72 Hour Hold

Today is one I'd much rather forget about, let alone retell, but it is representative of some of the madness and confusion in and around my life.

I'd been feeling pretty good for me, depression held back a bit, and that anxiety, fear and panic also limited some all by medications. Better living through chemistry a friend of mine used to say. So, having finally managed to complete my name change, signed, sealed (both ways) and delivered to me by UPS overnight I decided that since my last few trips to the Social Security Administration office went well, I'd get the paperwork started.

I went in armed to the teeth with more documentation than the website claims they need in order to change my Social Security number. Earl, and his parents, are violent, nasty, evil people who making lying such a habit they don't know what turth is anymore. Worse still, because of their connections in Wall Street, they think they are above the law. They have said, on more than one occasion, since the day Earl and I announced our engagement, that he'd be better of if I were dead. They've also said that they can, and just might arrange that. So, I need some healthy space, and protection from these "evil-doers" and the Justice Department says that a name, and SSN change is the way to go.

Now changing your SSN isn't easy to start with, and one used to have to present an impossible amount of paperwork to even try to get it changed. In fact the only people allowed to change SSNs are the survivors of domestic violence. In 1998 by executive order from then Vice President Gore, the rules were changed to make it a bit easier on us, survivors that is. I went with more information than they required, and tried to get the ball rolling.

What a completely wretched mistake, a horrible, painful experience that were I not already scarred for life by my ex-husband, this would have done just as well. I have enough problems, and an existing fear, terror of "authority figures" and the woman I got stuck with 'Mrs. L------' of the  SSA was about as caustic and dangerous as any one person can get. I wonder if she knows Earl? Anyway dealing with her attitude, and the EXTREMELY offensive track she took was significantly more painful then having ACID poured onto my raw, exposed nerves.

I left hysterical in tears, fighting to see through the tears, pain and overwhelming desire to "put a more permanent end to my pain" than I could handle. I mean seriously, I was suicidal and wanted nothing more than to die and get it over with. I managed to fight it long enough to drive the fifteen or so miles to my therapists office where I spent more than an hour trying to save my life. Finally, composed enough not to be a threat to myself (or anyone else) I went home with orders to take a tranquilizer and take a nap. She (my therapist) called my sister-in-law and told her what had happened and asked her to wake me and check up on me when she got home from work.

I took my pill, but made the critical mistake of calling the SSA tollfree number to find out what happened, and all the pain came rushing back. In seconds I was hysterical in tears, and the woman there decided I was a danger to myself or others. She called the local police, had them rush to my house with the lights on, thankfully, no sirens and take the phone from me to let the folks at the SSA know they were there. The patrolman who showed up was patient, nice, and not there to make me feel worse, BUT he was required to either take me willingly to the local rubber room or hold me there until the medics could come and take me in. He said if I go willingly with him, I could get evaled and possibly sent home that night, if the medics took me I'd be in for a three day hold. What's a girl to do? I went with him and even gave him a shorter route to the hospital he'd never have thought of. He was impressed and surprised wanting to know how long I've been living here. Not long I said, I just spend too much time studying, in this case, maps . . .