I slowly wake up. I’m exhausted – have been for months.  I can’t seem to shake it. I think it could be stress related. I’ve been feeling anxious.  I look at the clock. It’s 5:15 am! Shit. I overslept! Shit. Shit. Shit. I set my alarm for 4 am.  Crap. I was supposed to be on a 5:00 am conference call.

I can feel myself panic.  I run to my laptop, in my sweats, grabbing my robe on the way. I need to get online for the meeting. Maybe it’s not over yet. It isn’t my meeting. Maybe they won’t notice I’m not there. Except my boss is on this call. Fuck. And too many other corporate vultures that will be happy to call out my absence.  It’s corporate Darwinism. Dog eat dog. Every woman for herself. The corporate culture in my firm is brutal. Especially now that the company is splitting into two firms. Every single person has to justify their existence in the new companies. I cannot be seen as a “no show”. This doesn’t happen to me.  I don’t miss meetings. I spend time preparing for meetings. I dial in early.

I log onto my work computer, navigate to the conference call details, then over to the meeting room. And, it’s over. “Meeting adjourned”. That is bad.

I see an email with the meeting minutes, where someone made note of my absence. I read further on, and see that I got the action items, due today. By close of business. Shit, I don’t even understand what the action items are.  Crap.  I’ll call someone who was at the meeting to find out what I need to do.  As I start working on my computer, the company directory with phone numbers locks up.   I can’t get into the directory.  Panic hits again and I’m really stressed. And, I might have said a few profanities. And not under my breath.  I’m very vocal about this sucking.  I’m really pissed at myself, and stressed that I have to spend time trying to find people to explain what is needed. I already had an over-flowing plate of shit to do.

I’m worried about the consequences of missing this meeting. I’m not going to get out of this. Shit. I’m in hot water. I can’t afford to lose my job. I make more money than my husband. We need two incomes. Shit.

Maybe I won’t get in trouble since I’m the only person who knows my job. My manager doesn’t even know what I do. Not the best way to wow my new manager. She’s probably planning to eliminate my job once I train my new co-workers. Shit. I am the odd one out.  The only person in her group that works out of state, from home.  Shit. I don’t even have co-workers that I know well enough to cover for me. I feel isolated, alone, and insecure.  My survival strategy, until today, has been to work extra hard to impress people, be engaging, volunteer for new work, and above all, don’t fuck up. I can’t believe I’m giving my manager a reason to get rid of me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Best thing to do is start emailing people about those action items.  As I get started, my computer starts to stall.  I can’t get to some of the documents that I need to access.  Shit.  My computer is really pissing me off.  I have a TON of shit due by the close of business today. Can this day get any worse?

My husband Wayne wakes up at 7 am. He can see that I’m anxious and stressed. I’m still throwing profanities at my laptop.  He asks what’s wrong.  I don’t respond as I’m focused on getting my freaking computer working and work started. But he keeps bugging me about what’s wrong.  I get up and tell him I missed my meeting, am very stressed, have a deadline to meet, and my computer isn’t working. I’m trying to debug the computer issue and I’m angry that my computer crashed on me today.

He tells me to calm down. Really?!  Can’t he see I’m busy, and pissed?

He tells me, “This isn’t a good time for this”. Yes, I know he has things going on, too. I was the one after all who convinced him to help the special needs kid with his STEM studies. I was the one who brokered the deal.  And yes, he was on his way to the tutoring session. But what about prioritizing me, and being supportive of me? Where was his usual, “Breathe, everything will be ok” response?  What about his “What can I do for you” reply? I counted on him to make me feel better, but he was failing me. Instead, I got criticism. Like I wasn’t already beating myself up: for failing at work, for being bitchy, for not making him feel all warm and fuzzy for his first tutoring session.

I continue my panicking, basically ignoring his presence to stay focused on my work.  My husband says something about stay here he’ll be right back.  In his demanding tone. Like I’m a dog. Stay, don’t leave. I imagine he’s going to the bathroom, getting coffee, and getting dressed. In my frenzy, I’m zoned into work, drowning out the noise around me. I give myself 2 minutes to run to the restroom since I haven’t yet after waking up. I run to the bathroom. This might be the only time I have for the next few hours. I need to be organized. I’m distracted by the fact that my urine is a deep red orange color.  What the hell does that mean? Do I have internal bleeding? Maybe an ulcer? Now I feel more clear and awake. Maybe peeing is good for you. Like it calms you.  Maybe red pee is a good thing because you’re clearing the toxins out of your body. That’s what I want to believe anyway. I take a few minutes to put on my UCLA sweatshirt and some socks.

