20:58 – Time for some honesty

It’s been a while since I last posted, so this is probably going to be a super long one. I have really been trying hard to keep myself distracted and that’s also meant a bit of a break from the internet. My moods have been a bit unpredictable lately and somewhere deep down I knew I’d go into another suicide research phase if I allowed myself to open the laptop and switch it on. So I figured just keep myself busy in the day times and then come home and watch TV then sleep. My sleep is pretty poor at the moment but that could be due to a number of things.

There has been quite a lot happening. I was really ill for a week or so with bronchitis but I’m feeling better now. I was reading back on my blog posts and although I hinted at the drugs I was taking I think now is the time to just write truthfully. Christmas was hard, I played it down but it fucked my head. The next few days I was like a zombie, all I could think about was suicide. It got to New Year and I made a choice that I deeply regret – I asked someone about heroin – why she took it… her answer… it makes everything OK again. And that’s what I needed – everything to be OK again, my head to stop being fucked up and mental, the voices to stop screaming, my thoughts to slow the fuck down. So I made an extremely stupid decision – I tried smoking heroin. What did it feel like? I felt medicated and then I vomited for about the next three hours. That was it. No high, no low, no buzz, just feeling completely ill.

So why the fuck did I go and buy it again the next day?? I have no idea. And what makes it all the worse is that I went to the drug and alcohol place and got needles. I felt more comfortable watching it going into my bad blood. There was something about the whole process of opening the wrap, sprinkling it into the little sterile metal holder, adding in the citric acid, cooking it up, putting in the filter, sucking it up into the needle, finding a vein then slowly feeling it run through my body. The first few days it would make me sick but it wasn’t an unpleasant sickness, it actually felt good getting bad stuff inside of me out. I would lie on the sofa and nod off, still aware of everything around me but enjoying the feeling of medicated sleepiness and that girl – she was right – nothing mattered, nothing could hurt me, nothing was there apart from pleasant nods and bursts of daydreams.

I continued using every day until I went into hospital. One wrap costs £10, by the time I had been using for two weeks I was up to 4-5 wraps a day. That’s how addictive it is. You need more and more every day to get that same zoned out medicated feeling. So when I went to my GP completely suicidal I broke down and told her what I’d been using. I told the psychiatrist and I just needed a break away from it all. I was becoming dependent, if not physically then psychologically. So I had my week away from it all, they increased my dose of Diazepam and gave me Lorazepam as well. They gave me anti-sickness tablets and tablets for the stomach cramps. The first few days I felt like shit and I was craving so badly but by the time I came home a week later I was feeling a different sort of shit – that of the haloperidol. So I stopped taking the haloperidol two days after I came out of hospital and haven’t taken it since.

I have been to see a drugs counsellor and she was really nice. She is very well trained in lots of areas of counselling and listened to my whole story. I told her about how trapped I still feel, stuck somewhere in the bereavement process, still stuck in that day five years ago. She was so nice and told me she really believes she can help me understand grief better and hopefully start to move forwards with my life. She knows the drug use was due to both my mentalness and my inner pain. For the first time in a long time I actually feel more positive about the future, like maybe there is a chance I can move forwards without feeling guilty for living my life.

Speaking of the little one it’s his 5th anniversary on Saturday. It’s going to be a hard and sad day as it is every year and seeing the ex is never easy either. I have ordered a beautiful basket of flowers from the florist which cost a bomb but he is worth it. I’m worried Saturday is going to be a very triggering day for me. I will admit I have used heroin once since coming out of hospital but all it did was make me sick as a dog like the first time I tried it and I haven’t touched it again but psychologically I still crave that medicated feeling where nothing can hurt me. And what can hurt me? Life. Everything about it hurts especially with the anniversary just two days away. But I am determined I will not tarnish his memory by putting that shit into my body on his special day. No matter how much pain I am in, I won’t ever touch that stuff again. I don’t want to be some sort of junkie I want it to just be what it was – a two week mistake, a very stupid one, but one which has actually had a positive outcome as now I am going to get the counselling which I so badly need.

