Two years after having my son, six years after witnessing the suicide, while living in Hawaii away
from all family and friends I joined the Catholic church. I completed the RCIA classes in 2014 into
2015. Ultimately I was baptized and received first communion Easter 2015. When I was baptized and
the time thereafter I was the most happy and at peace as I had ever been. I loved life.
After roughly four months of being Catholic my very good friend's husband completed suicide. This
was another huge trigger for me. Either the night I received the news or the night after I went to a
party. At the party I drank too much. I didn't sleep that night. Which led to me not sleeping for the
next twelve nights.
Over the course of those twelve nights many things happened to me. I would pace back and forth in
my house. I thought the deceased could use me to speak to others. Then I thought I could bring people
back from the dead. At one point I thought I was Mary. The climax was when I had a vision in my
mind where if I walked into one room in my house it was God, a different room was death. I chose
God. Then I thought I was God. When I laid down and nothing had changed, I knew something was
wrong. I called my friend and told her what I had been experiencing. She had my husband call 911.
I was admitted to the psych ward that night. The doctor thought I just needed some sleep. However,
when she returned from her time off three days later, found that I was still there, and I wasn't any better
she knew something else was wrong. So she dug deeper. Eventually I was diagnosed with bipolar one
disorder on top of my previous PTSD diagnosis. During that time I thought I was God. I recall getting
a roll in my lunch. I thought I needed to break it apart and give it to the other people sitting at the table
with me as if they were my disciples. I remember constantly asking if I was crazy. The lady (I think
she was a psychiatrist) would always tell me, "no, you're not crazy." However, I wish she would've
told me no, you're not crazy you have bipolar disorder and you're having delusions. I doubt I would've
believed her, but it would've at least planted the seed.
I recall having an angry outburst in the ward. I really wanted a pencil. They wouldn't give it to me,
I'm guessing because they considered it a weapon. I tried to force myself behind the counter to get
one. Someone kind of pushed me back a little bit and said you don't want to do this. I'm sure they
would've put me in some kind of hold. I just clenched my fist, hit my other hand as hard as I could,
and said, "look I have control of myself, I just want the pencil." Low and behold I'm pretty sure they
ended up giving me a pencil.
After the pencil incident I called my former RCIA leader from when I joined the Catholic church. I
was extremely upset. She prayed the rosary with me over the phone. Even though I was crying the
whole time I felt so much better when we were done. I went back to my room and thought to myself I
had to do that to bring more people to me, to God, to Jesus. Whether it converted anybody or not I
don't know, but it certainly got everyone's attention.
The psych ward was actually a comfortable, happy place for the most part. It didn't feel like I was
there twelve nights. While in the ward I attended a small group from which I learned how to integrate
back into society. Whenever I started talking like I was more important than I was, the leader would
bring me back down by saying, "and that is over the top." The group was very beneficial for me. The
main thing I learned from the psych ward is that I needed to take care of myself first. I ultimately got
discharged when I thought I was helping them more than they were helping me.
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