Tag Archives: psych hospital

18:55 – Hand over the pills or you’re going to the psych hospital

14 Sep

I had an appointment with lovely GP this afternoon. She already had the notes from a&e on her screen when I went in about the self harming on Wednesday. A bit of the wound burst yesterday so she had a look at it for me and said it needed cleaned up and a new dressing on and popped next door to the nurse to see if she was free to do it. She was. So I got a quick change of dressing and back into see GP. She asked me if the Nitrazepam she gave me for last weekend helped me sleep and I told her that the first night I kept waking every hour or two feeling like something was wrong and the next couple of nights I did get some sleep but it was all broken up.

I then told her about seeing CPN on Wednesday and having it out with her about not following my crisis plan properly last Friday and how I felt she had just passed the buck to GP. I also had a moan about social worker not sticking to the monthly contact arrangement and told her I felt pretty unsupported at the moment and the only people who were being supportive were GP, rape crisis lady and the doctor at a&e.

She asked what made me self harm so bad on Wednesday and then all the fucking stupid truth had to come tumbling out my mouth. About how the suicidal thoughts were so intense but I knew I couldn’t act on them, about how I’ve been stockpiling painkillers and knew I had around 70g of paracetamol all popped out into a tub ready for the lid just to be lifted and them all to be thrown down my throat. I told her I’d like some Nitrazepam again for this weekend but at the same time I knew I cannot keep on medicating my symptoms and one day I’m just going to have to face up to them somehow.

Then she said to me that if I was telling her I had 70g of paracetamol sitting in my house she was extremely concerned about me getting through the weekend. She asked what support I had and I told her my parents go away on Sunday for a week and on the one hand I have the thought that they are away so it’s the perfect time to take all the pills but something deep down keeps saying no no NO you are NOT putting your parents through all that again. You are NOT ruining their holiday. Don’t be so bloody cruel and selfish. So instead I go back to the self harm thoughts, at least they don’t hurt anyone but me because they only know if I tell them.

So lovely GP says she thinks I’m slipping backwards and I say I feel like I am as well. She asks me what can we do to keep me safe this weekend? I shrug my shoulders and say I don’t know any more, just take it hour by hour, day by day. Try and distract myself, try and sleep, try and read some of my uni stuff, maybe go and visit my parents tonight or tomorrow as it’s their anniversary and it would be good to see them before they go off on holiday. GP said this sounded like a good idea and that she would be happy to give me another 4 days worth of Nitrazepam for this weekend but she wanted me to do a trade with her. She knows my flat is only minutes from the surgery as she has been here the first time I got sectioned, she was the one who filled out the forms. So she said to me to come home, get all of the paracetamol I had stocked up and take them to her. If I handed over the 70g of paracetamol she would give me 8 x 5mg Nitrazepam (4 nights worth @ 10mg a night).

And then she mentioned the dreaded word.


If I didn’t hand over the pills not only would I not get the Nitrazepam to help me get some sleep but she would “realistically have to look at putting me somewhere safe”, she said we had to have a two way trust thing. I had to make her believe that I would not act upon any suicidal thoughts over the weekend and I would also try my hardest not to self harm again over the weekend. Instead I would try and spend time with friends and family and find things to do to keep my mind distracted. I would get rid of all the excess medication and in return she would let me stay at home and give me a few tablets to help me sleep.

At this point I am still saying that there is no way I am ever going back into the psych hospital and saying to her please don’t even mention hospitals but she said she had to be realistic and I was making her very concerned that I couldn’t keep myself safe. So I knew I had no choice but to come home and put every single tablet (besides my prescribed meds) into a bag and take them to her. Otherwise I was looking at a trip to the psych hospital and devastating my parents just as they are about to go off on a nice relaxing holiday.

So I did just that. I came home and put every tablet I had into a little bag. Then I took a box back out just so I had one. Then I took a second box back out so I had two. My head was saying she will never know the difference but something else in my head said I was only cheating myself. Then I started to cry because I just didn’t know what to do. In the end I put them all back in the bag and went back to the surgery. It was actually closed but she had stayed on for an extra half hour for me to go back. I handed the bag over to her and she had a look and could see there was around 140 x 500mg tablets like I’d said I had. She said I’d done the right thing and handed me a prescription for the Nitrazepam.

