Going to the Nuthouse in 1980
It saved my life.
Of course, it was October because most bad things came to me in October. It has always been the worst month of my lifetime of depression, and the one in 1980 proved to be one I couldn’t make it through alone.
As you can probably sense, there’s a lot I’m not telling here, but you get the idea.
A few weeks previous, I quit my police job. I voluntarily gave up my badge and gun after a physical fight with another officer, and then, days later, when she attacked me, I fought with that officer’s wife.
After the incident with the police wife, I went straight to the police station and put my badge and gun on the chief’s desk. I told him I had done something that would get me, him, and the department (which I loved) into deep trouble. It is true that she viciously attacked me, and I had to defend myself, which looked worse on her than anything she did to me.
He told me I didn’t need to resign, that discipline would be administered, and I could continue working. It’s been many years, but although I may not have the words exactly right, he said if I were a mediocre officer, he’d just let me go, but since “you’re one of my best officers,” he didn’t want to lose me.
I was the first and only female police officer in that city, with about 30 officers…
