the night's end

(continued from previous post "the five minute rule")



Lauren pulled herself back from the door through which she was peeking, "It's Annie and Carson," she said in a worried tone. Ashley rolled her eyes and made a remark about the two of them always raising hell and how sick of it she was. "I swear," she said angrily, "if this whole place is on lock-down tomorrow because of them, I'm gonna be pissed." I just kept looking back and forth between Ashley and Lauren, meanwhile the noise outside of the doors to the group room were getting louder.

The exact timing of all that I heard happening that night is probably a bit off from how it all actually went down, but I will do my best to retrace the steps of what I experienced sitting nervously in that group room on the night of February 5th, 2007.


"DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME! GET AWAY FROM ME!" one of the girls yelled. We heard loud banging noises every so often, but what it was, I still don't know. "Should we do something?" Ashley asked. "I just hope they're okay," Lauren responded, now even more concerned than before. "They're fine, they're just being stupid," Ashley said "If someone would just let me talk to them, I could calm them down." Lauren and Ashley's short exchanges were followed by more loud banging and then a high pitched scream. It was right at that point that I was about to pee my pants.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME! GET THAT AWAY FROM ME! CARSON, DON'T LET THEM TOUCH ME WITH THAT!"

Knowing she didn't speak in third person, I realized it was Annie who was yelling for Carson to help her. Annie didn't sound much like a ring-leader in that moment, but Carson was still playing the role of the accomplice immensely well. "Damn it, Annie" Ashley said out loud, but to herself, "just calm down, stop freaking out, it's only gonna get worse."

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF HER!" Carson yelled, which was followed by another loud bang and a high pitched scream. At the sound of the second high pitched scream, a calmer, but still loud, voice chimed in, obviously a BHA, "I just need you to CALM DOWN!" she said, "if you calm down nothing will happen!"

"FUCK YOU! GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF HER!"

Lauren was beside herself, "Oh, if only they would just stop! No one is listening to anyone! Someone is going to get hurt." Meanwhile, I was sitting in the corner in my bright orange Harley Davidson jacket. I looked like a bad ass, but the only thing going through my head was "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD!"

Annie and Carson started screaming each other's names, and by the sound of it, being held down by a number of staff. "GET OFF OF ME, DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME WITH THAT! I HATE YOU!"

There was so much yelling and so much noise that it was hard for me to take it all in. I felt like I was hiding in the tunnel of a war zone. I was safe in my little corner, but all I could hear was kicking and screaming and the sound of something banging against the wall, or on the floor, I couldn't tell. I was rolling the scene in my mind and picturing Annie and Carson in camouflage, launching F-bomb hand grenades at the staff. The staff tried to dodge each grenade as they just crept toward the two girls. "GET AWAY FROM ME," one would yell and launch an F-bomb. The staff would duck and the F-bomb would skim the back of their leg or arm, but the relentless staff would keep moving toward the girls. Despite all of Annie and Carson's defense mechanisms and attacks, the staff was determined to take them down... not so much in real life, but in my minds view of the war that was happening outside of those doors.

This went on for a bit before one of the girls, I couldn't tell who, started crying. They were screaming for the one to help the other, but they were both apparently not in a position to do so. Ashley now peeked out from under the curtain that covered the door, "I can't see them, I think they're down the hall."

In that next moment I heard screaming, screaming and more screaming, then a gradual fade of their voices, and then a thud, followed by another thud. I waited to hear something else... but I heard nothing. Dead silence. I sat there with my hands to my mouth and looked at Ashley and Lauren. Dead silence. Lauren looked under the curtain one more time and gasped. I couldn't take it anymore and ran to the door to look under the curtain. I saw enough to catch the tail end of four pairs of legs being dragged away. "Oh my God," I blurted out, "did they just get tranquilized!?!" I think it was Lauren, only because the response was so calm and quiet, though I can't quite remember because I was in such shock, but she simply said "basically."

"Oh my God!" I said out loud again, followed by "Oh my God!" My thought process was quite profound in that moment. "Holy shiiiiiii, they just got tranquilized!" I was in shock. My mind and my heart was racing. "I've only seen that done in the movies, I didn't know people actually did it! Oh my God! Dear Jesus..."

Jesus might have been waiting for me to finish that sentence, but I didn't.

"Welcome to treatment!" Ashley said, as if what just happened didn't phase her one bit. My mind kept asking myself questions that I just couldn't answer... "OK, seriously, where am I? What am I doing here? What just happened? Is that normal? Seriously, did that really just happen? What is my problem? WHAT AM I DOING HERE?"

The three of us sat in the group room waiting for someone to come and get us and tell us that the war was over, that the valiant staff had once again triumphed over the crazies, and that everyone could return home safely to the privacy of their monitored rooms.

