I don't even know where to begin. I don't even have the words to describe the madness that occurred in my life this past week. But writing it out is my therapy and despite the fact that there are so many concerned people, I don't really want to talk to any of them because I feel like they don't really understand the awful choice I had to make.

I dont really want to go into specifics, but maybe I should? I'm not really sure.

Here is what I do know: Since Monday, my roommate of 6 years (and one of my closest girlfriends) has had erratic behavior. She stopped sleeping, started spewing out words that she considered God's commandments, and became all around a different person. I started growing concerned on Thursday night when I realized she was still not sleeping (and also after she came home and informed me and my other roommate that we are evil and that our 'church' has God's power, but needs to come closer to God). By Friday night, people were texting me at work and it was obvious everyone was concerned.

So I stepped up. I called a crisis hotline. I acted and I got information. I came home prepared and ready to get her to go to a hospital. Because that is what I do...in a crisis I act. I pick up pieces and I put things back together. And when I got home, I knew that I was going to face opposition from her. What I didnt expect was another close friend of hers to tell me that I was wrong...that I was actually doing harm to my roommate...that it would be okay if she did die because at least she'd be with God. (I wish I was making this up-no actually I dont because the truth is this is much more ugly then I can begin to describe) I felt myself on a slipery slope and I knew that I was not going to get her to agree to go to the hospital. So I left.

At 4 in the morning I get a phone call from the close friend mentioned above. "Amber, I was wrong. She needs help. She really is going through something."---uh...DUH. Isnt that what I said all along. So I again jumped into action. I went looking for her. I find her...on our balcony in a sleeping bag. By this time it was obvious she was in a full blown Manic state. So yet again I swing into action and convince her its time to go. I get her to the emergency room and I continue to act. I do what it takes to keep her safe, because despite the fact that there are other people in the room that care about her-I know her. I know her fear, I know what needs to be done but cannot be said aloud. So I sign the papers. I signed the papers that had her committed to the psych ward. I made her worst fear come true....I took action to protect her from becoming like her mother.

And while everyone around me broke down, I held it together to keep her together. I was with her when they took her to that awful place. I held her and helped her to focus when she realized that her worst fear had just come true. I carried the burden that she needed me to carry.

I dont write this to make people feel sorry for me. I dont write this to have people look to me and say what a good friend. I am writing to help myself process, to help myself understand. Because even though in the end I made the right decision, the fight to get everyone else to let me do what was neccessary and the signing of those dreaded papers has broken my heart.

My only comfort is gratitude for my Heavenly Father and knowledge of the atonement. The fact that I can cling tight to the atonement and that my load will be lightened. The fact that for some reason I was given broad shoulders to carry the heavier loads and although I may not understand it all the time and although it is almost never easy, in the end I am only being molded into what I am supposed to become.