Monday, 31 October 2011

I'm worried

I'm worried as my feelings are coming back quite strong. Went to see my GP today to get meds including pain killers and the urge to take 90 prescription pain killers and 60 tricyclic anti depressants was very strong.

I was quite surprised he gave me a months supply of medication when I've only just been discharged and he was one of the docs who thought. I needed sectioning back when I was first put on the S.2. And I don't pay for my meds at the moment as I'm on income related ESA.

I'm having probs with meds at the moment. How I feel about them and what they are doing to me. But, I'm writing this from my phone and I'm struggling. So I'm off to bed. Seeing Sam tomorrow and so I'll do an entry tomorrow. I just felt I needed to do this now to get my feelings off my chest.


Sunday, 30 October 2011


Just testing out blogging from my phone.

Tuesday, 25 October 2011


I am no longer under section. Yay! The PDoc took me off it today when I went in after leave. So I am happy about that. I was totally honest with doc. I said I was having more suicidal thoughts and thoughts of self harm, however, I hadn't self harmed, but I felt that this was more to not having the opportunity to, not because I was making the conscious decision or making the conscious effort not to.

He said it was expected that I would be having more thoughts and struggling as my structure has been taken away and I don't know what's going to happen. He said when I am a person who doesn't really plan too far in to the future because I don't know where I will be with moods it is going to be hard for me to have to wait a year before being allowed to go back to uni.

Being at uni was the thing that gave me structure to my life. I had something to concentrate on. I have voiced my concerns that without this in place I will sink back and end up in a vicious downward spiral. The doc agreed with me and said that it is critical that I work with the community OT because of it giving me some structure. Beth is getting something set up with community OT for me so that something will be in place.

At the moment I am finding it really hard to do most things for myself. If I am told to go to an appointment I will get up and shower and go. But to do things for myself, then I am struggling. I have had a few PJ days where I haven't showered, brushed my teeth or done anything with myself. It's gross really. My mum has had a go at me for it also.

I do feel my mood has dipped in the last couple of weeks. I can't say I am in a depressive episode as I don't think I am. It worries me that it could be the start of one and maybe the sodium valporate isn't working after all. But, I suppose the PDoc is right in what he says. It is to be expected. Being told I couldn't go back to uni this year has hit me really hard which is a normal reaction when someone has worked so hard to get on the course and then worked hard while they have been on it.

So I am going to be under Dr T again. I am really not happy about this. I don't like him. I feel that he doesn't listen to me and he changes what I say. He will tell me I am feeling feelings I am not and ignores the ones I am. I was seeing him on a monthly basis before I was admitted and I suppose in a way I kind of feel let down by him especially as I did share with him things were getting worse for me and I was having strong suicidal thoughts. But, saying that, I know I have to take responsibility for it myself. It was my decision to try and kill myself and I did not do all I could to stop me taking those steps. In this I mean that I was not honest with people and I did not work with Crisis team. So I can't say I blame him.

There is a support plan in place for me, I'm not exactly sure what it is though. I don't know how often I will be seeing Beth or Dr T. I have been proactive in one thing though. I have made an appointment to see Sam again. I am looking forward to seeing her as I really like her. I feel as though I have a good relationship with her. I will miss her when she goes on maternity leave.

If I am honest I am feeling a little lost at the moment. Not sure why, but it's how I feel. I think maybe I became institutionalised slightly. It was weird walking out for the last time today. Hopefully I am heading in the right direction. I have been told I am (and I have been honest with them), I just feel different and am kinda worried I'm not. I have this feeling deep down that something is not right. I suppose it's something to talk about with Sam when I see her on Wednesday.

For now though...I'm off to bed!

Saturday, 22 October 2011


I am still under the section 3, but I am on leave. Being told that I can not return to my course until next year has hit me hard and my mood has dipped because of it. I don't know what I am going to do for the next year. I don't seem to see things long term which the other day Beth and the Pdoc made me see. They asked me if I could see being a social worker or just doing the course. At the moment it was just doing the course. I don't know what I want long term.

I am still having the suicidal thoughts, granted it's not a constant thing but they are there. They creep in when they are least expected and knock me back quite hard. Also have not been self harming on a daily basis as I was before going in to hospital. The reasons behind this are because I have not had time on my own, the house I now live in is tiny and I can't lock any doors. It's not through not wanting to and I can feel it building. This worries me quite a lot as given the chance I think I will and I think it would/could be quite serious. As I already know, I don't self harm in a light way very often. The scar on my stomach from having emergency surgery shows that. I spoke to Beth about this the other day when she came to see me. At the moment I am seeing her on a weekly basis. She came to my house and my Mum went out. She said she was also concerned that it wasn't a choice of mine that I wasn't self harming and it was because I didn't have the opportunity to. But, I suppose where there is a will there is a way so it may be some unconcious decision I I making not to self harm.

After nearly 3 months of being in hospital I didn't think I would hear from Vince again. I assumed he would give up. But, he didn't. He saw when I was back in the real world (Facebook) and messaged me (Facebook again) saying he was glad I was alive and he was worried about me while I had been away as my phone was bouncing back messages and he could tell I hadn't been online in a while. I made some story up, well I didn't. I just didn't tell him I had been in hospital under a section or that I had been anywhere near a psych hospital. We got talking again and we agreed that while we couldn't pick up where we left off (about to jump in to bed with each other and on the road to becoming boyfriend and girlfriend) we did want to see each other. So...I am seeing him on Tuesday. I've got even more scars now on my legs from where I self harmed quite a lot when I was in hospital. I am worried that he will know that they are self harm scars. One day, if we did become a couple and a LOT further down the line I will tell him I am diagnosed as having Cyclothymia and explain about it and tell him in the future how I had to go in to hospital so that I could be treated for it.

