Got out of the psych unit yesterday

My fiance, after my giving him full permission to make the call if it became dangerous to leave me alone, took me to the ER last Sunday evening. This was after a day of me lying in bed, crying, going catatonic with him prying my eyes open, and begging him not to take me. I was stripped of all belongings except my two nose rings, mostly because they were hard to take out and would have been broken if they tried. On my end, it was the last bit of humanity I got to hold on to. I sat in the ER for hours, my fiance being ripped from me by a social worker at 10 PM so I could "rest." She sent me by ambulance to an acute inpatient unit. I didn't fight her. Made jokes with the EMT's because why not? Bargained with the staff at the unit for my nose rings and was told I got to keep them as long as I didn't try to harm myself. I told them I'd rather be dead with them than alive without them, thus they didn't have to worry about me jeopardizing myself in that way.

I spent 4 days there. The food was awful. The staff had a few shining stars but in general cared very little for my wellbeing. They see new versions of me every week. Suicidal college student getting stressed out by school. I still barely understand what the standard was to get me out. Was it that I SEEMED sane enough? That I told them I no longer felt suicidal? The sheets were starchy and the shampoo/conditioner/body wash felt like pure chemical goo. They messed with my meds. All they really did was double my anti-depressant and put me back on a medication that had worked in the past but I had trouble paying for (got my dad to start paying for it).

The best part was the other patients. I met the nicest guy who had happend to joined the Aryan Nation while in prison (apparently as a survival tactic) and a lady who had been addicted to meth. They ended up with the hots for each other. I met a friend of my BFF's ex (small world, apparently). And a lady who could not walk without shaking. I miss them.

But now I'm back on my fiance's couch. I got drunk as soon as I left yesterday. Half pitcher margarita all to myself. And I don't know what to do with myself. I have a Richter scale of how bad I feel. I was at a 9.5 Sunday night. And I got down to a 1 or 2 while in the hospital. But now I'm back up to a 7.5 and I'm afraid to tell anyone that. I want to lie in bed all day and watch Grey's Anatomy and eat chocolate. I hopefully start a partial hospitalization program on Tuesday, but in the meantime I'm holding myself together with tape and string crisscrossing my ribcage. How do I make it to Tuesday? How do I go home to see my mom this weekend and spend time alone with her? She blames me, I know it. Somewhere inside she blames me. I don't know how to recover from my inpatient "recovery."