As I return to my desk, I absently notice Wayne’s not around, and I wonder where he’s gone, but quickly dive into my work.

Soon, my husband comes in the front door of our house with my parents. I guess that’s where he went, to my parents’ house to bring them to our home.  He’s looking very determined. I see them in the living room, but I’m confused about why they are here.  I am happy to see my parents, but they don’t usually stop by when I’m working. And, today is the worst day for them to come by and interrupt me. I am concerned that something is wrong with them, but they appear fine. Shit, I just don’t have time today.

Wayne approaches me and says, “You need to get in the car.”

With my mind focused on getting my work done, I say, “To go where?”  I tell him, “I’m working.” Really I’m thinking: Fuck, you’re fucking with my time.  I don’t have time for this crap.  I need to keep my job. And people need to leave, so I can work.

My husband is adamant that I need to get in the car, “We need to go now.” I don’t know what he’s talking about and I’m not going to spend time trying to figure it out. I just know that I need to get back to my computer. Now. I have work. But he says, “We need to leave now. We need to go.” I think he’s confused. I ask several times why we need to leave and where are we going. But he just ushers my parents outside into the car and tells me to get in, too.  I refuse to get in the car. He starts yelling at me to get into the car.  He tells me I’m talking crazy.  He’s now pulling at my arm to urge me into the car. I don’t want neighbors to see our drama, so I let him push me into the car.

I don’t know what we are doing.  When you love someone, you have their back in public and in private.  You intentionally don’t disparage the people you love. Even when you think he’s being a stupid, meddling, fuck. You stay quiet not because you want to present a perfect relationship for others to admire, but rather to keep people tempered and in sync.  Really, I wanted to say, “Turn around you stupid ass.”

In the car, I can see my parents look very worried.  My husband says I’m talking crazy.  Mom keeps asking where we are going.  Wayne just tells her that we’re going to see a friend of his.  I tell my parents, “Don’t let him do this to me”.  I’m don’t know where we are going but I know that he’s going to cost me my job if I can’t get my work done.

I tell Wayne that I’m not crazy and I can prove it. I tell him to go to the ATM machine by our house and use our debit card to get cash out of the bank. I told him he won’t be able to.  He drives there, gets the debit card from me, asks what the PIN number is, and goes to the ATM machine.  He comes back and says that I was right, the ATM machine won’t give him any cash. (Knowing my husband’s spending habits, I recently moved to a system where I give him an allowance and changed the debit card process so he needed to take extra steps to get cash out. Not knowing those steps, I knew he’d fail to get money from the ATM, even though the money was all there and he had legit access to it.) So, I tell him that proves I’m not crazy. Let’s go home. I have work to do.  But he says, “Nope.”  He continues to drive until we arrive at Memorial Hospital Emergency Department.

I say, “Why are we here?  I’m fine, take me home”.  He ignores me, coming to my door, opening it, grabbing me by the arm and telling me to get out.  I’m still dressed in sweats. I haven’t combed my hair or brushed my teeth. I was lucky to get shoes on.

He herds us all into the waiting area. He tells me sternly, “You need to sit down.” He orders my parents to watch me.  He goes to check me in. It’s almost 8:00, but the place is very busy this morning. Whatever my husband wrote on the information sheet, must have got me to the front of the line, because we’re barely there 5 minutes and they call me ahead of a room full of people.

I’m thinking that I don’t need to be here. I must have said there was nothing wrong with me 10 times before they take me into an examination room. I’m fine. My husband is pushing me around and barking out orders to everyone, I think he’s the one that’s talking crazy.

By this time I am calm, and thinking I don’t need to be here. I want to go home. My husband is talking to the doctors and nurses, taking control of my intake process. He’s answering questions before I can. He’s shushing me.  He’s telling the nurses that I was talking crazy – something about my computer not working. I reiterate that I am fine, but he ignores me.

The doctor is telling me they want to run some tests. I ask why.  They said to be sure everything was ok. They start asking questions.  How are you feeling? Do you want to hurt yourself? Do you want to hurt others?  No and No.

I get my vitals checked, blood work done, and a CT scan of my brain. The CAT scan comes back clear.  Physically I am fine, doctors find nothing wrong with me.  They decide that I could have a psychiatric issue based on the description my husband put on the intake form, as well as what he’s been telling them.  Apparently my husband described me as delusional, paranoid and hearing voices. I don’t remember any of that. I am just exhausted. I don’t know why I’m exhausted, yet. I don’t even think he told the hospital about my real symptoms.

