Today for the first time ever, I got to spend time with S, outside the confines of a hospital visiting area. Today was the first time, we both basked in freedom, drank mochas and laughed from the pit of our bellies. She has not yet been discharged, but her progress has been such that she is allowed accompanied leave. In her words; “It was boss!!”
She continues to inspire me, and although those days in a psych ward were some of my darkest, they brought me a friendship that was unexpected, and a friend who makes me stronger.
Today was huge!!!! gut wrenching, nausea inducing huge. After 6 months of absence, I made a lunch, adorned my lanyard, swallowed some PRN (lirazepam) and went back to work.
I’m currently sitting in my old office, albeit slightly rearranged. I asked my boss if I could have it back; and he said he’d think about it, but within 20 minutes following our meeting I was informed that its current occupant has been turfed out, giving me my space back. My office space is something that is important to me. I’m on the 3rd floor of the building which means that I’m not subjected to same levels of student traffic as the main teaching rooms are on the floors below. Being “hidden away ” in this manner means less ad hoc student drop ins, less ad hoc concerns, complaints or general chat, which can quickly eat away at time preserved for tasks. I’ll still get the occasional knock but with less frequency than staff on the lower floors.
Coming back to work has been very emotional for me and I’m still feeling a little shaky and overwhelmed. Colleagues have been lovely, with hugs and offers of coffee and no prying questions. I’ve just eaten lunch with a few but i really didn’t participate much in the conversion. I’ve lost that side off myself, lost all my confidence but it will hopefully come back.
A nice little work related task just appeared in my inbox this morning, not from my manager but from one of my previous students, who is applying for PhD’s. I was his undergraduate project supervisor and he wishes to use me as a reference. I am delighted to do that for him, and even more so because his email helped to ground me this morning. His email was my first interaction with any students albeit electronically., but it also provided me with an icebreaker manageable task to get my fingers typing and my mindset back to work. It was exactly what I needed. It also helps that he was a great student, and his reference will reflect that.
I’m now emotionally and physically drained, and really just need to go home. I shall leave soon.
I’ve noticed lately that thoughts are becoming more and more muddled. I have frequent memory lapses and today at lunch with a friend, I couldn’t flipping string sentences together.
OH has noticed slurred speech at times, though usually after my night time sleep aid indulgence. However I’ve also noticed difficulties during the day. My mouth is often Sahara dessert dry, which could be a factor, but I am a little worried.
God this day needs to end. I’m home alone and I don’t do so good alone.
I can’t keep doing this. The binging, the purging, the self hatred and the relentless scheduling of activities to fill my day. My head is so fuzzy and I’m so tired.
I need to knock myself out for a while, so sweet dreams people.
I honestly don’t care if tomorrow never comes. It will come though, and this hamster wheel will continue to spin.
At the midpoint of my psychology journey with K, I was informed that she writes a letter to her patients at the end of therapy. I should have been given this in our last session togethar but she admitted not being in the right frame of mind to complete it, and thus it would be posted to me.
Since our ending, I have been waiting desperately for that letter, and today it arrived.
At first read, I was angry with her. It seemed to me, to be to clinical in nature, and the lecturer in me couldn’t help but get annoyed by the typos and grammatical errors. Had she rushed it? At first read I couldn’t find the optimism, kudos and words of encouragemt that I had hoped for from K. At first read, my failings, stupid behaviours and inadequicies jumped from the pages, mocking me. I almost ripped it up and threw it in the bin.
I’ve since been to the gym, and upon returning home, I’ve given it a 2nd read. The letter is indeed a truthful representation of our journey together, and under careful scrutiny it does contain some kudos.
What I’ve learned from this letter and my expectations of it; is that there were some issues around transference that we never dealt with. In short I was expecting a letter from a “friend”; but I received one from a “therapist”
I really miss K, and I suspect this feeling will last for some time yet. She was awesome. I will keep the letter and remind myself to focus on the positives contained within it.
I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d keep blogging after hospital discharge, but I find it therapeutic.
Thank you, to all off you who follow my blog, keep my hits counter ticking over, hit like on my posts and make me feel a little less alone in this world.
I have good days and bad days, switching from suicidal to hopeful, but I do want to get better.
The gym sessions, the cycle rides, the coffee dates, and today’s return to the toddler group are all about improving my physical and mental fitness. I have developed some good habits and held tightly to some bad ones, but I’m learning gradually to be a little kinder to myself.
I’m also more determined now to find activities or hobby’s that are just for me, that will break the cycle of Mum first, lecturer 2nd and exhausted 3rd.
My return to work is edging closer now, and I know the dangers of not putting myself first from time to time.
Be kind to yourself today, even if you’re faking it, you deserve something nice. We all do.
My CPN is leaving and I’m gutted once again. In my last psychology session with K, we chatted about the security and continuity of having my wonderful CPN.
I can’t imagine anyone else being as good or kind. I can’t imagine building up the same rapport or trust with someone new. I’m feeling this loss as heavily as losing K.
In therapy, you’d call it “a last minute bomb”. She dropped the news near the end off our appointment today. I guess its hard on both sides.