As I said though, my mood seems to have taken a dip. I have lost that motivation that was there before and would be happy to spend the day in my PJ's without showering or brushing my teeth. I got away with it yesterday because I am ill also, but would not be allowed to get away with it usually. I drag myself out of bed after 13hours in there to show face but again, if I was on my own I would probably be spending a lot more time in bed. Hopefully I will pick up soon, I hope it's not a sign that the sodium valporate is not working as I thought it was and me going back into a depressive episode. I hope it is just in response to the thing with uni.

Anyway, I will mention all this to the Pdoc on Monday when I go back for review. I have a meeting on Monday and I am hopefully being discharged from the section. Although I am on leave I feel quite vulnerable that I could just be dragged back in at any time and that I don't have control. And being as though one of my things is about control it's not a nice feeling to have. I need to feel that I have control over my life. Which is why I carry a razor in my purse. It's there, I know it's there and when I feel I want to self harm I am making that choice not to use it, thus I have some control. I tried to explain this one evening to the ward staff but this landed me in trouble and a restraint. I understand it and the Pdoc understood it also, he said he did.

That's my update for now anyway.

Hopefully I will be able to find enough stuff to write about on here now that I am out of hospital.

I find keeping a blog is like keeping a diary and is the only place I can be fully open about my thoughts and feelings.

Monday, 17 October 2011

Where Am I Now?

I have still not been discharged. But I am on leave. This post is today October 17th.

I have been on leave since Monday last week, bar one night when I was asked to stay. Big mistake. Will explain more in a minute.

First off, uni have pissed me off. All along they have been supportive saying concentrate on getting better, don't worry about the course as you can come back on it when you are better and indicating it would be fine for me to return once I was out of hospital. Then all of a sudden they emailed the hospital with a whole bunch of reasons why they thought it not be a good idea that I return this year. Some of them I understood, I expected it from the beginning when I first informed them I was in hospital. But it came so quick. The hospital knew that. And, it was why I was not discharged on Thursday as the plan was. I was asked if I would stay that night as the news had upset me and I agreed. Going back to uni this year has been my main focus in trying to get better, trying to show them that I could seek help when I needed it. By this I mean seeking out staff when I was struggling and talking to them and asking for PRN medication if I felt I needed it. And in uni giving me this news I kind of felt as what's the point! The hospital were worried I would act badly and because it was my focus wanted me to be around staff that night so I could talk to them if I needed.

So I was allowed to go home for a few hours to take my car home and pick up clothes so I could get changed the next day etc. 9pm I was back on the ward. 10pm I had to get off. So I did. I took myself off without telling anyone where I was going and over stayed my unescorted leave. I needed to be alone. I needed to be out of the place. It has a smell about it. It has a feeling. It makes me feel worse. It wasn't that settled either and so it was making me feel anxious and I couldn't think. So I needed to have time on my own. I knew the ward were getting worried when I had missed calls from them and then the security guards asked me if I was GP and I denied it. I moved to a quieter place, still within hospital grounds. After about 2 hours some staff found me. I did not want to go back to the ward and they called a security guard. I explained how I felt and that it was being on there. I tried walking away from them but they grabbed me. They were being nice to me though.

After a while one of the staff flagged down the police who were driving past. They asked me to go back and I still was saying no. So they handcuffed me. They put me in their car. I managed to get out the handcuffs and tried to get out the car by winding down the window and trying to open it from the outside but the police man grabbed on to me. By now I was feeling even worse and was getting quite angry about being dragged back to the ward so I was struggling. They dumped me back on the ward and staff took me to my room and IM'd me with medication but I was still quite irate. I had a razor on me also as I planned on self harming. I didn't tell them this but they knew as they had found the broken remnants of one. They were holding on to me as I would not give it up and while I was upset they wouldn't leave me alone. At this point they were wanting to get me transferred to PICU again and even called the local one trying to get me a bed there. Thankfully they were full and the one I was in before was too far away for transfer in the middle of the night. It all ended with the staff coming off me and staying in my room. They let me keep the razor but said I had to take it out my mouth if I wanted them to leave me alone as they didn't want me swallowing it in my sleep. So I was able to wrap it in a tissue and put it under the pillow. It ended with me falling asleep.

The next morning I was woken by staff coming in my room to get the razor. Being as though I was in a medication hangover I gave it up with no resistance. So that was on Thursday.

What has happened since then?

Even though I had been upset the night before the PDoc granted my leave and over the weekend I went to a family wedding. It was really hard. All my family know that I have been in hospital and so I had them constantly checking on me making sure I was ok and trying to talk to me about what had happened and what was happening now. I got home from the wedding drained. It didn't help my Dad got really pissed and was really annoying. The split between my parents is also bothering me quite a lot. I feel as though I am in the middle of both of them. I am living with my Mum at the moment. We have moved house and it is a lot smaller than the house we lived in with my Dad. So she has had to leave quite a lot of stuff. But he doesn't want her stuff around and so he keeps on at me to try and get my Mum to sort it out and has boxed up a load of stuff and made me bring it back. I keep getting from both of them their own takes on things and how they are coping and I know it sounds selfish but I can't cope at the moment with dealing with their problems as well as my own. The PDoc said I need to set boundaries with them, but I don't feel that I can.

What am I going to do with the next year?

Well I am going to have to claim benefits for a while. I don't hold much hope in getting a job any time soon. I feel that I am not well enough yet to do something that I hate doing as it will make me feel worse. I know that will probably receive criticism from some people but if you don't like what you read don't read it. I don't plan on being on them long. I am giving myself until Xmas to get myself sorted out with a job. I am also going to try and do some short courses while I am off over the next year. I want to do something that is going to help me with my career as I haven't exactly gone and helped it by getting sectioned. So I was thinking something like counselling skills. I will have to see what's out there.

