My aunt called today to let me know my cousin is in the hospital at Stanford and asked if I wanted to come by and visit. I hate hospitals, but I agreed to go visit. My cousin has been in and out of hospitals for a long time and I wanted to help make her visit a little more comfortable.
The reason she was in there? On Tuesday she went on a bender on Crystal Meth and went bananas. She's in the psych ward on a 72-hour hold (plus the weekend). She might get released tomorrow, but it depends on her behavior. Apparently she got really riled up last night and wanted to beat some people up. She's always had rage issues and has gone to anger management before.
Anyway. She's always had drug issues in the past, but I think my grandmother's death pushed her over the edge. She's been erratic for years, so I think my grandmother's passing was the catalyst for a breakdown.
Sitting in there with her, watching some of the other patients scared the crap out of me. I could very well end up in some place like that at any time. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to keep a breakdown away. I've always been on the edge, but I guess I'm stronger than I've always thought.
This also just makes me realize how crazy my family is and how sheltered I grew up. Craziness runs in my family. On BOTH sides. It's no wonder my aunt, cousin, and I are all screwed up. We never had a chance.
So, on my way home, I picked up a few things to feed my vices: cigarettes, fast food, and ice cream. No, they don't make me feel better in the least. They make me feel crappy. But at least I'm not doing meth. Or cutting (though the night's not over).
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