One of Two

I have expressed fervently my desire not to go down the deep brain stimulation route but the spectre is looming. I met with my psychiatrist today and again he subtly hinted at it, acknowledging my disgust at the idea but at the same time nudging towards it.

On Wednesday I returned home from a week in hospital during which time I had 10 sessions of TMS, with no obvious result. My anxiety is sky high and mood at about a 3/10. I took my discharge medications to my pharmacy this afternoon, the 89 pills of 10mg Neulactil being a strong pull. I think now I don’t have enough of anything to make for a decent overdose, I’d probably get a few hours sleep out of it but I’d rather have several days unconscious. As I try new and old medications to no avail, 100+ sessions of ECT, and TMS and their effect ceases to mend me I’m travelling closer and closer to the final options of deep brain stimulation or suicide. I’d much rather be dead than have my head opened up and meddled with. Please God, send a gunman into the house as I sleep tonight with a mission to kill me and only me, may he be given a medal for extreme kindness to the mentally ill.

My anxiety wasn’t helped by arriving home to completely different dynamics. I knew our new housemate, A, was moving in but I forgot that with every change in housemates there are changes about the house, however minor. I guess it was just unsettling to come home to the lounge re-arranged, a pot plant in a new spot and new stuff in the bathroom. I like A but it would have been a better transition for me if I was here during the move and her first few days in the house. A good thing is that she’s a student, which means sometimes I’ll have company during the day instead of the complete isolation I usually contend with.

I haven’t done any work on my novel since last year. There are two very different directions I can choose to take it in. I’ve written a prelude and a chapter down one path but I think it’s the other I want to take. Decide K!

That’s all for today, my anxiety is causing dizziness and my brain is struggling to think of anything to interest you.

Good Evening.

2/10

Squish!

I’m currently eating my second Oreo McFlurry with extra Oreo in two days. Can I suggest to any visitors to bring me one as a sacrifice when you come over in order to have the best chance at meeting a not insanely depressed K. This is the second thing I’ve eaten today, the first was my breakfast, one piece of toast and one egg.

Today my mood has been a 2 out of 10 and anxiety 8 out of 10 (for mood low is bad and for anxiety high is bad) I’m definitely ready for the TMS top up I’m getting next week. I feel like crying all my moisture out and then freezing it in a cocoon and sleeping in it until I go back into the clinic on Wednesday.

Over the last 10 days I’ve been experiencing psychotic symptoms, but despite being clearly psychotic in nature, my psychiatrist, whom I saw only this afternoon, says they are not actually psychosis. I don’t know what else to call hearing things, feeling my body floating and seeing something clearly but it being wrong. Whatever! At least I don’t have another diagnosis to add to the bag.

I wish I wasn’t such a fucking coward and I could just take our biggest knife and stab right through my throat and enjoy the pain as a last salute to the world.

On an entirely different topic, let me know if you would like an extra body at your Christmas this year. After ours going all wrong Mum said she’s not doing it again and to find a friend to spend the day with.

A Flat Festive Season

Girl found the best place to spend a 36-degree day

I had a fun combined birthday party with my housemates. All three of us are December babies. It was the happiest I've felt for a long time, aided by alcohol I'll confess, but I wasn't really drunk, just happy drunk. I've never been properly drunk, I don't want to be like my dad even once. The happy feeling didn't last; I returned at midnight after the party to the hospital - they gave me extra leave to go to my own party, how nice of them! I had 10 TMS treatments and it picked my mood up from a 4 to a 5 (out of 10). This is just a bleh number to be at; nothing's joyful, nothing sucks so much you want to stab yourself, you don't feel suicidal, just bleh. I'm back in for another 10 on the 10th Jan, they're going to do two a day, so I may only be in for five days.

I met a man online, met up, no good. He needs friends though so I might contribute there, nothing more. Ideally I'd be with the kind of man who would be attracted to me as I am right now - though not grumpy. I am trying to lose weight but it's very hard on Seroquel, that fucking drug just makes your brain constantly scream I'M STARVING! FEED ME. I definitely look better 50kg thinner but even if I lost it all and was pretty again I'm going to decline with age, so I want a man who loves my brain. My brain isn't all bad, it's funny, friendly, compassionate, loving, caring and very loyal. Maybe I don't want a man who can't look past the fat. I can understand being put off by my illness, but I think it's pretty well managed and if I had something like a good relationship to live for I'd be a lot better. Right now if I kill myself I'd wrestle with myself about the pain I'd be causing the people who care about me, but I'm not sure I could do that to a partner. I think I'd try harder to stay. That's a big burden to place on someone though, so maybe no one wants that.

