UNI

This is how I remember it happening:

I was 17, a junior in high school. I'd been struggling silently and alone with depression for three years. I was failing all my classes in school. Probably because I never went to school. I hated high school and truly have no good memories from that time. It's a time I try to forget. I was seeing a boy at the time. He wasn't a good friend to me, but he was the only friend I had. He was very manipulative and tricky in his ways. But I, for some reason, was attracted to that because it was something to feel at a time when I felt nothing, if not constantly alone. He had a brother who owned a house not too terribly far from the high school. His brother was out of town a lot and so we'd often skip school and go to the brother's house. At this time I decided I'd had enough of being at home where I felt I wasn't being taken seriously and so decided to leave and fend for myself. I packed my school bag with a few belongings one morning and left as usual. We left school together once I got there and went to the house. The night before I'd written a note explaining I was going away for awhile and left it in my room, knowing my mother would be in my room going through my stuff and she'd find it. There was no respect of privacy in that house. Sure enough she found the note. My parents remembered this boy and I talking about his brother and found out where he lived. While we were there that afternoon, there was a knock on the door. My friend, in an idiotic move, answered it to find my father, outwardly angry, standing there. I was shocked, but not surprised. He came in and grabbed my arm and pulled me outside and to the car. Once inside the car the first thing I was asked is if I was a virgin. Not if I was ok, if I was hurt, if I'd been kidnapped, but if I was a virgin. I was, and said accordingly. Then I was asked how I could ever be trusted with any answer again. Then why bother asking the question? I haven't gotten past that interaction. I remember going home and all I remember was feeling defeated and extremely depressed. I remember taking a handful of pills and going to sleep. It was dark when I woke up. I was told to pack a bag because we were going somewhere. I didn't know where, that information wasn't given to me. Nor did I know why. All I know was that I packed a bag and my dad took me to a place by the University of Utah. Some people came and talked to us in a small room, I don't remember what about. Probably the happenings of the day. I was going to stay as this place for awhile, I guess. I still didn't even know where I was. I told the man we were talking to that I'd taken pills. Before I could be admitted now we had to go get clearance from the ER. I'm sure it was quite late by now. At the ER I drank a big plastic container of charcoal they had "flavored" cherry. It was disgusting. I remember saying I'd never do that again so I didn't have to drink charcoal again. Then when we were cleared to go, we went back to the strange place where I'd be staying for a week or so. I remember being alone in a room with my dad before he left and him asking me if I wanted a blessing. I was raised LDS, and sometimes men give blessings to people who are sick or in need of comfort. I was a firm believer in the religion, but I said no. I didn't want a blessing. I was angry. I was confused. I was being abandoned and no one had told me why. I just wasn't wanted anymore. So I said no. I'll never forget the look on my dad's face when I said no. It haunts me to this day. Then he was gone. It was quiet and people were asleep. I was taken to a room where I'd be staying and layed in the bed. I must have slept.

I don't remember much of this stay in UNI. I remember we could have our personal belongings for an hour or so in the morning, then they had to be locked up again. I remember Cindy, my roommate. She had anorexia and was so skinny. I didn't understand. But she was nice. I remember waking up my first morning and she was looking at me. She said hi. I think of her even today. I hope she is well. I remember group therapy sessions. It seems like that was all we did throughout the day. Sometimes we did art. I liked doing art. Sometimes we had gym sessions. I sprained my ankle playing basketball during one of those sessions, and was the in ER for the second time in a week. My brothers say they came and visited me. But I don't remember that at all. I don't remember any visitors. I do remember a phone call, I think from my grandmother, but I'm not sure. As far as what I learned, or what I took away from my short stay there, I don't know. I don't remember. After that first night, it's all a blur.

Then I went home. And as far as I'm or anyone else was or is concerned, life continued as normal. I don't remember talking about what I'd been through really, maybe a little when I first got home. I think my grandparents were there. But after that life just picked up and went on. And took me with it. I went back to school. I went back to church. I smiled. I woke up each day, back in a routine. No one knew. It was like it never happened. Sometimes I'm not convinced it really did.

That was the beginning of so much. And the ending of even more. And my heart aches right now thinking of that time, 17 years ago. How everything came crumbling down around me. And how now, even now, we don't speak of that time Sara was in the psychiatric hospital.