Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘suicidal thoughts’

So I don’t blog anymore, but somehow when the shit hits the fan it seems that my reaction is to want to come here and write. As I said in my last post, I have been doing relatively well. No crisis team, visits to A&E etc etc. No lows so bad that I have completely crashed and ended up really ill – there have been dips, but they have just about stayed at a level I can deal with. The downsides are that emotionally I have felt very flat and numb, which I blame on the medication, and that despite being more stable, I have still not felt like I want to be here. But they have been passive, rather than active, thoughts.

Over the last couple of weeks this has been changing. Or couple of months according to www.ifnarky.com but let’s not do that because this is my blog, and I prefer to think of it as the last few days/weeks. Slowly at first, and then really fast the last couple of days. My mood has been crashing. It wasn’t entirely unexpected – it is my birthday on Monday, and long-term readers may remember that birthdays freak me out, as does New Year. Other things too, but those two particularly. So a little dip in my mood was almost expected. But it isn’t just a little dip. It’s a bloody big dip. More like a fall off the edge of a mountain style plummet. But. But but but, it is different. I am not going to be able to explain how it is different, because I’m not quite sure to be honest, but I know that it is different. For a start, I am feeling far less emotional than in the past. Again, I am attributing this to the meds. I know I am feeling very depressed because I have lots of the usual symptoms, but the one conspicuous by its absence is actually feeling, well, anything really. In terms of other symptoms, I’ve had some periods of dissociation, and the vast majority of the time I am feeling as though I am underwater – you know when everything sounds and feels blurry and distorted? Very disconnected and spacey. Which a couple of times has been quite scary when driving. Then of course, the biggest problem for me, the very strong negative thoughts that fill my head, urging me to kill myself. But all of this without really feeling any emotions? Strange. I can see how the lack of emotion can be perceived as a positive thing in that I don’t have the completely shit feelings, but it feels weird. And in a way it feels more unsafe, because I am not completely wiped out in the way I would be ordinarily – normally in really bad periods all I can do is lay in bed staring at the wall, but although I am tired at the moment from the busyness of my head, I am not wiped out in that way. Which means I have some energy, which kind of feels a bit scary combined with the thoughts. Which are largely centred around not wanting to be alive, and not wanting to be here for my birthday on Monday, therefore killing myself before then. The time pressure of that is not helpful in trying to deal with the thoughts.

Yesterday I had an appointment with my social worker. I had been very tempted not to go – I didn’t really want to talk to her, because although I like her a lot, I don’t find it helpful seeing her really, and I didn’t want to leave the house. But I went anyway. And within five minutes really regretted that. A little background – my social worker is pregnant, and will be going on maternity leave in September. The week before last she switched me from weekly appointments to fortnightly ones. As I said, I don’t find it that helpful seeing her, so I wasn’t too bothered about that, although I had told her it is a bad time of year for me, and that I therefore was slightly concerned about the timing.  But it was ok. So I didn’t see her last week, saw her yesterday. She asked how I was, I told her that I was struggling, that I was having strong suicidal thoughts etc. She told me that she had been speaking to the team manager and the psychologist that I used to see, and that they had decided that I would be ready to be discharged when she goes on maternity leave in September because I am doing so well. It was a ?!?! moment – I said I felt suicidal, she said I was doing so well that I was ready for discharge. Somewhat confusing. And to be honest I couldn’t take in what she was saying or think about it, because I was struggling too much with what was going on right now to listen to her go on about how brilliant it was that I am doing so well, and how exciting it is that I am ready to be discharged, and what a brilliantly positive step in my life this is. Maybe all of that is true, but really, was that the most appropriate time to bring it up? I’ve been under mental health services continually for 8 years, and it didn’t occur to her that it might be a good idea to have a CPA review with me, and whoever is involved in this decision, and discuss how I would feel about it? Or even just discuss it in an appointment? That presenting it as a fait accompli may not be the best way of doing it, and that when I have just said that I am really struggling seriously for the first time in over a year may not be an entirely sensitive time to bring it up?

This isn’t even a rant about being discharged. I don’t know enough about how I feel about that yet at the moment. I am trying not to give in to the thoughts and kill myself before my birthday. What I am ranting about is the lack of sensitivity, and basic common sense, displayed by mental health services. Telling me that when I had just said how much I was struggling was not a good idea. It was very bloody invalidating actually. Like she hadn’t even been listening to what I had been saying, because she was just waiting to get her good news in, which was very much presented as wonderful news. Does anyone else find this strange or is that just me?

So anyway, that hasn’t helped things. I didn’t need anything else to think about. I was already feeling shit. So today things have been even worse. I am really struggling. There are the thoughts. And then there is me. Not actually wanting to fight them. Even when things are better I don’t want to be here, so what on earth is the point of keeping going? That sort of thing. And this desire, which is actually stronger than a desire, more of a need, to not be here for my birthday. I don’t know. It’s tough. It feels incredibly difficult right now. And I just don’t know if I care enough to fight. Right now I feel like I don’t. And I want to stop my meds, but that is a whole new issue I’m not even getting into now, however related.

