I made kind of a scene a week ago around here, and some people seemed a bit worried about me, so I figured I'd fill everyone in. Since that thread was justifiably locked, here's a new one for some closure.
I'm not dead. Just to get that out of the way. The rest... well, let's just go in chronological order, shall we?
Wednesday, 10/3 - After being laid off of my job and rejected by a girl I liked, I had a bit of a mental breakdown and shared it with GAF.
Took a whole bottle of 40 Klonopin (anti-anxiety meds), plus a whole bottle of cheap shitty wine. Made some stupid posts. Not trying to kill myself. Just... trying to stop being depressed. Turns out it did more the opposite.
Fiction, who I'm Facebook friends with, sent a message to my mom informing her of the situation.
At some point (around 2:00 PM according to my post history), the pills finally caught up and knocked me out.
Thursday, 10/4 - I woke up surrounded by family, ambulance, and cops. They brought me to the hospital. Told me I had a thing called a 1013, which is a Georgia legal thing that meant I had to go to a mental institution for a bit.
I've been in institutions before. They were not happy memories. I did not want to go back. Being that I was still quite fueled by alcohol and pills, I had the wise idea to just walk out of the hospital. Where was I going to go? Hell if I know. Either way, the large men with tasers disagreed.
Protip: Don't get tased. Not pleasant. Although I am somewhat proud of the fact that even under the influence of mind-altering substances and after being tased, it still took three large men to take me down.
Now having been tased, slammed, and strapped down on top of the aforementioned influence of pills and alcohol and my long-standing history of mental issues, particularly those regarding anger, I think it's reasonable to state that I wasn't exactly in a sound state of mind. So yes, some particularly nasty rage vomit began to spew forth from my mouth. But... I'll get back to all that later.
Long story short, I wind up in the institution.
Friday, 10/5 through Monday, 10/8 - Days spent in the institution. Relatively uneventful in the grand scheme of this story, but highly therapeutic for me. Not nearly as terrible as the institutions I remembered from my youth. Maybe it's because the institution is under different management, or maybe it's because I'm older and they were treating me like an adult and not a retard.
But while I'd rank my adolescent institution experiences among some of my worst memories, I'd rank this latest institution stay among my best. I know how crazy that sounds, but it really did so much to help set my mind straight.
Tuesday, 10/9
Some changes to my meds, a new outlook on life, I felt pretty good when my dad picked me up from the institution. And hell, as therapeutic as it was, it was nice to get my freedom back.
We went home. But the family friend I was staying with decided she didn't want me living there any more after all that this ordeal has put her through, and you know what? I don't blame her. I talked to her and told her that I understand, comforted her, grabbed some of my essential stuff, then went to my parents' house, which... I guess is where I'm staying for now. Opened my laptop to check GAF.
BANNED.
Yes, I didn't even notice that I was banned until nearly a week later. And while I can appreciate the notion of, "Get off GAF, go do other stuff," I have to question the logic behind banning a person who's clearly extremely depressed and out of his mind and seeking some sort of help. BUT WHATEVS, YO.
Anyway, ban's up in a day, I can be GAFless for that much longer. Gave me some time to go get pizza with my dad. It's kinda the thing we like to do together. He gets an excuse to drink and a designated driver, I get food he pays for. Win-win all around! Oh, and I suppose spending time with him is nice as well. We even invited the grandparents along this time, and to everyone's surprise, ran into my cousin I haven't seen in years since he just happened to be working in the kitchen. Seriously, we go to this place all the time, and suddenly here's my cousin who's just gotten a job there. Crazy coincidence.
Turns out it was also trivia night, so we played, did horribly, but then so did everyone else so we didn't lose that horribly, and just had an overall nice night. Said our goodbyes, went our separate ways, drove home. As we were pulling into the neighborhood, I was all excited to get home and watch an episode of Once Upon A Time that I missed while I was in the institution.
Only, there was a cop waiting in front of our house. Got out of his car and approached us as we parked.
"Sir, are you Kevin?"
"Yes?"
"I have a warrant for your arrest for making terroristic threats at a hospital."
Remember that rage vomit part I said I'd get back to? Because yes, when a patient is brought into a hospital for mental issues, and then proceeds to exhibit said mental issues, the appropriate response is to press charges. If you get stabbed and go to a hospital, make sure you don't bleed on anything or they may press charges for destruction of property!
Somehow (in retrospect, alcohol may have had something to do with it), I was the one who remained calm while my dad started to freak out and try to get in the cop's face. I managed to calm my dad down enough that I was the only one arrested that night, and then went willingly.
