Another One

My last overdose was September last year; I couldn't go a whole calendar year without one; that would just be irresponsible! Wednesday night saw my belly greeting a rather small overdose. I took my self to hospital just to avoid scaring my housemates and to stop myself wetting the bed if I ended up unconscious for longer than expected. I think I was out for 17 hours, then they just kept me until I could walk and had a psych assessment. I saw my psychiatrist today, we chatted about it briefly but there were other things I wanted to discuss, like my hopeful misinterpretation from my Mum saying that my illnesses are all my own fault and that Dad wasn't perfect but much better than I remember. My Dr is very good at putting things into perspective and validating my feelings.

I've got two and a half hours to fill in until I see a friend for the night. I'm feeling rotten right now, but at least I have seeing her to look forward to.

Ten

Tonight is my last night in the hospital. I wasn't given much notice; my doctor decided only last night. It might have been a compassionate move to save me from a shared room. When you misbehave in here they can move you for your own safety. I think it's just to be dicks. I told the NUM that if he moved me I'd discharge myself. And if I weren't able to discharge I'd just camp in the hall refusing to go into my new room until they either gave my single room back or let me go home. So the naughty thing. I absconded a little bit. By stealth I got out the door, but then came back after about 30 seconds because the reality of the situation hit me - the police would be at the train station before me, and then I'd be taken to the psych ward I most dread. Not long after my return I needed to calm down, and the best way to do that is by cutting myself, so I smashed a mug in my bathroom and planned to cut my leg with the shards. I've got two pairs of black pants and two pairs of black leggings here, so I'd be able just to let it bleed without needing to patch it up and no one would notice. A nurse came in before I was able to do anything, and very shortly after, my doctor. I probably would have got caught anyway, as what I really want is a long gash from elbow to wrist, sometimes I can just feel what it is I need, and that's it at the moment.

TMS is finished, I was supposed to have 30, but the Dr running the show stopped it at 28 because it was obviously not working. I have been told it could still work, as it can be delayed. I think I'll just see how I feel while I'm at home and if I want to end it I've got a good method now. I'm only home for ten days anyway, Dr wants to do more TMS on the other side of my head - I had it on the left this time, now for the right. Also, he wants to take me off my antidepressant as we both believe it's doing nothing at all. Still leaves me on seven medications though! Ketamine is still a possibility, Dr has sent multiple emails and was going to call someone today. Dr is going away for ten days - one of the reasons for my discharge, and there have to be seven days at home before a new round of TMS - an insurance thing.

So K, how do you feel about returning to the big wide world?
Thanks for asking. I'm looking forward to catching up with certain friends for whom it is nearly impossible to visit me in hospital. I'm looking forward to getting back into the gym and getting my fitness up to a more respectable level; if that brings about some weight loss too, then great, but I think the weight is going to stay put until I'm off Seroquel. I'm looking forward to sleeping in my own bed. The hospital has upgraded to King singles, and I think my mattress is memory foam, so it's been super comfortable, but there's nothing like your own bed - especially when it's nice and big. I should probably use these 10 days of freedom to go to the dentist, there's nothing wrong but I haven't been this year.

Final thoughts: Don't be surprised to see me with tubi grip on my arm/s. Don't be surprised if I kill myself. Ask me if I want to catch up and I'll probably say yes, the busier I am the better; I've only got 10 days to get through, but that can feel like an eternity.

Free (Just Not For Long)

Well, what to say... I've been out of hospital for exactly a week - well one week and 7 minutes if we're being specific. It's felt liberating, I can walk out the door without asking anyone, get in my car and go wherever I like; after three months' incarceration that's a big deal. It's been a hard week though, usually my household cook for each other, we each pick a night of the week at the start of each week and then cook for everyone on that night. After being catered for (not always badly I might add) for so long I haven't got myself past cooking some pasta with a jar of sauce or scrambling some eggs. S is keen to reinitiate the group cooking, so hopefully we can convince the other two; there's just no motivation for me to cook a more complicated, nutritious meal when it's just me eating.