This is a horribly incoherent, mixed up post. I don’t write anymore. That is my excuse. Actually fuck it, I don’t need an excuse, it is my blog, and I needed to get my thoughts out somehow.

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

So I am still a week and a half behind with what has been going on. Oops.

That Saturday night I was having really strong suicidal thoughts; they seemed to be getting stronger and stronger each day, and I seriously considered acting on them – I had planned what I wanted to write in my note, I had planned what I wanted to happen to what money I have etc etc. But since I had agreed to seeing the crisis team the next morning, as I didn’t want to go to A&E again, I found I was in a difficult position, as although remote, there was a chance they may have offered some more help or something, and as I have said before, I feel like if there is an option other than suicide, then that needs exploring first. I don’t mean distant, long-term things that are months away, but things that are immediate possibilities. So I forced myself to get through Saturday night, and saw the crisis team on Sunday morning. They were predictably useless. I was feeling absolutely horrific, and they just did the usual of telling me to try to distract myself, and said that they would speak to L the next morning. It was entirely pointless, which I had been virtually sure it would be, and I was desperately wishing I had just acted on the thoughts the night before.

That afternoon I had to go to a rehearsal. I desperately didn’t want to go, and was really looking for any excuse whatsoever – I had hoped the crisis team visit would coincide with it, but unfortunately it didn’t, and my mum said to me that if I was going to go ahead with the show, which essentially I had to do as it was only two weeks until the performance week, and to me dropping out at that point was not a valid option unless I was dead. The rehearsal was one of the hardest things I have ever done I think. I know that sounds melodramatic, but it was just horrible. I was there for over four hours, and I was just feeling like complete shit – I was exhausted, I couldn’t concentrate, I was very anxious, there were too many people, it was too much noise – it was just everything I couldn’t cope with. I also clearly looked like absolute crap as so many people asked if I was ok – I used the headache and tiredness excuse, both of which were actually true, as I had a really bad stress headache, and was obviously exhausted. Several times I just found the main rehearsal room too much and had to go off into another room and ended up bursting into tears, despite the Diazepam. I was also very stressed as I didn’t know my lines, because of my complete lack of concentration, and the director was insistent that everyone knew them for the rehearsal the next day when we were running Act 1, so when I got home from the rehearsal I had to try to learn lines, which was just the last thing I felt up to doing. I was wishing more and more that I had acted on my thoughts weeks before, as I was utterly convinced that was the right thing to do.

Monday was fairly uneventful, but there had been a very slight shift in my mood. Although I was still feeling terrible, I didn’t have quite the same level of desperation as I had in the days before. I skipped ballet yet again that day, and went to rehearsal – again looking and feeling like shit, but I got through it. Diazepam really is a wonderful drug! Tuesday I saw L. There was obviously quite a lot to talk about, as I hadn’t seen her for two weeks, although I had spoken to her the previous week, and of course a lot had been going on. She was really supportive, as she had been on the phone the previous week. She told me some things which explained why she had been more distant lately, and apologised for not giving me as much support as I needed. The previous week I had spoken to the manager one day, as he had been the duty worker when I phoned in, and he said that they would look into allocating someone else to see me on the alternate weeks that L couldn’t, as it seemed that fortnightly contact wasn’t enough, and that there was a new social worker starting in a few weeks and that she would be a possibility. When I saw L though, she said that she had decided that she was going back to seeing me weekly whenever possible. Although she has cut down her hours, most weeks she is there at least part of the time, and some weeks all of the time, so she said she would see me weekly unless things changed and she had to have more time off, in which case she would ask someone else, probably the new social worker, to become involved and see me when she couldn’t. So I am now back to seeing her weekly, although there are conditions involved – she said we need to make sure we are working to some specific goals and targets, rather than just talking about things generally, although obviously we will be doing that as well. I appreciate that she has gone back to seeing me weekly, as I think it was a little bit of controversy over it with her manager from what she said, as most people she is only seeing monthly, and some fortnightly. She also said that I could see Dr E the next day, but rather than seeing her at the CMHT where I usually see her, it would mean going up to the hospital, as she was the psychiatrist on duty for MHA assessments that day, and when they do that they have to be based at the hospital, but she could apparently see me first thing. I said that would be fine, and so L said she would pick me up at 8:30am. Ouch.

