So things got progressively worse after my last post.. like basically never getting out of bed except to eat. I wasn't even sleeping. I was just staring into space. Occasionally, I would get up and move to the couch to watch Netflix. I went to meetings but only as an excuse to stop for liquor.
Well.. on the 8th, I was supposed to start a job and go for the assessment to start DBT. I woke up and I could barely eat a bowl of cereal I was so tired. I didn't go to work. I could tell my parents were unhappy. I finally got up and my dad came home from work and said they were taking me to the appointment. They drop me off and I start filling out paperwork.. and I just couldn't. It was just too much. I left and my parents were in the car outside. I got in and burst into tears. I tried to explain, and they didn't get it.
I tried to say I was tired. They said I wasn't tired, I was drunk. We had this big argument in the car. I ended up telling them to either let me go back to my apartment or take me to the hospital. They said I was too drunk to walk, I definitely couldn't drive. They didn't even take me home to pack because I clearly couldn't pack.
I went to the ER. I didn't think I was that drunk, but I know they wouldn't let me leave until my blood alcohol dropped.. they eventually transferred me to another hospital that had a chemical dependency unit to detox. This was several hours later and my blood alcohol was still .12. The nurse did my intake and honest to God had to hold my arm as I walked to bed because I could hardly walk and tucked me into bed. I was forbidden from getting up unsupervised.
The next day was miserable. I had to use a fucking walker at first because nobody trusted me to walk. The patients were so nice though.. like.. amazing. I didn't sleep the first night and had hardly slept all week. I finally saw the psychiatrist who totally changed my meds. The next night I slept like the dead. Still.. I kept having crying spells including one where I was hyperventilating. The tech kept telling me it was just withdrawal. Finally, I wandered out of my room and another patient was decent enough to find my nurse who gave me more Librium. I was alternating laughing and crying the first few days.
By the end of my week there.. I was better? I actually taught a group and was made "team leader" and given the task of helping new patients. I had been paranoid my parents wouldn't let me come back, but they seem to have.. I mean I am back at their house now. My mom did my laundry while I was gone.
I checked my voicemail while in the hospital because that seemed safer than checking when I got home.. since this is usually a big trigger. I got 2 calls from a recruiter at a bank asking me about interest in a job. I called and she basically said if I apply for this position, she will send me to interview with the manager.. I said it would be a few a days because I was in hospital. Anyway.. she seemed ok with it (she seemed surprised I called from the hospital). I applied.. so we will see. It's a better job than what I passed up. I still have lots of problems to deal with, but for now.. I am doing better.
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