Self harming is an odd behaviour, lets be honest, although having said that people do it all the time. Smoking, drinking alcohol, eating processed foods, using sun beds, living in cities full of smog and exhaust fumes; the list goes on. Yet those behaviours are accepted by society. For me I struggle to understand why I burn myself. There are a couple of obvious reasons; it calms me down when I’m feeling suicidal, it makes me feel better when I can’t cry, it feels good when there’s pain and it feels good both picking at and taking care of the wounds after. Weird right?
It can also make me feel like a failure when I can’t do it right. if the heat is not held on until I no longer feel the pain then I feel like a failure. if it doesn’t blister properly or char the skin then it’s not adequate. I’m struggling without my usual means. I’ve burned today, several times; little burns in the same spot, but it’s not quite producing the calming endorphins that it usually would. I’m not stupid. This is not healthy.
Again I’m feeling odd today. Totally apathetic towards life.
I’ve mentioned in previous posts that some of my “temporary friends” have now been discharged. The beds they vacated have off course been immediately filled. But I’m starting to realise there is a real problem in the system as many of the new ladies are familiar faces to each other or the staff from previous admissions to various hospitals. They seem to wear these episodes like badges of honour. I listen to them bragging to each other about what they did and how they got sectioned for the 4th time. I spoke about this very topic with my friend yesterday. She works in mental health as a solicitor, and agreed with me that the system is broken. There are truly tragic stories of genuinely ill patients that end up dead due to a lack of resources in and overstretched system.
I hate to say this because it sounds cruel but some patients are here for the attention. That does not in anyway make you less in need of treatment, I would argue that itself is an illness but it puts a huge strain on the system. It also worries me that everyone I’ve chatted with has been in somewhere before. Is that going to be my future? Surely there could be better community support? I wonder if we had to pay for our NHS care (even small amounts) would there be less Munchausen’s syndrome type behaviours in the mental health system.
I’m ashamed of being in here. I shouldn’t be. I know that mental illness is as real as anything physical, but still my up bringing, and family perceptions of mental ill health leaves me with a sense of shame.
Once I’m out, I never intend to come back.
Today had been terrible. Proper black hole terrible. This evening however I had a visit from a friend. One of the inner circle ones who know a little bit about my struggles. I guess you really know who your true friends are when they are willing to come to see you in this place. It probably helps that’s she works in mental health law and is therefore not phased by anything but her visit this evening lifted my mood beyond words and provided me with some hope for the future.
We chatted babies, men, inquests, the trouble with in laws and basically 2 hours where my head was filled with her encouraging voice and not my usual inner demons. She has no idea how much I needed that today. The hug she gave me when she left was sincere and actually made me realise that when I get out of here, I do have a local friend, who is awesome!!!
So what are obs’? Well obs’ in here are really how often staff check on you to make sure you’re not doing something self destructive. I’ve just had a chat with our nurse; a big step for me. Why did I do it? I did it because today I feel extremely low, the same feelings I had 4 weeks ago when I OD’d. I can’t really put into words those feelings but as we chatted, she commented that I need to survive if not for myself then for my family (I’m badly paraphrasing).
The trouble is those words meant nothing to me. I do off course think about the repercussions my suicide would have, but today (and I know this is selfish), I do not care. My desire to leave this world is greater than my guilt for those left behind. I off course think of my son. These past few weeks have taught me though, that he would be very well loved and looked after in my absence. He deserves more than what I can give.
I’m in a little protected bubble in this place, not the same level of stressors or responsibilities or societal expectations, that I’ll have once again when I leave.
I’m a horrible person.
I’ll choose a different metaphor today. It’s happened again, that nails on a blackboard feeling that cuts through me. Sitting in the dining room for morning community meeting. E chattering away, others making tea and shuffling their feet. Staff talking about what’s going to be on today……… just a million different noises torturing my senses. I got so tense and uneasy. I left. It’s more unbearable when my head is busy anyway and today my head is busy.
The logistics of looking after little man are becoming tricky. My mum spoke with me last night about what excuses we could use to explain him being at home for a few weeks. They’re all ashamed off me. Right now I need to burn. Right now I want to give up and die. I hate myself today……………..
Lets give the art room a go instead shall we.
Psych hospitals are odd places, but you make friends in here. Comrades to share experiences and anxiety’s with. Temporary friends if truth be told, but for the time you are together those little chats are invaluable.
My friends have been discharged one by one lately, and although I am genuinely delighted for their progress I am becoming lonely.
All off a sudden I’m very very lonely again, just like my first night.
I’m on a fairly good little cocktail of drugs at the moment. It’s no strawberry daquiri, but I guess it has some perks. Diazepam now twice a day, quetiapine twice a day and a zolpidem at night.
Last night was the first time I had quetiapine at night, along with my usual zolpidem and although it took ages to fall asleep (as normal), I slept soundly throughout the night. No crazy dreams last night, just a nice deep much needed state of unconsciousness. Around 8. 30 am I awakened, and for a few brief moments I had forgotten where I am.
But then it hit me!!!! I went to get breakfast and there was cereal and milk but as usual no spoons or bowels. Are we supposed to eat like dogs!? Cutlery is guarded heavily at lunch and dinner, but not at brekkie. I don’t understand it. At brekkie all the girls take the spoons and bowels out of the dining area and don’t return half of them. They’re not signed in and out like they should be.
I had a great nights sleep but my mood this morning is very low and after eventually getting brekkie sorted I went back to my room and sobbed into my pillow. Not much streamed from my eyes though, I’m very dehydrated.
My mouth is dry. I need to drink more.