As I've been so flat I haven't had a single creative thought for a week. Not a word has been written on my novel. My life has just been appointments and a couple of coffees with a friend or two. I went to the church my housemates go to on Sunday as mine was not on that night. It was good to experience a very different style of church. Good sermon. I liked the quality of the music, but the song choice was not what I like, they were nearly all talking about what we are going to do for God or because of Him. I prefer songs simply glorifying God, I don't want to sing something about myself, what if I don't do it - I've lied to God.

Being from an immigrant family means Christmas sucks. There's three of us in Australia. My brother lives with my Mum, and his girlfriend recently moved in, I assume she's having Christmas dinner with us. Mum has two friends who are from the same area as us, the man was actually engaged to my aunty but it ended; they might come for Christmas, but haven't confirmed yet. Mum has a boyfriend (I don't like calling him that, it sounds too adolescent, but doesn't partner mean you're living together?) who she tries to keep secret. I asked if he'll be joining us but he has his own kids to have Christmas with, she said maybe later on in the day. Yeah, so Christmas will be sit down, eat a duck, clean up, read or something like that. I like to watch the Queen's speech, Mum just jokes her way through it but I think it's quite meaningful. This year I get to attend the Christmas Eve service at my church, usually I'm in hospital. It ends after midnight, hopefully that means the roads are quiet for the hour-long drive to Mum's.

I hate this time of year, everyone's busy; right now I just want to sit down around a table or on some couches with a friend and chat about anything and everything. I can't read with my head this foggy and I just don't want to watch anything. I'm listening to music but there's almost permanently a musical background to whatever I'm doing. I might go outside and cuddle the chickens, it's looking like a storm's on its way and my phone has just confirmed this, I've got a little while though.

Sorry this wasn't the most enthralling read I've ever given you, just an update.

Only Five Stitches

I don't know the train timetable for my local station, and I haven't scouted out the best way to get to a train without actually jumping off the station platform and traumatising everyone on it. I feel like making the trip down there once darkness has EVENTUALLY fallen tonight - fuck you daylight savings!

I had a bad day. Woke around 6 am and just stayed in bed because it is warm there until 8 am when I could stay there no longer. Breakfast, French lesson and then carved up my arm. Appointment with my support worker followed by a lucky to get appointment with a GP at my clinic, but not my GP as she's away. Five stitches, lots of steri-strips and some antibiotic cream on a wound from Saturday and off I went. Lunch. Appointment with my psychologist - that went well - and she's seeing me again on Friday because I need some extra support to make it to Sunday when I go back into the clinic.

I've been exhausted since about 1 pm, and I couldn't sleep when I tried to nap. I'm going to follow hospital timetable and take my meds at 8 pm, which will have me asleep for 9 (hopefully).

I went to church last night and had a lot of trouble with the crowds and having to sit still for so long. I went out to make myself a cup of tea and got roped into serving on supper as there was only one person doing it. I planned on going to the train station afterwards but had a good conversation with one of the ladies in the church. It should have made me feel worse given the content, but it was nice just to have a long conversation with someone. I need that tonight, but absolutely everyone is busy. (sorry if I didn't call or text you and you're a friend, my brain is foggy right now. You can call/text me though)

My eyes hurt, I need to close them.

The End.

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.

Choo Choo

Today was my 20th TMS, it was supposed to be the last for this round, but since not a drop of improvement has been found, we're persisting to 25. I think it will stop at 25 and my doctor will have to hound the Ketamine trial people, he's also mentioned deep brain stimulation, which I think sounds worse than it is, I've read a little about it, but I'm not going to do thorough research until the idea is officially on the table.

