Two years ago today was when I seriously started my journey into recovery. I had been trying to stop since drinking and using and self injuring for about 8 months prior but I never could stay stopped more than a few days in a row. That morning I took a drink or two and a drug before I drove to therapy. I don’t remember my session but I had an appointment at 2pm to do an evaluation at a rehab center. My car broke down when I left the therapist office and it was my last straw. I took more pills and went back upstairs to her office to ask her if she could give me directions. It was only a 20 minute walk. By this time and the drugs and alcohol my memory goes in and out but I remember walking for a while and realizing I was walking in the wrong direction so I turned around and I remember walking over a bridge that crosses the river that leads into the bay. During this walk downtown, while heavily intoxicated, I started injuring myself. I remember walking by an aids memorial park. I was wearing khaki shorts, black reef flip flops, a white t shirt and I had a black zip up hoodie I was carrying along with my bag I was carrying. I walked in to the treatment center and took another pill. I checked in and the admissions coordinator (who much later became my AAsponsor) talked to me but I don’t remember about what. I remember a young looking woman (who has been my therapist ever since) came down the stairs to meet me and lead me up the stairs to her office, from there I don’t remember much at all. She asked if I was suicidal and I told her my plan. I remember trying to walk down the steps but I almost lost my balance and she helped me and I remember handing her my phone and told her the name of my partner in my phone. They had me sign stuff. For what seemed like forever I was on that couch and then we were in a car and the therapist was on the phone with someone, either my mom or my partner. Then she said she was dropping me off at the emergency room and they knew I was coming. Someone took me back and laid me in a hospital bed thing, they took my vitals and did drug test and I remember being SO cold and shivering but I was so drugged I just laid there drifting in and out of consciousness because all the drugs I took caught up to me and it all goes black. I felt like it was days later but in reality it was only about 10 hours later that I came to enough for them to take me upstairs. I woke up with bandages on my wounds and some hospital guy named Chuck took my clothes and gave me a hospital gown. I couldn’t tie it myself because I was so messed up and I remember he had me tie another one around my waist because I wasn’t covered. We rode in an elevator and when we got to the floor these big doors closed behind us and he took me in and took my vitals and then asked me 500 questions, he said either they could extract the string on my jacket or they could just take my jacket and lock it up with my other belongings. I kept my jacket so they took the string. Sometime in the middle of the night I woke up to a girl next to me screaming. When I turned over I saw a few people around her and she had scars covering her like I’ve never seen before, it frightened me, next time I woke up she wasn’t there anymore. I remember nurses coming in handing me pills. I don’t know how long I slept but I got up the next three days in the psych ward were just very sad, blurry, scary days. A lot of this memory came to me way later, at that time I don’t think I remembered the previous events that day. They were giving me meds to help detox, and they were giving me other pills. Probably the kind that make everyone in there walk around like zombies. And some of us needed that I think. One guy probably my age walked the halls for the three days I was there and yelled and talked to himself, or to whoever he was talking to that wasn’t there. It was a very surreal experience. I remember seeing the psychiatrist and I remember sleeping A LOT. I didn’t go to the groups they did. I was SO cold and finally they brought me socks after I kept asking over and over again. Big brown hospital socks. They felt so good, I was so cold. I sat on my little bed in my room (that girl never came back) and I cried and cried and couldn’t believe where I was and how I let this happen and how much I wanted to drink and couldn’t and how everything was surreal and etc…I took a shower on the last day. No locks on anything of course. They washed my khakis and white shirt and jacket for me, that was nice. Someone came to visit me. The psychiatrist said he would sign for me to be released on the condition that I be immediately admitted to the treatment center that had brought me. Thinking back, there was some relief there. Amidst the chaos and the drugs and the alcohol in me and all my pain and the surreal feeling-I remember thinking “finally someone knows”. Maybe I thought like finally someone know this is no joke, this is real and all this insanity that has been living in my head is real and my addiction is real and my suicide plan was real and someone is listening to me. The admissions coordinator picked me up at 2pm and even then my memory is foggy until some time in the first week of rehab. I remember bits and pieces of course just like I do the hospital but its all a blur. I do remember being relieved to know that the same woman who drove me to the hospital was the therapist I was assigned to work with through my stay there, and I remember being completely in denial about my eating disorder. Anyway, that feels like ages ago, and like last week all at the same time. I think I just typed this out for me to remember.