Withdrawal

Sorry if I've written this in Giraffe, I'm not all here today

I write to you today from my noisy hospital bed, the hospital is undergoing some minor renovations – why I do not understand since this whole ward is being gutted next year. I am currently in withdrawal from Pristiq - the antidepressant I’ve been on since November last year. My psych made the decision to take me off it because it wasn’t working well enough, a higher dose would have been ideal but I experience unpleasant side effects on that dose. I have also had two consultations with another psychiatrist; mine is feeling a little lost. Since admission I have become worse and none of the drug cocktails he’d tried had done anything to help. On Friday night I got up to a little mischief and as a result I was heavily sedated against my will. When I saw my doctor the following morning he revoked my leave, this means I can’t go for coffee anymore, even if I’m escorted by a parent or friend, also no church. It was the Friday night incident that prompted my psych to seek a second opinion on my condition. The psychiatrist giving the second opinion was very thorough, talking with him took all my energy, but I think he got a few things out of me that I’ve neglected to tell my usual psych. The two of them will meet this afternoon and then I’ll meet with my psych this evening and find out what the next step is. I’d put my vote in for forced euthanasia.

Some positives to bring about a little balance:
F came to visit on Saturday night we had fun making a mask together for a party she was going to. The only tools we had on hand was a little fabric, some swimming goggles and double sided tape - not even a pair of scissors. We ripped the fabric, and cut it when necessary with one of her keys, wrapped it around her goggles (which sat on her forehead, not over her eyes) and then used a different, more transparent fabric as a veil down to about the tip of her nose. The end result was not too bad - she even got compliments at the party! Last night C came to visit me. C never fails to bring a smile to my face and I am totally comfortable around her; even when going through withdrawal and feeling dizzy, bloated and generally off. F and C are great, I love them lots.

No idea about discharge date yet, I suppose I’ll get some sort of inkling tonight. I’m not looking forward to starting the new drug, the first three weeks can be hell.

Endless Tunnel

Last week I was told by my doctor that I’d be out by half way through the next week; it didn’t happen. I’m two days short of five weeks in here and it doesn’t look like I’ll be going home any time soon. The last six days have been very hard for me, my medication keeps getting changed, nothing drastic, just dose and time-of-day alterations but they’re really messing with me. Medication isn’t solely to blame though; I can’t see any light at the end of this massive tunnel I’m in, so I don’t even try to help myself move through it. If the tunnel never ends why not just sit and paint the walls?
      Painting the walls is pretty much what I have been doing and why I’m not getting out of here soon – I am in fact lucky that I haven’t been transferred to a non-voluntary hospital. Avoidance of said hospital is my prime motivator in the task to stop painting the tunnel. Perhaps this tunnel analogy is wearing thin and becoming a little Freudian, but meh I can’t be bothered re-writing.

I made it to church this week, my taxi was only 20 minutes late, even though I ordered it two hours in advance. I got a lift home from a lovely church lady and her daughter. This week’s service was a healing service. I decided to go up for prayer; I’ve always been sceptical about God healing people physically in this age. But the God of the bible is the same God we have today, the speaker emphasised that it is the faith of those praying, not the faith of the one needing the healing that was important. The story of the Centurion with the sick servant was used to back up this idea. Anyway, nothing happened for me there, or in the following days. Everything continued to get worse and my suicidal thoughts increased a lot. I got it in to my head last night that perhaps God had chosen to heal me by letting me die and be with him - totally unsound theology I know. I maintain that I don’t want my last act on earth to be a sin, that sin being murder of self. I do not belong to me, I belong to Christ and by committing suicide I’d be stealing from him, kind of....

Tomorrow two of the three girls I’ve made friends with in here are leaving. Neither of them is better but they are better-er than when they came in, I will miss having them to chat with. I will definitely keep in touch with one girl - I will call her L, the other I’m not too sure about. The remaining girl I will call B, she will be here for a while yet, her situation is complex and awful for her. I’m glad I’ll still have her company though. Hopefully she’ll be granted leave soon so we can go out for coffee together. On my coffee walk today I found a second-hand clothing shop specialising in high end fashion, like stuff you’d pay several hundred for new. Some of it was still very expensive, but some not too bad, and all in excellent condition. I didn’t buy anything, but there was a jacket which caught my eye...

I seem to have lost a day this week, there are some events I just can’t place and everything feels wrong. I have to keep checking that it is in fact Thursday. I think it’s Monday that my mind has erased, I’ve just now realised why, that’s the day I was highly agitated and not quite here. Tuesday was a little better and I went for my usual coffee walk and bought myself some flowers – for the second time since I’ve been here. Visitors seem to have decided that people in psych hospitals don’t deserve as many flowers as people in normal hospitals. Although my friends are mostly poor and flowers aren’t cheap, so I suppose I can forgive them.

