She Wanted It All - Kathryn Casey [58]
At the end of February, Tracey called Jane again, crying. She talked about the voice and said that she wanted to kill herself to make it stop. “I’ve been playing Russian roulette,” she said. “I’ve got one live bullet in the chamber.”
It was a cry for help. Tracey didn’t want to die.
“I’m not equipped to help you,” Jane told her. “We’re going to come for you.”
Minutes later Jane and Pat pulled into Tracey’s driveway. When Tracey opened the door, her eyes were red and her face anxious, reflecting the ache of the battle waging within her. Jane put her arm around her and led her to the car. They drove through Austin’s darkened streets to St. David’s Pavilion, a beacon of hope for Tracey, who wanted nothing more than for the torment to stop.
Inside, they brought Tracey to Admissions, explained the gravity of her situation, and asked for her to be checked into the center’s substance abuse program. They then watched as she was led away to a ward. Tracey, shoulders slumped and head down, looked as if she had no more energy with which to fight. All her reserves drained, she resembled a small child, helpless, vulnerable, and terrified.
Chapter
8
“Give one of those doughnuts to Tracey,” Celeste told Kristina, motioning at a rumpled woman with shaggy hair who sat off in a corner in St. David’s day room.
“Here,” Kristina said, holding out the box to the woman. “Help yourself.”
Appearing dazed, her eyes clouded with tears, Tracey glanced up at her, pulled out a frosted doughnut and placed it beside her. She said, “Thank you,” but never took a bite. Something in the way Tracey looked, devastated by life, tugged at Kristina. “I felt sorry for her,” she says. “She just hung her head and sobbed.”
The black and white notebook Tracey used as her journal at St. David’s reflected the pain that haunted her. On the first page she wrote:
In the name of Jesus, shame & fear & doubt must leave.
Jesus, give me peace in the storm. Calm my fears.
Perhaps what touched Kristina was Tracey’s desperation. It was a stark contrast to Celeste’s attitude since arriving at St. David’s.
Despite the seriousness of her diagnosis—depression and suicidal ideation—Celeste acted more like a hotel guest than a patient since the first day she entered the hospital. She’d held a gun to her head, saying she was in so much pain only death could bring relief. But she treated the staff not like professionals she prayed would help her but as servants charged with doing her bidding. She even refused to eat the food, insisting that the teens and Steve bring her meals. At breakfast, Kristina stopped at IHOP for carryout waffles, pancakes, or eggs. That wasn’t enough. In addition, Celeste wanted doughnuts for the other patients. Kristina did as she was told.
Steve brought lunch. If he couldn’t, Justin, who took classes across the street from the hospital at Concordia College, filled in. In his heart, it wasn’t for Celeste, but for Kristina. By then they’d grown to be more than friends. They were in love, and Justin wanted Kristina to do well, something Celeste rarely paid attention to. Due to their mother keeping the twins from school, both were behind and wouldn’t graduate that May. Instead they hoped to attend summer school to graduate in August. The turmoil of the hospitalization and Celeste’s demands threatened to make even that impossible. “She didn’t seem to care about what was important for them,” says Justin.
Evenings, Steve arrived with dinner. Tracey saw his round, robust figure lumbering through the hallways with a plastic carryout box or a dish from home. She wondered about the old man and his young wife. They seemed such an odd pairing.
At home, Jen was relieved to have their mother away. But the hospitalization devastated Kristina. She worried about her constantly. She barely ate and couldn