My appointment with Dr E was ok. When we were in the car park, L had her window wound down as she had to put her ticket in to get into the car park, and as L was parking someone got out of a car near us and dropped quite a lot of stuff. I said ‘oopsy!’ and L asked what had happened, and I said ‘they dropped stuff everywhere’ followed by ‘oh crap, I forgot your window was open’. Then the person turned around, and of course it was Dr E. Naturally. Her and L and gone to talk alone so that L could bring her up to speed whilst I stayed in the waiting room, and when she came to get me she apologised for running late and said she was having one of those mornings, as she thought I had seen in the car park. Ah. Yes. She did hear me then. The actual appointment was fine. Dr E isn’t the terribly sympathetic kind – she is nice but she is very matter of fact and straight talking. She didn’t really ask much about how I was feeling – it was mostly about symptoms etc. She asked about the anti depressants the GP had prescribed, and why I hadn’t taken them, which I told her, and she said that was fair enough and she wasn’t that keen on Seroxat anyway – that she found that for most people it didn’t have a massive impact in terms of benefit, and was then a nightmare to come off. She asked why I thought anti depressants might help now when they didn’t seem to have helped in the past, and I said that this had been the worst patch I had ever experienced, and that it was over a year since I had been on anti depressants, and I thought it was worth a try. She said that was fine, and that she was happy to prescribe something, but that she didn’t want to get into a pattern of one medication not working and trying another and another and another etc – that she would prescribe one, or perhaps two, but that was it – if they didn’t help then we stopped looking down the medication route. I am not entirely sure about this, as I know quite a few people who have needed to try lots of different medications, and combinations of medications, before they have found one that helps them, but I agreed to that. She asked if there was anything I didn’t want to take, and I said Mirtazapine or anything else that would make me gain weight. She said she would prescribe Sertraline, which is a medication I have been on before, but that was six years ago. She said that recent studies have shown it to be the most effective, or one of the most effective, of the SSRIs, and that it has few side effects. So she prescribed 50mg for one week, then 100mg for the next 5 weeks, then she would see me again to see how it was going, and probably increase it further then. So that was that. Actually, she did spend quite a long time with me – probably far longer than what I have written here would imply, and was quite thorough in going over everything that had happened, and what was going on, and then discussing medications – it was actually fairly long for a psychiatrist appointment. But then that was the first time I had seen her since June.

This is another stupidly long post, so I will stop now, and write Part 4, which will bring me up to date (finally!) either tonight, or sometime tomorrow.

Read Full Post »

After going to A&E, nothing much happened. We had been told at the hospital that someone from the CMHT would see me the next day – possibly L, as that was the one day that week that she was in work, or if not her then the duty worker. However, nobody did see me. My mum phoned and spoke to L in the morning but I can’t remember why, except to say what had happened and how the crisis team had claimed to be acting under direction from the CMHT, which L denied. At this point I was really quite upset with her – my last two appointments with her hadn’t gone well, I was feeling very unsupported, and I was holding her responsible to a large extent for the fiasco at the hospital, and did actually believe she had somehow been replaced or brainwashed as she had seemed to change so  much. In the afternoon she rung and talked to me, and asked how I was and what was going on etc, and was really caring and supportive, and that made a difference, because I went from thinking she was against me to feeling like she did care again – talking to her that time was like talking to a version of her I hadn’t really spoken to or seen for months. It did help to feel like I had someone back on my side, but as that was the only day that she was in that week I obviously couldn’t see her or anything, and so I was still left with no support, except the option of ringing and speaking to the duty worker at the CMHT or the out of hours number.

On Wednesday and Thursday evenings I had to go to rehearsal. I can’t even describe how difficult that was. I was feeling so terrible, and I looked dreadful. I think virtually the whole cast said I looked ill and was I alright. I was completely run down and exhausted. I never have problems with my skin really, and suddenly I had 8 red spots covering my face – I never even got that many spots when I was going through adolescence! I felt hideous, and I was really anxious about having to be around people and out of my house and with all the noise etc. Diazepam is a life saver. Wednesday’s rehearsal was spent finishing the choreography of a big full cast dance number, so at least I didn’t have to think too much or say anything – I just had to learn the choreography, but it completely drained and exhausted me mentally, and I was feeling really on edge the whole time. Thursday was worse, as it was just the male lead and I working with the director, which sounds like it should have been easier as there was less people and noise, both of which are issues for me at the moment, but it was horrible. We were working on dialogue, and I just felt completely useless. I find the director quite difficult to work with anyway, as I find she gives quite contradictory directions, but if you query anything she looks at you as though you are incredibly stupid – she is not a very collaborative director. And she kept saying she wanted to see my character be more cheerful and happy, which was obviously incredibly difficult because of how I was feeling, but actually didn’t really even make sense in some of the scenes – she is quite a feisty character with lots of yelling at people etc, and in those scenes it is obviously difficult to be soft and happy. I left the rehearsal feeling really awful, and unfortunately my mood slipped even further that evening. I hadn’t thought that was even possible, as things had already been the worst they had ever been, but by Thursday night I was just feeling indescribably awful. The pressure of the show was making me feel worse, but I didn’t see dropping out with less than 3 weeks to go as an option, as I don’t have an understudy, and it would be a nightmare for someone else to have to take the part over with that little rehearsal time. So although dropping out would have served a purpose in that it would have alleviated pressure short term, the guilt would have been enormous, and I know that word would get around that I was unreliable, and no company in this area would ever cast me in anything again. If I was going to be dead that would be a different matter – it wouldn’t matter that nobody would cast me, because I wouldn’t be around to be cast, but to me the options were either doing the show, or dying, and it absolutely had to be death – a failed attempt would be a disaster.

