So. Today was a day.
Still in complete suicidal breakdown mode, so Team Leader convinced me to go be assessed for respite care. The woman doing the assessment was about 12 years old and kept talking to me like I was a stupid child and threatening to hospitalize me. Cue total dissociative shutdown. When Team Leader finally got me grounded again, somebody in the system was sobbing and telling her it wasn’t safe and swearing we’d be okay if she let me go home.
I don’t think she quite believed me, but she took me to Windhorse to talk to Fake Therapist. I must’ve still been switchy because I only remember the meeting through a dense fog. The conclusion is we’re going to find a residential trauma program I can go to.
It’s probably going to be either Sheppard Pratt or River Oaks. I’m not thrilled with either of them, mainly because they’re locked, but I guess I’m never going to find exactly what I want. Sometimes you have to take the next best option. There are trauma programs that are unlocked and do more integrative, holistic stuff–but, predictably, they don’t take Medicare.
I’ve been to River Oaks before, years ago–2005, during Mardi Gras, a few months before Katrina. I barely remember it, but I know it wasn’t traumatic like so many other hospitals, and I think it helped.
I just don’t want to be locked up again. I have so much trauma around the state hospital in Iowa, and I’m also terrified of ending up in another Menninger scenario. But this time I have a home to come back to, and my Windhorse team wouldn’t let me be held hostage in a place that was retraumatizing me. It’s still terrifying, though.
I’m so exhausted. My head is killing me, and Vicodin isn’t helping.
Somebody tell me it’s going to be okay?