I have an appointment on Wednesday morning with Mr Psychiatrist and she said it might be an idea to ask for the Mirtazapine to be increased now as that will be about 4 weeks I’ll have been on it and I’m still just on the 15mg starter dose. She said she thinks it would be quite reasonable to go up to 30mg as I’m still so low in mood. I think the maximum you can take is 45mg. During the time I was gone (coming back home getting the tablets) she had a phonecall with Mr Psychiatrist – she said he phoned her regarding another patient and she decided to tell him about me while he was on the phone – but I always wonder when they say things like that if actually she just phoned him to tell him the situation. So when I got back she told me that Mr Psychiatrist was aware of the situation that I’d self harmed and had been stock piling paracetamol. So that will be a fun conversation on Wednesday. I’m now really scared he will mention hospital as well. The psych hospital they send you to here does not make you better (I don’t know if any psych hospitals do) but this one really doesn’t.

So it’s now almost 7pm Friday night. Somehow I have to make it to Monday morning. Lovely GP gave me another appointment to see her next Friday to let her know how I got on with Mr Psychiatrist and if there are to be any medication changes she will have had a letter from him by then.

I don’t know what I’m going to do all weekend. My Mum is off work tomorrow so I may spend some of the day with her. I don’t really want to tell her about the self harming as I don’t want her going away on holiday worried about me but at the same time I don’t want to keep it from her as I know it will get brought up at some meeting or another that she is at and she will find out anyway. So I guess if I mention it I have to say that I feel much better now that it’s out my system even if that is a complete lie.

I have the guys coming to put a new shower and shower cubicle in on Monday morning (at 8am grr) and they will be here til around Wednesday lunch time. That means I’ll have to go up to my parents house or out to best friend’s to have a shower for a couple of days. But it will be nice once it’s all done.

Argh. How the fuck am I going to get through this weekend? I’m tempted to go out and have some drinks tonight but I’m really not in the mood to socialise. Yet at the same time I know when I’m sitting here alone is when my head goes crazy. GP is trusting me to keep myself safe through the weekend, that if I even *feel* like hurting myself that I will go to a&e, and if I need support on Monday to call her and she will find time somewhere in the day to have a chat on the phone with me.

So I do feel a bit more supported now but equally I’m scared of my own thoughts. I’m really not sure how I feel about knowing all those tablets are gone, one part of me says I could go out and stock pile again over the weekend, another part of me feels slightly relieved that they are gone and that I can’t just decide fuck it I’ve had enough and reach for them.

It’s too early yet to take any meds, I still have the evening to get through, but I really hope the Nitrazepam work at least for tonight. I need to wake up feeling a bit more refreshed tomorrow and not let my mood get any lower or it will only be a matter of time before I’m taken back to that hell hole aka the psych hospital.


15:31 – And why I’m not feeling so strong

25 Aug

I didn’t want to spoil my lovely award post below so I thought I would write a separate one. Right now I’m not feeling so strong at all. In fact very very weak.

Reasons? –

I feel very alone right now, I feel left out from best friend and not needed/wanted as she has other friend to spend all her time with. My stupid agoraphobia stops us going a lot of places, other friend doesn’t have this, they can go anywhere together, they both have kids, they have things in common. Slowly but surely I feel pushed away out of the picture.

Another possible reason could be that I am now pretty much off the Citalopram. I am down to 10mg a day until Tuesday and then I start the Mirtazapine so maybe that is affecting my mood as I basically have no anti-depressant in my system right now.

The act of “being OK”, no, being “good” is starting to wear thin and is proving harder and harder to keep up. Inside I feel as though I am crumbling. The thoughts of wanting to self harm badly, or worse, the suicidal thoughts are very much present right now. What is stopping me? Trying to hold out for my uni course starting, trying so hard to believe things are going to pick up and get better, not wanting to fuck up my chances of doing the uni course by ending myself up in hospital, or worse, dead.

We have this highland games thing here this weekend. Usually I look so forward to it, it’s a really good day out, the little town that I live in becomes very busy, there are pipe bands marching all day, lots of stalls and rides, there are lots of highland games type sports on (but I usually give that bit a miss, going to the beer tent instead) and yes, I don’t have much money to go out and enjoy it, but best friend chose to go to it with her other friend. I won’t lie, they did invite me, but she text me at like 9.30am when I was still fast asleep. By the time I woke up at like 11.30am they were already talking about heading home. They are going out tonight drinking, I am sitting in my flat alone. I don’t even have anyone to go and watch the fireworks display with. Just me and the doggies, alone, left out, feeling so low.