On Friday morning my mum phoned the CMHT and asked to speak to the duty worker, and said how bad things were. He said he could have a quick chat with me, but my mum said that wasn’t enough and so he said he would see me that afternoon. He wasn’t terribly helpful – he talked in cliches for a while, and said he would do a referral to the crisis team. Friday night the crisis team phoned me, and when I finished speaking to them, I was genuinely wondering whether they intentionally hire stupid people. She asked what I usually did to distract myself, and I explained the usual things – that I usually read, or watch TV, or listen to music, or talk to friends online etc, but that none of those things were options, as I had no concentration, and was really sensitive to noise, and it made me feel worse rather than better. She then suggested I read. I repeated that I just couldn’t concentrate to read – it didn’t work, and she said that she got the impression that anything she suggested I would dismiss, which I thought was somewhat unfair, as she had only suggested one thing, and I had already told her it wasn’t an option. I could look at a page of a really quite simple book (we’re talking James Patterson here, not War and Peace!) and ‘read’ it, but at the end of a page I wouldn’t actually even be able to say vaguely what had happened. I suppose it would be like giving a book without pictures to a child who hadn’t yet learnt to read in terms of how useful it would be. She had quite clearly been given instructions not to discuss what had happened Monday, as she suggested I go to A&E if I felt safe, and I mentioned that I had tried that on Monday, and she immediately cut in saying she couldn’t comment on what happened on Monday as she wasn’t involved, but that would be her advice if I felt unsafe. She said that they would call again the next evening, and I asked if it would be possible for someone to see me instead as I found that more helpful, so she said that somebody would ring in the morning. During the night I was feeling really desperate and very unsafe, and so I rung the out of hours number. I talked to a really nice nurse who was very supportive, and said I clearly wasn’t getting the help I needed and that they were obviously getting things wrong for me to be feeling this bad, and to be left at home feeling this desperate with only fortnightly appointments. He talked to me for a long time – I think it was about an hour and a quarter, and let me talk about how I was feeling, and the nightmare situation with the crisis team. He was pretty unimpressed by the lack of support I had from the crisis team, and said that it was frustrating that they were the only ones with the power to admit now. He said he was going to phone and speak to the crisis team and tell them how bad things were, and see what they suggested, although I told him there was no way I was going back to A&E, which he accepted. He rung back after a little while and said he had spoken to them and that he had actually had more luck than he was expecting to (which I think says a lot about the opinion the ward staff have of the crisis team to be honest) and that they would ring in the morning as arranged, but would talk to me properly and try and come up with some kind of plan. I have to say that apart from a couple of times I have always spoken to really supportive staff when I have rung the out of hours number – it is just a shame they work for the ward and therefore have absolutely no power to do anything, as they seem to be the only ones who actually listen and take me seriously.

Saturday morning someone did phone, and it was actually amazing – it was the first person in the crisis team I have ever seen or spoken to who a) was willing to just let me talk and listen, without constantly just telling me to use distraction techniques and get me off the phone as soon as possible, and b) actually seemed to give a shit. She spent a long time talking to me and wasn’t dismissive, and was sympathetic about the experience at A&E on the Monday, and made it very clear she wanted to help. I feel like most members of the crisis team have a couple of set things they suggest – distraction, which is usually in the form of having a bath, going for a walk, watching TV, reading, or listening to music; or going to A&E. She didn’t try to tell me to do any of those things. She asked what I felt like I might be able to do that day, and did I think I could maybe try to have a shower and something small to eat? Since I had said that things generally got worse during the day, she said that she would phone back later to see how I was getting on, and to try to do those things in the meantime, and attempt to find some way of passing the time. I did have a slice of bread, and managed to shower at some point. Apart from that I watched the athletics on television, but mostly muted, as I found the  noise too much, but when it was just the picture I could cope with it and it was a reasonably good way of passing time, as it wasn’t something that required any concentration, and I didn’t have to have sound to see what was going on. When I spoke to her later she was really pleased with what I had done, and was really encouraging, but by that time I was really feeling very suicidal. She said it really did sound like I should be in hospital at the moment, and that despite what had happened on Monday that I could go to A&E, and since it was the weekend then the crisis team would have to see me, or the alternative would be for someone from the crisis team to come out and assess me the next morning. I was quite honest with her and said that it really didn’t matter what happened, because she was the only member of the crisis team to have ever taken me seriously or cared at all about what happened to me, and since I wouldn’t see her whether I went to A&E or was assessed at home (her shift was about to finish and she wasn’t working the next day) then nothing would happen either way, as everyone else was too obsessed with sticking to my care plan, which says to avoid admission if possible. She pointed out that sometimes it isn’t possible, which is exactly what the ward nurse who had assessed me in A&E had said when I told him the same thing, but there seem to be very few people working in the NHS who don’t view the care plan as some type of sacred document that must be followed to the letter. Except when it suits them, as my care plan is from Autumn 09, and there are a lot of things listed on there that no longer apply, like seeing my old support worker N weekly, who left a year ago. So either way I wasn’t holding out any hope of anything happening, but I agreed to being seen at home the next morning – I was absolutely not going to go through the fiasco of sitting in A&E for hours just to be sent home.

