Tag Archives: hospital

21:31 – Housing forms away and a trip to a&e that wasn’t for me for once

8 May

I had a fairly quiet weekend, I still haven’t been up to my parents house to give my dad his birthday present and it was his birthday on the 1st of May ūüė¶ I feel really bad about it, I keep promising I’ll go up and then I don’t. In fact the only movement I did from Friday to Monday was taking my best friend’s three year old to A&E yesterday, it turns out he has a kidney infection bless him. He kept saying he was cold and his back and tummy hurt then the doctor found a trace of blood in his urine sample so he is on antibiotics now, hopefully he will be feeling better and back to his¬†mischievous¬†little self soon. I sat in the waiting room with her one year old on my knee and the nurse who was on duty has patched me up a number of times, she kept smiling at me as I was playing with the little one and commented that ‘he suited me’ and how I ‘looked happy’. I am happy around the kids, they are so innocent, so stressful, but so loving.

Today I realised I had double booked myself for both my social worker and addictions nurse at 3pm. I tried to see the addictions nurse a bit earlier but she was fully booked so I swapped it to Thursday and went to see my social worker so I could pick up the supporting letter for my housing transfer application. So I went and collected that, we went back through all the forms and then I took it to the housing department.

The woman there explained to me that for every 4 houses that become available one will go to the homeless department for the council to use, one will go to some other part of the homeless, one will go to a new applicant and one will go on the transfer list. So now they will review my forms and write back to me in the next couple of weeks with how many points I’ve been awarded. For now it’s a case of hoping I’m awarded enough points that I will be placed somewhere near the top of the list so I’m not waiting for years and years. So basically one in every four houses that become available go to the next person at the top of the transfer list. I don’t think houses become available that often and I have selected 1-2 bed house only so I think I will be waiting quite some time even if I am lucky enough to be awarded a decent amount of points.

I have my first session with the new CPN on my own tomorrow. I have still only met her the once before when my social worker sat in with us, then she was on holiday for a week or something so that’s us just meeting again tomorrow. I’m a bit apprehensive about whether or not I’ll get on with her, but the support worker is going to meet me at 12:40 outside my flat and we’ll walk along to the CMHT like the last time.

I also decided to sell my phone the other day. It’s a really good phone I’ve got, a Samsung Galaxy SII and they cost about ¬£450 to buy on payg. But there is something wrong with the battery, it’s not holding a charge properly despite me deleting a shit load of applications. I figure it’s only going to get worse and when I was packing everything up for the workmen coming in a couple of months ago I remember throwing the box out – along with the warranty. So I decided to sell it through one of the recycle websites for ¬£215 and I bought myself another phone for ¬£100 leaving me ¬£100 to pay back to my parents. I am due an upgrade in about six months anyway so I’m quite happy to downgrade for a while! This way I get rid of my phone whilst it’s still mostly working and can pay my parents back and get a new phone so it seemed the best solution.

Other than that not much else has been going on, I am still just existing in the living room of my flat, sleeping here, awake here, always in the same room. My bedroom remains full of boxes unpacked. I only ever go in my bedroom to dry my hair and get clothes – then I shut the door on it again.

I still need to go and see my GP as well. I’m going to try my best to get something sorted tomorrow. I need my Quetiapine increasing again and my GP doesn’t work on a Thursday so it’s got to be tomorrow or Friday, then we’re back to the weekend again. I don’t mind increasing the dose so long as it doesn’t take Lucifer away, I told the psychiatrist this last week, I like Lucifer and I don’t ¬†want to lose him.

There was one other thing I was going to mention but I don’t know what to make of it yet so I’ll just sit quiet for now and if it’s still worth mentioning in a few days then I guess I’ll write about it!


23:59 – Back from the hospital

23 Mar

I should maybe put a trigger warning on this post.