I don’t want to be away from my doggies again, I don’t want to have to give the responsibility of them to my parents or anything again not when they are both working long hours. But how much longer can I cope with feeling this way? I have no blades or anything in my house to hurt myself with, but if I just put some clothes on and walked two minutes to the top of the street I could go to the craft shop and easily sort that out. Do I want another scar? No, I really don’t. My video I made the other day showed how much of a mess my body is in from previous self harm acts. I am very aware of how many things having these scars prevents me from doing, I don’t need another, yet I need to release this emotional craziness from my brain.

I am scared to go to the hospital and say I need help. I don’t want people to think I need help again. I still want this pretence to continue, that I am well, that I am fine, that I am looking to the future. I don’t want to let them down.

But my moods swing so drastically from one moment to the next that I find myself thinking do I need to be in the psych hospital for a little while until things calm down? But I know I hate it there. I can see it in my head, the moment of arriving, the being put in a room full of strangers, the utter boredom where there is nothing at all to do. The walking up and down the corridor all day to go outside for a cigarette then wandering back to my bed, lying on it for a while, trying to read a book or something to pass the time but having no concentration. Every time I’m in there I feel worse before I feel better, I always end up making further suicide attempts. The last time I was in I was ripping bedsheets and curtains trying to make something that I could use as a noose then getting so frustrated that I could find nothing to hang it from. I get there then I want away again, I try to escape/abscond, I try and get to the nearest shop and buy tablets to overdose on. I don’t want to overdose, I don’t even think I want to die. Yet my head keeps telling me that I do.

I can’t put my family through all that again. I’ve stayed out the hospital since January. We are now in August. I have put in so much work to get better and stay slightly more well in these past 7/8 months. I can’t walk that path again. I can’t do it to the people who love me again. They all think I am focused on getting my flat repainted and sorted, trying to get my housing transfer, starting my uni course. But am I doing all of that for them or for me? That is what I am no longer sure of.

I don’t know what to do, I really don’t. Do I go and have a shower, walk the dogs like it’s another normal day and sit and battle these feelings all night? Do I phone for help? Do I take myself to the hospital and admit I can’t cope and deal with whatever actions they recommend? Do I go to the craft shop and buy some blades and cut myself to let out this pain? Do I open the cupboard door and take out the 4 boxes of paracetamol and remaining weekly medications?

Where have all these feelings come from? Nothing really makes sense. I don’t know what to do. I feel stuck. Completely and utterly stuck in my own misery and horrible thoughts. And I just do not know where to turn. I need help please.

01:24 – The calm and the storm

20 Jun

I decided to go to my appointment with my CPN today. I got there at 1pm and literally opened the door and she was standing right there about to walk out. She just looked at me and said “I’m really sorry but as I told you on the phone there is something I need to go to and unfortunately I need to prioritise it over our appointment”. I just looked at her with an extremely pissed off face and snapped at her “fine”. I turned to walk out and she put a hand on my shoulder and said she would give me a lift back home, I pushed her hand away and snapped “do you know what, just don’t bother OK” and I stormed off home in a very bad mood. I felt so let down, right now I obviously can’t talk to my Mum about how low I’ve been feeling as due to all the stuff happening with my Aunt my Mum is going through a ‘life is so precious’ type of attitude (rightly so in the circumstances) – but – MY life doesn’t feel precious, it feels like a total waste of time right now to be honest.

I got back home and burst into tears. I felt like I needed to talk/vent so badly and there was no-one there to listen. My CPN only works part time, two days a week and wouldn’t be back until next week, so I was left feeling like she didn’t really give a damn and I felt like I was going to explode with all these mixed up crazy feelings going on inside me. It felt like she didn’t care, I understood that sometimes she has to prioritise but it was only 1pm and I couldn’t see why she couldn’t see me at all before going home today. So needless to say I sat in a proper shitty mood for the next hour or so and then my mobile starting ringing – it was her. She said the situation she’d had to attend wasn’t going to take all afternoon like she had thought and asked me if I’d like to meet her after another hour. I still felt angry with her but knew I needed the appointment so I said yes I’d like to see her. So two and a half hours after we were supposed to meet I got my appointment.

She picked me up in the car and we went to the marina and got a drink and sat by the sea. I told her how crap I was feeling and how close I’d been to overdosing last night. I was honest with her and told her that whilst I had no more blades in the house I did have a lot of medication in my cupboard. She said that there was no point in her asking me to get rid of them or give them to her because she knew I could just go to the shops and stock up on more. But she did ask me to think about getting rid of some of them (which I won’t, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to take them).

