The third time I was hospitalized was about four months ago. I remember waking up in the morning after my husband had gone to work with a paranoid feeling of dread. The voices were telling me that if I didn’t leave my husband and fly immediately to my parents’ house and move back in with them, they would kill my husband. I was extremely upset, and started looking up plane tickets on our desktop computer. I found a few flights, and decided to call my mom and dad. I ended up talking to my dad for a little bit, and started crying while I was on the phone with him. He said of course it was fine if I wanted to fly out there (I didn’t tell him that I was supposed to move out there permanently, or they would kill my husband), but he thought I should talk to my husband about it first. I got off the phone with my dad, and immediately called my husband, John. I told him what was going on, and we came up with an alternative plan.
My sister-in-law was going to pick me up, and I was to pack a bag for myself and John so that we could stay the rest of the week with his parents. I quickly packed some clothes for us, and the things we needed from the bathroom, without explaining to my sister-in-law what was going on. We left shortly after that, and I ended up talking to her about my illness in the car on the way to my in-laws. We stayed there for the rest of the week, until I was admitted to the hospital. Twice, my mother-in-law caught me trying to buy a plane ticket to my parents’ house with my credit card. She ended up taking my credit cards away from me halfway through the week, so I wouldn’t buy a plane ticket anywhere.
At this time, I had spoken with my psychiatrist, and we had decided to try Seroquel (an antipsychotic used to control voices and hallucinations). I was on 100mg of Seroquel at the time. However, on Friday night (we had arrived at my in-laws on Wednesday), I told my husband that the voices were now telling me to go live in a homeless shelter, or he would be killed. I was so paranoid, that I started looking up homeless shelters online and taking notes in my journal. When John came into the room before we went to bed, he asked what I was doing on my phone. I told him I was checking my emails. He ended up looking at the search history on my phone and finding the search I had done for homeless shelters. The next morning, my husband and I drove to the Emergency Room with his father and sister. It was about a half hour drive, so I talked to both my brothers on the way. I was admitted under a 5150 (an involuntary 3-day stay). I didn’t know for sure if I wanted to be admitted because the voices were telling me that if I went into the hospital, they would kill everyone they found on my Facebook profile. Mostly I was scared.