My Breakdown

I've been stable for three years now. I've maintained my stability and taken care of myself and done what I need to do to make sure I stay well. I take my meds, go to therapy, participate in support groups and practice self-care. It all works together to keep me well. 

Then things fell apart. It started with an event that was traumatic to me. One of my friends had overdosed and me, being the stable one, went to go get her to take her to the hospital. On the way to the hospital, she went unconscious and unresponsive. I had to pull over in the middle of the night and call 911. It took a couple minutes for them to find out where I was exactly and then they sent out emergency responders. A cop came first. He checked for a pulse and then he shook her and called her name and tried to elicit a pain response by shaking her at her breastbone. She still didn't respond. Firetruck was next followed by EMS. They once again tried to wake her and couldn't. They took her blood sugar and her blood pressure and those both came back okay. I was standing on the sidewalk, crying, watching the whole thing progress. They began trying to figure out how to get her onto the stretcher when she threw up all over the back of my car and started coming to. They told her that she had to go to the hospital and she became belligerent and started arguing with them in her semi-conscious state. The firefighter running the scene asked me to talk to her and I tried to tell her that she had to go to the hospital and she still fought it. Eventually, she said that if the lead firefighter would leave the scene that she would go willingly with EMS. So the firefighter drove off for just enough time for them to put her on the stretcher and into the ambulance. Then the firefighter came back to the scene. I grabbed her backpack and gave it to EMS to take with her to the hospital. One of the paramedics asked me if they knew that this was an intentional overdose and I said that it was. Eventually, they left, headed for the hospital. The firefighter and the cop conferred with each other for a couple minutes and then told me that due to COVID I couldn't go to the hospital with her so I best just head home and wait for updates. So I cleared it with them that I was okay to leave and headed home. She was released from the hospital the following morning and sent home to recover. No psych referral or anything which really frustrated me because she had hurt herself and needed help but there was nothing I could do. I spent the night crying and trying to pull myself together. 

I slept a couple hours and then woke up to text my therapist about potentially seeing her for a session that day because I knew I was not in good shape. She said she had a session open that morning and that I could see her then. So I stayed up and went to the therapy session. I was exhausted because I had slept all of maybe 2 hours in a 36 hour period. I used the session to process what had happened and then went home. I slept during the day and then got up for my training that night. I ended up sleeping during the training. After that I went back to my bed and I spent the next 24 hours in bed with the only exception being going to the bathroom. This ended up with me somewhat waking up and talking to a couple friends. I was then up during the night for a few hours and then went back to sleep and slept 14 hours straight without waking up. I'm not sure if I was avoiding life or my that I was physically or mentally exhausted. I woke up around 4pm that Sunday and decided to go DoorDashing to make some money. During this extended period of time, I missed my medication for around a week.

During the DoorDashing, I started having thoughts of pulling my car out in front of other cars or driving off the road intentionally. I had thoughts that I didn't really want to live life anymore. So I called one of my friends and we talked for a while and eventually decided that a hospitalization would be good to help get me back on my medication. So I called my therapist and psychiatrist to get some help setting up an intake appointment at a local psychiatric hospital. My therapist called Marshall Pickens hospital and set up an intake appointment for the following day. 

The next day I packed myself a bag and went to the intake appointment. The lady doing the assessment identified that what I thought was just general anxiety was actually me having anxiety attacks over and over again. They admitted me to the hospital. Once admitted, they went through the typical intake process. They did their search of me (which resulted in my losing two things that I tried to sneak in, one of which was my security item, my pillowcase) and then went through my stuff and put it in brown paper bags for me to take to my room. While I was going through the intake process, another patient recognized me from a previous hospital stay. I did not remember her at all (because my memory really sucks) but greeted her. They wanted us to wear masks with it being during COVID and all but a lot of the patients only wore them when we had to go off the unit for groups and meals.  I saw a resident who evaluated me and we went over my medications. I told her I just needed to get back on my medications and she agreed after I explained. The whole purpose of this hospitalization was for me to get back on my medications and medications were a problem from the beginning. They didn't carry multiple of my medications including my sleep medication. The medication that I take is an extended release version of a sleep medication and they wouldn't allow me to bring my own in. The version they had was for falling asleep, not staying asleep which is my biggest issue with my insomnia. So that entire first day it was a battle with my medications. They said they wanted me to try the non-extended release one. That night I didn't sleep but 5 hours and then I was up the rest of the night. So they added an anxiety med for me and once again I did not sleep. I knew that this was not going to work so I asked to discharge. I was there 3 days and then I left because I couldn't take my sleep medication and thus slept very little while I was there which just screwed with my emotions even more. 