So, I went back to the hospital today after my weekend of leave. I had to see the PDOC. We had a chat about basically everything I have written on here and diagnosis. He asked me what I thought about everything now and I said I was worried as I had been having bad thoughts over the weekend. He said he had the feeling that being in hospital made things worse for me in terms of the self harm as I have more things stopping me at home. The fact I can't lock any doors is a major factor at home. And the house is so small that I would feel weird self harming while my Mum is so close. He said he felt that if something was going to happen it would have happened by now with me. So although I felt worried he had less concerns. He spoke to me about diagnosis also.

 He said it wasn't a PD. He said there was no way I could complete a year of a Masters level course and not completely fall apart at the first hurdle. He said he would expect someone with a PD to have increased self harm and attempts when they were stressed and struggling over things such as hard essays and other bad things that happen in life. He said it hadn't happened with me. He said I had stumbled at times but had managed to get myself through it. He also said with PD the traits are there all the time where as with me they are not, they are just there when I am struggling. And on to the traits. There are not enough traits there to be able to be diagnosed with it. He said he agreed with the diagnosis of Cyclothymic disorder (basically a milder form of bi-polar) that the other PDoc had given me. The medication that I have been given for mood disorder has worked which again indicates it is a mood disorder.

I have said all along that there are traits. I have acknowledged that, but I have also said it is not a PD. I have tried to fight this, not just because of the stigma of PD but because I felt I didn't have it.

There is someone who commented on one of my posts under anonymous was quite rude over the diagnosis thing. I don't get people who go by anonymous. Why hide behind it? Anyway, that's a whole new topic and I have written enough now. I am tired and going to go to bed after being a good patient on leave and taking my range of medication. I wonder how long I will have to deal with medication for if it's something I will be on for the rest of my life. It makes me kind of worried really. But if the sodium valporate is stabilising my mood then I should be thankful for that. At the moment I need just to concentrate on that.

October 5th - Moving On

I was a sulky teenager. More than sulky. A problem. I cried because I was not in my own room and put in a dorm. I was being mardy as I was saying that they couldn’t expect me to be on high obs and have to share a room with other people as wasn’t fair on them or me. It was bad enough being followed everywhere without having to share with other people. I became loud and verbal and kicked the wardrobe and tried to pull the mattress off the bed. They did actually move me to my own room. I feel bad for creating a ruckus and acting like a teenager and I hate the impression it may have given people of me. I was walking over the ward trying to lock myself in rooms and telling my observing member of staff, whom, I liked as a member of staff, to piss off and leave me alone. I was awful to him and he was so nice to me I still feel bad about it.

The Psychiatrist saw me and we spoke about the obs and we agreed that I could go into the toilet and shower on my own. The next day when I woke up my shadow had gone all together. Move on a week and I am here now having been told I can leave the ward on my own for an hour at a time and 4 hours if I am with staff or my mum. I have been given a diagnosis which is not PD but something on the bi-polar spectrum I can’t remember. It’s like mild bi-polar. The psych called my mum and has said I should be allowed home leave at the weekend and hopefully being discharged next week.

I have also seen my Dad and it’s been ok. I need to try and be there for him as my mum leaving him is going to hit him pretty hard. I need to find an activity we can do together that I won’t give up on. He wants me to join a gym with him. I’m thinking playing badminton a couple of times a week. I don’t like the gym. I am still recovering from the operation and I do tire easily. Walking to the main entrance and back knackers me out at the moment.

What I don’t understand is how suddenly everything is happening. I said this to my parents. My mum said maybe because I now have a settled home to go to. My Dad said he thinks because I am obviously getting better and he has noticed big changes in me. I’ve lost quite a lot of weight but not just that. He said I seem brighter and loads better. I know I am not cured and there are still going to up and down days. But, I feel more positive. I still have the suicidal thoughts but they are not as bad and I am feeling good about wanting to go back to uni this year and get on with it. I suppose the move to MCH and even being on the high obs has been good for me. The staff are better here and a lot more caring. I am able to be more open with them.

I know next time I write I may not be so positive but I see it as a positive now that I am able to write a more positive post. Even positive considering I had PRN 3 nights running and self-harmed only 2 nights ago. It’s not a big setback for me though. I think I am always going to self-harm and I need to get out the mind-set that I am going to be cured. I also think it’s because of how serious it has been when I have self harmed which led to my admission and how I have been kept. Swallowing a needle requiring emergency surgery is not in the same league as brushing my skin with a razor. I am not saying it’s because I feel more pain then when I superficially self harm, but it’s more serious and cannot be left alone to get on with it.

Wow. That is kind of positive.

I just wanted to clear a few things up and kind of bring this up to date and get out how I have changed over the past few days. Let’s hope it stays.


September 28th - Nearly 2 Weeks On a Medical Ward

I swallowed a needle again. This time it made me quite ill and required an emergency operation. It was on the 16th I think that I swallowed it. I was taken to the ED and x-rayed but it didn’t hurt at the time. They were going to admit me but I said I didn’t want to be and discharged myself from the ED. The PDoc wasn’t very happy with me and came to see me in my room at about 9 that night. In the end he persuaded me to go back in to hospital. So I was taken to a ward and was clerked in. After about an hour I was told I didn’t need to be there and could be taken back to the psych ward. I was still feeling ok and I managed to sleep through the night until about 4am. Come 4am I was experiencing quite a lot of pain in my stomach area and shoulder. I was given codeine every few hours and kind of left to it. As the day wore on the pain got worse and worse. I didn’t sleep that night and struggled to get any rest. I couldn’t lie down properly.