I am getting on with my CPN a bit better now, I still don’t especially like her but have decided I need to work with her whether I like it or not. We met on Monday and updated my crisis plan. Today I had a CPA meeting which consisted of myself, my CPN, psychologist and social worker with the psychiatrist via video link which was quite weird but better than being in the same room as him! We really just talked about where I was at and what work I had been doing with CPN woman. I also told them about the counselling I’d been offered through the drug centre and how I was going to start that because I believe I need it regardless of what the psychiatrist said while I was in hospital about not needing it right now. I explained I knew my safety had been their priority but that I felt the counselling would help me a lot and if it became too painful or started to affect my moods then I would be honest and say it was too much for me right now. Also that’s my psychologist off on maternity leave for the next year now and I need some emotional support while she is gone. It was hard seeing her big bump today, it was hard that the video conferencing room in the hospital happened to be right next to the maternity department. I had been asked to take my Mum or Dad along to the meeting but as they both had work commitments I took my best friend instead. The psychiatrist asked me if I was still using drugs and I said no. He then said that CPN woman had told him I had used once since coming out. Of course best friend didn’t know this and I had to completely deny it. He asked if I was smoking cannabis and I admitted that yes I do still have a smoke at night because it feels like the only thing that is keeping me calm. He gave me the speech on how one smoke could destabilize me and make my mental health worse which I don’t dispute, but right now it truly is the only thing that chills my crazy head out.

I told him I want to start Quetiapine (Seroquel) again. I know I reached the maximum dose of it before and was still experiencing psychosis but it was the only anti-psychotic which kept me stable for a decent period of time and didn’t come with a shit load of side effects. We have also decided to stop my Lamotrigine (Lamictal) so I’m stepping that down by 25mg a week, it doesn’t seem to have helped stabilise my mood and I’ve been on it almost two years and I think it’s making my psoriasis worse as well. It’s known to cause a lot of skin problems, rashes and stuff in some people. It’s a shame because it was another medication which didn’t give me nasty side effects but hopefully there will be another mood stabiliser I can try which won’t be too harsh.

So that’s where I’m at. Time for some honesty and hoping people won’t judge me for my stupid actions. Feeling a bit fragile about my little angel’s anniversary on Saturday and there not being anywhere open if I need support. Knowing I need to be strong and not sure if I’m going to manage. My best friend wants me to go and spend the night at hers so I’m not alone, she said in the meeting today how it would be good for me as her kids would be a distraction, sometimes she forgets that watching her two babies is really hard for me.

It’s going to be a difficult weekend I just hope I can do my angel proud.

21:16 – A wasted trip to A&E

The events of the past week or so have caught up with me. I can’t sleep and feel a mess. All I keep thinking about are the signs. Earlier today (after I wrote my last blog post) I ended up being taken to A&E. I’d taken quite a few Diazepam before I wrote it then decided fuck it I’m getting more. So in the end I took in the region of 150mg of them and when I phoned to speak to my psychologist (telling her I felt poorly and couldn’t come to the appointment) it didn’t take her long to ask if I’d taken something. She said she wanted to speak to a CPN and phone me back. This was around 2.30pm. By 3.30pm I had been picked up by two CPN’s I’ve not met before and they took me to A&E, saying my two options were to go and get checked over or for them to phone my GP and tell her what I’d done. I opted for hospital because I knew they’d just check me over and let me go. I did insist it would be a completely wasted trip as there was nothing wrong with me other than being drowsy but they gave me the whole “duty of care” talk.

They done all my basic obs and I asked to go home, but was told the doctor wanted to see me first. I wrote a post a while ago about being in A&E and them suddenly bringing the doctor in and alarm bells going off in my head and me running out of there. Well yeah, it was the same doctor. He asked me some questions, I told him I just needed to sleep or escape or something. He asked what other drugs I’d been using and I think I must have needed to pee really bad as I just reeled them all off one by one. I then asked to go for a pee which I was allowed to do on the provision I didn’t make a run for it again.

When I came back from the loo the doctor was sitting talking to the CPN guy who had brought me in and I heard the nurse butting in to say “what are we doing with her then?” followed by “yes she’s a regular occurrence in here” so I stopped for a moment outside the door before going back in. I just kept saying I wanted to go home so the two CPN people made a deal with me if they could have my excess medication then they would leave me alone. So I gave them a couple of spare boxes of Lamotrigine that have been in the cupboard for ages, I pulled out the bag with all the loose pills in it but refused to hand that one over. I did say however that I wouldn’t take any of them.

I must have fallen asleep just after 6pm and when I woke up I could have sworn the clock said 01:38 but as it turned out it was just going on for 8pm so I watched the soaps and then everything from earlier came flooding back. Little things I said like “you’re bump might be another sign” to my pregnant psychologist while telling them all the signs of why I should be in Heaven.

I’ve been awake for two hours and don’t feel particularly out of it anymore which means it’s time for a few more sleepy pills. I don’t know what I want, just not to be here feeling this day after day. I have a bag packed at my feet with a couple of days clothes in it and a pair of pj’s I think I want to run somewhere but is there anywhere to hide?