She asked me what I thought had changed from last week when I seemed so much more positive and I told her I really didn’t know. The only reason I could think of is that I felt incredibly alone at the moment with these really depressing thoughts and didn’t feel like I could talk to anyone because I don’t want to cause my family any more stress. We were sitting in the little harbour area and there were a few small boats tied up. She said to me that when the weather was nice people untied their little boats and went out on them, enjoying them, spending time on them. But when it gets a bit stormy the little boats get tied up in the harbour to protect them from the storm and keep them safe. I knew what she was getting at, and she carried on to say that I’ve been doing well lately just like when the water is gentle and the boats are out being enjoyed, but to think of my mood at the moment as a storm where I need to do what I can to keep myself safe. She asked me if I’d like to go back into hospital until the storm passed and I said most definitely not. I never want to go back to that place. Never.

I just don’t get how my mood has changed so drastically and so quickly. It makes me wonder if my mood really did get better at all or if I just kept smiling because I knew that’s what people wanted/needed to see. I find myself wondering all the time what my purpose in life is – back before I lost my son I thought my future had been decided – my role was going to be a Mummy. Now I have this empty void inside me that nothing can fill. Sometimes I wish I had a career that I loved and could throw myself into and be good at. Sometimes I think maybe my destiny was just to have 30 years in this world and then slip away quietly.

So CPN is forgiven and I see her again next Thursday. I hope from now until then my mood will lift but right now it doesn’t feel that likely. I just keep trying to hang onto that thought of how it would affect my parents right now if I tried to end my life. I don’t think they could cope with that whilst also coping with my Aunt’s cancer. It’s strange, when something happens like a family member being diagnosed with the big C, you automatically think ‘are they going to survive this?’ and suddenly life becomes so very important. I too panicked when I heard my Aunt’s news and the same thoughts went through my head (and still are going through my head) – is she going to survive this? Her life seems important, she is a mother, she has recently become a grandmother, she is a wife, she has so many roles and is loved by so many people.

But what is the purpose of my life? What is my role? What will fill the emptiness, the loneliness, the huge hole inside me? Will applying to college or doing some voluntary work give me a sense of purpose again? I know the only way I will know is to try but today I just don’t have the motivation at all. I know what I would like to have a career in, I just don’t know if I can stay stable and strong enough to gain the qualifications needed.

Sometimes it all just feels like it will always come back to this. Not quite square one, but it certainly feels like one step forward and two steps back. I did feel a bit better in the end for seeing my CPN but I have 8 days now until any other appointments and I’ve no idea if they are going to run smoothly or be one big struggle.

20:29 – Home

23 Jan

Well that’s me back home again. I went into my review full of smiles and assurances that all suicidal/self harming type thoughts had fled my mind. Have they really? Probably not. But I hate that place so so much that I can’t take more than a week and I just need to escape from there. Don’t get me wrong I do genuinely feel a bit more positive and I am doing my best to keep reminding myself that there is a future out there for me. I mean we are all put on this Earth for a reason and I’ve yet to find mine.

So I exaggerated a little in the review today, I convinced the psychiatrists that in the space of a few days I had stopped thinking about hanging myself and instead wanted a happy life. And I do want that happy life, I’m just not sure if I’m ready to put in all the hard work that it’s going to take to get there. Confused? Yes a little bit. I’m not really sure how I feel, I’m glad to be sitting back in my own little flat and not in a hospital bed I know that much.

I went to see my friend on my way home and she thinks I’ve left hospital too soon. I went to see my mum and dad for dinner and I think they think I’ve left too soon as well even though I told the psych that Mum was happy for me to go home. I was just so restless in there and that restlessness has carried on a bit, I couldn’t handle being round at my friend’s house for long and I was feeling a bit agitated at my parents as well. But I’ve taken my meds early and am hoping for an early night as I’ve got a lot on tomorrow. I need to be up early and get an appointment with my GP for medication as I only asked for one day’s supply so I could get out of the hospital asap.

What happens next? Who knows. Hopefully onwards and upwards but after constant drug use, overdosing, running away from hospitals, spending every night for 5 or 6 days in a row tying ligatures round my neck to suddenly trying to convince everyone that I’m back to normal… well… what can I say, I think it’s pretty obvious I’m not quite back to normal yet.

But I’m glad to be home I know that much for sure, even if it’s the only thing I’m 100% sure of right now.