I was buzzing the nurses every hour as I was in so much pain. I saw my Mum on the Saturday also. I didn’t want to tell her what I had done, which is one of the reasons why I didn’t want admitting to medical ward in the first place. I just told her I was having really bad stomach pains and didn’t know what was causing it. On the Sunday I was in a right mess. I can’t remember much of it now as I was in so much pain I have kind of blocked it out. I remember asking them to take me back to the ED as something wasn’t right and I was in too much pain. But they wouldn’t. They were taking my temperature which was apparently raised. I was then asked if I had shoulder pain. I hadn’t mentioned it as I thought it was just stress pain as of the way I was holding myself but apparently the shoulder pain was an indication that the needle had perforated my stomach and small intestine. I was taken for surgery pretty much straight away.

I can’t remember the Monday and only slightly remember the Tuesday. I was still in loads of pain and was on morphine. But. I had a bad reaction to morphine. I vaguely remember being told after the surgery they had have to have given me narcan as of the reaction to the morphine. On the Tuesday my Mum and brother came to visit and I remember my brother being quite upset. My Mum said I looked a mess though. I had a tube going in my nose, I couldn’t move properly and I was out of it. I asked my mum at a later date and she said my brother was upset as I was so ill. I didn’t realise how ill I was at the time. I don’t think you do though do you? But looking back at it I know I was bad.

That night I had a bad reaction to the morphine. I wasn’t really aware of what was going on. It was still day time but I don’t remember being with it. I remember trying to pull out all the tubes and bits and pieces that were going in to me and having 2 members of staff restrain me so that I wouldn’t be able to do it. I remember hallucinating at night also. I said I knew they had moved me and that I had lost a day. I wasn’t in the hospital that I thought I was in and that they were doing things to me without my consent. I was seeing trolls out the window and fireworks. It was really weird. I only vaguely remember it. I don’t remember stopping breathing. Only the staff and nurses running around me like flies. It was weird. It was eerily quiet also. Supposedly my resps had dropped to only one a minute, noticed by my observing psych staff. So they put me on oxygen and waited for me to come round a bit. Then there were more hallucinations and trying to get out etc. but with no avail.

This happened a couple of times while I was on the ward and in the end they stopped the morphine. I wasn’t aware of what was happening at all and each time it was just like I had been asleep.

I was in a lot of pain whilst on medical ward and could not walk. I was on high observations and so had to have someone follow me in to the toilet or shower. Sometimes I managed it so that I wasn’t followed in and they waited outside but most the time I had to have someone watch me shower which was awful and so demeaning. It’s not something you can get used to.

I was on the medical ward for nearly 2 weeks. I didn’t want to be discharged at all as I didn’t want to go back to the psych ward. So when I was discharged being back on the ward I must say I didn’t take too kindly to it and struggled with being on high obs and being followed to the toilet and shower.

September 15th - Day 3 of Acute Ward at MCH

I think I am now up to date with the last month which has been going on. I know I have probably left a whole heap of things out as a month is a long time to write about. But, I will probably just add things in as I go along.

I woke this morning in a pissed off mood. To be expected. What I thought would work didn’t. The night was a night of interrupted sleep and didn’t feel restless. I have dreams that I can’t now recall but are weird. I know I dream that I am not here. This morning I woke and looked at my surroundings and for a few seconds I thought I was no longer in hospital. I am so used to being on the PICU in that same bed that because I wasn’t there I felt I was no longer in hospital.

I saw the PDoc today. A woman this time. She seemed really nice and listened to me. She went through a case history with me and then turned round and said what I was describing about my moods was not in the notes. I have always said how they last for long periods of time, well 2 weeks plus. But in my notes it seems as though it says it can be quite short lived…and that’s what I described. I told her I am not usually an anxious or irritable person yet being in hospital was turning me in to one. I told her about my feelings of my need to die. I told her what was important to me. I told her I wanted to do it now while my nephews were still young enough to not remember me. I love my nephews more than anything in the world and want to make sure that they don’t remember me as this. She asked me how other people would describe me and I said that they would probably say I was outgoing, bubbly, fun, loud, and funny. Which when I feel normal or high, that is what I am like. I am those things. I am fun to be around. I am likeable. I go out of my way to help other people. But I have not been that person in quite a while now. I don’t have the energy. She asked me more about what I was like when I was what I described as being high and I said how everything felt as though it was speeded up, I felt invincible, I want to go out with friends, I want to go to night clubs and dance like a fool, I feel on top of the world, I spend money that I know I don’t have and I do reckless things like have one night stands. I talked about the paranoia that I also sometimes get, mainly when I am high. I said how I felt like I was being followed and I was being watched. I didn’t tell her that when I see a police car I worry that they are coming for me.

She mentioned bi-polar again. Saying it sounded like something on the bi-polar spectrum. I don’t know anymore. I don’t think it’s PD. But there may be some traits. I suppose the thing about forming trust in relationships could apply as I am not able to fully trust anyone. But then I also feel that a lot of this is because a lot of the things I feel should just belong to me. I don’t wanna be one of those touchy feely types who say “I feel that…” after every conversation. I don’t wanna open myself up so much. A lot of the reason I am like this when it comes to discussing my thoughts and feelings is because I fear a backlash of them. As I have got older I have learnt not to share how I feel as the person who I am most likely to be able to share my thoughts and feelings with usually as soon as she has had a couple of drinks makes me feel pathetic for having those thoughts and feelings. Or somehow manipulates them in to something I shouldn’t be feeling. So tell me, why should I be open about how I feel and my thoughts if they are just going to be trampled on? Dr T has also done this to me. He tells me I am feeling something I am not or tells me I am not feeling something I am. So why should I bother as the people I should be able to talk to just turn it around on me?

