Been back home for a week now.

I took that jet plane down to Florida to a place I never expected to end up and found my self more traumatized than before I left. Now, that sounds bleak huh? Well that should be the beginning of a very interesting story. And it is.
On the evening of October the 22nd I boarded for, what I thought was a hospital for women who suffer from PTSD and Depression/anxiety disorders. So I arrive around 10pm that Friday night. During the check in process I see two older ladies who were obviously patients. One was very welcoming and friendly the other not so much. After check in which basically insisted of me getting a picture taken and vital signs taken. The started to take me to an exam room when I spot a male who also was definitely a patient and also really friendly. So, lie #1 not an all women's hospital. I started to feel a little anxious and jumpy. We go into this exam room where I produce the bottles of my prescribed medicine. I brought it all along so I would not forget what I was taking, dosage etc... The nurse asked me a lot of questions that I can not clearly recall. Then the search and seizure of my belongings began. I was somewhat distracted by the nurse asking me questions. Basically after this process I was allowed to keep my personal hygiene items and clothing. But according to dress coat I had no appropriate shirts other than two long sleeve shirts and one t shirt. The rest were tanks and those were prohibited. Did I mention this was Florida? It took me two days to figure out that the staff at this drug and alcohol rehab center had gotten me in on a benzo addiction. Remember my prescriptions? Well one was for Zanax it is my anxiety medicine. The nurse counted the pills. They were exactly right for a three day old Rx.

This is the first installment of the Chronicles of a rehab dropout.....
I am just too sleepy to keep typing tonite.