"Where'd they take em'?" I asked whoever was willing to answer. "To their rooms," Ashley spoke up, "they'll be alright, they'll just wake up with a big ass headache tomorrow."

I don't remember a staff ever coming to get us, I don't remember having snack that night, I don't even remember walking back through the snow to go back to the adult lodge, but all of those things took place because I ended up right back at the adult lodge, with a full stomach. I think I was just so caught up in my mind, replaying the scene I had imagined and matching it up to the reality of the sound bite I had just heard. It was as if my body kept moving how it was told to be moved, but my mind was stuck replay mode, not really aware or even interested in what my body was doing.

We got back to our lodge to prepare for bed and my roommates and I were quiet. Before I walked into our room, I turned to the BHA who walked us over and told her my beloved fan had been taken away earlier that day and I desperately needed it's soothing white noise to lull me to sleep, especially after such a chaotic night. She said she didn't know about it but would ask someone in the morning. My heart felt heavy and even though it was just a fan, I wanted to cry. The day had drained me of any sort of strength or pride that it was really just all gone at that point. I started to tear up, trying not to let my roommates hear me, "I really can't sleep without the noise." The BHA said she understood, I doubted it, and that she couldn't do anything about it until tomorrow. I walked in our room where Ashley and Lauren were getting ready for bed, aware that they overheard me. "Do you need noise to sleep?" Lauren asked. I wanted to act tough, but I couldn't, "well... yea. I've never slept without a a fan before, at least not inside." I felt the need to add "at least not inside" so she wouldn't think I was spoiled and sheltered. It's funny how even in your weakest moments, pride can rear it's ugly head.

"Well, I don't have a fan," Lauren said, "but maybe you could use the CD player, if Ashley doesn't mind the noise." Before I could even turn to look at Ashley for approval she hollered out from her side of the room "don't worry about me, I took my sleeping pill, I won't hear a damn thing!" Apparently somewhere in the shuffle of the war clean up and snack, nightly meds were handed out, but since it was my first day and I had yet to meet with my assigned psychiatrist, I also had yet to be prescribed to what would keep me from ever needing a fan to fall asleep again.

"What about the night staff?" I asked Lauren, "if they hear the CD player, won't they take it away?"

"Probably not as long as you play it softly. Plus, Mona, she's the overnight shift, she's really cool."

Mona was not and still is not the name of the woman who was the overnight shift, but I will call her that out of respect for her privacy. Lauren was right, she was cool, for lack of a better term, and that very night she became my favorite BHA.

Mona came in shortly after to escort whoever needed to go to their locker for their toiletries. She took notice that I was new, a quality that I admire in other people, and introduced herself. She had her hair up in a yellowish gold head wrap and she had the smoothest, most beautiful chocolate colored skin I had ever seen. She was tall and slender, but wore a big over sized fleece. I quietly told her my name, but she said she would just call me "boo boo." I liked that, as I had always wanted to be considered somebody's "boo boo," but seeing as I had only ever dated white guys, it just never really caught on. She made me smile, the most I had done that day, at least authentically, and I thought about how much I enjoyed being around someone who could bring an authentic smile to my face, a quality that I admire in those who have and do.

After I brushed everything I needed to brush for bed and washed everything I needed to wash, Mona took my stats... blood pressure, heart rate, weight, and temperature. She said she (or whoever was working depending on the night) would be taking my stats every night and again every morning. "In case I gain weight while I sleep?" I asked her. She laughed, "girl, you silly, you ain't gonna gain wait while you sleep! Too funny." She didn't know I serious, but I liked that she said I was funny, so I smiled. It had been such a long time since I felt like I was funny. Even I knew I was too sad to be funny.

Sensing that I could trust Mona, probably solely based on the fact that she called me "boo boo," I told her about the removal of my beloved fan and explained that I knew she probably couldn't do anything about it, but asked her to keep it in mind if she happened to see a fan in a locked closet somewhere. She laughed and said she would. I asked her if it would be okay for me to listen to the CD player to go to sleep, and she said since it was already in the room she thought it would be okay. I thanked her as she wrote down my blood pressure and packed up her equipment, "you're welcome, boo boo, but try to keep it quiet." I promised her I would and I smiled, not only because she said okay, but because I liked my new nickname.

While Mona took the other girls' stats, I looked through Lauren's CD collection again. I sorted through back and forth and as Mona was finishing up with Lauren, Lauren looked over at me and said what I was thinking, "none of it is really music to sleep to." It was true... Gorillaz? No. Jet? No. The Killers? No. All good, but not to sleep to. Mona walked over to Ashley's bed and had to shake Ashley a little, as her sleeping pill had already kicked in and she was passed out on top of her covers. I giggled a little as I watched Ashley jerk up... "Ah fuck, I'm awake!" she yelled out in a drowsy voice. Mona laughed too, "I just gotta get your stats, girl, you can stay in bed." Ashley rolled over and flung her right arm out, "yea, yea, do your thing!" Ashley didn't remember any of it the next morning.