I self harmed tonight. Pretty badly. After I did it I realised I had no dressings of any kind and really couldn’t face A&E… my head was spinning and I was somewhat in shock at the extent of the injury I’d inflicted upon myself. Thanks to some helpful folks on Twitter I used some sanitary towels stuck around my leg to try and calm things down. But it continued to get worse and reluctantly I phoned a taxi and went to A&E.

The second I walked through the automatic sliding doors the anxiety that came over me took my breath away. I could feel myself both shaking and sweating and struggled to say the words “I’ve got a cut on my leg”. Thankfully it is before pub closing time so the A&E was very quiet and I got seen straight away. I mumbled something about it being a while since I was last there for self harm reasons and how I thought it needed a little bit of glue. When she took the sanitary towels dressing off she took one look at it and told me I needed stitches. It seemed to look even worse under her big light.

The nurse was trying to be so nice I have to give her credit where credit is due, she did her best to try and talk to me about what’s been going on lately but all I could mutter was that the voices were taking over everything. She was encouraging me to seek help on Monday, clearly my shakiness and sweating and inability to look at her was causing some concern. She sent the doctor in to see me whilst the local¬†anaesthetic was taking effect. I mumbled the same to the doctor that the voices had just got too much tonight. They both asked me several times if I was likely to do it again tonight and I shook my head. Inside my head the voices were laughing that I was under the possession and control of the devil and I would do what he wanted, not what I wanted.

The nurse asked me to go back in on Sunday night when she starts at 9pm so she could check the stitches and see how long they should be left in for. And also to see how I was doing. I did my best to smile, muttered thank you to her for stitching me up, declined her offer of phoning me a taxi home as I needed fresh air before I passed out I was sweating so badly with anxiety.

So now I am home, the lidocaine is wearing off and the stitches are starting to sting a little. My head is very noisy so I have just taken my medication with the hope things will calm down so maybe I can get some sleep. I’m going to take the dogs a quick walk now before the numb stuff wears off completely.

There is a command being repeated over and over in my head. It’s making me quite scared that I backed down to the commands and self harmed, I don’t want ¬†to be commanded into doing anything else ūüė¶

20:58 – Time for some honesty

9 Feb

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.

08:07 – Well they didn’t come…

12 Jan

… The police that is. I was left alone in peace even though I’ve still not really slept as I kept wakening up and having to check the door was definitely triple locked. I’ve been crying a lot during the night, I feel so low and so fucking useless. I don’t even know if I definitely wanted to die I just want to be wherever my baby is so badly. Telling them I was going to go and sleep in mud and rain in a graveyard all night, swallowing pills, blurring everything out, running away from hospitals, phoning my parents and announcing that I am yet again in hospital, sitting in a room with CPN woman and my mum and telling them both I’m going to go and die – these are all the things my body and mind seem to be driving me into doing. And I don’t understand why – I don’t understand why I’m feeling or behaving in this way. This surely isn’t the behaviour of a 30 year old woman?

Deep down I’m terrified; I don’t want this life. But then the same question comes up “who can change your life?” and I know the only answer is me. Do I want to change it? Definitely. Do I feel in control of it? No. And that’s the part which scares me, I am not in control. I’ve lost control. The New Year was supposed to be a new start, no hospital admissions, no substance abusing, nothing but 100% focus on getting better.

I just keep seeing things telling me they are signs and those signs are too powerful to resist. I give in to them and let them convince me that I should do what they ask, or that I should believe their signs to be true. And even if I have doubt over a sign it doesn’t matter because I know in the end I will go and explore it just in case it is the one sign that does matter.

Well the police didn’t come and cart me off but even I know if I can’t get a grip on my life very soon then the men in the white coats will be…


Hospital Diary 1 of 10 (from 7th September)

25 Sep

I know whilst I was in the looney bin recently that I uploaded some short posts here and there, but I had my notebook in with me and used it as my blog. So here are the few posts I wrote in there; starting from when I went in, and finishing on the day I came home. Some of them are pretty long… but I’m sure you’re all used to that with me anyway! Yeah just remember they are written back to front so I am still alive!


