I emailed C yesterday. C was my care coordinator just before, during and after my last hospital admission. I miss her terribly. Since moving home, my new team have been pretty dire. Very nice, but I’ve been promised a psychology referral since early July and they still haven’t done it. I have the same conversation over and over again, but I’m getting no support or care.
This would never happen with C. When she told me she would do something, she would do it. She made me feel properly “listened” to. She made me feel less alone.
I probably stepped over a boundary emailing her. I’ve been desperate to call her, but I’m no longer her responsibility and I guess, i thought a little email would be less intrusive. I’ll never know, if she actually saw it, or read it.
I’ve had no reply, and I’m gutted. This is most likely my BPD at work. I become reliant on people and when they’re gone, I miss them way more than I probably should.
I really really really miss her and I’m feeling lost without her
I guess I just need to learn to deal with it.
I have no idea where this feeling has come from, but tonight I wish I was back on the female ward in the hospital with the clock.
Tonight I’m thinking off all the support workers and nurses and I’m wishing that for just one night, I could talk with them, have a cuppa with them and get some support from them.
I’ve got this feeling of sadness, and overwhelm that just snook up on me, and I need more help than I’ve been getting since moving home.
I wish I could call C again. I really miss her.
I’ve found one spot on this ward, where I like to sit. A place that feels “safe”. I sit on the floor in the corridor by the main entrance to the ward . I encountered no issues with it at all until a few weeks ago. Out of the blue I was told;”Get up.off the floor, there are loads of seats”
That may be true but to me they are uncomfortable, socially awkward spaces that are any thing but ‘safe”
The reality of thus new rule, is that few staff have bought into it. Many have allowed me to stay put, whilst others pounce on me like a scrap yard Rottie, no sooner than my hand grazes the floor. This new rule in my opinion is largely born out of an official complaint myself and other friends lodged following an incident we viewed from my “safe space”. We can see too much sitting here, and it has frightened ward management.
I feel like a child testing boundaries, and right now I refuse to move. I have approx 1 hour left in this place, I’m freaking out and I need to feel “safe”
No I will not move.
How many people do you know, that would set up an interviews, whilst still in hospital? That’s exactly what I’ve done. It would be fine if I didn’t also have to prep a talk for it.
“How would you identify and quantify proteins and why is this knowledge important for medical laboratory scientists?”
I’m thinking about this, as I sit on the floor, in my favourite spot on the psych ward. It’s a bizarre experience. Tonight should be my last sleep in here, with tomorrow night being spent at home before discharge.
My interview is over Skype the day after. What in earth was I thinking!!! You need to learn to rest loopy!!!
Today we discussed my impending discharge from the hospital. Today, all my problems have come crashing in. The next few months will see huge changes, some of which I feel rail roaded into.
My life is out of my control. My thoughts are racing, my leg still tapping like a flipping Morse code operator during WWII, and I can’t face it.
I can’t face it!!!!
Help!!! or at least just give me some frigging PRN!!!
That simple off the cuff comment from a fellow service user almost reduced me to tears. I felt instantly ashamed of my depression. Instantlyashamed of my inability to cope with my seemingly “perfect” life.
I’ve been told regularly in here that I have more to live for than most.
Sorry guys, I guess mental illness didn’t get the memo. It chose anyway. I didn’t realise it had set criteria.
I was promptly shut down again.
It’s been over 2 weeks. 2 weeks off sizing people up. 2 weeks of them all telling me I need to talk more. 2 weeks of nervous silence.
Today I finally picked my confidante. I thought my named nurse would be a sensabke chouce. For a few minutes I poured my heart out. Just a few minutes later I heard; “would you mind going to the other ward loopy?”
Seriously!!!! And worse it poured from the lips of the nurse I’d just confided in.
Bam, slap in the face!!!! Another cruel rejection!