The Beginning.

The night before the accident.  "right now I am in a shallow hole and some sand and gravel is being kicked in over the sides.  Has been for a few days.  Well aware.  I'm tired and would like to take off my protective glasses and rub my eyes because I am tired of pills and thoughts and tension....but if I take them off a big piece of dirt will get stuck in my eye.  Tomorrow, if I feel this way... take something.  Stay aware...remember my list...remain alert. Get Sleep.  "

Stream of consciousness.  I have always liked that.  I am not sure where I am going to begin so I will just begin.  I could write about the tortured child, the road to enlightenment or the insanity in between.  I will touch on each.  I was reading a book today about a young girls journey through crazy.  I laughed and thought I have always wanted to vent, usually on paper but I chose this route. 
  The fourth time started like any other day.  I got up, sent my son to school ( he was 2) and went off to work.  I checked on the guys also known as the planting crew ( for further reference) proceeded to walk over to my boss and say "Hey, I don't feel so great, I am going home."  All of this happened before 8am.  I walked home.  Marched through the greenhouse vaugely recognizing the faces before me.  I had a destination, a one track mind.  I had been wallowing in my head for weeks.  Constantly being told I was becoming detatched.  No, not me, I'm fine.  I arrived home, jumped in my car.  I did have the keys that day.  My husband had a habit of hiding them from me, including the spare set.  I went to N.H and bought myself a 6 pack, not my usual array of vodka 50% nips, but a 6 pack of budweiser.  I headed home had one then two then made a phone call to my birth mom, Lee.  Everything was great and sunny.  The sun was  shining bright.  I felt wonderful sitting on my porch stairs looking about.  That is the last thing I remember.  The next minute I was staring at a police officer.  Apparently my dog and I had gone out for a ride.  (The rest has been told to me)  I was crashed in the bushes about 1/2 hour away from my house.  I told the police officer "I was bringing my dog to get his nails done."  There were pill bottles thrown about the passenger seat and in the compartment between.  A bag of budweiser with 2 missing in the back seat.  Then there was Moose.  They took me to the hospital. Overdose.  Finally they  let me go home with the understanding that I would return in the morning . I did.  9am.  That night there was a rustling on the porch.  I was convinced someone had opened up a ladder and they were coming in to rape me.  I went into the other room.  Where my husband was sleeping and told him.  Very nervous.  convinced.  He told me to go back to bed.  I often slept in a separate room when I was in these states because I am restless and awake.  Turned out in the morning it was a racoon wrestling with a trashcan..  I was hearing music amongst other things.  The ticking of the clock.  The hum of the refrigerator.  The music.  Was I meant to be a composer is that what it meant?  Time was creeping by.  Things felt dirty.
9am sunshine time to go to day treatment.  I wasn't there 10 minutes and they admitted  me.  This wasn't the first time.  It wasn't the worst time.  There were still 6 more consecutive stays to come that summer.  My walls had been ripped down, my husband was on the verge of leaving and I was told that I looked like a patient that would eventually die.  They had a look.  I was beside myself. Outside looking in and not seeing clearly.