That’s only 2 people though. I know that. But, I suppose you learn a lot from early experiences and it carries through in to later life.

I couldn’t tell you if I have learnt anything from being in hospital. I have some good things to put in a made up case study for a dissertation though. That’s if I go back to uni. I am still wanting to die. Wanting to die and studying for a MA, a MA in Social Work aren’t really good partners together are they? I don’t know if they will let me back on the course either. I mean, I am due to start back next week! Not exactly a promising start is it? So, if they cure me of these horrible suicidal thoughts and discharge me what does it mean for me?

Probably a year off uni. Not happy about that. Not at all. How do I explain that one to friends who don’t know I am here? Much to my delight my parents seem to have told all the family about my situation and my brothers their friends, even though asked not to. I have friends who don’t know. Neve doesn’t know. I’ve not been in contact with her in about 4 weeks now. She actually contacted my brothers as she had seen I’d not even been on Facebook. I don’t want her knowing as she goes out with Gom’s mate. I do not want it getting back to Gom that I am in hospital. My brother told Neve I was in hospital with a gastro thing and she posted a get well card through my door. I feel awful not telling her the truth as she is a close friend now but I would rather not tell her while I am here. I think once I am discharged I will tell her and I can leave some details out and add others.

I am also going to have to move house. I think before I came in to hospital I wrote of my parent’s separation. Well, my Mum has now found another house. At first I was really supportive of them breaking up. I suppose I still am as it’s not a good relationship. But my own selfishness is rising inside me. I have not said anything to anyone about it as I don’t want to appear selfish in this. And, I don’t want to make people notice me even more. But, I really don’t want to move house. I didn’t think I did but I do see the house I lived in as a home. It is my home. I like where it is. I can walk to uni and it’s easy to get to the city centre (about £7 in a cab) and I love the position. It’s an amazing house which I am kind of proud of. But, my Mum can’t afford to stay there. The council tax bill alone is £250 per month. So she has found a house miles away! It’s not really an area I know and I just don’t want to move. Also today, I’ve just thought of this and it’s made me even more against it is I have been told by the PDoc that if it is Bi-Polar I may lose my driver’s licence for a while. Not good. Not good at all.

While all this has been going on I have not had contact with my Dad. I have said I don’t want anyone other than my Mum coming to the hospital to see me. It’s not that it’s that I don’t want to see him. I don’t want him telling me what I need to do. I don’t want him maudling. I can’t cope with his intensity at the moment. So since I left France on August 1st I have only seen him once. He came to the hospital with my Mum on one occasion. I just can’t handle it. I don’t know how I can explain it. I have had nurses etc. asking me why and I don’t know what to say. I can’t really explain it to myself. Maybe it’s because I am so ashamed of myself I don’t want to see him as it will make me more ashamed. Who knows? But just writing that sentence has made me a bit teary so maybe that could be some of the reason.

I think I have only mentioned it once before on my blog. I don’t talk about it as I am ashamed of it. But I was the same after I stole the money. I didn’t want to see my grandparents at all. I would do all I could to avoid them. Is this the same? Do I feel the same way about my Dad in all of this as I did back when I was 13? I think there may be quite a lot of that there actually. I don’t know why as I don’t know why I would be like this with him. Maybe I feel that he has always expected me to be a certain way and I have just not lived up to it. Do I feel as though I am on some kind of pedestal waiting to fall? I’ve not always been the Golden Child but I suppose I was a Daddy’s girl growing up. The whole thing with the money was brushed aside after about a year or so and while my brothers did things to cause concern and acted out I never did. I never needed disciplining really and could manipulate my Dad quite easily by being the youngest, the only girl and not the one who was unemployed, stayed in bed all day and didn’t do anything with his life or the one who was a dreamer and had no direction.

I worked hard and kept my head down. I think he then put me on some kind of pedestal. You know, being independent enough to go travelling on my own, getting my first degree and getting a place to do my Masters.

My oldest brother has kids now, which is great and it does take some of the focus off me but I still feel that he expects so much of me. And I think that is one of the reasons why I don’t want to see him. And he is being a cock to my Mum over the separation by not giving her her half of things. Not as in it’s in his name and he won’t give her half but, in both their names and he won’t give it her. The time he did come to visit at the other hospital I could see the tear in his eyes and it was awful. I can’t subject myself to it.

So my Dad is staying in the house. There is no way I could live with him. And my Mum has a rented house way out in the sticks. Miles from uni, miles from town and miles from friends. And I may lose my driving licence. It’s all great!

I’ve never really thought of my emotions to my Dad like that before. I have wondered what it was that made my relationship with him so fraught but I think it is that. And that he treats my Mum like crap. He expects so much of other people but will not give anything in return. I am not sure if my brothers feel the same way about it and I have only just realised that I feel this way.

I’m going to leave it there. It was only going to be a short blog tonight about more moanings of being in hospital and my thoughts etc. But I’ve gone on enough. And my battery is again running low.



Day 2 of Acute Ward in My City Hospital (MCH)

 The tenses are all over the place in this. I am aware of that. I am trying to write about what happened in the month of acute and I feel that I need to write now as a distraction while I wait for the zopiclone and lorazepam to kick in. I hate it here. There are too many people. I know that sounds like I am saying really that I like having the attention. But that is a load of crap. It’s because I don’t like being around people. I can’t cope with being around all these ill people. I know that sounds awful. But I can’t. I am easily irritated. I know they are ill. But, I just can’t deal with it. Not when I feel like this also. When I am normal I prefer working on the larger wards. I prefer the acute/admission wards but now I can’t deal with it.

