If I believed in a God, I would say that He sent Carrey to me to get through this period in my life. She was truly a blessing. Carrey was, like most patients, in the hospital for drug use. She was prescribed pain medications and got hooked-a common occurrence for patients prescribed long term. She was Mormon and was deep rooted in her faith, and I admired her for it. She was truly a victim of circumstance, and it was heartbreaking watching her go through withdrawals while she was being tapered off...this was her third time in Valley Hospital trying to detox, and I have a feeling there is or will be a fourth if I'm being completely honest...

Carrey and I attended all of the therapy sessions together, unless she was feeling too sick from withdrawals. On the third day, after we had done the morning routine: wake up at 6, get your blood pressure taken, answer questions (have you showered? Have you had a bowel movement?) and taken our meds, I laid my head on her shoulder and whispered, "I don't know if I can make it through this."

Carrey turned to me and smiled, "you can," she said, "just think of this as a girls camp, a sleep-away camp!" We giggled and I felt better. She was somewhat right-I was the youngest of the group of women in my ward, but for the most part they were all incredibly kind. They had so much to offer to society, but were hindered by their troubles: depression, drug use, alcoholism, and some more extreme conditions such as schizophrenia or multiple personality disorder or god knows what else. But, when we weren't in therapy, we spent the evenings cracking jokes, watching comedy shows, working on puzzles, anything to keep our sanity alive.

By day 3 I still didn't know when I was going to go home. Dr. P was meeting with me every day, but he was quite allusive, only asking how I was, what I've been doing and when I asked him when I was going home he would reply with "I don't know yet." I became increasingly frustrated and to this day still have a bone to pick with the staff at that hospital.

With the one exception of an attendant named Erin, whom I loved dearly, the rest of the staff was pretty horrible. They treated patients like imbeciles, unworthy of their time or consideration. Neither psychiatrist had more than two minutes for each patient, and on more than one occasion I witnessed patients literally begging the doctors to answer just a few more questions. The staff behind the desk were harsh, especially during medication time. If you had gotten your medication and walked too close to the desk afterwards while another patient was in line, a few certain employees would bark at you to "back up patient." No miss, or ma'm or heaven forbid your name they actually called us patients. My first two days I was constantly in trouble, walking too close to the desk, using the phone when it was "no phone hours" watching the news when I didn't realize it was forbidden...(yes, they forbid us from watching the news). Lucky for me, Carrey and some of the other women who had been there for some time took me in and helped me navigate the many, many rules.

Every day from 5-6pm, my mom and Shane visited me, and we spoke for an hour about what I was up to, and what was going on on the outside world. My younger sister Elizabeth, and my father sent cards and asked to visit, but the hospital only permitted two visitors at a time, and I wanted to keep it at my mom and Shane. My whole day was controlled, no need to think about what I needed or wanted to do, and the consistency was helping me through, so I decided I wanted to keep my visitors consistent.

I was also embarrassed. My father was concerned as any father would be, but I was embarrassed that he was disappointed in me. I was also embarrassed about how horrible of a role model to my sister I was. I didn't want her to see me this way, though I know she is mature beyond her years and didn't hold it against me. All of my communication was cut off outside from visitation and phone calls, and my friends were left in the dark. I told them before I handed in my cell phone, that I was being hospitalized for a while, but that's pretty much it. I begged my mom to keep it a secret and for the most part she did, only telling my grandparents which I was eventually okay with.

Side note

Writing this, I can feel my throats close up and tears gather in my eyes. It feels like decades ago but in reality it was less than a year. To be honest, writing about how disappointed in myself in regards to my younger sister is what really brings the tears. All I ever want for her is to grow up a strong, capable woman, and I believe she deserves the best roll models. When I lost my head, I was only thinking about myself, not her, and I wish I could go back in time and slap myself and say "get it together, Elizabeth doesn't deserve this!" She's 16 and already an incredible girl, genius level smart, independent and wonderfully opinionated. I just hope every day that this experience didn't impact her negatively.

I will write more later.