Goodbye first roomie

In February I said goodbye to my first roommate. It had been a long time coming. I let it get too out of hand because what she was getting into wasn't personally affecting me until the very end. She grew up in a very strict, conservative Christian household and then when she got to college mommy and daddy weren't there to tell her what to do, so she got into some very bad stuff.
I came back from a weekend in Kalamazoo where I saw the play "7 Passages, the Story of Gay Christians" which was really interesting and really makes you think. I returned to my dorm on a very blustery, snowy Sunday afternoon and opened up my locked dorm room. I found my roommate's keys, ID, wallet, and phone on her bed and a glass with alcohol in it on my counter. I knew instantly something had gone wrong that weekend. So, I had to pry to get the story, but I got it out of my hall's resident assistant. It's a very long story, but I'll give you a reader's digest version.
Friday Night: My roommate felt an anxiety attack coming on. She drove herself to the emergency room and the doctor gave her something to calm her down. I'm not entirely sure how she got back to the room, but she didn't have her car.
Saturday: She started drinking early in the day, maybe noon or so, in the dorm. I'm not sure how she got her car back, but she decided she was alright to drive somewhere in the snowy, crappy weather. She slid into a car with a ten-month-old baby in it and she freaks out. The police came and told her to get a ride home. They knew she had been drinking and she had alcohol in her truck, but they didn't cite her for anything. Which really annoys me, but I guess there were worse accidents ahead and no one had been hurt there. But she somehow got a ride back to the dorm and proceeded to drink more. Sometime at night she felt an anxiety attack coming on, so she took a pill. That's an incredibly smart idea, I don't know why more people don't do that???! So it really messed her up and she went to find our RA. He wasn't there so she chilled out and waited for him. When he came back she passed out in his room and the police and ambulances came. She spent the night in the hospital and then called her mom when she was discharged early Sunday morning.
Sunday: She came back to the dorm with her mom in the late afternoon. We get things settled. The housing people talk to me and ask me to let her rest and keep quite while I'm in the room. Sunday night she had another episode. They considered it an emergency situation so they had two ambulances, four EMTs, six police officers, and a crisis counselor. She refused to go to the hospital, call her parents, or leave the room. I was completely baffled. I had no idea what to do and this was not something I wanted to deal with at all.
So Monday I was talking to one of my friends Katie and she told me I should move in with her because they were trying to consolidate rooms and pair her with someone she didn't really know. I told her I doubted that was possible. Most times, when you want to change roommates you have to go through four weeks of roommate counseling. I wasn't willing to do that. My first roommate and I had always gotten along, we didn't see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, and she was into some pretty shady things and I didn't know how to tell on her without really telling on her. Plus, it's completely awkward to go though counseling with someone and live with them at the same time and what if at the end the counselor said we couldn't move? That's really awkward.
So after Katie asked me, I replayed the weekend's events in my mind and I thought they probably would let me move. So I asked my RA. He said that they wanted me to move, but didn't want to ask me to move. I said I was willing.
I didn't know if I would regret my decision, I liked my roommate okay, we had a good time. I really liked my suitemate and some other girls in my hall, but I didn't want this year to get any more dramatic and it would probably be really distracting from my schoolwork. (Who knew in college I would become way more studious???)
So when I was questioning my decision and thinking about my meeting with the Living Center Director the next day, I found out she had pot in the room. Then I was for sure I wanted to move. Possession is nine-tenths of the law and if she hid that in my stuff (now that they had probably cause to search our room) I would be the one to go down.
So I got permission to move on Tuesday, signed papers on Wednesday, told her on Thursday, and moved on Friday.
It happened quickly. She didn't ask why. It would have been really awkward if she'd asked. I saw her three times after I moved.
Once when I officially moved out. The second time when I had to get a birthday card. The third, and final, time outside of the dorm smoking a cigar with a guy from the hall. She's classy.
I moved in with Katie, she's worth a different post.