I keep trying to attempt. The staff ask why I would do that knowing I am in hospital. My answer is I know of cases where it has succeeded and there is always a chance that a check or two will be missed. I have read things in the paper before where people have managed to kill themselves while they are in hospital. So it may work for me.

I tried again this evening. I tried a different way. Well a combined way but my tools let me down and couldn’t get out of it what I wanted so it ended up resorting to my usual way. Failure! I never feel relief after an attempt. I always feel low. I feel let down. Why couldn’t I do it better? Why won’t it work?

I find it odd though that the staff were nice to me. They wanted me to talk. Is that how they should be? I won’t talk. I don’t know what to say anymore. Talking doesn’t help for me. I think I could possibly talk to Sam. In fact, I would quite like an appointment with Sam. I need to have my thoughts okayed and verified. Someone to tell me “it’s normal and it’s ok. I need to have someone to tell how I feel and for someone to say well of course you feel like that, you’d be fucking abnormal if you didn’t”. But no. All I get here is “take responsibility”. Well, I’m sorry. At the moment I just can’t do that and I need more. I need reassurance. And as I write this I realise I put far too much need and hope in one person.

I need human contact. A part from being restrained and my mum the only human contact I have had in the last month is the brush of hands as someone lights my cigarette for me. And, I have relished that contact. It’s weird. I don’t know I would say I have come to see staff in a positive way, but sometimes, I feel like I just need a hug. I’m not an over emotional person. Not really. Maybe it was the closeness I was getting with Vince before I came in here that I miss. The cuddles and kisses on the sofa. I have sent him away though. How do explain 4 weeks without contact. It’s not like I can get out of that one. It’s better for him. He doesn’t want a relationship with the neurotic crazy bitch that is me. On the plus side I think since last seeing him I have lost about 2.5kg in weight. So I look better. Woo fucking woo. I’m never going to get out of this joint. I can’t control the urges to self-harm. I know if they ever give me S17 leave I am going to attempt to do a runner. Not sure where. I know I’ll end up coming back. But I want that deviant course of action on my terms not theirs. I may not self harm. I think it will be a trip to the off licence and a few cigs on my own and then let the police bring me back and say it wasn’t on my own accord. That way they can’t turn round to me and say you want to be in hospital. It was what Finger in Ever Pie thought.

Short and sweet. My battery is about to die and for some odd reason we are not allowed to charge electrical in our own rooms. WEIRD!

Neither the loraz or zopiclone has kicked in. I need more!!!

Night word, any luck I just won’t wake up tomorrow!


The Last Few Days on PICU

I thought things may improve as in they may give me some freedom back or I may be allowed a bra. Having big boobs and not being allowed to wear a bra is awful. It just stripped me of my dignity so I spent the days in massive thick hoodies. But you could still tell I wasn’t wearing a bra. I was due on my period a couple of days in to this new regime. I was told I would be allowed my pants back. But everything else would remain the same. I was still not allowed a bra. I had never self-harmed with a bra, or my glasses so didn’t really get why I wasn’t allowed one. I could understand not being allowed pants as I was ripping the elastic from them. But why give me back the thing, the one thing, that I self harmed with and not anything else. What difference does having 2 duvets make? Why was I not allowed any pillow? Why no sheet for the mattress? Questions I didn’t bother asking as I knew all I would get was “this is no one’s fault other than your own”. Yes, true, but not helpful, and just served to make me pissed off so what’s the point in doing something if you know it’s going to piss you off?

They had told me they were waiting for a bed in MCH and they would not be transferring me to their acute ward so I just had to wait. I had nearly a week of these strict rules I had to follow with the only loosening was being allowed pants while I was on my period, being in the ladies lounge on the bean bag (seriously, these bean bags were amazing, they were huge and so comfortable) and being able to wear my glasses all the time.

On the Tuesday I had a bad feeling. Something was in the air. I overheard a phone call which nice HCA who was playing Black Jack with me took. I heard him say that I was the only patient on the ward who was waiting for a My City bed. That got me in a bit of a tiz. I kept asking him why they had called and had they now got a bed. I had said numerous times how I didn’t want to go and that it wasn’t right as I knew staff and patients. He said it didn’t mean I was moving that day but the wards often ring each other to see how the bed situation is. Which, from working on the wards I knew this to be true. But, I could not shake these really uneasy feelings. I kept asking and asking him and he had said he hadn’t been told anything but I should prepare myself anyway as sooner or later I was going to be moving as the community team had said they wanted me back in the city. But still something was not right.

My Mum came to visit me that afternoon and I said to her how I was feeling about it and she just said deal with it when it comes and it will be better for her as she won’t have to make the 40mile round trip to come see me. This annoyed me a little as no one seemed to get how I was feeling about going back.

After the visit ended I was at the airlock door showing my Mum out when a HCA walks out of my room carrying my lap top and a load of stuff in carrier bags. I asked what was going on and got a bit upset as people wouldn’t answer me. They asked me to move away from the door and kind of pulled me down the corridor. Not in a restraint way but a “”come with us and if you don’t we’ll be a little less friendly” kind of way. The nurse in charge of the shift came and talked to me and said I had probably gathered that a bed had been found. I asked where. There are 2 hospitals in my city. One is in the main medical hospital which is spitting distance from my house and the other is only psychiatric and mental health. Luckily I was going to main hospital. From a patients point of view if you had never worked here this would be the unluckiest choice as it’s dirty and big. The other hospital is much nicer, only about 14 beds on each ward, private beds with ensuite, newer and nicer setting. But, I know more staff there. I know staff here also. But not as well. I didn’t consider when worrying about being transferred back to my city that I would be coming here as I thought it was assessment only. But I have since been told it is assessment and treatment. So in theory, I could be here up to 6 months.

