The year 2012 was supposed to be the best year ever according to me and my now ex=boyfriend. January left me unscathed, but in February my dear sweet Skylar was lost to me. My best girlfriend moved to Kansas City and shortly after that, two of my next closest gal pals moved, one to Austin and the other to London. So, having my best girlfriend move would have been an adjustment, but it was loosing Skylar and not having my FRIENDS here that made everything a bit more painful than normal. A week after loosing Skylar there was an anonymous letter sent to my boss full of lies and largely exaggerated examples of how unprofessional I am. I have always regarded myself as very professional, bordering on cold rather than too familiar. This set me to more tears and I began to feel like work wasn't the haven I had thought it to be. Under the circumstances it had been my one piece of "normal." Then Chris brought Sebastian to me, and I felt sad about my loss of Skylar, but I tried to love Sebastian and I equated him with my new relationship with Chris, the newness of my life, and that I was going to be okay. Work continued to be trying as the year began to wind down. I had already lost my "team" at the start of the year with the exception of Robyn, my team leader. I clung to Chris, Sebastian, and Robyn. and I got back into running, something that I thought was going to be a permanent loss, but that I regained.
I started to think that things were getting back on track. Then one day, Robyn called and had news about a new job offer she had received. I was so happy for her, and I encouraged her to take the position even though I knew it would leave me alone on my team. I went to bed sad about it, as well as nervous about what I considered the distinct possibility that I would be asked to be the team leader for next year, but on the way to work I talked to Chris about it and he made me feel so much better about things. He said it was my opportunity to be a leader, have more responsibility and to grow professionally. When I got to work, my boss called me in to talk to me about what things would look like because of the change. She was bringing in others to the team, and one of them would be the team leader.
I was stunned. Never would I have suspected that she would pass me over for the lead position when I had 7 years experience at that school. I asked why I was passed over for the position. "I didn't know you were interested in it," was the reply. Really? When was I supposed to do that? I had only found out the night before! I asked to be on the transfer list and was given some feedback that I found unhelpful and fairly discouraging. I had been looking for a way for this new loss to be a positive in my life and that was now clearly not going to happen. A week later I did have that answer. I am moving to a different school to work for someone I have worked for before. I am happy about the possibilities, but it is another type of loss. I am changing schools, moving away from familiar faces and routines.
Then I hit rock bottom, or so I thought. I got the dreaded, "We need to talk." Without going into detail, Chris wanted to end the relationship. It hurt. It still hurts. I really love him. He hasn't been unkind, and the reason, without divulging our private affairs, is not something egregious. Not long after, my grandfather went to hospice, and the family started traveling in to say their good-byes. I prepared for another loss. I didn't want to face this without Chris at my side. At some point I realized I needed some help from my therapist. I made an appointment and even made an appointment with a psychiatrist to see if some new meds or stronger ones could help. I was loosing a lot of weight, and I felt like I couldn't eat, and I was sleeping poorly. I was nervous and sick to my stomach all the time. The Psychiatrist couldn't see me for 4 weeks. I hoped I could make it. I was having scary thoughts, bad thoughts, but I was doing all of the right things. I was getting help. I was safe. God had given me a temporary room mate to help me function.
When my grandfather passed away I wanted so badly to call Chris and have him be there for me. I emailed the news to him and we talked. I was a mess, 100% devastated. Loosing my grandfather was better for him, he would go to Heaven and no longer be in pain. Not having Chris there to support me made the loss that much more pungent.
We buried PawPaw on Memorial Day weekend. The viewing was Friday and the funeral was Saturday. I was with family the whole weekend and came home on Sunday, exhausted and terribly sad. I had wished for Chris to be by my side. I had hoped to hear from him. I went to bed tearful and tired after posting on Facebook a message about how I didn't feel like God wanted to be happy, how He was taking everything away from me.
I awoke to the doorbell ringing. It rang twice and I ignored it. Then I heard banging on my back door. I looked out the window and there were four policemen standing there. I went down and spoke to them. Here is the short version of this story.
I'm already fragile and sad, now I'm scared. One officer asks if I'm sad, tells me a friend of mine saw my FB post and thought I would cause harm to myself. They were going to take me willing or not. The officer told me I'd get to see a doctor 2 weeks early of my appointment, but that I'd need a ride later to be picked up. The whole thing was surreal. I ended up going because he pretty much let me know that I could go voluntarily or I could go in-voluntarily. I went. They were parked out front, so my neighbors could see me getting hauled off, in hand-cuffs like a criminal. The officer took me to a facility that scared me out of my mind, it was filled with criminally psychotic people, dangerous and scary looking people. I was now terrified as well as sad. I asked repeatedly to be allowed to leave, knowing I had come in "voluntarily." They wouldn't let me leave. I was strip searched. I don't want to even tell about what it was like there. Suffice it to say that it was awful. I sobbed and sobbed. I kept thinking they would have to let me go in 24 hours, but they didn't. They strapped my to a gurney and transferred me to another hospital. Another strip search. They would let me wear my hoodie even though I had already removed the "dangerous" string. My shirt was kinda sheer and they wanted me to remove my bra because it was an underwire bra. They said I could hurt myself with it. I was begging them to allow me some sense of dignity.
I refused to sign paperwork. Chris and my mom, dad, and sister came to visit me for the hour visitation allowed. They wouldn't even let me read the book my sister brought me because it was a hard back and, "someone could gouge out someone's eyeballs with it! Really! I was scared, sad, tired and confused. I was worried about missing the last week of school. I was worried about missing the kids' graduation. I felt like if I stayed there too long I would go nuts.
It took some doing, and perhaps some threats from my father to get the hospital to discharge me. I felt like I was in prison. I suppose that was the rock bottom that I had thought I had already hit.
I'm home now, but I am still tired, sad, and I think about Chris all of the time. I want things to go back to the way they were, and there is still an ounce of hope for that. Love hopes all things.
I have lost a lot in 2012. I'm not writing this to get pity, but I think to understand what I am going through, someone needs to know the whole story. Writing about things helps me sort out my thoughts. It is a type of therapy for me. Friends, call me. Invite me. Distract me. I may not reach out, but I need you. I do NOT need someone to call the cops on me! Help me by being my friend.
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