I had it all. For the space of about three weeks. A job, a home, a life. Then, it all changed. It started to go downhill when I quit my job last Saturday because they made me put down baby mice. I was bathing dogs, this wasn't my job and I couldn't stand it. Everyone there was negative and it wasn't worth the half hour drive and the anxiety. So then I go to the doctor.
And the doctor changes the anti depressant I am on. So I'm all "Okay, whatever". And BAM! Withdrawl. What had I told the doctor weeks earlier? "No Paxil"! He RX'd me off-brand Paxil and ripped me off of it onto a completely different drug within a couple days. I was having withdrawals and not even knowing it. It all went downhill. I started having suicidal thoughts about Saturday night, and by Sunday night had plans. Monday night, my dad comes home and makes a remark that takes me to tears instantly. I sit up in my room and cry, then the medications catch my eye. I carefully sort it all out. Downers to put me at ease, sedatives to do the same only stronger, to put me into a sleep. And several things of OTC meds to kill my liver, suppress my breathing, and finally, make my blood thinner. I didn't know if it'd work, but I almost knew what I was doing. My boyfriend calls out of the blue and says he is in the area, and he wants to swing by. I tell him no, that I would like to be alone. He instantly gets the red flag and comes by, to sit outside until I will come out. I come out and explain, and we try to go inside and tell my mom why I feel this way. And I can't. I can't even begin. We go to the doctor and he is not there. So we call Jon's Grandma, who works at a community center for counseling. She says to go to the ER.
We get there and call my mom, and she starts yelling. I screaming "YOU KNOW WHAT?! YOU CAN GO F*** YOURSELF!" and slam the phone down. I sit in the ER in a total daze, they draw my blood and do vitals. Around 2am I finally get to see the social worker and he talks to my boyfriend and my mother on the phone. My boyfriend comes back from talking and says "Hun, there's no good news". And I start crying again. I hold onto him and cry. The med student sitting by my bed looks uncomfortable. They move me to the back room, obviously reserved for nutcases.
The counselor comes in, has me sign papers, and says he will transfer me to wherever they have open beds. I ask for an ambien and am given half of one and eventually I pass out. At 4am, the ambulance arrives to take me to wherever. I sleep most of the way, but the swaying of the ambulance and thoughts of the place I am going to terrify me. I somehow admit to a strip search at the facility, sign papers, and go to bed.
My roomate brings me blankets because I am shivering, and then I sleep until lunch. The staff says it's okay if I want to sleep today since I had a hectic night. I cry most of the day, wondering how my dog, guinea pig, and boyfriend are. I want to leave but at the same time this whole world is terrifying. At night, my roomate goes home and I go in my room, turn off the lights, and look out my window. It's a big world out there.
Three days pass and by the end I am practically skipping to group and enjoying myself. I made friends and somehow feel fine. At the end when I leave, I tell my mom my secret and she accepts it. She pays the bill and drives me home. The first thing I do is play with my dogs and cuddle my guinea pig. My guinea pig somehow has a hardened booger on top of his nose that won't come off. Before I can tell mom not to, she snips it off and gets his skin. So we rub anti-biotic into the pig's skin and tell him we are SO SORRY! He grunts and glares at us for a while. He gets extra lovins and kisses for a while that day - not to mention more vitamin C. Everyday now I walk, play with the animals, or fix something. I remember to leave the house and not sit inside. And I finally patched things up with the parents - mostly.
Soon, I have to get the courage to file a police report to reveal my abuser 3 years ago. It's not easy, and I don't think it's ever going to be - but it's time to get real. I deserve justice, and I should not have waited so long to get it because the aftermath was (drumroll)...

Damaged relationships with everyone in my family
Leaving high school
Living in fear 3 years and shame
10,000 Dollars, maybe more now, in medical bills.
Tons of lost friendships, destructive behaviors
I learned all the wrong ways to deal with my feelings

And a lifetime of regret for not speaking up sooner.
Even worse, I'm not bipolar. I was diagnosed so they could throw expensive meds at me and make money. It's so messed up and hard to even wrap my head around. I've been taken advantage of again and it's wrong. This time I'm not sitting around and whining.

*hugs*

I'm proud of you.

I know it's not much of a comment I'm leaving here, but sometime the simplest words are the best.

For what it is worth, I'm proud of you too.

I hope you're able to file that police report soon.

Thank you guys so much. I have so little support and feel so weak. These medications and the anger I'm dealing with. Aiii-ya. It's more than I can bare. I've started taking up archery, it gets rid of the anger and helps more than any medication.