I have come back to this blog after a break. I loved writing in it and enjoyed reading bloggers’ viewpoints on things mental health related. I’m back writing here now mainly because of my depressive relapse. I need the support at the moment and this is my outlet. For now.
Everything is such a blur lately. I have already touched on the problems with a job contract ending a few months ago, which is what I believe started this sharp downward spiral.
Most worrying for myself and family has been the three recent hospital admissions. The previous two admissions had been intentional overdoses. Was I trying to kill myself? Well, not exactly. I wanted to feel poorly (take my focus away from the mental pain). I also had strong urges to cause harm to myself in general, and to take too many pills in particular. Additionally, the first hospitalisation made me feel better when I did wake up post-seizure, almost like the seizure reset my brain chemicals to near normal function. I had it in mind that if I could replicate this seizure resetting, I might feel better again.
As it happened, the second overdose precipitated a seizure while in the hospital and, again, I felt a bit better. This sounds quite bizarre, I know, but I wondered if it was somewhat the effect of Electro-Convulsive action of the seizures.
Following the overdoses, I was given a psychiatric assessment in hospital, the result of which was a scary discussion about a possible hospital admission. I was against going onto a psych ward because I’m quite easily overwhelmed by strange new places and people and, frankly, I was just picturing all the films I may have seen where some poor sod is holed up in a crazy ward. I am worrying it would be a pretty horrific experience.
My close family were with me and wanted me to stay and wait for the psych evaluation. I wanted to get out of there. The psych team had a crisis on, so we were told we could be hanging around for a few hours. Yeah, hardly. It was about 16 hours!! I was so tired but couldn’t sleep in a hospital buzzing environment. I’m grateful now that my Mum told me to stay and my Dad came in and told me the same thing. It was the worst waiting experience I’ve ever had. We were in a relatives room on the day it was roasting hot temperatures. They found a bed for me but my family had to just deal with no sleep. I never imagined it was going to take longer than three hours, so no one went home to sleep ,because I needed someone to come into the consultation with me, advocate for me and generally remember what was said.
When I got the hospital doctor sometime around lunch the next day, he asked me tons of questions: What happened? Why did you take the tablets? What were you hoping for? Do you regret it now? If you go home now, do you think you can stay safe?
I’m sure there is some way these questions help them determine my risk to self and others. I took the overdose because I felt awful and I thought either I could have a seizure again (perhaps feeling some symptomatic relief), or perhaps I would die. The place my mind was in, it didn’t matter too much which outcome I got. Having said that, the doctor said he had to go talk to his consultant to discuss what to do with me.
My family wanted me to go into hospital. I didn’t want that so I took the home treatment option instead. This is not something I’ve heard of, but it was explained to me that it’s like being an inpatient without being in hospital. I know, strange concept… This option means you have psychiatric nurses coming to your home every day or every other day. They check how you are doing and I assume continue assessing your mood. It’s more intensive than community psychiatric nurses and it has been pretty helpful so far.
I may write a bit more on these recent events as they are new territory for me and, maybe, if I explain how the treatment scenario panned out for me it could help someone else who’s facing the unknown or thinking of hurting themselves.