17:26 – Back home, care team meeting today and help needed!!

Well I’m back home. I actually came home on Monday afternoon but have only just remembered I didn’t write a post! To cut a long story short I came home on a long weekend pass from Thursday evening until Sunday afternoon. I was feeling really positive and happy being back with my friends and in my own space again.

On Sunday night I felt my mood hit a low partly due to being back in the bin and away from my family and friends again;  but mostly it was because I was terrified of going for the CT scan of my head that they had arranged. Whilst my agoraphobia is so much better than it was this time last year I still feel a huge amount of panic when going anywhere new or being in a place I can’t escape from. So I tossed and turned all night then went into my review on Monday morning.

He asked how the pass had gone and I told him it had gone really well but that I was terrified of going for the scan. There were six members of staff on that morning when usually there are only four so I asked if we could make it a little less distressing for me and let me go with a member of staff in a car rather than the patient transport buses they use for all patients with appointments at the main hospital that day. So my appointment was at 2pm but I was being collected at noon because someone had an appointment at 1pm or something. The main hospital is around 35 miles away (along a long and bendy road) from the psych hospital and they said it took just under an hour to get there.

Now at this point I’m sitting thinking ‘oh my God, what if someone has an appointment for say, 4pm? I’ll need to stay there all day and won’t be able to escape’ so I start to become extremely anxious. I tell the psych how bad I am feeling, how scared and anxious I am, I correct myself and tell him I’m terrified. I start to cry because the anxiety is making me feel hot and my heart palpitating. I ask him please could a member of staff take me so I know I can just go there and then come straight back.

He says No.

By now I’m properly crying and again asking – begging – for him to compromise with me in some way. If I couldn’t have a member of staff take me then could he at least give me a medication to calm me down for the journey so I could try and manage it that way.

He says No.

I then start asking him why? Why when people stood in front of me in the medication queue was every single person offered some kind of sedative – diazepam, lorazepam, zopiclone – they were the most common three words you would hear. I wasn’t on any kind of sleeper other than my normal daily prescribed dose of diazepam, of which, I’m in some sort of reduction program for. So as I have taken Diazepam/Valium for so long it doesn’t affect me in the slightest at my 18mg a day dose. The only times it affects me is when I don’t take it or miss a dose. I got the full shakes, severe anxiety, was panicking, and paranoid about everything, from just a 2mg drop from 20mg. Was he trying to punish me for something? Of course he says no he isn’t.

So I’m getting really really wound up by this point. I say to him that there is a least distressing way of getting me there or a most distressing way – why was he picking the most distressing one? He says as I managed fine on the bus getting home on Thursday night and as I managed the car journey back on the Sunday that I could manage this without medication and that going on the patient transport bus was the way I was going up there. I start to really cry and can feel the anger building up inside me. I almost begin to shout as I get louder, “have you not listened to a single thing I’ve said to you over the past God knows how many years?! Have you not heard me talk about the Agoraphobia that YOU diagnosed six YEARS ago??” 

He replies. “I think it’s time for you to face your fear. If you think you can’t manage it then we’ll cancel the scan and you can do it another time”. This makes me even more angry. I shout through my tears that I want discharged from that horrible place as soon as possible. He kinda looked almost like he shrugged his shoulders in a not bothered kinda way and repeated “I’ll just cancel the scan then shall I?” followed by “and I’ll arrange your discharge medication?”

What the fuck? If he thought I was well enough to be discharged on the Thursday then why didn’t he say so? Why make my parents drive all the way back up there on the Sunday to say I could be discharged the next day? Why tell me I had to be back on Sunday due to the scan? Everything was just swimming around confused in my head. I stood up angrily and said “write up my discharge medication asap”. Then, like a 13 year old, I slam the door behind me as hard as I could.

I got the bus home an hour later.

So onto today, I had a care team meeting this morning which was me, my psychologist (yes the pregnant one that I found it almost impossible to look at), my new CPN (who met me once and the next day told the pharmacy to only prescribe me daily medication), my social worker and my psychiatrist. The fucking idiot man that he is. Yes I’m still pissed off at him.

We just spoke about where we are going to go with things next. They basically described what work they want to do with me individually and how it can all link together. We are now going to have a Care Plan Approach and I’m meeting with the new CPN who I’ll call J on Friday morning to see what changes need to be made to my Crisis Plan. Then everyone in the care team will have a copy of it I think.

