How can there be more you might ask. Fair enough. I know there's going to be much more of my life. Sounds simple, right? Four days ago I'm not sure how I would have answered that question. Four days ago, how to put this? Oh yeah, due to some bad meds and some really piss-poor self-medication, I lost my mind. Not the cutesy, "I'm going to lose my mind if I miss American Idol", but "Holy shit, call the authorities" kind. Authorities were called. I spouted gibberish every time I was asked a question. This led to some answers that put me firmly in the "may harm self or others" category. I don't remember any of this. I mean, I can recall bits and pieces if someone walks me through it, but on my own the day of February 7, 2012 might as well not exist.
My first coherent memory is waking up in the ER and being asked what I remembered (nothing, remember?). My wife and sister were both in the room looking a tad worried, and with good reason. Apparently during my delusions I had left my kids unfed for the morning among other things. Not the end of the world, right. Just kinda shitty. Wrong. As I sit here writing this I have to stop and get my emotions back under control. You see, the idea of harming my kids in any way, not matter how small, is a idea that absolutely appalls me. I literally cannot believe that I put them at any risk. I kinda hate myself when I think about it, so I try not to. I can assure you however, that thanks to medical intervention I'm on the road to "normal" (whatever that is) and can think about my life and what I need to do to keep my head in the game and to make good choices.
I was placed under an Order of Protective Custody (OPC). For those of you fortunate enough to have dodged the proverbial bullet of mental health issues, an OPC means that you go to a mental ward of someone else's choosing. Involuntary admission is the proper term for what happened. Involuntary doesn't even begin to cover it. All decisions and choices are no longer yours to make. You become a temporary ward of the state. Let me repeat that, ward of the state. This is the stuff of Pink Floyd albums and one of my worst nightmares. So I went from a delirium of confusion and fear, to a place that I was convinced was prison. Approximately 24 hours into my stay at Hotel de Nuts, I began to understand why I was there. I wasn't there as a punishment, I was there because my family loved me enough to make a really crappy choice for my sake. I have no doubt now that the decision to commit me was just as hard on them as it was on me. They saved my life and I can't thank them enough.
I'll talk more about what happens during a stay in a mental ward in the following posts. For now, I'd like to give you a couple of links just in case you feel yourself spiraling down into dark places. There are lots more than these, a Google search will give you plenty. These were the three that help me the most.
www.nimh.nih.gov/
www.mhatexas.org/
www.dosomething.org
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