I'm probably going back into the hospital on Monday for two weeks - it better not be any longer. I've been a bit of a mess and DR thinks it's time to increase my Parnate dose, this was always coming because I'm actually not on the treatment dose, they say that's between 30mg & 40mg, I'm on 20mg right now. I performed some self-harm yesterday and the day before, I'd lasted a few days without doing so because I had no razor blades left and I'd never use a kitchen knife, in the end the urge got ridiculous so I went out and bought a knife, I now know razor blades are better - sharper. So this pretty blunt knife has left me with decorated thigh and wrist but no damage. I already had an appointment with my GP booked before I did this, but when I told her she was furious, I've never seen her like that before; usually she's understanding and tries to comfort me, this time she was saying that it's a poor use of her time to be stitching me up for something I've done to myself and she could be seeing other patients or talking me through things and actually trying to make some progress rather than being in the theatre stitching me up. I'm lucky I didn't need any this time - that knife isn't capable of cutting that deep. She still wants to be my GP, asked to see me for a double appointment next week if I'm not in the clinic; maybe she was just trying a different method - scaring me!

I had an experience yesterday whilst walking where I felt like my body had produced another and was walking behind me, so my mind was in the front body but all of my energy and my coordination was in the other body walking behind me. I made it to my car and the two merged back into one, I didn't feel right for the rest of the day. Today I feel teary and like spending the day curled up reading Harry Potter and not leaving the house would be good. I have a lunch date though, this is a good thing, it's someone I want to see and it'll get me out of the house.

Where's The Off Button?

I got in early this year, the first admission for the year at 11:30 am 1/1/17!  Since my last post I've been home and back here again following another overdose, there was some drama with the doctors in the hospital the day after I woke up; my support worker is helping me make a formal complaint. I'll write about that here when it's done with. Between the last admission, which was only 6 days, and this I spent about 2.5 weeks at home. There was no event preceding this admission, no overdose, no acts of self-harm; just a mood dip which started off gradual and then on Friday 30/12 took a huge dive. Though I wouldn't have thought it possible to go much further down, on Saturday it did just that, and I sent the simplest of text messages to my Dr asking for an admission, he arranged it within half an hour despite it being NYE, and here I am.

Depression isn't just feeling sad; sadness hardly has a role in it. It's an inability to think of anything but the void inside you. Moving feels like you're carrying a full-grown German Shepherd on your back. I went out for a coffee on Monday and on my way back to the hospital I felt what energy I had sapped. I was ready to sit down in the car-park I was walking through and appear to be a homeless person who'd picked a very unusual begging location. I know this isn't possible, but I was at a depth of depression whereby I felt my heart could willingly stop beating to save me from this feeling. I made it back to the hospital and just curled up cuddling my pillow - also how I spent NYE.

 I'll be seeing my doctor this evening, and I'm hoping to say more to him than when he came in on Monday, I was too down for conversation, he basically got yes and no answers from me. 

I can't write any more. I have loads to say but not the presence of mind to do it.

Depression and Anxiety Together Bringing You One Fine Week

I feel like after naming my last post Breakthrough and rhapsodising about what it is to feel again that this should be a positive post. But since a record 32 people read that post, and I’ll probably just get my usual 7 today I think I’ll just tell the truth.

I have been fighting anxiety off like a flock of hungry birds and all I have are some sticks made of benzodiazepines. My psychiatrist just gave me some stronger ones but I have to take them sparingly. In the last few days the depression has been getting stronger too, it’s the staying in bed, not being able to move, ignoring the world kind. I’m not going to church tonight even though that’s exactly what I need, I just can’t put myself up to the hour drive and the pretending once I get there. I need my friends to come to me (Thanks L), to sit with me in my PJs and drink tea.

I do a very good job of pretending. I went out yesterday and I felt genuinely good during some one on one time with my friend B.H but then the group part got too much and I had to put on pretending hat and I left before the second part of the evening began.