So my net is down and my phoneline has been cut off and now my mobile as well. Just as well we still have such things as pen and paper! It’s just as well that I get some of my benefits money tomorrow so I can sort them all out. That is, of course, if there is another tomorrow. Yep the suicidal feelings are back and I can’t take these severe low moods. I thought taking a break from blogging would make me force myself to do more in my days and give me less time to dwell on the huge urge I currently have to off myself.¬†

Part of me want’s to go up to my little one’s stone and end my life there, with him. I feel awful to say that. How completely selfish and unnecessary of me. I also feel bad because I borrowed some money off my mum saying it was for sensible things like dinner and (not so sensible) cigarettes. Really, I bought blues. 10mg Diazepam. Valium. Whatever name you want to call them. I bought 15 of them and took seven of them over the course of last night, then as soon as I got up today I called him for another 15. So now I have 23 of the street bought ones to accompany my tiny prescribed dose tonight. I know they don’t kill you, in fact I can’t find one report anywhere that says diazepam was the main cause of someone’s death. It’s a break that I need. A break from myself.

I think I feel even worse because I felt as though my social worker (she called earlier) and when she was speaking there was just something in her tone that made me think that she no longer wants to work with me or has given up. I got angry because it takes me so long to build up a new therapeutic relationship with someone and my head felt crazy and I thought she was the right person to turn to but now there is talk of me having a CPN again and I don’t think I want that.

It really doesn’t matter anyway because I don’t intend on being here tomorrow. I’ve truly had enough. I cannot express how much of a failure I am and I just can’t go on feeling this way any longer. I don’t want to do it at home purely on the off chance that someone sees me or something like that. Then again I don’t suppose anyone would go into panic mode for at least a week of not hearing from me as they know how much of an unsociable bastard I am. Then I go back to thinking about doing it at the cemetery but then I wouldn’t want some grieving individual, visiting their loved one, and then finding my disgusting body. No I couldn’t do it to someone… and then I have to do it, so I’m stuck right now.

The final choice is taking as much medication as I can get my hands on and driving to the middle of nowhere, leave the car and go hide in some woodland and do it there. I’m sure I’d find somewhere that felt like the ‘right’ place to do it. So the plan at the moment is to take three blues (leaving myself 20) so I can get a little sleep and then tomorrow: 20x10mg diazepam, 8 sominex/promethazine, and a strip of 200mg quetiapine that I accidentally got more of than I needed a few weeks back. So that’s another 2800mg of seroquel/quetiapine/whatever we’re calling it at the moment. Definitely not a suicide attempt despite the suicidal feelings, just a VERY long sleep and break needed from life. The one good thing that I have noticed is that the over the counter sominex are also an anti-emetic so I shouldn’t waste any of the tablets by throwing up.

Surely you can’t make a proper plan anyway without including all the tiny details. And yet whilst it’s not a suicide plan as such I find myself wanting to write here that if anyone ever reads this then they need to know these aren’t just fleeting thoughts that I can hit the ‘switch off’ button on. God how I wish I could. The only one place I want to be is Heaven, in the place where I know my baby is, to join him and watch down over you all and smiling the biggest smile you would have ever seen ‘cos my baby would be safe in my arms, just where he should be. I might not have been able to give him love on Earth but I sure as hell can do it in Heaven. Thinking about being with him makes me feel warm inside and it’s not that I feel cold when I think of the people I do have here on Earth. Don’t get me wrong I love my parents so so much, and my brother, and my Grandma and cousins and aunts and uncles and my best friend and my two ‘adopted’ nephews. Of course I’d miss them all. I love every single one of them in their own way and I know everyone mentioned loves me back in their own way. Sorry people but on further thought I think my two little dogs have to be up there near the top of lists of loves! ¬†It is them really who keep me alive more than anyone or anything else.¬†

Maybe I’m greedy or selfish but all of that love I’ve just mentioned, even when combined, still doesn’t match the love I feel for my little angel son. Maybe that’s the one way my parents might understand – the love they have for me, the way a parent says they would die for their kids – but in reality can I cause them so much pain? I’ve been writing about this same stuff for almost two years now and still haven’t came to the correct answer for me.

