“Now I find myself in a hospital. It is just too bad I sent that e-mail out too soon. I hope I can get out of here – but now the valium will not be a choice as I am sure my prescription will be void. How to just go to sleep? Must research other ways – maybe some booze and carbon monoxide. I hate pain so I can’t do this by slits, hangings or other shit. Regardless, no one is going to pay my rent. No one can take care of me. Why should it even matter? Why can’t we just have good ways to go instead of those horrible ways like guns, ropes and knives? When you are no longer useful, what is the point? When no one gives a shit, what is the point? When your family is not there, what is the point? I don’t hate life. I just hate my life. I want Zaire back. It is worth it if I can’t see him again. I blame (name not printed, but the father) mostly for my two years of pain. Taking Zaire away for no reason and not allowing me to be a part of his life, at 60, fuck you. I already told Zaire I would kill myself, so live with that. I certainly would rather be a spirit on Zaire’s shoulder then just a memory that fades in time. (Daughter’s name withheld), I know you will hurt the most. Your dad hates you and I will be successful at some point, and unfortunately you will be all alone. I am sorry but we are not that close so you will get over it. After the experience with (name withheld, short term roommate) in my home and then his leaving ... any thoughts of going homeless are not appealing. Sooner or later that is all I have left. Homelessness and hopelessness. (Name withheld) and (name withheld), thanks for not being there for me. Supposed to change from pj’s to hospital gown. Guess I’ll be under a psych hold. So much for working on (name withheld) cases!!! Ha ha. Should have stopped by and paid me instead of cruising off to El Salvador. I’ve waited too many times for you to come by.”
That was the last entry after I was interrupted in my attempt at suicide, but before I was put on the 72 involuntary psychiatric hold. I guess one can see the despair in the writings. Now that I have had time to go over my actions, as well as the actions of those around me, it is clear that certain people (uh, family, you ALL know who you are) were so fixated on the fact that I drink, and completely either oblivious or just not caring about my depression, that they have no clue how I felt.
These past three days without medication brought me back to the same place I was before. Except, I don't feel, necessarily, hopeless. The depression came back with a vengeance, but I have been holding up because I am supposed to hit the clinic tomorrow (gotta go to bed early because I have to get up at 5 so I can be at the clinic by 7:30). It's a full service clinic, with psychiatrists, therapists, and a pharmacy to fill my prescriptions. Right now, all I have is the script for the sleeping pills and the anti-depressant, nothing for the anxiety. I was supposed to get one, but since I THOUGHT I still had the valium script, the psychiatrist at the hospital said it would be cheaper then the Ativan I was taking. But who knew my evil daughter would talk to my personal physician, steal my prescription (yeah, like everyone but those with experience with what is wrong with me are making personal diagnosis) and upon getting released, I went to my doctor who told me he talked to my daughter (ok, whatever happened to doctor/patient privilege?) and he would not give me a new script. Great. Hopefully, at the new clinic, besides what I got a script for, based on what I was taking at the hospital, I will get some Ativan. Between those three drugs, I was able to become stable and my mind did not fart all over me. I felt strong and in control to a certain extent. At least, I could figure out how to work and do stuff, instead of the last month of being in bed all day and pretending I was doing things. Suffice it to say, I will not be going back to THAT doctor again. Fuck him. That was so unprofessional, I could actually file a complaint against him, but I don't have the energy to seek revenge or anything.
Well, the only "revenge" I have taken is against my daughter. I threw away her complete file that I had for the past 18 months of the custody battle. Yup, I did that. I told her criminal attorney I did that. He was surprised, but then again, not surprised. Also, my daughter has been violating her probation, and I told him about it. He was pissed because he put his reputation on the line to get her the diversion on her four criminal counts of assault on a minor, PLUS he got the DA not to count the DUI she got six months after the criminal charges were filed not to count as a violation of any probation. I'm the drunk, supposedly, but she drinks mimosas in the morning, does beer in the afternoon, and hard alcohol at night! And let's not forget the pipe in her purse, the one hitter, and the weed. Last time I made her and I take a tox screen, she failed, but I passed, insofar as drugs were concerned.
I know I can't stand the father, but the more I think about my daughter and her relationship with me, and her inattention to her son (she does not call him every day, but if it was ME, I'd be calling him five times a day, damn it), I am coming to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, he's better off right now living with the father as opposed to living with the bitch troll from hell, as me and my friends have affectionately referred to her since she was 16 (see Absolutely Fabulous for reference as to BTFH).
Wish me luck. Hope I get accepted by the clinic and get my meds, especially since they took about a day and a half to kick in. I need to feel normal soon.