I seriously thought about killing myself yesterday, (the idea comes up every day, but usually I can shoo it away) I went out on leave and ended up at a train station. I sat there for about 45 minutes just watching the trains go by or stop. There's a sharp corner the train has to come around about 100m from the station, if I lay on it, the driver wouldn't see me until he's on top of me, no time to stop. I say lay, not stand because my plan is to place my head on the track so it gets crushed and there is 0% chance of survival. I'm not looking for another cry-for-help attempt; I want to die! The reason I didn't do it yesterday is that I still had six more TMS treatments to go and I had a glimmer of hope that I may feel once again what I had for those few weeks after the last round. Of course with each day passing and no improvement seen that hope fades. I'm on escorted leave only now, so no train for me until I'm discharged.

Why do I want to end it? Why can't I trust that my doctor will do all he can to help me? Well, I'm just worn down. It's been ten years of depression, and the last seven have been brutal. Doing even little things takes it out of me, writing this is hard when I'm sitting on my hospital bed propped up against the pillows I just want to be hugging. It's a lonely situation to be in as this hospital is 40 minutes from all of my friends' houses and about the same for my Mum. I'm always glad to get a visitor, but I don't beg people to come because I know it takes so long. I used to make friends in here around the art table, but I stick to myself now, I've been burned by hospital friends too frequently. I have one left - that's you L. Today I can't really concentrate, I've tried watching something on Netflix and didn't get far. I'm a quarter of the way through a movie, so I'll have another shot at that once I've posted this. But really, all I feel fit for is curling up under the blankets with some music, or perhaps an audiobook on.

A World Away (from the TMS machine)

I fear my holiday may be over with 19 days to go before the flight home...

I arrived in London on 7/7/17, had a nice few days there before going to Edinburgh for little over a week, where I had a fabulous time. On arrival to Manchester I got to stay with my Aunt and Uncle in their 1640s farmhouse and play with their Great Dane, Bailey and French bulldog, Oliver. I was there for little over a week before coming to my Grandma's while Mum is alone in Italy. The public transport is more accessible from Grandma's than the farm and I don't have Mum to drive me around; I'll be back at the farm upon Mum's return.

I think I've succeeded in doing something every day. I went into the centre of Manchester yesterday alone, I only got a little bit lost. Today I had lunch with my Grandma, Aunt and cousin at a farm with a cafe and shop attached in Uppermill, it was very picturesque, but since there was a handrail in the way of any shots I would take and it was raining I refrained from photo taking. Tomorrow I'm going to my other Grandmother's, I think it'll take three buses. I'll hang out with her for a little while before my cousin and her daughters come to meet us there, we're then going to buy clothes for one of her daughters. Sadly my grandmother can't come as she is housebound. I wish she would consent to move into a home where she can get the care she so badly needs and some company, but her own room so she can also have privacy. I feel bad just flitting into her life for 5 minutes, seeing how happy the company makes her and then pissing off to the other side of the world.

While I was in Manchester yesterday I bought myself a new watch from Selfridges. I saw it last week with Mum, but she talked me out of buying it because it's Selfridges, therefore it's a humungous rip off; but in the meantime I've seen many similar, and frankly not as nice in other shops for a similar price, none lower, some quite a bit higher. So here it is.

I started this post saying my holiday is over, well, that's because I'm worn out; not from too much activity, from my mood and my need for a TMS boost. I finished TMS on 22/6/17, 36 days' ago. I should be in there now for maintenance. I'm so tired. I've had two naps today, one either side of the family lunch. I'm not at risk of doing this, but my mind keeps telling me to slit my throat and wrists, the throat for suicide, wrists just to see the blood. I'd never do it here, my family would have no idea what to do, if they found out, it may be summer but it's currently 14 degrees and raining so I'm wearing long sleeves. I'm wondering more and more about psychosis, I'm already on two anti psychotics, yet these urges to hurt myself are more like voices, I feel the physical pull but then there's an argument, it only contains my voice, but the other creature pulls me. I can't describe it so I'll stop there.

I've got three days coming up in the North of Wales with my Mum, Aunt and Grandfather. They're going to be pushing me to go on day trips and get angry if I waste the trip - and therefore Mum's money by staying in bed. I just don't know if I can do a whole day anymore.

I'm Too Happy to Buy Bottled Death

I'm writing this mostly for myself so I can remember that good times are possible.