I woke at 11 this morning, made a coffee and returned to bed where I read until 2, that was nice. I want to go back but I’ll save it for tomorrow when Mum’s at work and I can stay there all day without question.

My Psychiatrist is going away, I’m not seeing him again until the 11^th of July. He’s made other arrangements for me, but I’m still quite scared. I’ll be looked after if I come crashing down, just not by him.

20mg

More drugs, possible admission with another month of TMS, plus maintenance; this was the result of my psychiatrist appointment yesterday. I'm now on 20mg of Abilify, this is quite a high dose, and will cost my parents a small fortune, none of my drugs are on the PBS, or they are but only for patients experiencing psychosis, my old Dr lied and said I had a psychotic illness, my current Dr isn't willing to take that risk, I guess they get a little slap on the wrist if caught. I don't lie to my Dr, I told him about the police and the deleted blog post that led to them being called. I was feeling even worse yesterday so he got to see first hand how I was, I managed not to cry though it was hard when he started talking about M - yes I'm still not over him, I hate that I'm not, I don't want him back but I just remember the good times and it hurts. He wants me to talk it through with my psychologist, he's not much of a talker, more of a drug pusher.

Today has been a big waste of time, I stayed in bed until 1 then did nothing for a while, watched the new Game of Thrones episode then stared at the ceiling for a while. The monotony was broken by a coffee date with L. It's great living with L and S, the three of us went to see The Hunger Games last night, it was our first household outing, I can't say I loved the film, but it was interesting after reading the book.

Day Six

I am the alpha dog!

I haven’t enrolled in dog training yet, but I’m implementing a few strategies using the Alpha dog method. Rico has a bit of food aggression and I’d like to get rid of it rather than avoiding him when he’s eating or munching on a bone. Starting this morning I’ve been making sure he sees me eat before him and then sitting with him, asking him to sit and then putting small handfuls of dry food in his bowl, patting him whilst he eats, when he finishes each small handful he is asked to sit again and gets another if he obeys; he got used to it very quickly and is already showing improvement. He doesn’t get to sleep on my bed anymore because the alpha dog gets the best sleeping spot and doesn’t share, I still let him in my room but he has his own bed. He also has to walk behind or beside me on the lead and sit before passing through a door – and I get to go first. I don’t like not letting him have a roam about on the lead (I’ve got a 5m retractable one) but that’s only temporary until he knows I’m the boss. I liked having him on my bed, but he is much bigger than Lester and I think I’d like the freedom to roll over if I so desire.

I wrote one scene last night and another tonight, they took less than an hour each and I can’t tell if they’re any good. I can pick the quality of other peoples work, but I think whatever mark I get for my work will always come as a surprise. I’ll submit both of them tomorrow and hope they scrape a distinction – I need at least distinction average for my first six subjects.

GP in the morning, I don’t think she’ll be happy with my Lovan abandonment but she’ll be glad I’m off Seroquel. A friend pointed out to me today that I risk losing her support by stopping the meds, I hadn’t thought of that, but I’m willing to start taking them again if she really wants me to and I don’t have a history of going off meds.

This Is Not A Diary

I got some sleep last night! As per the recent pattern I woke up after only three hours, but this time I got back to sleep within one hour and I stayed there for about five hours. I don’t feel amazing, but definitely better than I have all week, hopefully tonight goes well too; I’ve had no caffeine at all today – very hard for me.

  

I called the hospital my possible new psychiatrist consults at and it sounds like she is taking new patients, so hopefully my referral is interesting enough for her, I’ll find out on Monday or Tuesday. I’ve realised this blog is taking on too much of a diary tone, that was never my intention; I’ve just been too messy to write properly in the last few months. I have some creative writing I could publish but I think I’d rather keep it to myself for now. A few months ago I said I was writing an analytical piece on some Croakey articles, that’s about half done, my brain turned to mush and I stopped. So to make up for the diary-ness of late, here’s a dream from last night. My new drug is making dreams more realistic and intense.