Again, this is more than long enough already, so I will continue tomorrow – should be able to bring things up to date then!

Read Full Post »

I am not sure where to start really. It has been so long since I wrote a proper update, and so many things seem to have happened in that time that it is hard to know where to begin. I suppose I will carry on from where I left off, which was the weekend following Karita’s visit, but I will try and keep things as brief as possible.

I had made the decision not to take the Seroxat that the GP had prescribed for multiple reasons; firstly, I was feeling so low that it seemed completely pointless, as I didn’t see myself still being alive in a few days, let alone the weeks it would take for it to kick in. Secondly, if I was alive, I had been told that L was trying to get an appointment for me to see Dr E for as soon as possible, and I decided I would prefer to wait to see what she would prescribe, rather than do what I have done in the past, and taken something prescribed by a GP, to then be told by a psychiatrist that they would have prescribed something else, but now that I was on X I may as well stay on it. And thirdly, I was worried about starting it. There is always a risk with anti depressants that they will make things worse in some way before they start to help (if they do help), and I was already feeling incredibly unsafe, and it really was primarily my complete lack of energy that was stopping me from acting on my thoughts, and I was concerned that starting a new medication when I was feeling that bad, not due to see anyone for a week and a half, and my CPN was on leave was just not a good idea. So I didn’t take it.

Over the weekend I was a complete mess. I was feeling desperately suicidal, completely exhausted, couldn’t stop crying, etc. By Saturday night it had reached a point where my mum felt she really had to do something, as I was having to sleep in her bed to stay safe etc, so on Sunday morning she spoke to the out of hours Dr, and arranged for me to be seen. I was supposed to be at a rehearsal that afternoon, but I didn’t go, and instead went off to see the GP. She said she would phone the crisis team and that they would come out and see me, and to wait in the waiting room whilst she spoke to them, and then she would see me again to let me know what was going on. Seemingly they refused to see me, which was no great surprise, but said they would speak to me on the phone, and would call later. They did call, and I can’t really remember much of what was discussed, except the usual telling me to try to distract myself. My mum also spoke to them and told them she really felt I should be in hospital, as this was the worst I had ever been, but they predictably refused to even see me to assess me, but said that if my mum was concerned about my safety then to take me to A&E where I would be assessed. Their final words to me that night were that it was my decision whether or not to kill myself. By the night-time I was feeling desperately suicidal, and phoned and spoke to the out of hours number. I spoke to a man who was very understanding, and said it sounded like I wasn’t getting enough help, and that I should probably be in hospital, and I explained about the difficulty with the crisis team, who were refusing to even see me. He said that he would recommend I go to A&E during the daytime, in ‘office hours’, as I would then be assessed by the duty psychiatrist and one of the nurses from the ward rather than the crisis team. So Sunday night I slept in my mum’s bed again, and then Monday we went to A&E.

We arrived there around 1:30pm – it would have been earlier but my mum had phoned the CMHT first, and had spoken to the manager and received the same advice about going to A&E if she felt I was unsafe. The saga of A&E is actually worthy of its own post, but it isn’t going to get one. Basically we waited a few hours, during which time I saw the triage nurse, and then an A&E Dr, who called the duty Psychiatrist to come and assess me. They turned up – the psychiatrist was in a big rush, so didn’t talk to me for that long, but did do an assessment, and made the decision that admission was appropriate, firstly to keep me safe and give me some support, and secondly to get me started on some medication in an environment where I could be monitored closely. I agreed to this, as although I didn’t want help or to be kept safe for myself, I didn’t want to hurt people. She said that she would get the crisis team down to assess me. It turns out that even a psychiatrist can’t admit someone anymore; every admission has to go through the crisis team. I immediately knew that nothing would come of it, and explained some of the problems I had been having with them over the previous couple of weeks. The psychiatrist dashed off about this point, but the nurse from the ward who had also assessed me stayed and talked to me for a while longer, and I said that there was no way the crisis team would take me seriously or do anything, and he said that he thought that things would be different this time given their assessment, and that he would go and phone the crisis team and ask them to come to A&E to assess me, and that he would probably see me later. So then it was back to A&E to wait for the crisis team.

The Director of A&E was really lovely, and came in a couple of times to check I was ok, and said that the crisis team would be coming to assess me and he understood I was going to be admitted and was I feeling ok about that etc. After a couple of hours of waiting in a tiny A&E area he came and said he was sorry that the crisis team were taking so long, and that if we went to the Emergency Assessment Unit area they had a lounge with sofas etc and that we could wait there instead, and that I could also talk to the crisis team there, so we went off there. However, when we got to the EAU we got put on a couple of chairs in a cubicle of the main ward, and it was really loud. After we had been there for about 45 mins the A&E Director came up and said he was really sorry we had ended up waiting there, and that he had intended us to wait in the lounge, but it turned out there were men in there and apparently there is some new NHS rule that meant that because they were in there then I couldn’t be, but that they should be there to assess me soon.

