I had a God awful day. Someone (whom I trusted to keep things private), miscontrued what I wrote in an email and sent the police to check up on me. An officer came, knocked at the door, talked to me, left. A couple hours later, he's back with a 2nd officer, and by now this ex-trusted person has given the police the email, they don't know me at all. I had typed a sentence something to the effect like, "I just give up.", meaning I am just done and giving up trying to get help from social services.

At which point the police officer tells me I'm going to some psych ER, no choice. I can just go with him, or he could handcuff me. Good God. I told him it wasn't necessary, I had no plans of suicide, etc., but all I get is a bumpy ride in the back of a police car, taking the extra long route into the Houston medical district. We had to wait there 45 minutes or so in the cop car before there was room for me to go in. Then, I get cuffed (one hand) to a bench and wait ages in a freezing cold room, needing to pee urgently (I had told the officer this when he told me we'd be waiting 30-45 minutes in the car). Orderlies, nurses, whatever come in, nope, I still can't go to the bathroom. No, I can't have a blanket. They must have the thermostat on 60 degrees, and I was wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt with a cutout in the back. I was beyond cold. Talked to the psychiatrist on call (who also knows my current pdoc). Finally, she didn't see it as necessary to hold me though she wanted first to speak with my husband on the phone. Finally, after like 2.5 hours, I'm allowed to pee. OMG. And I'm still freezing. I had to wait up in the locked ward because the unlocked intake area was deemed unsafe, and my husband couldn't get me until he got my daughter from school.

It was freaking freezing up there too, with nothing to do, since they are a psych ER, maybe 1 night wait for a bed type place. I did get a referral for some county social workers who are supposed to contact me tomorrow, and I was told they are pretty good and contacting promptly.

Finally, my husband and daughter get there, I get my stuff, we leave. Oh, but my mom has sent me a dozen gems of text messages, blaming me for everything saying I posted my problems all over Facebook (never once posted about psych issues on FB). The crowning jewel (and this really pissed my husband off), is she offered to "take" my daughter and raise her with my dad, so what? My husband and I can suffer alone? We live for that little girl. She is the reason we keep trying and trying to plow ahead, obstacle upon obstacle. What? She thinks I'm an inadequate mother now? I know a lot of my problems started with sexual abuse from an uncle (through marriage), but growing up in that house with my parents was no piece of cake. My mom ALWAYS deferred to my dad about everything. She never once stood up for me against him even if later she told me she thought he was wrong. He spanked way beyond appropriate spanking age - 10, 11, maybe even 12. Not all of my childhood problems had their root with the uncle.

Now I feel my mom thinks I'm an awful mother and that my daughter is in absolutely the wrong hands to raise her. And hello, doesn't my husband get a say? My daughter is his little princess, a Daddy's girl. He has never mistreated her. And she has only be spanked once in her life (around age 3.5, 4 for ignoring warnings to stop mistreating the cat, things that could have sent the cat to the vet). I was the one who spanked her, but it was more for show and to get a point across that mistreating our pet was a very, very bad thing to do, especially after ignoring repeated warnings. We never spanked her again. I didn't want it because of my God awful childhood spanking experiences. Hubby was spanked too, but rarely, not so much it scarred him. He initially said we'd spank as discipline when I was pregnant, and he never did. I said we wouldn't, I was the one who did, but only one time.

Really angry at my mom. So beyond pissed with her right now.