I’m getting annoyed with the way my husband is behaving. He’s not listening to me or trusting what I say.  He just takes over. We are arguing about treatment and tests. I tell him to leave the room since he is giving different info to the doctors.  My mom says to back-off and not fight in the hospital.  So I stay calm and low key. I tell him he needs to listen to me, it’s my body. I don’t want to be here. My boss is waiting for me to finish my work from this morning. It’s Friday. I need to get my work done today, before the weekend. I’m concerned mostly about getting home, finishing my work, and going to bed. My husband is making my parents culpable since they are going along with this. The nurses and doctor are all being helpful, but the disagreements between me and my husband and my parents are creating chaos.

After running tests and finding nothing wrong, the hospital doctor said to see my primary care physician on Monday, since it’s almost the weekend.  The doctor also gave my husband a list of psychiatrists to see in case my problems aren’t physical.  My husband starts calling names on the list of psychiatrists, determined to get me in to see someone today, but no one is available until Monday.  The ED says I can be discharged.

I’m thinking, great. Let’s finish this whole charade.  Since we’ve gotten some information and next steps, I’m ready to go. I’ll worry about my health after I finish my work. There’s nothing more the hospital can do for me, but I still have time to get some work done before the end of the business day.

The doctor mentions to my husband that another option is to go to a hospital with a psych ward on premise. I tell them I am fine, and don’t need anything other than rest. I’m still in a hurry to get home and get back to work.  The nurse whispers to me, “You don’t want to go to a state mental hospital, they take anyone. You want to go somewhere they only take people with insurance.” I get dressed and I walk out of the room.

I guess I wasn’t “officially” discharged when I got up to leave. The nurse mentions to my husband that I’m leaving and that my husband can call the police on me if he wants. Seriously? For what?!  For not agreeing to be a compliant wife?  For wanting to go home to bed?  I wasn’t causing any issues. I wasn’t out of control. I wasn’t yelling or talking to spirits, but he can get the police to force me to go to a psychiatric hospital?

As I am walking out, my husband has the nurse call the police. He tells me that I need to come back. I ask, “Why?  There’s nothing wrong with me. I was discharged.”  The nurse and my husband tell me to come back to the room. I’m confused at this point because they found nothing wrong and can’t help me if it’s a psychological issue.  But, I’m scared of the police, so I go back to the room. My mom asked where I went. I told her I was leaving because there’s nothing wrong. My mom tells me the police are on the way.  I sit down. Police arrive and separate everyone.  I can’t believe this is happening.  I want to go home.  The police come in and start questioning me. What happened?  Why are you here? I explain I haven’t been sleeping, exhausted, not sure why I’m here, I just want to go home.  The doctor can’t find anything wrong, just let me go home to bed.  They ask if I want to hurt myself.  No.  Do you want to hurt others? No.  They talk to mom and dad and then my husband, separately. The police conclude that there is nothing for them to do.  Clearly this was a panic response by everyone, except the one who was supposed to be crazy, me.  I am very calm in the midst of all this chaos. The police leave as this isn’t a matter they can get involved with since I wasn’t acting in a way that was dangerous.

The fact that the medical community and my family could conspire to call the police on me, and the fear that the police could take action against me, was shocking to me.  It shook the very core of my trust in “the system” and more importantly, my family, those I trust the most.  This was a moment of realization that I really couldn’t trust anyone, but myself.  This single moment in time cracked the very foundations of everything I believed in.

In the examination room after the police have gone, the nurse says my husband wants me to take something to relax, then I can go home.  I ask what it is. She says it’s Ativan. I ask what that is.  “Just something to help you relax”.  I said no, I don’t like to take medicine unless it’s absolutely necessary.  The nurse tells me it’s the lowest dosage. Again, I say no thank you.  Wayne says he won’t take me home unless I take the pill.   Mom and dad were there and they say I should take it.  Everyone is staring at me, telling me to take the prescription pill.  So I take it, even though I don’t want to. The pill starts to work quickly. I can feel myself getting loopy. Within minutes I’m passed out. (I think my reaction to the medication was extreme).

My next memory is leaving the hospital ED with my family.  I must have been discharged, but I don’t remember the details.  I’m in the parking lot of the hospital and I’m stumbling to the car. I see my daughter Alex has arrived and she’s waiting for us.  I realize that it’s after 4pm already. My whole day gone! My husband says to her, “Say goodbye to your mom” like she’d never see me again.  I say, “Don’t let dad do this to me.  I want to be home for your homecoming dance and to take pictures.” She says, “Don’t worry mom. It’s ok.” She hugs me and says, “Mom, everything will be ok. Goodbye”.

I get into the car and pass out.  My parents join us in the car. I had a feeling my husband was up to something, but I had no idea exactly what.

Photo by Volkan Olmez on Unsplash

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Nikita@dontreleaseme.com

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