Finally someone turned up, but it wasn’t the crisis team – it was the next duty psychiatrist. And he wasn’t there to assess me – he was there to tell me that the crisis team were not going to come and see me; that they had been spoken to on the phone and that they had decided, without seeing or speaking to me, to ignore the assessment carried out by the psychiatrist and psychiatric nurse, and to send me home with no support, knowing that my CPN was on leave all week. In fact, worse than that, they apparently said they hadn’t been given the impression that admission had been recommended, which was a complete lie. My mum was absolutely furious, and I just ended up getting really emotional and sat there sobbing. We had been waiting four hours for the crisis team to turn up after I had been assessed, I was exhausted as I had only had three hours sleep the night before, and now we were being told that the assessment in the afternoon had been seen as irrelevant by the crisis team, without them even seeing me, and that I was being left with no support at all. My mum threatened to go home and leave me there and said they would just have to find somewhere for me to go because she couldn’t cope with me at home, at which the (young looking, and therefore probably fairly inexperienced) psychiatrist looked fairly panicked and said that he would go and ring the crisis team again. He came back and said that the crisis team had agreed they would see me if the CMHT referred me, but not otherwise, and that he would phone the CMHT first thing in the morning and ask someone to see me. But of course nobody did. By the time we left the hospital we had been there for seven hours, and had achieved absolutely nothing. I have to say that I am quite amazed by how much power the crisis team have – I am aware they gate keep the beds, but I was surprised that they could overrule an assessment carried out by a psychiatrist and psychiatric nurse without even seeing or speaking to me. Considering they are based on the same site, I can’t think it would have taken that much effort to send someone to assess me – even if they had disagreed with the view of the earlier assessment they would at least have seen me. Needless to say it went down like a lead balloon, particularly with my mum, who I think was probably as desperate as I was. She immediately said she was going to be writing a formal letter of complaint, which she told to the psychiatrist who spoke to us in the evening, who agreed we had grounds to do so.

When we got home she rung the hospital to try and speak to the Director of A&E, as he had been very supportive, and had also been told that I was going to be admitted, and she didn’t want the crisis team to be able to turn around and say they had been told it wasn’t recommended when both my mum and I had – she wanted the backing of a professional. They said he usually only worked office hours, but he had been there when we had left at 8:30pm, and was in fact still there when she phoned soon after 9pm – he said immediately that he knew why she was ringing and was absolutely horrified by the way that we had been treated, and that he had already been making complaints to the people high up in the hospital about what had happened. He also said he was happy for my mum to say on the letter that he had been told by the psychiatric nurse who assessed me, who was also the person who contacted the crisis team, that I was going to be admitted, so that they couldn’t deny it. The really ridiculous thing about the whole saga was that it was the crisis team who said to go to A&E in the first place, and then when we went there they didn’t even see me. It was a very long, stressful, horrible day, and I wish they had just said before we went that there was no point as they would block any attempts at getting me help, which they clearly intended to do from the start, as we then wouldn’t have gone. Needless to say I didn’t make rehearsal that night either…..

Since I have so much to catch up on, I will continue tomorrow, as I think this is long enough already. I clearly failed at keeping things brief, sorry!

Read Full Post »

Break

Just wanted to let you all know I am not intending to blog for a while. I may or may come back to it, I don’t know. I have met some wonderful friends through this blog who I value enormously, but I feel too much like I am being judged by what I write here to continue. I have nothing to talk about except how I feel, and that is not changing, and I can’t cope with being accused of crying wolf for talking about my feelings, so I feel a break is in order. The suicidal thoughts are incredibly strong, but since I am still alive that apparently proves I am just attention seeking, and the fact that the professionals and my family know how I am feeling but don’t offer any more support makes me feel like they either also think I am attention seeking, or that they have accepted my decision – it doesn’t really matter which. As I have said before, I have been having trust issues for a while, and they have just been exacerbated by things that have been going on on Facebook lately in relation to this blog, and I just can’t deal with it. I had been considering taking a break anyway, and events tonight have made up my mind. If I am around, those of you who want to keep in touch with me know how to. Thank you very much for all of the support over the past 15 months or so. I appreciate it enormously and wish you all the best. xxxx

Read Full Post »

I was lucky enough today to be visited by the lovely Karita. I can honestly say that she is one of the most caring, supportive people I have ever met. It was really good to have someone there, in ‘real life’ who I didn’t need to pretend with, and who was completely non judgemental and made me feel cared about. Despite having never met her before, I felt able to be completely honest with her, which although I do when writing on this blog, I find incredibly hard to do when actually speaking to someone, but I just felt completely at ease with her. She spent hours listening to me and cuddling me and letting me cry, and just being completely wonderful. I can’t say how much I appreciated her visit. Her husband, who is also lovely, drove her up here, and then left us to it for a few hours, and then I had my appointment with Dr O, which she came to with me, and then we came back home and they both came in for several hours, and left at about 9pm. They don’t live close to me, and so it really did mean such a lot that they had made so much effort to come and visit me. I am always amazed that anyone could care about me at all, let alone someone who had never even met me, and had to travel hours to come and see me, just because I am struggling so much. I am immensely grateful that she did though, and just for the record, she gives great hugs! I really can’t thank her enough.

