Trauma. Suicidal thoughts. Self Harm. All three at once or separately they each suck.
I feel as if my doctors have thrown in the towel on me. I asked to go inpatient and was told no. I should know by now how to keep myself safe. I do not understand. If I am not safe and have been acting on impulses where do I turn? Where do I go too? I was told to go to the ER. I have done that in the past and once in the hospital, found that even the doctors did not know how to treat me.
I was given the name of my doctor who works on this specialized unit in order to be able to go back if I needed help. It has been three years since I was on the unit and am so disappointed in the way I have been treated.
I feel like I have cart blanch to act on my impulses. Nothing is going to be done if I do. I have many labels now. I wish that the doctors could see that I am a person not a label. That I am trying to work and use the techniques that I have learned over the years.
Right now I am lost. I hear my doctors saying they care, yet not doing anything. I was told yesterday that I am an adult and have every right to hurt myself! Who do I get to help me when the attitude is that I should just know better??
Right now is a hard time for me. I feel as if my treatment team feels that I am hopeless. They do not exactly use those words, yet treatment resistant and what is the hospital really going to do for you seem close enough.
I feel in between the living. Just existing. Waking up and going through the day to go to bed. It is like being in auto pilot and is so numbing.
I miss my former psychiatrist. She has moved on to other opportunities, yet none of my current treatment team seems to understand me like she did. She actually met me halfway and did not distance herself. One could tell that she was genuine with her clients.
From not finishing nursing and social work, I know all to well about protocol. Even as a nursing student I would hold vitals if the client needed to talk. What is an extra 5 minutes if it makes someone feel better? What happens when you treat someone with a little bit of individualism?
I miss that about her. It was. It about the clock, but about the person. I could guarantee the appointments were backed up, yet I knew they were that way because someone else needed some extra time that day. I really miss the way she treated me as a patient. I wish that I could find someone that would be willing to do the same!
As an adult, I can appreciate the snow. It is pretty to look at and just as pretty when all of the streets are passable again. As an adult I can read or work on a diamond painting. I can enjoy the cats watching the snow from the window.
As a kid, I hated to see that school was closed. It meant being stuck in the house all day with two grumpy people that found every reason to hate snow. It was movies that were inappropriate all day. It was normally the smell of something that I did not want to eat wafting from the kitchen into the living area.
I was to be unseen and unheard. Once I was older, there were normally school papers that I could work on. When I was young it was how to spend the day without pissing off the parental units. Normally that meant sitting quietly in my room and watching the other kids playing in the snow. I could color, yet my mother would have made sure to color in my book and I could not live up to her standard.
It also meant that the dogs needed a clear path to the yard. Every hour the snow would be cleared from the porch steps. It was obsessive. I would have rather been at school. Yes, gym sucked and I was teased, yet I had something to do and did not run the risk of pissing anyone off.
Today, I will enjoy what I could not in the past. I guess that is a win🙂
I feel like I am trapped. I am somewhere on the scale in more than one aspect of my life. I do not want to be alive, yet killing myself would hurt those around me. I want therapy, yet it does not seem to be going well with my therapist at this time.
Even my kids are a conundrum. I worry about their lives, yet I am not there with them during the week. There is only so much that I can do over the phone. I just received an email today from a teacher of my son who has chosen to not communicate with me. He is not doing well. I really want to be able to get makeup work for him and have him do it at my house, yet he will not even come out to the car to say hello to me.
At least I have my diamond paintings and can lose myself in that world for a few hours each night. I also have two sweet cats. One who is laying on my lap and another who gives kisses at night before she goes to sleep.
My husband allowed us to move this past year and I am no longer trapped in a neighborhood full of crime. If I look at the whole picture it is pretty divided. I am not even sure what image it conjures up. Maybe some type of storm where it is raining on one side of the painting with dark gray clouds and a rainbow on the other side. The problem is that I feel like I am right on the thin line down the middle.
I have been a noncustodial parent for over 10 years. In those years I have not had my children for one holiday dinner since they have to be back in the afternoon. There were not the first day of school pictures or even school visitation. When I would try to visit the kids at school I had to being my legal paperwork and a written note from their father.
Now that they are getting older I do not see them for dances or when they get home from school, I am not there to help them with homework. Most of our conversations are over text. I am at the mercy of whatever extra curricular activities that they are signed up for which often eat up a portion of my weekend.
The good news is that I still get to see my kids. I realize there are those parents out there who cannot and that has to be agony. I know that when I had my children this is not how I pictured watching them grow up. In bits and pieces when I have a chance too.
In my case it was my mental illness. I have had to fight to see them since then. It seems as if court is never ending. One day they will be old enough to choose. I am hoping to have that dinner or one more night. The future is promising, yet one child has been convinced that I am a horrible mother and no longer speaks to me.
Hang in there is you are in the same situation and keep fighting for as long as possible. It is an uphill battle, yet there is an end to the hill and the grass is greener on the other side.
Groundhog Day. That is what my therapy sessions feel like anymore. It is like neither the therapist or I know what to say. After a lot of thinking I am going to begin to interview new therapists. Maybe a change will help me out if this rut I am stuck in at this time.
The purgatory of mental illness is where I am right now. I really do not want to die, yet living is painful everyday. Not being able to talk in therapy does not help anything. Not being able to have any of my doctors truly understand me is even harder.
I am working on not self harming. I am taking the cats out on the sunporch to get some time in with nature. I am still journaling and I work on my diamond paintings at night. At least it all provides a distraction from what part of my mind really want to go.
I wish that I could write something positive, yet I am not in a place right now to do it. There has been no change in how I am. I have now been called treatment resistant. Yesterday, I said that I wanted to go inpatient and was told that the hospital would not help. I feel like I am hopeless. Even the hospital will not take me! Where do I go from here? Right now I just see a limitless bottom than continues to grow deeper.
There are many negative aspects of having a mental illness, yet I believe there are good ones as well. First, the bad. People stare at the scars left by self injury. Others feel as if you are incompetent because you have a mental illness. Others around you do not believe what happened to you even though you know the truth. Medicine is trial and error often with more errors than successes. You get labeled and people can become afraid of you even though you are the same person as the day before you found out about your illness. Going into the hospital and following all of the procedures is hard.
So what is so good about having a mental illness. I have learned to slow down and try to take each moment as it comes in order to stay alive. I have met amazing and talented people in the hospital who can be whatever they want to be. I have met others who have come out of this barren tunnel better and more assured of themselves. I no longer judge people. I never know what someone is going through. Most of all I have lived with it and know what is coming. I would love to be able to mentor someone who has just been diagnosed and may or may not be at rock bottom.
Having a mental illness has changed my life. It dies not define me, yet it is a part of who I am and my experiences. I know that I cannot go back, yet it is hard to move forward. I realized last night that I am finally at a place where I do not care if others believe me. I know what happened to me and I need to work through it all.
I keep going back and forth between feeling ok and feeling like crap. There has always been the trouble with sleep. Now it is to the point where the medications are not helping.
For the past few days I have felt well enough to read, go to therapy, and finish a diamond painting. Today, l cannot seem to get off the couch.
I do have goals today, yet they are slipping through my grasp as quickly as a stream of water. I feel like I am enveloped by a never ending and growing darkness. I realize that I have felt this bad before and have pulled out of it, yet this time feels different. I cannot see a future for me. I am to scared and to damaged to be of use to anyone.
I have supposed to have the kids this weekend. I can barely find the energy to even get a glass of water. I long for the days when I had a goal and enough courage to even take one step forward.