I went through the CDs one more time and since they were all still the same, I settled on the last thing I thought I would settle on... a sermon by Desmond Tutu. "That's probably your best choice," Lauren said, "and it actually really is a good teaching." I wasn't interested in being taught before bed, but I was desperate for a calming noise of some sort, even if it was the voice of Desmond Tutu, a man I had heard about just the year before on a trip to South Africa. It was that very trip that triggered my awareness of the severity of my eating disorder, and it was in that very country that I fell to my knees and cried out to God that I couldn't live the way I was living any more. I had wanted to forget everything about that trip because of how miserable I was and how close to death I felt; but that night in the facility, my first night in, I was reminded of the darkness of my time in South Africa, as the retired Archbishop of that very country spoke silently in the background through Lauren's borrowed CD player.

The sermon was titled "God has a Dream," and it was comical to me because I had asked God to heal me, to fix me, and to make all the pain I felt during those dark times to go away; but he didn't, at least that's what I thought, because there I was... in treatment, getting treated for the very thing that God wouldn't heal me from. I didn't want to actually listen to Desmond Tutu's words, especially if they were about God, as I was so angry at Him, but I needed something that resembled a fan, and a sermon about God seemed to be just the thing... a meaningless gust of wind that would put me to sleep. Even now it scares me to write that out and to think of the possibility of that thought ever being real.

The trouble was, despite how drained I was from the day or how angry I was at God, the day's chaos swam about in my mind, keeping it fully alert as my body laid still. So it was after I pressed play on the CD player and had gotten into bed that I heard the first few remarks of Desmond Tutu's "God has a Dream." He spoke as if he had written a letter, and quite possibly, a letter to me...


"Dear Child of God, I write these words because we all experience sadness. We all come at times to despair and we all lose hope that the suffering in our lives and in our world will ever end. I want to share with you my faith and my understanding that the suffering can be transformed and redeemed. There is no such thing as a totally hopeless case. Our God is an expert at dealing with chaos, with brokenness, with all the worst that we can imagine. God created order out of disorder, cosmos out of chaos, and God can do so always, can do so now... in our personal lives, and in our lives as nations globally. The most unlikely person, the most improbable situation, these are all transfigurable. They can be turned into their glorious opposites. Indeed, God is transforming the world now, through us, because God loves us."


The sermon went on, but it was always at least by that point that I had either fallen asleep or tuned it out. I held onto to the boyd bear that my aunt and uncle had given me, the one dressed as an angel, and as it's halo poked me in the face, I thought about those words "because God loves us."

I wish I could say that I heard those words that night and my whole mindset changed... that I suddenly had hope, and was able to grab a hold of the truth that God knew what He was doing and that He really was going to take care of me.

But I didn't.

That night in my bed, in the darkness of our room, I felt safe... a kind of safe I had never really felt before because it wasn't regarding God keeping me safe. It was a kind of safety that was free from the judgements and criticisms of other people, especially Christians. It was a safety from the Baptist Sunday school teachers who expected the preacher's kid to be perfect. It was a safety from the charismatic church leaders who said I didn't have enough faith to be healed. It was a safety from the Catholic friends who said we could do anything we wanted as long as we asked for forgiveness.

As I thought about how safe I felt from all the faith based claims or accusations spoken to me throughout my life, I also thought about that evening's events with the five minute rule. I realized that the girls in the facility had no clue who I was, where I came from, or what I believed, nor did they care... they had their own problems. I felt safe from the pressure to measure up, and safe from the pressure of being a "good Christian," whatever that meant.

I said those words to myself again, "because God loves us," and I laid there for a second. In the quietness of the room, except for the voice of the archbishop in the background, I rolled over in my bed and whispered exactly how I felt about those words...

"I don't care."

My tears tasted bitter that night, but I welcomed the bitterness. It was the first time I felt free to say how I really felt. I thought I would feel afraid if I were to voice that I didn't care about God, or if He loved me or not, but I didn't... I felt relieved.

And so, February 5th finally came to end, looking much different than how it had started. I never thought that when I woke up that morning and prayed with my dad, before reaching the facility, that I would go to bed that night most confident that God hadn't heard me that morning, or ever at all. I knew that February 6th was going to be the start of a new life, not just because I was going to start recovery, but because I was going to start it without God.

The relief was overwhelming, and it put me right to sleep.






To be continued...