My GP appointment was fairly uneventful I think. Karita may remember more if than I do – I don’t have a great memory about appointments. My mum had spoken to L at some point today, and told me that L had said to ask for blood tests to be done, which she did suggest to me a couple of weeks ago, but I forgot about, and that if my GP was happy to then she could prescribe an anti depressant. How kind! I have only been saying for about nine months that I thought I was better on medication, even if it was only slightly. My GP said that since I have problems sleeping as well then Mirtazapine might be a good one. I can’t remember if I actually laughed out loud at that or just in my head, but I said there was no way I was taking it, and she asked why, and I said because of the weight gain. She said that I knew too much, and that she wouldn’t have told me about that. Suggestion number two was Seroxat. Since I had no actual intention of taking anything that was prescribed due to the whole suicidal thing, I did let her give me a script for that, but it is not a medication I have ever wanted to take, primarily because of the controversy over it regarding stopping taking it, and also the fact that it increases suicidal thoughts in some people. I mentioned the Panorama programme and got told off for knowing too much again. I am sure Karita won’t mind me saying that my favourite part of the appointment was when Dr O was talking to her and asking where she had come from and if she worked etc, and then asked if she had taken time off work, ie meaning today to come and see me, and Karita was clearly thinking in mental health terms and replied ‘no, not recently’. My second favourite bit in the appointment was after telling my GP how suicidal I was feeling, she asked what my parents were doing tomorrow, and said (quite excitedly I thought) that there was point to pointing on, and seemed to be presenting that as a reason to stay alive. My GP is sweet, she is very well meaning, and she cares, but I think Karita would probably agree that mental health is not her speciality, and she does come out with some comments that are either very random, like the point to pointing suggestion, or quite unhelpful, like trying to guilt trip me into staying alive by telling me how it would destroy people’s lives if I killed myself etc. I never find comments like that at all helpful, as of course I think about it – I think about it non stop, and I hate myself for it, and I wish there was an alternative, which is why I continue to seek help even when I no longer want it for myself, but there does come a time when your pain is just too immense, and even knowing how much you will upset the people you care about just isn’t enough, but I think that is probably something that is incredibly difficult for anyone to understand unless they have actually felt that level of desperation themselves. I tried to be honest with Dr O. I think I was, although I did find I was getting more and more frustrated as the appointment went on, and so remembered less and less of what was being said. She just kept telling me that I could keep going, and that I could see the nurse for blood tests next week and then her again the following week, and I was getting more and more worked up as the suicidal thoughts are just so overwhelming. She told me to book the appointments for the blood test and to see her again, and also told Karita to talk to me about things or something when we got home (I’m not really sure – I think she was telling her to persuade me not to kill myself?) and then to phone and speak to her later, but I didn’t book the appointments, as it seemed entirely pointless, and I didn’t phone her, as I had seen her an hour before – I had nothing else to say. She did phone and spoke to my mum, but I have no idea what was said.

The suicidal thoughts are very strong and very overwhelming. I truly wish there was a way out of all of this without hurting people, but there isn’t. I can’t cope, I am completely desperate, and yet again I am in the position where I am next due to see someone in nearly two week’s time. I am out of options. I have told everyone how I feel. I have tried to get help, even when I haven’t wanted it. I have tried to keep going. I have tried doing the things I am supposed to be doing, like going to bed early the other night, going for a walk etc etc, but I still feel the same. It was really great to see Karita – she really was an absolute star, and I love her to pieces, and all of the support I get online is invaluable, but nobody can take away the thoughts, and at times like these when I am alone with them it is just all too much. I have no hope for the future, I have no fight left in me – I have nothing but desperation.

Read Full Post »