Once I left MIP, I went to stay with a friend who lived three hours away from me to see if staying with her could stabilize me out. I was there for a few days and we went to a Christian conference together but I was still struggling. So I called the Carolina Center for Behavioral Health and asked for an admission. I was afraid initially that they wouldn't accept me because of my past history with them. However, there was no problem in getting me in and I was admitted September 1st. I spent three weeks in the hospital trying to just get stable on my meds again. Shortly after I got there, the friend that I had helped before showed up on the same unit. Her and I got along great, but I spent a lot of time helping her instead of taking care of myself. When she fell apart and was moved to a new unit, I was relieved and was able to focus on myself again. Once that happened, I was able to be stable enough for discharge. After three weeks, I left and started in their IOP program which was three days a week for 3 hours a day. 

I was in the program for a week and a half before my life began to fall apart again. I was suicidal and wasn't sure I could keep myself safe. I was told if I didn't agree to more intensive care, that I would be involuntarily committed so I just needed to go to a higher level of care because of where my head was. So I was admitted to the hospital again. This second time we decided that we were going to try a medication change. I don't do well with medication changes and this medication adjustment was hell on earth. I was super suicidal and wanting to self-harm all the time. I ended up taking a plastic knife from the cafeteria and getting myself put on unit restrictions. I was on for a week and a half and that entire time I didn't eat anything. I drank Powerade and that was it. I started having intense panic attacks, some of the worst ones I had had in my entire life. Eventually, I was taken off. Shortly after, the thoughts in my head became uncontrollable and I didn't feel comfortable asking help from staff. I tend to be afraid to ask for help and assert my needs when I'm in a hospital setting. So I ended up self-harming. Nothing major, not even breaking the skin, just an abrasion. I was immediately put back on unit restrictions and was harshly scolded for doing it. I was in graduate school at the time and my friends were taking care of printing things and typing them up so I could keep up in my courses. At this point there was an assignment I had gotten an extension on and the teacher wasn't willing to budge. So I said I wanted to discharge. I remember the doctor being very frustrated with me and telling me he wouldn't be surprised if he didn't see me back in a week. 

I did IOP again and was there for a week before being re-admitted. During the week that I was out, I got most of my major school assignments done so that I didn't have to worry about leaving in order to do schoolwork. So I was admitted again and the doctor was not surprised. We agreed to try another medication, which of course sent off the spiral of my thoughts and I was consistently self-harming. However, instead of shaming me like the doctor had before, he was more compassionate and just encouraged me through my victories. I had certain staff that I focused on talking to when I struggled. At one point while I was there, I was self-harming and had a plan to kill myself inside the hospital. But I wrote something out and talked to a staff member I felt comfortable with and she took it and put it in my chart for the doctor to read. I was surprised that there was no shaming, complete understanding on the part of the doctor or the therapist. This third time I kept staples with me but didn't use them for a while, just hid them and kept them in my pocket. Towards the end of the hospitalization there, we found out that my days to go to River Oaks were numbered so we fought about me leaving and going there. I felt that it would be a waste of time considering I only had 17 days. But I was pushed into deciding to go there. So I was discharged, had three days to finish up my schoolwork and then prepared to go to River Oaks. 

It turned out to be a great decision. I received help there that targeted the foundation of things. I uncovered a new trauma that I hadn't explored before. I received a lot of help. I got three extra days through doing PHP and those were helpful as well. I left on a crazy note because of everything I did on my last day there but was told if I needed to come back after my insurance days reset (which was 60 days), that I could come back.

So I went home and started PHP at CCBH. I did that for three weeks and then switched over to IOP. We focused on getting me back to River Oaks without hospitalization. We didn't do any med changes other than to increase my nightmare medication because I was having intense nightmares again, mainly because of the uncovering of the trauma from being at River Oaks. 

60 days later, I returned to River Oaks and did a lot of work there over the six weeks I was there. I returned home after 6 weeks in a better state of mind. Newer issues had come up and there was a plan in place to deal with everything. 

