continuation re hospital.
Hatzolah took me to Cornell Medical center in Manhattan.
They put me in a small curtained room in the ER.
Just outside the curtains sat a police-guard to make sure I didnt try to kill myself. They had someone watching me every minute of every hour for as long as i stayed there.
I lay in bed feeling really sick.
I wished I was dead, I couldnt think how I could go on feeling this way. Death seemed so much easier. I rationalized that G-d was supposed to be a loving Gd, so how bad could death be? He knows I am suffering, so maybe if I died He would be nice to me.
Soon a psychologist came to talk to me.
She was a young woman who spoke as though she were frum, but she was dressed in pants.
I immediately noticed that she was on my side. For the first time in my history of therapy she asked the right questions.I did not realize it then, but talking to her was the beginning of my escape from my marriage.
She asked me questions about my husband and marriage.
I broke down and confessed that I was scared of my husband and that I didnt want him to be allowed to visit me or talk to the doctors. She "got it" just like that- and she immediately put in a request that my husband should be restricted from visiting. She could not stop his phone calls because I had a private phone.
This was the first time that someone acknowledged that my marriage and husband was the problem.
It was one of the lowest points of my life.
I could not continue this way any longer.
My husband had pushed me so far down, I did not believe I could ever rise again.
I was in his clutches and I did not have the strength to escape.
I had a family of young children, where was I going to go? How was I going to clothe and feed them? How would I marry them off?
These thoughts swirled around my brain until I could not think at all.
I lay in bed in the semi darkened room thinking about sweet death. I could think of nothing else.
The highlight of my day was when the young psychologist came to visit me. She breezed in pulling the curtains wide and while admonishing me for lying in the dark in the middle of the day, she swept open the curtains and turned on the lights.
She understood without me having to say too many words.
It was hard for me to speak.
I had no words with which to describe what was happening.
She sat with me for a while and i felt her caring and compassion. I knew that she cared about what happened to me. She noticed the cuts on my wrists and told the nursing staff not to give me a knife with my food.
I was glad that finally someone was taking care of me.
I stayed in the ER for five days.
They could not release me until the pneumonia had cleared up.
Once i felt better an orderly came in to tell me that I was being transferred to Cornell in Westchester.
I was hoping that I would get transported before my husband found out. I did not want him to know where I was.
I needed to be away from him, I never wanted to see him a again.
Hatzolah took me to Cornell Medical center in Manhattan.
They put me in a small curtained room in the ER.
Just outside the curtains sat a police-guard to make sure I didnt try to kill myself. They had someone watching me every minute of every hour for as long as i stayed there.
I lay in bed feeling really sick.
I wished I was dead, I couldnt think how I could go on feeling this way. Death seemed so much easier. I rationalized that G-d was supposed to be a loving Gd, so how bad could death be? He knows I am suffering, so maybe if I died He would be nice to me.
Soon a psychologist came to talk to me.
She was a young woman who spoke as though she were frum, but she was dressed in pants.
I immediately noticed that she was on my side. For the first time in my history of therapy she asked the right questions.I did not realize it then, but talking to her was the beginning of my escape from my marriage.
She asked me questions about my husband and marriage.
I broke down and confessed that I was scared of my husband and that I didnt want him to be allowed to visit me or talk to the doctors. She "got it" just like that- and she immediately put in a request that my husband should be restricted from visiting. She could not stop his phone calls because I had a private phone.
This was the first time that someone acknowledged that my marriage and husband was the problem.
It was one of the lowest points of my life.
I could not continue this way any longer.
My husband had pushed me so far down, I did not believe I could ever rise again.
I was in his clutches and I did not have the strength to escape.
I had a family of young children, where was I going to go? How was I going to clothe and feed them? How would I marry them off?
These thoughts swirled around my brain until I could not think at all.
I lay in bed in the semi darkened room thinking about sweet death. I could think of nothing else.
The highlight of my day was when the young psychologist came to visit me. She breezed in pulling the curtains wide and while admonishing me for lying in the dark in the middle of the day, she swept open the curtains and turned on the lights.
She understood without me having to say too many words.
It was hard for me to speak.
I had no words with which to describe what was happening.
She sat with me for a while and i felt her caring and compassion. I knew that she cared about what happened to me. She noticed the cuts on my wrists and told the nursing staff not to give me a knife with my food.
I was glad that finally someone was taking care of me.
I stayed in the ER for five days.
They could not release me until the pneumonia had cleared up.
Once i felt better an orderly came in to tell me that I was being transferred to Cornell in Westchester.
I was hoping that I would get transported before my husband found out. I did not want him to know where I was.
I needed to be away from him, I never wanted to see him a again.
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