I had to wait about an hour before the taxi arrived to take me between the two places. It’s about 20miles between the 2 hospitals but they are in the same trust. In the trust there are 2 hospitals which are based in the city limits, one based in a satellite town about 20 miles away (where I was and was on the 136) and one based about 30 miles in the north, not actually in the same county but still part of the same trust. Can’t quite work that one out. Before I knew I was going, I had it all planned out on how I was going to make a run for it. I had day dreamed about it so much that I had it down to a tee. However, this was not to be. First off I was told I would be escorted by 3 staff in a mini bus. So no sitting next to the door for me. And, I thought I would be going to the other hospital and had a very good local knowledge. I planned to try and out run them and if not I knew there was a railway bridge that I could climb over to stop them coming anywhere near me. I had it all planned. But I knew I would be stuck between 2 members of staff, nowhere near the door and not on my planned route. Every time I as much looked at the door he put his arm out on the chair in front. I was going nowhere. I knew there was no chance of being able to outrun any of the 3 staff that I was with. Even when we got to the hospital and I had the benefit of area knowledge there was still no way I could have managed it.

So, in to MCH.

It was awful. I recognised so many of the staff. I tried to keep thinking to myself that I knew them but they probably only vaguely recognised me and probably just thought that I was someone who had been in before. Until handover of course when people were told I had worked on the wards less than a year previously. I have had a couple of people mention it to me. One person has said it’s interesting as she can see it from the other side and it’s kinda scary how easy it can happen. I just wanted to stay in my room. The nurse who initiated me to the ward (if that’s the right word) was lovely. He is lovely. He has such a caring demeanour. It took a while and then a female came to go through all my possessions with me. There were a few things I wasn’t allowed to keep such as nail varnish remover but they let me have everything else. It was like Christmas. Being allowed to have all my belongings again. I was asked if I felt safe enough to have them but I wasn’t going to say no. I wasn’t going to let them know that not that night but the one following I planned on self harming and attempting again. I wasn’t going to let them know my plan.

The ward is horrible though. It smells. It’s big and the people in some way are just so different from the out of town hospital. It’s a bit rougher round the edges. Everyone carries their hand bag with them. I haven’t really worked out why. Is it because they are worried of things going missing, or is it because they have somewhere to be? Since being here I have struggled to read again and my mood has taken a dip again. Nothing major like the depression I can now recognise I had when I came in. Just a bit lower. I think it’s because I am here.

Also, they (I am not sure who they is either out of city or my city) seem to have lost my phone, phone charger and iPod charger. I am trying not to get angry about it. But, I blame out of city as that is the last time I had it. It’s odd how it’s the charger also. The two things that were kept together. I am not bothered about the phone; it’s the numbers in them which I am bothered about. I have lost all my numbers again. It was only in June when my other phone broke that I lost all my numbers. I haven’t got them all back since then. Also, I have kind of got used to not having a phone so not having it doesn’t really bother me that much. It’s the point that it has gone missing which has bothered me!

It Got Worse

I know that there is probably so much I have left out of the previous blog. It’s hard to condense all my thoughts and feelings of a month in to one blog. I am finding it hard to write also which doesn’t help.

So, I knew the S2 was ending on the Thursday. By Tuesday people just weren’t telling me anything and I had not been told much at all. I knew that night that there was a member of staff on who would probably tell me what was going on. I used him quite a lot for that as he was quite open with things that had been said about me. He was one of those types who likes to know what is going on with everything and anything, a finger in every pie type. Annoying, but also quite handy at times. So I asked him that night and he told me my community team were coming the next day to do a MHA assessment¬¬.

On the Wednesday, Dr T showed up with a Social Worker whom I did not know and one of the SHO’s from the ward. They asked me my thoughts and feelings and I told them all I wanted was to be at home and that being in hospital made things worse. I said I struggle to contain the thoughts and feelings while I was in hospital and given any opportunity I would self harm or attempt as I couldn’t control it in the environment I was in. I explained that I didn’t want anyone else’s input as that also made me worse and I wanted to be discharged so that I could be on my own. They had already made their minds up before assessing me. I knew they had as of what the staff member from the night before had said about them not wanting to discharge me. Dr T sloped off not to be seen again and the AMHP came back saying that they were putting me under a S3. They felt that what I would be going home to was too unstable (with the parents breaking up…it’s gone a bit nasty) and that I was too unstable to be in that environment. They also told me I couldn’t stay at Out of City Hospital as I needed to be near my community team. So they were looking for beds at In My City Hospital. The very 2 in which I have worked at. Fucking Fantastic! Panic, alarm, distress.

I couldn’t help it. That evening I attempted again. It was a shit attempt. All it got me was restrained by about 7 men and my underwear cut off and pulled off me (wedgie style, painful and no dignity). I didn’t want, couldn’t have anyone near me. Anyone who tried to come near me I would try and shove out the room. I know I am not small but these guys all weighed more than me and were 6 foot plus. They brushed me off like a fly. They tried keeping me in my room but every time they tried to come near me to check I would fly in to a panicked rage. I’ve still got the bruises a week on. In the end they said they didn’t want me in my room as I kept hiding in the bathroom so 3 of them just grabbed me, 2 on arms one on my legs and just plonked me back in communal area. I think I nearly got one of them in the balls. I don’t know what comes over me. It’s like someone has flicked a switch and done something to me. All I care about doing is self-harming and will do what I can to do it and I don’t care who gets in my way. These three guys who were doing this were actually 3 of the guys I liked the most. Give them their dues though. They were not ones to hold grudges. An example of the uncaringness (if that’s even a word) was what one of them said to me after (Finger in Every Pie). I was still really upset and he just sort of barked at me “what’s this all about, the S3, as you only have yourself to blame”. No “do you want to talk about it”, “come on calm down, this is not getting us anywhere”, “come somewhere a bit quieter and we’ll talk” (he was supposed to be one of my key nurses). Just barking at me and when I told him to fuck off as his tone just pissed me off even more he just sarcastically said “you do obviously not want to talk then”.