This period of time was tumultuous. I struggled with feeling like a failure because I had been stable for three years with no hospitalizations and I had to reset everything. I had to reset on my self-harm free days and my hospital free days. Which was frustrating. I was frustrated that my life had fallen apart again and that I wasn't able to hold things together. I felt like this screwed up my plans on being a social worker and that there was no way that this would be used in a good way.

However my friends told me different. They told me that there will be people who will need to know my experiences and how I got back up after I was knocked down again. That this has a purpose.

I think I'm learning that recovery is not linear. It has ups and downs, peaks and valleys. It's a never ending battle. But it's one that I can fight. 

My 12 year old birthday

     Generally, because my birthday is 2 days before July 4th, I would usually get a birthday party the 2nd weekend in July and we would do something special the day of, like go out to eat or let me have a friend over. My birthdays were generally hit or miss with some going good and others being miserable. One birthday my mom burned me with a curling iron because she was so obsessed with me having my hair curled that day. My 12th birthday was no different. Despite my birthdays being hit or miss, I always looked forward to them with excitement, hoping that it would be a special day for me.
    The night before my 12th birthday, I had my best friend over to stay the night in anticipation for my birthday. Generally, my best friend and I got together pretty often, especially considering the short distance between my house and hers. Her and I got along pretty well but it wouldn't be a surprise if we got in a typical elementary/middle school argument. They happened pretty frequently when we were together, but generally lasted no more than an hour. My parents generally ignored our silly arguments and let us work it out on our own. 
    So my friend was over at my house and we had fun playing for that night. We played normally like we had many times before. 
    The next morning we woke up on my birthday with plans to celebrate. We were going to have a cake and go out to eat and just have a good time. But that all changed as the day progressed. My friend and I started another silly argument over something minor, maybe it was something she siad or something we did. I don't exactly remember. Anyways, our fight escalated and we started yelling at each other. I remember feeling angry and frustrated with her as we fought. 
    The next thing I remember is my dad grabbing the stick and storming up the stairs. I was terrified as he came up the stairs. All I could think or say was "no, no, no" feeling dread because I knew what was going to happen. My mom trailed quickly behind my dad, making sure to prepare my friend for what was about to happen. My mom grabbed my friend's hand and drug her out to the hallway. My room was straight back from the stairs so there wasn't really any way to shield her from what was about to happen, other than stick her in another room which my mom was not prepared to do because the only options were my brother's room, my parent's room or a bathroom, none of which were good options for her. 
    Once my friend was out in the hall, my dad proceeded to start screaming at me. I was sitting in my computer chair at the time so he had to bend over to scream in my face which he did. He would scream bout what a horrible child I was. First on hit on my thigh., then other on the other leg. He kept going, hit both of my upper arms. I was crying and begging him to stop, that I would be good and not argue with my friend. I can remember the snapping sound as the stick hit my arms and legs and the image of the stick being whacked against my body. I was completely terrified of my dad and what he was capable of doing. I was terrified that he would even go as far ass dragging me out of the chair and getting to me that way, and I was thankful that he didn't. Eventually, he was satisfied with what he had done and got up to leave, flashing me his anger face as he walked out of the room, stick still in strike mode in his hand. My friend was allowed back in my room as I was still crying. I was so mad at her, that she got me in such big trouble. I tried to calm myself down as quick as possible, trying to make sure my dad didn't hear me get upset with her. At the time, I blamed her for what happened, like there was some way that she could have stopped it. In reality, she had no power in the situation, was as powerless as I was. But I asked her why, way she had let it happen, why my parents favored her over me. Obviously, she had no answers for me, but was apologetic. We stayed in my room for a while until her family came and picked her up. Once she left, I was called down to the "play room", the room at the bottom level of the house. When I came downstairs, my dad was inspecting different aspects of the room to determine whether it was clean to his standards. But it wasn't. He ran his hand along the back of a shelf and came back with dust on his hand. This pissed him off even more which made me all the more scared, considering what had happened not too long before that. I had no idea what to expect at that point. 
    Because the room had not been cleaned to his standards, he decided to take a new approach. He started telling my brother and I about his grand plan to have us make signs  with different humiliating statements like "I disrespect my parents" or "I don't listen" and make us stand on a street corner holding up the signs. He had gotten the idea from a news article he had seen. I remember feeling terrified and wondering when this would take place and what corner he was going to put us on and when we would make the signs and from what materials. I felt humiliated by mad even though it hadn't happened yet. I had hoped that my dad was not serious when he decided this was his new plan, since he was laughing and cracking up at himself. 
    At the end of the day, he seemed to have temporarily put down his plan and in place decided that we needed to clean the entire house all over again, up to his military standards, "spotless" as he called it, a standard we could never meet but were always expected to. 
    The day ended on that sour note, no celebration or anything. My birthday had been quickly forgotten and normal life began again. 
    Two weeks later, I still had the welts from the beating. I remember telling my friends over instant messenger about them, and describing them to them. I remember them telling me I should  get it looked at by a doctor. I remember examining the welts and being terrified by the sight of them. I knew going to a doctor was never an option, especially considering where the welts were located, in places which could easily be hidden by clothing. My parents cared little about the welts and eventually they healed.