I got home from hospital on Thursday, my last two TMS treatments being on Wednesday, and I feel good, verging on great. I woke up this morning smiling because I'd slept a 10-hour night right through with no extra sedatives; do bear in mind though that I had my normal sedatives - Neulactil, Stilnox, Seroquel and Lorazepam. I had a rather freaky dream, but not of the scary kind, so I didn't wake up troubled. My housemates and I just went to Bunnings and walking down the chemical aisle I briefly thought "If I drink that I could kill myself" but I pushed it out of my head really fast, normally I'd be thinking about whether or not I should buy it to keep handy for a really bad day or series of days.

Right now I'm letting my brunch digest before I go to the gym for the first time in my life. My support worker was able to get me $7 casual sessions at a nearby(ish) gym. I'm terribly unfit at the moment and I want to be able to walk more than 10 minutes when I'm in the UK so I can explore places, especially Edinburgh, it's quite hilly and the best bits are high up. When I get back my doctor is going to try to get me off Seroquel so I can drop some weight - an impossible task when taking Seroquel; currently I'm 113.5 KG, size 20. Somehow the change from size 18 to 20 felt really traumatic, much more so than going from 16 to 18. I'd like to drop some weight before the trip but I really don't think that's realistic now with it being only 10 days away, but hopefully if I go to the gym every day or every second day my fitness will improve a bit.

That's all I've got to say for now.

Happy K signing off!

Seven Weeks And Three Days

It looks like this is going to beat my longest admission of nine weeks. I'm now at seven weeks and three days in here, plus the six days I spent in the medical hospital.

I've had two courses of ECT - that's 12 sessions and unlike usual they did nothing to help. My doctor has put me on a new drug - Reboxetine (Edronax), I'm still on a fairly low dose, these things have to be increased slowly and also take a while for the results to become evident. I'm looking forward to seeing if it will have any positive impact on me on a higher dose and with more time.

I can't function at the moment; I'm spending the majority of my days lying face down on my bed hugging a pillow. I missed lunch today, but I went out for coffee and a muffin with a friend; that will be my activity for the day. By the end of the outing I was exhausted (If you're reading this K, I really did enjoy seeing you). All I could think of was bed by about the halfway point. Yesterday I remained in my pyjamas until about 4pm, maybe later. The most I did was watch 3/4 of an episode of Bob's Burgers, I could watch the rest now but writing this is taking all of my energy - so don't expect this to be a good read, not that they're ever fun!

Since my last post, many physical things have changed. It turns out my wrist was broken - well fractured - it was the pisiform. The GP here in the clinic said that in her 36 years of practice she's never seen a fractured pisiform. I had a month in a cast, but it's getting re X-Rayed tomorrow because we suspect it's not healed. I really don't want more time in a cast.

I had an ultrasound that found a large ovarian cyst that needs to be removed due to its size; often they can be left, but not this one. I think this will be my 6th surgery.

I had a chest CT scan because I was coughing so much I was vomiting and struggling to breathe, it was suspected to be a flare up of my asthma, but it doesn't look that way. Still, I'm on four inhalers for now. The CT came back clear.

I don't think I've felt this depressed for a very long time, not for long periods, there are always very short stints, but this is consistent. I can wake up and think " Oh thank you, I'm okay" and then as soon as I see the first person or hear a noise the flatness re-appears and the dark thoughts return. I've promised myself that I will never go back to a certain public hospital, which is where they send sectioned patients from here, so I have that motivating factor not to injure myself either in the hospital or while out on leave. I have suicide plans but the only one that will definitely work will traumatise someone else, so I don't want to do it. If I try one of the ones that may fail I could end up back in that awful hospital. So despite feeling intensely suicidal, I'm actually quite safe.

A few weeks' ago a minister from my church and a man from my small group came to take communion with me; I was very touched by that. I value communion greatly; I find it to be a physical reminder of what Christ has done for us and a physical way to connect to the church, not just your own, but the entire Christian church. It also forces prayer and reflection prior to taking it, both being things we can cast aside due to other things in our lives. I have plenty of time to pray, but I spend it feeling so caught up in how awful I'm feeling that often the best I can manage is "God please forgive my sins and please help me"; sometimes even just "God I need your help". I know God would rather us acknowledge we need Him than try to do life on our own, so I try not to feel too guilty about my lack of prayer life, but I would like it to be more substantial.

That's all I've got to write now.

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Bye.