God, my dad and emotions

It is 2:45 in the morning as I write this.  Last evening my church had 'dinner and a movie'.  The movie was called "Courageous".  Basically it was about 5 men who signed something like a promise letter to become better fathers.  It started to make me think about my father once again.  It was eating at me all night to talk to my mom about my dad.  I spend the Saturday nights at my moms and we go to church together in the morning, watch the F1 race in the afternoon and sometimes I stay for dinner.  Anyway, I digress. I went downstairs to get settled for bed even though it was only 11:30 pm.  That's early for me.  About 12:30 I had to go upstairs cuz nature was calling and my mom was still up watching t.v.  I started talking to her about my dad.  I asked her if he ever worried about me when I was in the hospitals all the time.  She said he worried about me and he worried about how they would treat me.  I didn't know that.   
     Come to find out me and my dad weren't real different.  He didn't show emotion, just anger.  He learned that from when he was a kid.  I guess my Opah (german for grandfather), wasn't a very emotional man either, very angry and cold.  I myself hold my emotions in until I explode and that is when I start punching things or cutting myself.  I always thought that physical pain is better than emotional pain.  I know it is wrong, but I can't stop myself.  It just takes over me, consumes me.  makes me feel better.  But my mom said that I can show some emotions.  She said I can show love and compassion.  I guess an outsiders view is sometimes different then what we think.
     I am new to the love of God and walking with Jesus.  I should probably pray more to help me through hard times, but in my 37 years I never had any religion.  I tried all different kinds: Wiccan, Hindu, Buddhism, then after my dad died I started attending a christian church.  It took me a few months, but I came to know God.  I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.  Some of you may be thinking 'yeah right, how can it lift a weight of your shoulders'. It really did though, now I know all the people that I love that have died are walking with Jesus, in a much better place.
     I'm not really sure where I was going with this post, but I guess I needed a place to put my feelings.  In my previous post I had talked about being in the psych ward.  They asked what I wanted to do and I said I wanted to go home.  The day they asked me that was my only day where I didn't flip out and that was probably because I slept all day, so I don't know what they were thinking letting me go.  I think they made a mistake.  I'm not quite sure I am ready to be out.  I am not doing the best but hey, thats the way it went.  I dont know what else to write.  It's 3:15 so I suppose I should at least lay down and watch some t.v. instead of sitting here making my mind work.  Goodnight.

Out of control

My dad died on August 24, 2011.  Many in my family thought I would be in the hospital shortly after that.  But I didn't, I stayed strong for my mom.  My sister and her family lived in Delaware and me and my mom lived in Connecticut.  Yes my mom had brothers and sisters that lived near by, but I was the closest.  After my dad died, I went to my mom's house every weekend.  We would watch the Formula 1 races.  It was fitting that my dads favorite driver, Jensen Button won the first race of the season.  I have lasted a long time without going to the hospital but then things just went downhill.

     It was Saturday the 2nd of June, early in the morning, I'd say 7:30 or so.  I called a couple close friends, I called my mom but no one was answering.  So I ended up calling the crisis line.  I talked to a man for a little while but hung up on him.  Of course he called me back but i didn't really talk to him.  He just wanted to know if I was safe.  I said nothing and hung up again.  They couldn't send an ambulance or call the police because they didn't know my address and I knew that.  A little later I still tried to get a hold of my friends and my mom but still no luck.  I called the crisis number back and got a woman this time.  I didn't talk to her very long when one of my friends text ed me so I got off the phone.  My friend suggested I go to the hospital.  Then soon after my other friend text ed me, then my mom called.  To make this long story a little shorter, I went to the emergency room to talk to a crisis worker and see if I needed to be in the hospital.
     I was hearing things that no one else could hear.  I was getting angry and punching walls so they brought a woman in to watch me to tell the nurses when I did something I shouldn't be doing.  My right hand was extremely swollen but they couldn't do x-rays because I was too out of control.  They gave me some pills, Ativan, and Zyprexa that melts under your tongue.  Eventually I was calm enough to go get x-rays... nothing broken.  By 3pm I was upstairs in the psych ward.
     I slept till about 9pm when the nurse came in to do a quick assessment and I went back to sleep.  Sunday when I woke up I wasn't doing so well.  The psychiatrist wouldn't see me unless there was someone else in the room with us because I had already punched a few things that morning.  There was really nothing special about that morning.  I punched a few things and they gave me something to calm down.
     But Monday, all hell broke loose.  I was hearing stuff really bad.  Now let me tell you, the furniture in a psych ward is usually very heavy.  But I slightly picked up the dresser next to my bed and threw it on the ground so the drawers were on the floor.  One of the mental health workers told them to call security.  One nurse, her name was Polly, got me to take an ativan I think it was.  But that didn't help.  They tried to give me more pills but i thought they were poisoning me, so I didn't take them.  Polly kept telling me that if i kept hitting things they would have to put me in restraints.  This went on for maybe 20 minutes to half an hour.  I'm not exactly sure what they said to me, but i turned to them, punched the door and said, "well that's not going to bring him back".  That is when I realized it wasn't just about the voices, it was also about the death of my father that I have never dealt with.  After maybe another 20 minutes, I lied back on the bed crying asking for something to get rid of the voices.  Polly asked me if I wanted a pill or a shot and I just told her whatever was quicker.  They gave me a shot of Haldol and a shot of Ativan.  Polly stayed with me while I cried and rocked and was in agony of what I was going through.  She stayed by my side for a while...got me all comfortable with my pillows under my head and blankets on me because I became unbelievably cold.
     I had no other issues that night and I slept all day on Tuesday, but I did see the doctor.  He asked what I wanted and I told him I wanted to go home.  He said we will see about tomorrow.  So yes indeed I went home on Wednesday.  Right now it is exactly 1 am on Thursday.  Hopefully things will get better with time.  But I was certainly out of control for a while.  Now they need to send me to a day program where there are groups for like 5 hours 5 days a week and I hate groups.  But my therapist won't see me again unless I do it so I guess I'm stuck.
     Goodnight for now.  I will write again soon... hopefully.