                                                    It was the worst birthday ever. 

Anger Letters #2

 This is a letter that I wrote in response to the treatment I was given surrounding my weight and food. 

Dear Mom and Dad,

    You are so messed up in the head to put me through what you did. Just because I was overweight doesn't mean I was worth less. Just because I didn't meet your impossible expectations of perfection doesn't mean that I deserved to be treated like shit. You had no right trying to put me on diet plans. No middle school child should have to worry about a diet plan that humiliated me. No middle school child should have to eat Special K protein bars instead of actual meals. It is os messed up that you would make a child suffer like that. It was wrong and humiliating. No middle school child should have to worry about what the number on a scale would be. They should be worried about school dances and crushes and extra-curricular activities. They shouldn't have to worry about their body image and whether or not they measure up. How dare you put me on diet plans. How dare you focus on my weight and only my weight. How dare you refuse to let me snack because you were so worried about me gaining wait. How dare you compare me to my brother when it came to weight. You had no right to put me through that, eating things no child should have to eat. You had no right making food a shameful thing for me. You hd no right making me eat disgusting protein bars instead of meals like breakfast, claiming that it is better for me. It was not better for me. It was worse for me. You made food a weapon that you could change at any moment based on new things you discovered or new things your friends told you about. How dare you put you adult body image issues on me. You have taught me that food is a bad thing. You gave me no control over what I ate and now I feel the need to take complete control over my food. You have ruined food for me. You can take those horrible protein bars and shove 'em. Maybe you should eat them and see how much you like it. It was terrible for me and now I struggle with food and it's your fault. You should be disgusted with yourselves. 

~Kimberly

This next anger is in response to the bead incident that occurred when I was a child. 

Dear mom,
    I want you to know how much damage you have caused in my life. You are such a terrible person to have taken everything out on an innocent child. You have left scars that you will never get to see. You damaged my spirit so early on and I'm struggling to put the pieces back together. You had no right to treat me like shit. You had no right to take away my innocence and make me live in fear. You had no right to take your frustrations and anger out on me or my brother. You are such a coward to have treated children the way you did. You deserve no part in my mind, my memory, my life. I'm taking my power back from you. You will not live in my head anymore. 

    ~Kimberly

This next one is an initial letter of anger for what happened on my 12th birthday. 

Dear dad,
    You are such a piece of shit because of the way you treated me. I mean who cares about their child's friend more than they care about their own child? You have left marks on my soul that I fight with everyday. I have to battle my mind everyday because of you. You are such a coward to have treated me, a child, the way you did. Children do not deserve to be punching bags for your pleasing. I did not desreve to be a place you took out your anger and frustration on. You are also a coward because of the the threats you made. Who threatens their child with putting them on the side of the road with signs that are humiliating? Only someone who doesn't have the right to see the light of day. Screw you and the person you were and the person you've become. 

    ~Kimberly

Adulthood Timeline

This was taken from the timeline I had started when I was at River Oaks. It starts where the other one ended.

Adulthood timeline:

1)  Mar 2013 – Moved to Indiana for 3 months

2) May 2013 – Started college at Grand Canyon University

3) May 2013 – Started work in childcare

4) May 2013 – Car accident – car totaled

5) June 2013 – Moved back to Greenville, SC

6) June 2013 – Moved in with 2 other ladies and started accumulating my own stuff