It isn’t getting any easier. Last night was horrible. I literally was unable to keep my eyes open, and fell asleep, crying because I needed to stay awake longer so that I could wait for my parents to go to bed and kill myself but just couldn’t do it. I slept for a few hours, and then woke at about 2:30am I think. I was still feeling utterly exhausted, but not sleepy. I needed the toilet but I didn’t have the energy to move, so I held it in for about three hours before I finally reached the point where it was moving or wetting the bed. When I woke up I was questioning whether or not it was too late in the night to go ahead with my plan. I don’t do things on impulse, and I will not attempt suicide unless I think there is at least some chance of it working, and obviously the higher the better, and for my first choice plan this means leaving as much time as possible before anyone will find me. My second choice plan isn’t time limited, but is very much a last resort plan as far as I am concerned. I knew that the man from the DWP could arrive any time after 9:30am, which meant that potentially I didn’t have that long, or at least not in comparison to the length of time I would sometimes have, and I was yet to write the note I wanted to leave, which would have taken some time, and so ultimately I decided I couldn’t do anything. I decided I would prefer to wait one or two more days and have a higher chance of it being successful. I was still very upset about it all though, and once I had woken up I couldn’t get back to sleep for at least four hours. I came online and talked to Danni on Facebook chat for a long time, who was very supportive. I found I was getting increasingly worked up about everything, and so in the end decided to call out of hours, and ended up speaking to the same woman I had spoken to the previous night. She seemed different last night – I suspect she had looked at my notes and seen the BPD diagnosis, as she was certainly less supportive than she had been the night before, and started going on about doing a part time college course and moving out and various other things that feel beyond me when I am doing better, let alone at the moment, whereas the previous night she had been surprised by the lack of support and was telling me I needed to fight to get suitable help. Of course I can’t prove anything, but her attitude was definitely different last night. It didn’t really help talking to her, as the things she was talking about were just so far out of my realm of possibilities that it was more frustrating than anything else. After I spoke to her I came back online for a little while, but was feeling really quite upset, and decided I would go and invade my mum’s bed and sleep in there, which I sometimes do when I feel shit.

Today my mum woke me up at around midday, as the DWP man arrived. It was pretty ridiculous really – he had been sent around because the Inland Revenue had a query about the amount of interest my savings account had made in 06/07. They thought it seemed too high. I said that since I have always had to send off bank statements to the DWP, they have always known how much money I have, and so I don’t see how there can be a query about the interest, when they had a statement to go with it. He said it clearly hadn’t been entered on the system properly or he wouldn’t have been sent around. It seems ridiculous that they will send someone around about something from five years ago, that would have been unnecessary if people had done their jobs properly. He then had to go through all of his form and ask if I had had any changes in circumstances, if I was still unable to work, etc etc. I have got to dig out all of my bank statements since November ’09 and send them to him – that will be a mission. He was very friendly though, not remotely confrontational or pushy, and if I hadn’t been feeling so awful and exhausted it wouldn’t have been remotely stressful.

This afternoon my mum dragged me (pretty much literally) out on a walk with the dog with her. I didn’t want to go – I felt ridiculously tired, my head was feeling like it was going to explode, and my legs felt like lead. I can’t say it was remotely enjoyable, in fact I loathed it, but at least they can’t say I am not trying. She has also been making sure I have some food, although I have absolutely no appetite. I am not eating three meals a day, or anything even approaching it, but I am having something every day. The suicidal thoughts have been very intense again today. I got very upset earlier and just kept telling my mum I wanted to die. Today I felt like I reached a point where I no longer wanted help, I didn’t care that L wasn’t doing anything, or that I couldn’t see the crisis team, or anything else. I just don’t care anymore. I am too drained and too exhausted, and too sick of fighting. I have given up on trying to get help, as it clearly doesn’t work, and I feel fine about that. I just don’t want to be here.

Today I have felt very undecided about whether I was going to act on the thoughts tonight or not. It is actually another blogger who has made me decide not to do anything tonight. I desperately want to, but another day can’t hurt right?? A couple of days ago the lovely Karita offered to come and visit me tomorrow. At the time I was planning to kill myself last night, but since I am still here today, I have decided that I can get through one more night. It amazes me how kind and caring people can be – I am so grateful to all of you out there who have been so supportive of me. It means so much. Lovely Frankie phoned earlier and we had a nice chat. I feel very lucky to have such caring people around me, albeit online rather than in person (except for tomorrow of course). I also have my GP appointment tomorrow, which again, I wasn’t planning to be here for, but the combination of that and Karita visiting are making me think I must get through tonight. I know there is nothing my GP can do, and as I said, I am past the point where I want help to be honest, but she was very caring and supportive when I spoke to her yesterday, and she said repeatedly that she really wanted me to go and see her tomorrow, so I will. There really is nothing she can do – L has effectively blocked both the crisis team and hospital, and I don’t even think that seeing the crisis team would be enough anymore anyway, and I don’t want to be in hospital. I think this is the worst depression I have ever been in. It isn’t lifting at all, and there is usually at least some part of me that wants help, but trying so hard to get it and getting nowhere has just taken the last of my fight out of me, and I have nothing left. I have been trying to do what I am told – I went to bed early last night, and it was a disaster, I went for a walk and hated it, and it exhausted me to the point that I had to go back to bed and just lie down in the dark when I got back – I didn’t even have the energy to have my laptop on. At least nobody will be able to say I haven’t tried everything. But I will get through tonight, and tomorrow I will spend some time with Karita, who is lovely (and I am sure spending time with friends must be another approved thing to do – they always seem to ask if I have friends I can see), and I will see my GP, and hopefully that will be the end of my involvement with any professionals. I did feel like it was unfair of me to let Karita come all this way to see me when I am such a mess and will probably be really shit company, but she has assured me that she doesn’t mind. I don’t care what anyone says – the internet is really really great. (Any musical theatre fans can carry on with the lyrics from there!)

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »