Recovery? I think I’m getting there.
Below describes in pretty vivid detail my account of an episode of cannabis induced psychosis that resulted in an involuntary commitment in a mental institution and an existential shift in being.
May 13, 2025
November 30, 2023 is a date that I will remember for the rest of my life. I would be willing to bet that my entire immediate family will as well. What I didn’t know at 4:00 that morning was that I was most likely in the middle of a manic episode caused by what would later be diagnosed as substance induced bipolar disorder. I am sitting in Panera right now killing time while Carmen and her sister clean our house. I remembered that I’d written some essays here and decided to see what I’d said. I was not aware of the timing being two days and the day of my episode. Ironically I just erased a paragraph saying that I thought THC should be legal and that many of the smartest people I know smoke weed. Insert eye roll emoji here. It’s hard to go back and talk about that day but here goes.
Things were good. So good. I was making progress in therapy; things with Jared were good; I’d just gotten lab results that my liver enzymes were back to normal. I felt like I was kicking ass at work and that I might have actually been influencing my students for the better. I’d had the most amazing time with my family at one of my favorite places in the world. The holidays were coming. Things were good. I was also regularly drinking High Rise Seltzer, a drink I’d discovered on vacation in Wild Dunes about a month and a half earlier. I had significantly cut down on drinking, and was using these as a replacement for my evening stress reliever. They contained Delta 9, the legal form of THC in South Carolina. I was able to buy them at Garner’s Natural Foods. They were amazing. I was ready to become a spokesperson. I have numerous handwritten journal entries that I’m embarrassed to go back and look at because I was so hyped up (and high) that I thought this was the answer to all my problems. HA!!
Back to November 30. From what I remember, it was a really good day at school but I was exhausted. Andrea and Jay were in town and I was at home needing to go pick up Emma from gymnastics. (or drop her off, I honestly can’t remember the logistics) All I know is that I was tired, and I needed help. I was looking for someone to help get Emma so I could just stay at home and chill for the evening (This was on a Thursday). I am pretty sure I went and got Emma because I couldn’t find anyone to help, poured myself a seltzer and began my evening. Again, the actual logistics of this are hazy, but this is my best guess as to what led up to the crazy.
Saturday December 1 was going to be our family Christmas gathering with Andrea and Jay and the Butchers. For some reason (the mania perhaps) I had the “brilliant” idea that Elijah and I should have a debate with Andrea and Jay and prove to them that God was real. Yes, that’s what I said and that’s what I thought was a good idea at the time. So I called Andrea (who I knew was driving home from Charlotte because I’d asked her earlier if she might be able to pick up Emma.) I told her that I thought we should do this on Saturday and she said she didn’t want to do that. She would remember this better than I do, but that’s when I lost it. I got angry and literally went into psychosis. It was really bad. The girls were home and heard all this happen. I was verbally threatening that I could prove that God was real and I’m pretty sure implying that I was prepared to die if that’s what it took to prove it. Andrea got Jared and Pearce on the phone and someone called the police. The police arrived and came into the kitchen. I remember putting my hands up and asking if the officer accepted Jesus Christ as his lord and savior and that he said he did. I did not want to die but I knew that if I did everything would be ok.
Things get fuzzier from here, but I know that an ambulance came and my mom was there and I was freaking out. I thought that I could use Mamie and Craig Melvin and my Uncle Doug’s connection to the Chiefs to somehow get Andrea tickets to Taylor Swift (or even meet her? I’m really embarrassed to admit that this is where my head was). I remember thinking that there might be helicopters or news crews outside because of the ambulance and because I was going so crazy. I made my mom promise that nothing would be broadcast on television and closed my eyes and walked out to the ambulance. They put an oxygen mask over my mouth and did whatever they needed to do to try to get me to calm down. From there things are really fuzzy to nonexistent in my memory.
From what I can piece together from my own memories but mostly what others told me, I was taken to the Emergency Room and later admitted. I vaguely remember being wheeled into the ER and noticing all the people sitting in the hall needing a room (or maybe I imagined this). I remember thinking that a movie was being filmed. I remember being wheeled back for a CT scan, and thinking that I might die but also feeling at peace because I wasn’t scared of death anymore. I remember that I thought either Nietzsche was right and God was dead because how could God still be alive and let Isa’s sweet baby boy die. I remember being told to count until I fell asleep and not being able to count or get to the end of numbers and hearing God say, “And that, Tracy, is how infinite works.” I remember thinking that was a total epiphany and that I needed to remember to tell Kathy. I remember my Dad being next to my bed. And then I remember nothing.