Bye for now, come visit me, get details by pm’ing me through facebook.

K

24 Days of Hurdles

I’m still here. This admission looks like it is going to be longer than my last one. The hurdles to freedom are tough to clear; I have to gain a better understanding of, and accept that I have to deal with B.P.D. I am not yet at the stage where I can accept the help being offered to me, this is because I can’t see the outcome being good, and it is a lot of work. My doctor wants me to do the outpatient D.B.T course, it takes 12 months and it’s hard. I am not good in talking groups, I feel patronised, I get frustrated, I get angry and then, often, I leave. I expect that I will be back in here a few more times, there’s no way they have cured me of my attraction to sharp and hot things. I don’t know what impact further admissions will have on my participation in the outpatient program, or if they will just accept that I’m not ‘cured’ and turn a blind eye to future bodily experiments – the latest of which was a big impulsive haircut, it didn’t turn out too badly considering looking good was not the aim.

Today I had two coffee dates, one with F - it was lovely to see her. It has been a short friendship with F but I value it highly, she is kind, wise and fun. The second coffee date was in the same cafe, only 15 minutes later with R – a recently discharged patient, we had a good long chat and far too much caffeine.

I tried to go to church on Sunday but the nurses somehow screwed up ordering my taxi, they then cancelled it and I ordered one for myself, it got to 15 minutes after the service had started and I decided to cancel the taxi because I would have missed 35 minutes of the service even if the taxi rolled up at that moment. I was very disappointed, but I’d had a busy day with my mum - including a minor freak out in a crowded shop. So maybe it was better for me to avoid being around another crowd that day - even if it was a holy crowd! The young adult minister has been to visit me and he has tried to come a second time; I am impressed with the effort he and others have made to help me not feel excluded. This Sunday (if I’m still in here) I will make a second attempt at getting a taxi to church but F will be able to bring me back afterwards, she’s busy with coffee ministry beforehand – how great is that, my church has a coffee ministry! It’s not as trivial as it sounds it’s actually a great idea.

One Angry, Dizzy Girl

Dad took me out to lunch today, it was good. Afterwards I set up a mail redirection since I moved out of my flat at weekend. I’m a little scared about not having the flat anymore, it means I have nowhere to flee if I can’t stand my family anymore. I’ll be looking for a rental in Blackburn or Blackburn North when I get out of here, somewhere I can settle for five or so years, probably more. I don’t want to move again until it’s time to buy my own home. Given that I intend to be there for a long time the new house must feel like a home and not just somewhere to lay my head at night, it must be big enough for Lester to stretch his legs and it would be a bonus if it had a decent back garden so I can consider getting a dog. I would love a great dane, but in a small suburban garden it would be cruel unless I took it for 57 walks a day. My grand plan with the house is to find a three bedroom and in the period between being accepted as the tenant and moving in to find two people to move in with me. I’ve been looking at properties in that area and I can easily afford what I want if it’s three bedrooms and three people paying the rent. I would prefer only one house mate, but if I’m lucky / blessed with good people it could be good.

I still don’t know when I’m getting out of here, but I think it will be soon. My doctor admitted today that he no longer saw the benefit of my admission, and I’ve never really seen it. I’m angry about this because I feel worse now than the day I walked in, I’m on more drugs, I'm constantly dizzy and tired and I feel like there is even less hope for recovery. So from my point of view this admission has been a disaster and the only benefit is that it has kept me away from sharp things for a few weeks.

Update 24601

Normally I do about three proof reads to try and get my punctuation somewhere near right, I can’t be bothered today so forgive me and try your best to understand the following:

I moved into a nice new room yesterday, it is much bigger than the crusty old room I had, I don’t have to share my en-suite anymore and the decor is modern but nice. The down side (there is always at least one) is that my neighbour snores terribly loud. I can hear him clearly through the walls - and they’re solid, not just plasterboard – he sleeps a lot during the day, not just at night and when he’s awake he watches television at a high volume. The pros still outweigh the cons because I have ear plugs and can play music to drown out the television.

Today is the first day that I haven’t felt completely terrible; maybe my new drug cocktail is starting to take effect. Until now all I’ve felt from the increased drugs is tiredness and a touch of dizziness – not unsurprising when you’re changing your brain chemistry. An old friend came to visit today, it was great to see her. Three of my five visitors (excluding family) have driven a long way to see me, I am grateful. I don’t have a discharge date yet, I don’t see it being too soon as the reason for admission hasn’t been resolved, drugs alone can’t do that.

My neighbour just turned on the TV, I’m trying not to hate him.