7) Aug 2013 – Got job at call center and childcare and started tutoring again

8) Aug 2013­ - Continued to deal with depression, self-harm and went off my meds

9) Sept 2013 – Moved into my 1st apartment

10) Worked 3 jobs for 14 months

11) Feb 2014 – Started new job at different childcare

12) Feb 2014 – Major car accident – car totaled

13) End of 2014 – Started seeing psychiatrist, trying different medications

14) Oct 2014 – Moved to different apartment

15) Nov 2014 – 2nd suicide attempt – no medical or psychiatric treatment

16) Dec 2014 – Psychiatrist sent me to ER – led to hospitalization

17) Dec 2014 to April 2015 – 8 psychiatric hospitalizations, ECT attempted

18) May 2015 – 3rd suicide attempt – ICU for 8 days

19)  May 2015 – Sent to state hospital

20) Jun/Jul 2015 – 2 more psychiatric hospitalizations

21) Aug 2015 – Approved for disability (SSDI)

22)  Oct 2015 – asked to leave NAMI

23) Oct 2015 – 4th suicide attempt – CO poisoning – Hospital for 3 days

24) Oct 2015 – Psychiatric hospitalization – court ordered to treatment

25) Oct 2015 – Started seeing therapist and psychiatrist at mental health center

26) Feb 2016 – Therapist goes on maternity leave, put with a therapist that I didn’t work well with temporarily

27) Mar 2016 – Stitches for self-harm for the first time

28) Mar 2016 – Psychiatric hospitalization

29) Mar/April 2016 – Harassment from apartment complex, Animal Control called

30) April 2016 – 5th suicide attempt – overdose

31) May 2016 – Therapist returns from maternity leave

32) Sept 2016 – Mom dies unexpectedly, forced to see family for the first time in 4 years

33) Oct 2016 – Moved to another apartment

34) Dec 2016 – Lost my therapist

35) Jan 2017 – Another suicide attempt – hanging

36) Jan 2017 – 2 psychiatric hospitalizations – ECT, hallucinations for the 1st time

37) Feb 2017 – Forced out of job because of mental illness

38) Mar 2017 – Dog dies

39) April 2017 – car accident, car repaired

40) April-May 2017 – 3 psychiatric hospitalizations – ECT tried again

41)  May 2017 – Suicide attempt – overdose

42) May – Aug 2017 – 2 more hospitalizations

43) Aug 2017 – 1st visit to River Oaks

44) Sept 2017 – home from River Oaks

a. Came home to apartment destroyed

b. Cat goes missing

c. Civil suit against lady who left my apartment a mess and lost my cat

45) Oct 2017 – Start work part-time at a childcare facility

46) Jan 2018 – Return to NAMI

47) Feb 2018 – Go back to work full-time

48) Mar 2018 – Lost position

49) April 2018 – Moved into house

50) May 2018 - House broken into

51) Jun 2018 – Trained as facilitator for NAMI

52) Aug 2018 – Started fostering kittens

53) Oct 2018 – Gallbladder removed

54) Nov 2018 – Hurt back at work, out for 2 months

55) Dec 2018 – Lose position at job due to work injury

56) Jan 2019 – Start new job

57) Feb 2019 – Lost position at job, went to part-time work

58) Mar 2019 – Roommate from hell moved in

59) Aug 2019 – Student teaching attempted and failed (due to uncooperative teacher)

60) Oct 2019 – Roommate kicked out and new one moves in

61) Oct 2019 – Student teaching started

62) Oct 2019 – Kicked out roommate from hell and new one moved in

63) Nov 2019 – Had to put cat down

64) Jan 2020 – First section of student teaching completed

65) Jan 2020 – Car accident, car totaled

66) Feb 2020 – Second section of student teaching started

67) Mar 2020 – COVID hit, school switched to online

68) April 2020 – Complete second section of student teaching

69) April 2020 – Graduate with Bachelor’s degree

70) April 2020 – Accepted to graduate school

71) May 2020 – Graduate school started

72) Aug 2020 – 1st semester of graduate school completed

73) Aug 2020 – Traumatic event – friend almost dies in my car on the way to the hospital

74) Aug 2020 – 1st psychiatric hospitalization in 3 years

75) Sept/Oct/Nov 2020 – 3 hospitalizations

76) Nov 2020 – Second hospitalization at River Oaks

77) Dec 2020 – Discharged and start PHP program

78) Jan 2021 – PHP/IOP

79) Feb 2021 – Returned to River Oaks (#3)

80) Mar 2021 – Returned home, roommate moved out

81) Mar 2021 – Car accident, car is totaled

82) April 2021 – Car purchased

83) April 2021 – return home from friend’s house

84) April 2021 – New roommate moves in

85) May 2021 – Start jobs at tutoring center and women’s shelter