Protip #2: Don't get arrested. I could write a whole other post on how awful and dehumanizing that experience was. Still, thanks in part to my recent stay at the institution, I was somehow able to keep my cool. Some of the cops were cool - the guy who drove me in was particularly nice and comforting as we chatted during the drive - but to others, I was just another number in a long list of numbers that they see every day. Managed to keep my cool by being as friendly as possible to every cop there. Cracked a few jokes here and there, managed to get a few chuckles. Chatted with one guy about movies and our excitement for The Hobbit.
But I'll be damned if it didn't take every ounce of energy to keep my sanity throughout that ordeal. Having them take my clothes and throw some sort of weird new age straightjacket thing on me? It was basically a really thick tarp with velcro and arm holes. Actually, kinda like a longer version of the vest Bane wears in TDKR. I didn't even have underwear on, so everything down there was completely exposed if I so much as leaned in the wrong way.
Finally managed to get my call and reach my dad. He was fucking awesome, already on his shit, at a bail bonds place, figuring out how to get down the $5,700 they were asking for to get me out.
Then they gave me a mattress and a blanket, threw me in a dirty room with four other guys, and told me to lay down.
Wednesday, 10/10
After laying on an uncomfortable mattress in an uncomfortable and embarrassing outfit for what seemed like hours, my dad finally managed to get me out at about 1:30. Why did it take so long? I don't know. Fucking bureaucracy. Swung by the bail bonds place to fill out some paperwork. Got home at like 3:00.
And you know what? My dad went to sleep, but I watched my fucking episode of Once Upon A Time, 9:00 appointment for outpatient therapy at the institution be damned. I didn't want jail to be the last thing on my mind before going to bed.
Anyway, after doing some research and talking to people, it seems like the charges are complete shit, so I'm not too worried about that. Everyone, including the cop who arrested me, said pretty much the sam thing: They're gonna be dropped. And if they're not dropped, the judge is gonna laugh in their face. And if he doesn't laugh in their face, I'm going to show them documentation that I have a diagnosed mental illness that I'm continuing to work on with several doctors, and he's gonna see that convicting me would be a goddamn waste of everyone's time. So I'm basically clear as far as future consequences go. But that still doesn't change the horrible experience of being arrested.
tl;dr version
Everything went better than expected. Then things took a sudden turn for the worst and went immensely more horrible than expected.
But in the end... I think things are gonna be okay. I'm illogically a little upset at miss Fiction for contacting my parents, but I'm also thankful she did so, because I clearly needed help, and now I'm getting it.
I'm probably gonna try to spend a little less time on GAF from now on, just to do things in the real world. But I'll still be around.
I'm not dead. Just to get that out of the way. The rest... well, let's just go in chronological order, shall we?
Wednesday, 10/3 - After being laid off of my job and rejected by a girl I liked, I had a bit of a mental breakdown and shared it with GAF.
Took a whole bottle of 40 Klonopin (anti-anxiety meds), plus a whole bottle of cheap shitty wine. Made some stupid posts. Not trying to kill myself. Just... trying to stop being depressed. Turns out it did more the opposite.
Fiction, who I'm Facebook friends with, sent a message to my mom informing her of the situation.
At some point (around 2:00 PM according to my post history), the pills finally caught up and knocked me out.
Thursday, 10/4 - I woke up surrounded by family, ambulance, and cops. They brought me to the hospital. Told me I had a thing called a 1013, which is a Georgia legal thing that meant I had to go to a mental institution for a bit.
I've been in institutions before. They were not happy memories. I did not want to go back. Being that I was still quite fueled by alcohol and pills, I had the wise idea to just walk out of the hospital. Where was I going to go? Hell if I know. Either way, the large men with tasers disagreed.
Protip: Don't get tased. Not pleasant. Although I am somewhat proud of the fact that even under the influence of mind-altering substances and after being tased, it still took three large men to take me down.
Now having been tased, slammed, and strapped down on top of the aforementioned influence of pills and alcohol and my long-standing history of mental issues, particularly those regarding anger, I think it's reasonable to state that I wasn't exactly in a sound state of mind. So yes, some particularly nasty rage vomit began to spew forth from my mouth. But... I'll get back to all that later.
Long story short, I wind up in the institution.
Friday, 10/5 through Monday, 10/8 - Days spent in the institution. Relatively uneventful in the grand scheme of this story, but highly therapeutic for me. Not nearly as terrible as the institutions I remembered from my youth. Maybe it's because the institution is under different management, or maybe it's because I'm older and they were treating me like an adult and not a retard.
But while I'd rank my adolescent institution experiences among some of my worst memories, I'd rank this latest institution stay among my best. I know how crazy that sounds, but it really did so much to help set my mind straight.
Tuesday, 10/9
Some changes to my meds, a new outlook on life, I felt pretty good when my dad picked me up from the institution. And hell, as therapeutic as it was, it was nice to get my freedom back.