I am told that I was taken to a room and that I had visits from my daughters and my parents and Kathy and that Jared never left my side. I was there for 5 days and they could find nothing wrong with me. I was on a heavy drop of Ativan (I believe) and it acted like a truth serum according to my mom. I admitted to her that I was an alcoholic and that I needed help and I don’t really even want to know what else, but I know it was more than I wish my parents knew about me and my past. From what I understand they still couldn’t calm me down and decided that I needed inpatient treatment. There weren’t any beds available at Marshall Pickens so I was taken (against my family’s wishes) to Springbrook Behavioral Health in Traveler’s Rest. I have very vague memories of being in the back of what I think was a police car, but that’s it.
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I have some pretty traumatic memories from Springbrook of which I won’t go into too much detail. It was discovered that I have a very adverse reaction to Hallidol, and I know that I was not a very good patient at the start of my time there. I am also fairly certain that I have a scar on my shin from being forced onto a wooden bed and injected with drugs (that I probably needed but the treatment was not ideal). I know that I was hallucinating some, and remember clearly some things about the other patients and the nurses there. Angela was the nurse who took care of me the most and helped make it so that I could get home in time for Christmas. I made a lot of phone calls and was pretty incoherent for most of them. I smoked because it was the only way I could go outside. It was freezing. I wanted to escape over a fence in the yard. I wanted to get home to my babies. I was scared, angry, and broken. They did what they could to fix me, and I was finally released on December 23, 2003. I was on a ridiculous cocktail of medication, including anti-psychotics. My official diagnosis from Springbrook was cannabis induced psychosis. That’s right, those seltzers that I thought were the answer to all my problems made me go insane.
I was thrilled to be home, and so grateful that I could spend Christmas with my family. I learned that Andrea and Jay came back to Greenville because of everything that had happened. I don’t enjoy thinking about how much I put everyone through, and also knowing that was only the beginning of the journey that got me where I am today. Christmas felt magical; I thought I’d had a spiritual experience that I discussed with Erica over coffee and planned to meet with Mother Kellan about at a later date. I planned an emergency counseling session with Carrie and Jared. My family had a private meeting with me that felt like an intervention where I was told that I would be going to inpatient treatment. I was not happy about this, but I reluctantly agreed and found somewhere in Charlotte that I planned to check into two days after Christmas. The day after Christmas we went to Karen and Ed’s to celebrate and things started to go haywire again. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was the beginning of another psychotic episode. I remember thinking that they were going to surprise us with some big trip to Paris because we were going to move to France for Jared’s job. When that didn’t happen, I was convinced on the drive home that Jared was planning to surprise me with a new house over near Sara Collins that he’d been keeping a secret for the past year. We got home and he called my parents and they came and basically tried to keep me from doing anything too crazy until the next day when they could check me into Carolina Behavioral Health. I did not make it easy for them, but they managed to keep me from having to go to the ER and possibly sent back to Springbrook and instead took me to Carolina Behavioral Health the next day. I had a much better experience there but was still completely nuts. The staff were very kind and patient and diagnosed me with bipolar disorder at that point. It was agreed that I needed inpatient treatment somewhere, and thanks to a LOT of research and hard work on the part of mom, I got a room at the Lindner Center in Cincinnati. I was able to go home and see the girls and Jared and pack for a 28 day intensive treatment and diagnostic program that is widely known as one of the best in the country. Mom and Dad drove me, and I checked in sometime that first week of January 2024.
The Lindner Center was amazing. I had a private room that felt like a hotel in a beautiful facility that felt nothing like a hospital. The food was wonderful, the staff was amazing, and the other patients were kind and truly a delight to get to know. Jared and the girls came for a visit, I was able to go on two outings with the group, and all in all it was really a great experience. That being said, I was desperate to go home. I know I didn’t make things easy on Jared or my parents, and for that I may always hold onto some guilt. But I am mostly grateful that I was there and got the help that they were able to provide. It was at the Lindner Center that my official diagnosis was substance induced bipolar disorder and alcohol use disorder, with a recommendation for a 3 month inpatient treatment at a facility for dual diagnosis. I was presented with several options and decided on Sierra Tuscon in Nevada, agreeing to spend 30 days.
