I've been thinking of writing an autobiography or memoir but it just never comes together for me but I figured if I write one story at a time and post it on my blog maybe once a month, I can do that. Maybe one day I'll pull all the stories together and put them in a book but for now I'll just share some stories with you about my childhood. Some of the stories will be happy, some sad and some horrific because that was my childhood. But they will all be real, things that actually happened. If it seems like something that people enjoy reading maybe I'll keep it going. These stories will not be in any kind of order, I'll just write them as they come to me.
Spending Time In A Psychiatric Hospital
This post will talk about attempted suicide and psychiatric hospital stays. If that is triggering for you, please do not read this post.
When I was 9 years old my parents were still married and they fought all the time. My dad was a very mean drunk and he hit us kids, the dog and my mom. I remember seeing some small, black nails in my dads toolbox and thinking if I swallowed them that they would travel through my veins and hit my heart, killing me. I was 9 years old and didn't know that's not how that would work.
The nails looked very similar to these.
So I took 4 out them and stuffed each one into a small piece of leftover steak and swallowed the meat pieces and waited. I really thought in my 9 year old brain that when I went to sleep that I just wouldn't wake up again but that didn't happen. 2 weeks went by and I started to get worried. So that weekend I was spending the night at my grandma's house, I told her what I did. She took me to her doctor who never even asked me why I did it, and told my grandma that they probably just passed. I didn't know what that meant until I was older. My grandma told me not to tell my parents that she took me to the doctor and didn't ask me any questions. But she told me not to do that again.
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When I was 17 years old, me my brother and mother were all living in West Virginia with my step grandfather and my grandma who had some brain damage from being in a coma for weeks after she had heart surgery that she had complications from. My step Grandfather, Buster was a mean ole drunk. He yelled at all of us all the time. He would turn the breakers off so the lights wouldn't come on and we would all go to bed. My grandma wasn't in her right mind and one day she picked up and huge butcher knife and came at me with it. She tried to stab me in the chest but I was able to hold her off long enough for Buster to pull her off me. She ended up staying in a Psychiatric unit in the hospital for a month until her meds were regulated again.
My mom fell down the stairs and broke her pelvis one night because Buster, my step grandfather would turn the breakers off at night so we couldn't turn the lights on after 8PM. My mom was drunk and couldn't see so she fell. After a lengthy hospital stay, she came home. Once she was almost back to her normal I decided I'd had enough.
I got into my grandma's old prescription bags and there were a lot of them and I took handfuls of Thorazine, Xanax, and Valium. All together I took 6 almost completely full bottles of pills. Then I laid down in my bed and hoped that I wouldn't wake up again. But I did wake up about 3 hours later and I walked over to the stairs and started walking down them. My mom said she saw me and she knew something wasn't right and I stumbled and fell the rest of the way down. I barely remember anything but bits and pieces after that. My mom yelled for Buster and she told my grandma to keep me awake so my grandma kept slapping me across the face whenever I would closed my eyes. My mom called 911 and when they got there and got me on the gurney. In the yard, I was told my heart stopped and they had to perform cpr and shock my heart a couple of times.
They got me into the ambulance and my brother who was there told me he kicked the ambulance as they were driving off because he was so upset, and I was taken to the ER. In the ER I remember the doctor kept doing the sternum rub on me to keep me awake. I had my stomach pumped but I was unconscious for 7 days. When I woke up I had a feeding tube and a breathing tube which they took out fairly soon after I woke up.
Someone from the psychiatric unit came to talk to me and told me if I didn't sign the papers to go to the psychiatric unit for a little while that a judge would sign them and I would be committed either way, so I signed the papers. I was on that unit for 6 months before they let me leave. They sent me to a group home with several other people and I stayed there for a month before I got suicidal again. I was sent back to the Psychiatric hospital for another 6 months.
My mom and my brother ended up in the same hospital for drugs and alcohol so they were on different floors than me. We all got better and my mom moved out of Busters house and we moved in with her.
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My 3rd suicide attempt was when I was 19, here in Las Vegas. I took a bunch of pills again but this time my mom didn't call 911. She found the heart medication that I took and called poison control. A few days later after I had recovered I told her I wanted to get help and she took me to the ER. I told them that I was suicidal and they put me in a room to wait for a room at the psychiatric hospital which took about 3 hours. My mom stayed with me until they took me away. I was there in that hospital for 6 months and then I was sent to a group home for another 6 months. I met Ken (My late husband) in the psychiatric hospital and we were sent to the same group home. I know it was a crazy place to meet someone but we were both there for the same reasons. I think it gave us both something to look forward to when we finally got out. I was sent to a transitional housing with 3 other women and we all lived in a 3 bdrm apartment that the state paid for while we got counseling and Vocational Rehabilitation. Ken and I started dating while I was there and he was at his own transitional housing placement. We both got jobs and several months later we moved in together. We were together for 30 years after that and had a beautiful daughter.
We both had some mental problems during our time together before he passed away in 2020 of lung cancer but we were there for each other and knew what it was like to have suicidal feelings so we were able to help each other through it when it happened again. But I think finding someone who understood what it was like really helped each of us. The people at the mental hospital and then the group homes sure didn't like the fact that we wanted to date each other. They thought it was a bad idea. Turns out they were wrong.
This is a picture of the backside of the Psychiatric Hospital that Ken and I were in here in Las Vegas. This fenced in area is the yard that we all were allowed to go out into. There is a metal wired fence surrounding the top and bottom so that no one could escape. I spent a lot of time out here while I was there. It's just a few streets away from where I live right now.