After the meeting this morning I spent a few hours with my friend and the little one, we took a wander round the shops and I have bought myself a present that I collect tomorrow. Two baby fire-tailed finches. They look just like this but I’ll take an actual photo once I get them home and introduce you all. I have one problem though – I have no names for them! They are both males so suggestions below pleaseeeeeee – I need you guys to help me!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

14:49 – Good News!

Yesterday I had the usual Monday morning review and was completely dreading it. You see, on Sunday night the new girl in my ward kept saying how much better we would feel if we had some alcohol to drink. So as I was the only one allowed off the grounds I ran down to the local village and got a bottle of vodka for us. Had to sneak round the back of the looney bin and pass it through a window to her so I could walk past the staff and not look like I was up to something. Anyway to cut a long story short someone must have seen us and reported us. By then it was too late anyway as the bottle was well and truly finished. We weren’t doing anything to attract attention to ourselves, just sitting in the room chatting away. So arsehole nurse (there is a male arsehole nurse I shall refer to as C and there is a female arsehole nurse I will call M) – C comes in the room just as we were going to sleep and asks to speak to me in the office. Sat down, got quizzed ‘have you been drinking? etc’ I said yes I had gone all the way down to the village to collects some ‘feminine hygiene’ products for someone and while I was down there I went into the pub and had a double vodka and coke. He seemed to believe me.

But then as he walks me back to the room he gets the new girl to go and be questioned as well. So we both end up being breathalised and of course it showed she had been drinking as well, therefore me saying I’d just gone into the pub for one drink was all lies because they knew she hadn’t left the hospital grounds all night. I was trying to take the blame for her as, to be honest, I’d had my much needed ‘rest’ in there and was ready for home. In little over a week of being there I’d tried to hang myself once, strangle myself once, got drunk, and then just to top it off I remembered I had four strips of nurofen stashed in my purse so whilst the other girl in my room was being questioned I swallowed the 32 nurofen I had. Bad move by the way – major sore stomach ever since.

So then the doc had to be called out and other than a racing pulse my stats were fine so she said just to try and sleep it off. Yesterday morning arrived and I was absolutely shitting myself that they were going to send me up to I.C.U – I could have handled 24/7 obs again but not going up there. But somehow, I managed to be apologetic to mr psychiatrist and say the right things for why I wasn’t any safer in there than I was whilst at home and before I knew it he agreed to discharge me. He was probably glad to see the back of me after all my stupid behaviours.

So here we are, Tuesday lunch time and I’m back home in my little flat with my little doggies and my freedom back. The condition is I have to give my parents a set of keys for my flat so they can check in on me every time I go into one of my reclusive phases. I’m still hopeful that I will get the chance to do the EMDR therapy either as an outpatient or go back in for a couple of weeks and do it as an inpatient but I need to build up a bit of trust with them again first, and more importantly need to become more stable in myself so I can handle what is essentially, trauma therapy.

Anyways I have a support worker stopping by to see me in half an hour so I better go but one last thing before I do – for those of you like me who occasionally buy 10mg diazepam/valium on the streets- I got a real proper shock yesterday. The pharmacist had two little blue pills in front of me and asked me which one the diazepam was. I examined them both and they were completely identical so I said they both are. Wrong. She told me that there is a patient who is in critical intensive care after thinking he had taken 10x1omg diazepam as he had done many times before for a “buzz” and part of the reason the 10mg ones (blues) are becoming so readily available again is that they aren’t even diazepam but cleverly disguised 3mg warfarin tablets. She said they are now trying to only prescribe the 5mg one’s to people in the UK to try and take control of what could end up as an accidental fatality……

Can you tell the difference….??

All pretty similar looking right? Except when you’re in a bit of a state and need to try and calm down you really aren’t going to look at specific markings, you are just going to see that blue pill and swallow it – or some – or loads. Warfarin is a blood thinner but also commonly used as a rat poison. The pharmacist taught me a BIG lesson and if this is the very first change in my behaviour I am NEVER going to buy street Diazepam again. The second is that I’ve set up appointments again with the psychologist and the third is getting keys cut for my flat for the parents. It’s all a good start I hope!

I must go, support worker will be here any minute, glad to be home even though I’m still far from being safe but at least I’m away from that horrible hospital for a while

Protected: 15:09 – Alone with my thoughts

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Protected: 20:47 – Xmas Presents, Bags Of Love (and a bit of a moan!)

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Protected: 14:06 – Yesterday’s psychiatrist appointment

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Protected: 17:18 – Getting drunk, high, new laptop and psychiatrist tomorrow

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Protected: Compassion Focused Therapy Week Two

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Protected: Compassion Focused Therapy Week One

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