We went home. But the family friend I was staying with decided she didn't want me living there any more after all that this ordeal has put her through, and you know what? I don't blame her. I talked to her and told her that I understand, comforted her, grabbed some of my essential stuff, then went to my parents' house, which... I guess is where I'm staying for now. Opened my laptop to check GAF.
BANNED.
Yes, I didn't even notice that I was banned until nearly a week later. And while I can appreciate the notion of, "Get off GAF, go do other stuff," I have to question the logic behind banning a person who's clearly extremely depressed and out of his mind and seeking some sort of help. BUT WHATEVS, YO.
Anyway, ban's up in a day, I can be GAFless for that much longer. Gave me some time to go get pizza with my dad. It's kinda the thing we like to do together. He gets an excuse to drink and a designated driver, I get food he pays for. Win-win all around! Oh, and I suppose spending time with him is nice as well. We even invited the grandparents along this time, and to everyone's surprise, ran into my cousin I haven't seen in years since he just happened to be working in the kitchen. Seriously, we go to this place all the time, and suddenly here's my cousin who's just gotten a job there. Crazy coincidence.
Turns out it was also trivia night, so we played, did horribly, but then so did everyone else so we didn't lose that horribly, and just had an overall nice night. Said our goodbyes, went our separate ways, drove home. As we were pulling into the neighborhood, I was all excited to get home and watch an episode of Once Upon A Time that I missed while I was in the institution.
Only, there was a cop waiting in front of our house. Got out of his car and approached us as we parked.
"Sir, are you Kevin?"
"Yes?"
"I have a warrant for your arrest for making terroristic threats at a hospital."
Remember that rage vomit part I said I'd get back to? Because yes, when a patient is brought into a hospital for mental issues, and then proceeds to exhibit said mental issues, the appropriate response is to press charges. If you get stabbed and go to a hospital, make sure you don't bleed on anything or they may press charges for destruction of property!
Somehow (in retrospect, alcohol may have had something to do with it), I was the one who remained calm while my dad started to freak out and try to get in the cop's face. I managed to calm my dad down enough that I was the only one arrested that night, and then went willingly.
Protip #2: Don't get arrested. I could write a whole other post on how awful and dehumanizing that experience was. Still, thanks in part to my recent stay at the institution, I was somehow able to keep my cool. Some of the cops were cool - the guy who drove me in was particularly nice and comforting as we chatted during the drive - but to others, I was just another number in a long list of numbers that they see every day. Managed to keep my cool by being as friendly as possible to every cop there. Cracked a few jokes here and there, managed to get a few chuckles. Chatted with one guy about movies and our excitement for The Hobbit.
But I'll be damned if it didn't take every ounce of energy to keep my sanity throughout that ordeal. Having them take my clothes and throw some sort of weird new age straightjacket thing on me? It was basically a really thick tarp with velcro and arm holes. Actually, kinda like a longer version of the vest Bane wears in TDKR. I didn't even have underwear on, so everything down there was completely exposed if I so much as leaned in the wrong way.
Finally managed to get my call and reach my dad. He was fucking awesome, already on his shit, at a bail bonds place, figuring out how to get down the $5,700 they were asking for to get me out.
Then they gave me a mattress and a blanket, threw me in a dirty room with four other guys, and told me to lay down.
Wednesday, 10/10
After laying on an uncomfortable mattress in an uncomfortable and embarrassing outfit for what seemed like hours, my dad finally managed to get me out at about 1:30. Why did it take so long? I don't know. Fucking bureaucracy. Swung by the bail bonds place to fill out some paperwork. Got home at like 3:00.
And you know what? My dad went to sleep, but I watched my fucking episode of Once Upon A Time, 9:00 appointment for outpatient therapy at the institution be damned. I didn't want jail to be the last thing on my mind before going to bed.
Anyway, after doing some research and talking to people, it seems like the charges are complete shit, so I'm not too worried about that. Everyone, including the cop who arrested me, said pretty much the sam thing: They're gonna be dropped. And if they're not dropped, the judge is gonna laugh in their face. And if he doesn't laugh in their face, I'm going to show them documentation that I have a diagnosed mental illness that I'm continuing to work on with several doctors, and he's gonna see that convicting me would be a goddamn waste of everyone's time. So I'm basically clear as far as future consequences go. But that still doesn't change the horrible experience of being arrested.
tl;dr version
Everything went better than expected. Then things took a sudden turn for the worst and went immensely more horrible than expected.
But in the end... I think things are gonna be okay. I'm illogically a little upset at miss Fiction for contacting my parents, but I'm also thankful she did so, because I clearly needed help, and now I'm getting it.
I'm probably gonna try to spend a little less time on GAF from now on, just to do things in the real world. But I'll still be around.