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 seriously on the brink of smashing a window, or chucking furntiture about. It’s seems to be the only way to get staff to talk to you in here. They make the promises of leave and then off course someone kicks off, gets all thier attention and you’re left to wallow alone.
I feel so fucking alone. I want out, just for a walk by myself to clear my head, just to get away from the mumblings, the constant belching of other patients and the chaos. I’ve had a video sent to me off my son at home with Granny C and it’s upset me. I’m feeling so useless as a mother.
But as usual when I knock on the office door, I get ignored. They don’t even look up from their computer screens, I knock again and yup still ignored………… I’m not the type to shout or get angry at them, but it may have to start.
My head is absolutely racing and I want to burn. I just need space, 15 minutes of space……..
Nearly everyone drags their feet in here. It’s a personal bug bear of mine but today I caught myself doing it. It must be the drugs. Around 3pm today my body crashed, and I fell asleep, like I’d been hit with a horse tranquliser!! At 5 I heard a voice through my bedroom door “Dinner’s here if you’re having any”. It startled me slighlty. I had no intention of sleeping.
As I suantered over to the dining room, there it was; the sound of my feet scuffing the floor.
I then recieved a whatsapp message with a photo of little man eating today. You think it would have raised my spirits but it hasn’t. I’m feeling low right now, very low, want to order zopiclone low. But what is it that they say; “This, too, shall pass”
D’s kicking off, throwing cereal boxes around and rambling!, E’s cleaning up clattering the sugar pot lid and smashing fridge shelves about. E’s playing her radio. R comes in and starts playing music on her phone. Staff are chattering and the cleaner arrives with the floor buffer. I can’t stand it! I can’t stand it!!!!!!! It’s too much noise…Nails on a blackboard again!!!!!……………………………… I need to get away……………..
I’ve just finished up with my weekly psych review, and marched back to my room. I want to be alone. Then the lady who runs the group psych meetings pops in to ask me to join. “No Thanks, not today.” But as she leaves she remarks, “That’s a pretty hair colour, is it natural? For most people such a simple compliment would raise their spirits, but for me, it’s just another reminder of how different I am, and how much I hate those differences.
What do you see when you look in the mirror? I see ugly. I may have said this already in another post, I’m losing track but the other day my mum was in she told me; “you need to up your game” when she saw that glamour of some of the other ladies in here. She probably said it jokingly, but it hurt. I’ve always felt like she never quite got the pretty daughter she’d been looking for. She’d always remark about the style and beauty of other young girls my age who came into the shop she worked in. It always felt like she was disappointed with us (me and my sister).
I don’t do fabulous nails, perfectly plucked brows or meticulously glamorised complexions, and it’s not because I don’t want to. When you can’t quite see the details of your own face very clearly in a mirror its very difficult to flawlessly and artistically beautify them with all those products that we women are meant to use.
I’m ugly and I’ll forever be ugly. That’s just the way it is.