A maze like shopping centre, with an adults only food court – despite few of the shops being licensed. My dad knew which of the guards checked ID and took my brother to the door with the lazy guard, they got through but within a minute a middle aged Asian woman approached him and asked for ID, he showed her something on his wrist and she smiled and said not to worry. Dad was gone and Mum, brother and I were in a huge car exiting the labyrinthine car park, presumably of the same shopping centre. Mum caught a glance at my wrist, my sleeve had crept up a little; she was furious and wanted me to cut her nose five times to show me the pain I’m causing her. Shocked, I refused, we argued loudly, after a while I said I’d rather put a big gash in her cheek than five little ones on her nose – she was happy to let me do it but I refused. We argued more and eventually I said I couldn’t hurt the one person who is trying to help me ( a note to my friends, this is a dream, you are all great), I felt embarrassed that I’d told her I need her. End of Dream.

I hope this isn’t’ an insight to my soul, I don’t hold any violent thoughts towards other people. My own self harm urges are becoming increasingly violent, but I’ve never considered hurting anyone else. It’s interesting that I revealed I need my mum, I would never say this aloud, but unlike the violence part I think this might be true... I’m at their house at the moment because I can’t look after myself and it’s been great, I got some sleep in a bed with fresh sheets (I can’t be bothered changing mine), I’ve been able to cuddle Lester, I got fed, I may not love the quality of conversation but there are people to talk to.

Quarantined Girl

Yes.
Waiting for test results, but probably.
Don't know yet - hurry up!


My Dr was kind enough to shove a stick up my nose and down my throat to test for whooping cough - which she is quite sure I have – and then asked me to avoid people for two days... Day one of quarantine has been pretty good, I watched three movies, two of which were set in the future – one of which either really sucked or was brilliant, I haven’t made up my mind yet. I’m not allowed to see people until I’ve been on my new antibiotics for two full days, since I only just took the first one that takes me to 9pm Monday. I have DBT assessment at 9am Monday and psychiatrist at 12pm and I have to get there on public transport – do I put the health of the people at risk or not? I’ve been walking around with it for a good month anyway. If you’re over 20 I suggest getting a booster, you’ll have to pay but it’s better than being sick, the antibiotics don’t actually get rid of it, they just make it safe for you to be out in public. I’m so tired but I can’t sleep much and I want a hug but I can’t see anyone (and I only have two friends it’s not weird to be hugged by). I need a new boyfriend, I love physical affection, but it’s hard to get when single; although as I said yesterday animals are great for it, I wish Lester was here now, or a nice man who likes being a headrest (can I ask for both?).

It's old now, but mildly relevant. Enjoy.

The Next Two Days

I don’t like to post twice in one day, but the earlier one wasn’t planned...

Last night was a little chaotic, it involved a hastily arranged GP trip and an early night. Today involved another (planned) GP trip and a promise not to do anything bad until I see her again next week, we reached a compromise on nothing that requires medical attention (that means I can shallowly finish the unicyclist). I had a good God talk with my dear friend C today, it cleared up a lot things I was confused about, among one of them predestination - God doesn’t want me, I’m not predestined, as much as I might want to be a Christian I can’t because he didn’t pick me. The flaws in that thought are easy to pick out, but it’s still an enticing belief. I mentioned yesterday that being unsure of my salvation keeps me here. C suggested that if I was sure of my salvation that I may want to stick around and show my thanks for it (not her exact words).

I know I talk very lightly about self harm and suicide; it’s not because I think them minor issues, but because for me they are common, constant thoughts and to not talk about them is to omit a large chunk of my head space. I think talking about it frankly is not a harmful thing for me, or for others. More people struggle with this than anyone realises, people you would never imagine even considering it have at least tried it. I hope that when you are confronted by this issue from one of your loved ones, having read about it from my perspective will help you understand them a little better. If you don’t think you know anyone who has or is struggling with this, you’re wrong, or you don’t know many people.

I hit a vein last night, I thought it would scare me, but it didn't, this worries me, I’m only annoyed by the ache it has left.