I’ve been in hospital.now for just over 5 weeks, and I feel no better now than the day I came in.
I’ve made no progress, learned nothing new about myself and I have no hope that I will ever live content.
COVID 19 hasn’t helped. No visitors, no occupational therapy, no on ward activities..nothing…
The ward sister has called me ridiculous very loudly and with venum in her tone on the few occasions that I’ve ligatured, and not once has she asked if I’m ok.
The nurses generally are nice, but limited in what they can do.
I do occasionally play with an old battered wilson (see pic), but the yard is tiny and the nurses don’t endure the noise for very long.
This stay isn’t like the others The levels of empathy and encourgment are much lower than my last two stays.
I’m lost, and I need out.
Absolutely mortified at 4.00am this morning. I woke up.soaked, and confused. I was a bed wetter for many years as a child, but at 34 it feels so much more shameful.
The nurses and auxiliaries quickly changed my bedding, and were kind and non chalant.
I however feel humiliated
Literally….. tonight I hid in our laundry room, tied pj bottoms tight around my neck and I waited.
I waited for the throbbing head, the pulsing in my neck, my closing puffy eyes and unconsciousness.
I was found, quickly untangled and checked over. The urge has been building all day. I had earlier spoken with a nurse and asked her to remove items.
The tipping point though, was dinner after which I felt fat far fat, so puked also losing my lorazepam. Already anxious and tense I rang little man to say good night.
The call upset me. He’s changing, growling up and growing used to life without me. He and OH do well without me.
The path ahead feels monsterouus, and my reserves are low.
I must stop self destructing. I’m ruining all our lives.
I figured out a way and it felt good. My arm is a mess but it feels good. Where the hell is the logic in that? I want to scald again.
Lorazepam on tap and more quietiapine. I believe the term “medical managment” was used Today.
So drug me till I’m stable and then what? Hoist me back to my reality. I’m not fixable. I’m incapable of change and I’m a waste of resources. Oh and did I mention how much fun level one obs are!!
Fuck sake just do it loopy, you coward.
OH and little man are doing great without me. I think that’s the way it should be. They’d be happier without me. I’m a horrible influence on their lives. I’m a horrible person.
I can’t be good for them. I can’t be what I need to be. I’m sorry.
I’m on a psych ward, eyeing up ligature points, and trying to find a gap to do it.
OH has done his back in.
Sis in law is away into labour…. and did someone mention a wee virus floating about.
I’m so fucking selfish. I want to hang. I want to pass out and not wake up.
There are two many things to solve and I’m making no progress here.
Although they do keep me rather sedated. Yup give the addict yet more pills!!! That will help, NOT!
I could only see him over whatsapp. Bloody corona virus!!!
I’ve felt sad all day, but I’m not sure what it truly stems from.
Is it that I’m missing little man today, or is it that saying goodbye on WhatsApp brought me some refeif.
He kissed the phone and smiled at me, but he was also rather distracted by the telly. I was not top off his interests.
Why would I be? I suck!
The plan these days seems to be “keep her doped with lorazepam”
Any little sign of anxiety and BAM!!; “Loopy will you take some prn”?
I will, but so far they’ve done nothing for my mood. I’m more zombied now but still, I’m done, I’m done, I’m done.
My whoie day is spent scanning for ligature points and ways out. My mood is dark. My voice is flat, and my flaws are endless.
Your a stupid, selfish, horrible bitch loopy, and you should do the world a favour.
My thoughts are not enttirely rational. I want to die. I just want to die. I need to just do it.
This is new for me. I’ve never had such a high level of obs before.
It’s frustrating as I want to puke, I want to burn and I want to try again.. I’m getting better now, the ligatures are anchored and tight. If I could just get a little peace I can do it.
I should never have come in, I should have followed original plan.
I’m really sorry OH and little man. I do love you, but I can’t live life anymore. It’s too hard and I guess I’m too selfish.
I tried, but i fell short. This evening I locked my bathroom door, tied pj bottoms around the shower curtain rail, and threw some knots around my neck. I’d almost got it perfect.
But then the cavalry arrived.
I though I’d have more time. Checks here are scarse at best. Now my clothes have been removed and cupboards cleared. I’ll try again, I’m sure of it.
I’ve come to the very sad realisation that it’s not OH and little man who’d be better off without me. It’s me, it’s me, it’s me who needs to go. I can’t continue any longer pretending to be smashing life when in fact it’s crushing me….
That little voice in my head, “run fatty run, puke fatty puke, burn ugly burn, your a failure, your a waste of space, you difficult and selfish and horrid. Die damn it, do us all a favour and die!!!
I look at him and I can see he’s cute and funny and full of prospects, but he just doesn’t feel like my boy.
It’s like looking at someone else’s child. I feel cold towards him, resentful and angry that I’m not doing better.
I’m no good for him. He deserves so much more.
His visit today has upset me, and I’m struggling.