When that little life is so cruelly snatched away from someone, instinct tells you that you need someone to blame, your body and mind tell you that something is very wrong indeed, and there is just this huge empty void left in that place that makes you feel warm, happy and content. I need to fill that void and no job or hobby or even another baby will fill that hole. Yes, it was slightly easier when I was with the ex; having the distraction of the wedding and a new house did help life partly mould itself into some sort of shape that I could cope with. People had hope. No, I will rephrase that. *I* had hope. People will still say there is hope now, but that’s their hope not mine. I don’t have any. They cling to another hope that I will find some hope of my own.¬†

To those who know me: Shit, what do I do if this overdose thing actually works? I’d need to put the dogs in another room, I couldn’t let them see me die. I know this is going to hurt people but I’m so so sorry, it’s the only cloud with the silver lining that I can find. Look at it like this, I live so you don’t have to hurt. Living to me is just existing until I reach an acceptable age to off myself. All I can say is make sure I am cremated. I want you to have some of my ashes if that’s what you would like. I’d like some to be buried in next to the little one and some sprinkled over both our resting places. Maybe you could carry a tiny bottle’s worth in your bag and when you find somewhere one day that makes you think I would love it then just sprinkle me right there, right then. You will know when it’s right.¬†

Oh and if possible could you put a little plaque next to the little one’s stone with “mother and son together again” written on it.¬†

Shit this really is starting to sound like I’m thinking of every eventuality, this was meant to be a fill in blog post and it’s been 8 notebook pages so far! I think I will be writing them all one at a time! I’m just trying to explain but maybe I’m trying to explain the unexplainable. I’m trying to paint the picture of my life from my eyes, of inside my head as it’s the only place I can come to a definite conclusion.¬†

Last year when I was in the looney bin I made a promise to my parents that I would never commit suicide and put them through the same pain that I feel. How can I say that I want to die to be in another land with my son and somehow use that line of ‘a mother’s love’ to justify it all? But my parents are hopeful people – the are the optimists and I am the pessimist – but you know that’s how my life has taught me to be. People ask me about things that could happen in the future – ‘don’t you want to meet a nice man? maybe have that little cottage with it’s little garden that you dream of? maybe one day you will be well enough to complete one of these courses that you start and then drop out of?’

It’s all about their hope, everyone else’s, but not mine.

And yes, I know people will say shit like ‘oh she was just turning 30, what a waste of a young life, blah de blah’ but you know something, in these 30 years I feel as though I have lived so many more years than what I have. Oh wait, another person’s question – ‘she needed a distraction, don’t you think?’ – after all, distraction is the key and all that jazz.¬†

Black and white thinking. All or nothing. Extremes. 

Pretending to be happy whilst constantly thinking about dying. Voices running through my head every second which I’m awake, reminding me of my failure status. My one and only dream would be to one day find a miracle lady who would surrogate for me and give me what I just can’t give myself. When I was pregnant my parents brought down a pine swinging crib, it was mine when I was a baby and still in perfect condition. It sat there all ready for my little one, everything was so perfect. Now my only ‘real’ hope is that one day I will meet a surrogate who can bring some of my dreams to life. I watched a program on surrogacy recently and one of the women even used her own egg’s because she was so desperate to give this couple a baby of their own. Would that happen for me one day?¬†

How will I know if I don’t stick around? I guess I won’t. But what I do know is this: if I *do* go, then I’ve gone with a smile on my face.

Bye for now all xxx

P.S. I did (at some point after writing this) end up taking all of the pills and ending up in hospital.

(Next entry will be the one I wrote on Sunday 11th September around 3pm in the hospital – I’ll write it up later)

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