I was under the impression that Sierra would be luxurious and even nicer than Lindner, and I actually felt excited to be going. I was again able to go home and pack and see the girls, (on my birthday!), and Jared and I flew to Arizona on January 19. We spent one night in a hotel and he checked me in the next day. I was immediately disappointed with the fact that the reality of the facility did not align with my (completely unrealistic) expectations. I also felt overwhelmed with the size, the fact that I had a roommate, and the fact that I wouldn’t be home for another month. I was a spoiled brat anytime I spoke to Jared or my mom, and basically was convinced that I didn’t need anymore treatment and that the best thing for me and everyone else was to just go. The fuck. Home.
That didn’t work, and I was at Sierra for a little over three weeks I believe. I had amazing therapists, met very kind people, and dealt with my issues with alcohol, the reasons I drank, and worked through some past trauma that I still have trouble admitting was trauma at all. Because again, my life was pretty damned perfect. I went to my first AA meeting and called myself an alcoholic out loud for the first time. I also still struggled with self image, fitting in, and confidence. Most of all, I just wanted to go home. Eventually I got what I wanted and flew home in February, in time to be home for Valentine’s Day. This was contingent on attending an Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP) for 8 weeks as soon as I got home. I was on a lot of medication, most notably Lithium to treat the Bipolar Disorder. I was happy to be home, but I also felt like a shell of my former self.
I started IOP at Greenville Transitions, which consisted of 3 nights a week of meetings with about 10 other people from 6:00 until 9:00 pm. I hated it. I went, and I contributed, but I dreaded the meetings and hated being away from the girls yet again. I helped with carpool, went to meetings, but that was it. I slept most of the day and felt either numb or depressed or both. I was sober, but not really by choice. I just knew that drinking wasn’t an option for me anymore and had resigned myself to the belief that I would never really be happy again. I barely remembered what it felt like to experience joy. I wasn’t sure I ever would. But I went through the motions, and I stayed sober. I finished the IOP and went straight to camp, still heavily medicated. I woke up each morning with crippling anxiety and again went through the motions and felt miserable the whole time. I complained to Jared pretty constantly, and got through the three weeks knowing I’d never have to do it again. I’d been told at Sierra that Lamictal might be a good option to treat the Bipolar down the road, and I started that in June I believe, titrating up slowly.
Summer continued, we went on our RV trip with the Walsh’s, where the anxiety was still pretty ramped up. There were a lot of really good times but also a lot of times where I was pretty grumpy and also really sad that I couldn’t drink. All summer my cravings were pretty intense. I went to AA meetings but didn’t love it. I also tried Favor, and Lacey came to a few meetings with me and introduced me to some of the people who worked there. I’m not really sure when, but at some point she suggested that the Friday noon Women’s all Recovery meeting was really good. For that I will always be grateful.
We vacationed at Lake Summit, and I got through it without drinking but still didn’t feel like myself. I went back to work at Sara Collins and my anxiety became severe again. I am ashamed of the way it happened, but I ended up quitting that job right before school started because I just didn’t think I could do it. It was selfish, and I very much wish that I’d known how I would feel and just decided not to go back at all. But, you can’t change the past and I am still trying to learn to move past the shame and embarrassment of it all.
I kept going to my Friday meetings and I also applied for a job at Barre3. I also found a new psychiatrist and we agreed that I should go back on Lexapro. I may never know what made the difference, but whatever it was, things started getting better. Starting work was a little bit stressful, and I was grumpy at first about cleaning bathrooms (because again, spoiled brat), but I stuck with it and am so happy I did. I started exercising again, felt like I was actually accomplishing something during the day, and at some point started to feel like myself again. And at some point, an even better version of myself.
I remember being at those first AA meetings once I was home and hearing everyone say that they were a “grateful recovering alcoholic.” I did not feel that way. I was bitter. I knew I couldn’t drink but I didn’t think it was possible to have fun without it. Alcohol had been an integral part of my life for more years than it hadn’t. I didn’t know how to do life without it. But I had to, so I did.
At Favor I felt at home. Of course I was nervous to walk into those first few meetings but I am so glad I did. I met people like me. No one had the same story and yet we were all the same. We were all in recovery from something. And here I sit, in Panera, in recovery. My life is not perfect but it’s about as close as I can imagine. I am painfully aware of the fact that this is how I felt before my first manic episode. I am trying very hard to be aware of any potential signs of mania or psychosis. But I’ve been wanting to get back to writing for a while, and just haven’t found the right time or place. Hopefully I’ll get back to this, and it won’t be after a two year hiatus because of a mental health crisis. Until then…
