and miserable my life is. The pain—the loneliness—is suffocating. I just want so much to just disappear down my lonely dark hole forever. (and to you DBT fans out there—no, I don’t want to use mindfulness, distraction, self-talk, or any of the other bullshit tools).
But I can’t show this. My mask must be firmly affixed for the next 36 hours. I have interviews with my primary therapist, my shrink, the discharge therapist and finally I go before the judge. Can I keep up this façade successfully enough to get through these interviews and truly convince them that I am sane enough to be discharged? I just hid in the bathroom while everyone else went to group (I had permission to skip to start preparing for my potential discharge. Potential because no papers have been signed yet). While in the bathroom, I promptly fell to pieces, crying uncontrollably. I couldn’t even tell you where it came from or what triggered it. I can’t let anyone else see me like this—not now, when I am so close to getting out of here.
You know, if they found this journal, I’d really be screwed. They issued me a pocket folder upon arrival where I was store handouts and other papers, and I’ve hidden it here, and this folder is always on my person at all times.
(later) Met with my discharge therapist. She’s all on board with my release. That’s one hurdle cleared. Now for the others whenever they tell me when they are ready to see me.
I know that any of you reading this probably think I’ve wasted a perfectly good opportunity to get my head on straight. But you just have to understand that I don’t want the help—not any more. I don’t have anything left in me. No emotions. There is nothing left to care about, and certainly no one that really cares about me. I can’t begin to explain the abject pain of my loneliness. All I have left is a darkness that pursues me and envelopes me.
I have made my decision and it is final. I have the resolve now; nothing has been clearer to me. As to when? I have to wrap up a lot of loose ends and put my affairs in order (what a classic phrase). This will take time because it needs to be executed perfectly. All Is dotted, all Ts crossed. Plus, what the hell, I might as well vacuum the house.
Tonight is probably my last night here. I have no idea how long processing out will take tomorrow. I just pray that there are no last minute hiccoughs with the judge. (To be continued…)©2009
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