A wrong turn in Albuquerque

September 2018

As I was crying in the hotel lobby bathroom, I heard knocking and a voice said, “Albuquerque Police, open the door, we just want to talk to you and make sure you’re ok.” I opened the door, went with them to the backseat of the cruiser, and begged them to take me home. The female officer started driving and trying to make small talk, asking where I was from, and why I was in New Mexico. I explained that my dad and I were on our way to Ohio, and I just needed to go home, please.

The sky was full of hot air balloons all along the route and it felt like a grand entrance, as we turned into The University of New Mexico Hospital's psychiatric ward entrance. I didn’t know it was a psych ward at first, and thought it was a jail because tall, metal gates surrounded it.

They stuck me in an observation room with a single chair, gave me a bagged lunch, and told me to hang out there while they figured out what to do next. 

There were 4 or 5 of these rooms and they all opened into a hallway with a security guard sitting there to keep everyone under control. He came into the room almost right away and started trying to turn the chair into a recliner or something, and I was like, “Why are you doing that?” He said, “To make you more comfortable”, and I replied, “Nothing about this place is comfortable, can you just leave it alone and get out?” For some reason, this upset him, and he stormed out telling me that I could rot in there for all he cared. 

A little while later, I popped out of the room and told him I was sorry for being rude, I’m sure he’s trying to do the best he can for his son. He looked at me, with wide eyes, and said his visitation with my son just got revoked and he’s not sure when he will get to see him again, but how did I know he had a son? I still don’t know, maybe it was a guess, but I told him I was sorry that happened, I could tell he’s doing the best he can at his job, and again apologized for being a bitch about the chair. 

So, once I figured out that this was a hospital, and I was being admitted to the psych ward, I was like ok, I got this. I just need to meet and make peace with whoever I meet in there, and then I’ll get to leave. 

This place had no schedule, no smoke breaks during outside time, barely working plumbing in most of the rooms, yet was really laid back about the weirdest stuff. For example, family members were allowed to bring in food… 

After getting admitted, I went into my room, that had two other empty beds, and started crying. A few minutes later a male voice said, “It’s ok, you don’t have to be scared, I’m here for you. My name is Jesús and I’ll protect you.” I jumped up and was like WTF are you doing in here?! Get out of this room! It was just me and some random guy in my room and I was freaking the F out. I ran out and went full Karen on the staff. You just let weird guys wander into rooms around here?! WTF is this place? That guy got a sedative shot in the ass and was put back into his own room- it was one of three we saw him get.

I called my dad from the weird wall phone and said you need to come back and get me NOW; this place is worse than jail (having never been to jail at that point, this was not an accurate assessment)! He was like, I can’t get you out of there, you need to calm down and just do what they tell you. From that phone I also told him it was his fault I was there (it wasn’t) and for the first time in my life, I called him "Johnny" when I told him, “It’s time to come pick up your appleseed, Johnny… She’s ready to go home.” #Thingswelaughaboutnow

On one of the visitation nights, a guy we’ll call Andrew brought some chocolate fudge into the dayroom. He told us his grandma had brought it to him, and the staff said it was ok to share. It definitely had THC in it and I, again, remember wondering what kind of hospital is this!? After my edible was fully hitting, a therapist came into the dayroom to try to talk to me. (Not entirely convinced the fudge wasn't a tactic they use on the regular there.) She asked all the usual questions, and I told her I had been on my way home to Ohio, when I had this episode. I told her that I had been involved with a 17 y/o student and needed to get back to deal with the outcome of that.

I understand that she’s a mandated reporter, and maybe she didn't believe me that I had gone to the police already, but she went and told the local police, who filed some paperwork and they served me with court documents telling me I was going to be prosecuted in NM. So, then I REALLY started freaking out. This is about when the warrant was publicly issued and the media got wind of the story. That warrant is part of why I was able to come home, because I had already met with TPD, prior to ending up in New Mexico. #mentalhealthmatters

What NM lacked in amenities, they made up for with spiritual reconnection. They had yoga, art therapy, Native American led drum circles, annoying group sessions, and food was delivered into the wing, similar to Marymount, instead of going to a cafeteria, like Highland Springs. I got to know and care about people that I’d have probably never met in the real world, but one by one, they started to leave.

When it was finally time for me to go, my mom and dad were waiting for me in the lobby together. This was weird because they usually don’t speak to each other, and they were both just sitting there, not fighting. We flew home to Ohio, and I asked them to take me directly to the police station so I didn’t have a warrant floating out there. They didn’t want to, and my attorney told them not to, but I insisted, and that was when I spent the weekend in Summit County Jail in September 2018. Both of my parents had to stand there and watch them put me in handcuffs. What a horrible, helpless feeling that must have been for them. 

It’s hard to imagine what that must feel like, as a parent- to feel so helpless that this person you brought into the world has gotten to such a low point in their life. I told them I was sorry and that it wasn’t their fault, but as a parent, I can imagine they didn’t fully accept that. 

Before I left the hospital, Jesús gave me his balloon t-shirt and told me to keep it so I’d have something to wear when I came back to see the balloon festival in October. He said I’d earned local status and he didn’t want me to look like an out of towner when I got back. We agreed that if I ever went back to Albuquerque, I would be sure not to make another wrong turn and end up back in the psych ward. We laughed, the way crazy people do, and decided we’d add it to the list of things Bugs Bunny never told us….