00:16 back in the bin

17 Jan

Im back in the looney bin. I knew this was going to happen. I didn’t go to my appt with cpn woman today mainly cos i couldnt be fucked listening to all her shit. Anyway i phoned her and told her how suicidal i was feeling and she simply said to follow my crisis plan. I hate that fucking crisis plan its her answer to everything. I told her i wanted to die and would likely od again tonight so she said to phone my gp. Phoned gp who was lovely and told me to go see her, we chatted and i opened up to her about the drugs etc. She was so nice about it and didn’t judge me. We decided the bin was the safest place for me at the mo. So an ambulance brought me here and the on call Dr came to assess me, he was a total wanker with hardly any ability to use the English language. He took no notice of anything i said yet seemed to fill 3 pages while i sat in silence. I wish i had just bought more drugs and taken another od but im here now so will see what psych says tomoro if i see him. I hope i do, much as i dislike the man i hope to be able to express myself better to him. Im sitting in the day room we have 30 more mins, bed for 1am latest. Im wide awake despite 4mg lorazepam. I have a feeling its going to be a long night.

Oh what a bad girl I am ffs

5 Oct

Oh dear what a bad girl I have been. M the fucking poisonous staff nurse has been doing my head in for the past 2 hours. I politely asked earlier if I could speak with a doctor due to concerns with my medication – they have dropped my quetiapine/seroquel from 750mg to 250mg in 2 days and started me on this amisulpride. Common side effects listed on patient info sheet for new amisulpride drug: insomnia, anxiety, agitation. I’m fucking bouncing from wall to wall I’m that hyped up. So I politely ask for something to calm me down a bit and she says no she will not be phoning a doctor to ask them. I was extremely rude to her, I believe my exact words were “why did you want to be a psychiatric nurse cos you’re a fucking useless one” which, in all fairness, she is.

Another side effect mentioned is a skin rash and what do you know my arm is coming out in a rash.

M the bitch nurse keeps saying I knew what the medication change entailed but not once did anyone tell me I’d be fucking bouncing off the walls by day 2. Yes the quetiapine wasn’t working, yes I was still hearing voices on it, yes I’m still having all of the above right now. But she quite categorically said she would not have a doctor come to see me, that I am rude and confrontational (agreed) and I could wait to see my own doctor tomorrow or Friday when he is next in.

Surely I have the right to a decent night sleep and not be on something causing insomnia and such a huge and fast drop to my withdrawing medication. She is a complete fucking cow. Argh.

Because my brain is scrambled and because I am using my phone I can’t remember if I wrote about this already but the short version is that they thought I had absconded when I’d gone a woodland walk tryin to clear my head. I was out sitting in the pitch black woodland from about 8pm til 11.30ish, four police officers and two ward staff finally found me. End of story really.

Also I won’t be working with my psychologist any longer as she is 19 weeks pregnant and I can’t deal with that shit, talking about my loss and watching her bump grow. Everything is a head fuck.

I think my social worker has joined the gang of hating me, she barely sees me anymore, I’ve now got no psychologist, the majority of staff in this hospital are quite simply crap.

Oh fuck it. End of rant.

Posted from WordPress for Android – HTC Desire

Amisulpride anyone?

3 Oct

Had review today. He wants me reassessed cos he thinks I actually have schizo affective disorder. We are cutting my quetiapine down by 100mg a day and once down to 350mg going to change over to amisulpride. On phone as still in bin, hallucinations are awful, total paranoid mess, very emotional, told him I feel like I’m going mad, his reply was

that I’m not mad, I’m psychotic right now. Hardly any phone battery left, hoping to see parents tomoro. But back to my original question, have any of you taken amisulpride and can you tell me the pros and cons cos ive never evenheard of it. Thanks xx

Posted from WordPress for Android – HTC Desire

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)

14:49 – Good News!

20 Sep

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 🙂

10:50 – looney bin

10 Sep

Well guys I know I said I was having a break from blogging but stuff has happened so thought I’d fill you in. Wednesday I was taking diazepam throughout the day – not with the intention to off myself – just for some peace. Thursday I was a mess, a big mess. I bought diazepam took 30x10mg and a box of 8 promethazine. Social worker told parents to go to my flat. I was then taken to local hospital then ambulanced to main hospital. Had psych liaison assessment then was ambulanced 3 hours to where I am now – the looney bin. Not sectioned as yet, that awaits me on Monday morning. So that’s where I’m at, who knows how long for this time round. Very very upset and extremely anxious. Want out of here and fast.

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