I hope as I have written about my experiences I have not made it out to be a look what I’ve done type thing. But I have tried to write about it in a way that gets my point across. Of course, as Robbie Williams and Gary Barlow say “There’s 3 versions of the story, mine, yours and the truth”. It’s just my take on what happened. In every story there is always 3 versions. I am not saying I am lying. What I am writing about is how I see things. Probably to anyone reading it a warped, crazy, mad lady version.

Come midnight the nurse in charge (finger in every pie) said I can have access to my room, my mattress and one cover. I am dressed only in leggings and a flimsy top and I am freezing, but, I know there is no point arguing. So I wrap the cover round me, over my shoulders and then lie on the bed and pull it over my head. My feet are freezing but my own body heat and breath keep the rest of me warm. I do take my meds in the morning but refuse to come out my room for anything else. All I want to do is sleep the day away. I am not happy about being transferred to In My City Hospital and I feel quite low, and ashamed. But come 2pm. Finger in Every Pie and another key worker nurse come storming in my room. Pull the covers off me telling me they want to speak to me. They have a plan.

Firstly, I am going to be locked out of my room from 9am-10pm every day.

I am only going to be allowed 2 items of clothing (no underwear)

I am not going to be able to go to the toilet unsupervised; someone will have to be there all the time.

The same with showers.

I am not allowed my glasses unless I am sat at the communal dining table and I am reading.

I am not going to be allowed in the lounge to lounge around and these will be locked off from me.

I am not allowed any luxury items, so no iPod.

I had just been woken up. I am not happy. I am not one of these people who can wake up and be alert right off. I need time. I don’t like people talking to me when I have just woken up. I am not a morning person this very often comes across. I need time. OK, this was not the morning. But they had just waked me up. I was a bit dazed and confused. They said there would not be any negotiation to this and I was to leave the room right away. I needed the loo but the men wouldn’t leave the room even though there were 2 females there. It was awful!

Although, 2 hours later I have my glasses on in the lounge as Finger in Every Pie told me to go in there and read as I was complaining of being cold. They still wouldn’t let me keep my glasses on me and toilet and showers were supervised. Not in there with me but just the other side of the stable door. I didn’t mind the showers so much, but being supervised when you want to go to the toilet properly is horrible. Although I found little tricks. But I am not going to discuss this I hate talking about poo (the 12 days on an infectious diseases ward after I came back from travelling were a nightmare)!

Saturday, 15 October 2011

September 14th - The Lost Month

On the 18th August I was transferred to Psychiatric Intensive Care (PICU). They said I was too high risk to be on the normal ward. To be fair to them I think in the space of a week I had self harmed/attempted 3-4 times and on that day I had tried to be sneaky by taking the top of the drinks can. I had gone back on to the ward and I was immediately grabbed by one of the nurses saying they wanted to search me as the HCA had noticed it was missing. So I try and swallow it. But without water it was too big and caught in my throat and was making me gag and heave. So I threw up and there it was.

An hour later after a visit with my Mum I was pulled aside and was told I was being moved over to PICU.

I was in shock. But really I should have seen it coming. PICU was a 5 bed ward which for all the time I was there only had 4 beds full. Usually there were 4 members of staff also. Low stimulus with nothing to do. I was put in a room with none of my belongings and told I wouldn’t be allowed most of them anyway (such as lap top, phone). After 72 hours I was allowed my iPod but not in my room and for most the time I was on there I was not allowed in my room unless it was to go to bed at night or use the toilet.

On the second night I attempted again and was caught. When I am caught it makes me really angry. In myself and at others. So I go a bit mad. That night I was stripped of all my clothes bar PJ bottoms and a t-shirt and locked in my room. I was so angry and kicking at the door. They barged in my room again and grabbed me and IM’d me again with 5 and 2. Didn’t work. I worked out where the blind spot was and pulled the mattress to cover me. This pissed them off and in they came again and took the mattress away from me. I was left in a cold room with no covers, no mattress and in minimal clothing. I was locked in the room and would not be let out. I had been given a zopiclone and also IM’d yet was so cold and had nothing to sleep on. The flooring was hard and not carpeted. This was the longest night of my life. I’d hate to think how I would have been without being IM’d etc. I was probably calmer dealing with it for the drugs I had been given.

I did attempt a few times while I was on PICU. Only in the last week of me being there did they put steps in to stop me doing it. But more on that in a bit.

I really did find that with a possible diagnosis of PD that I was treated like crap from the staff. I didn’t like the staff on there anyway, but again more on that in a minute. One evening I attempted at about 6.10pm, knowing that most the time they wouldn’t disturb me until about 7pm to let me know it was fag time. And that is if they did as they didn’t always let you know it was on the hour if they didn’t feel like it. There was no clock so you had to rely on them telling you or asking them and annoying them every few minutes what the time was. So I knew if I was going to tie my-self up there should be enough time if I could get it right. 7pm they do come in and find me. A big fuss is caused and I don’t go easily. I was pretty weak and if they hadn’t have come in within 30minutes or so it would have worked. I just didn’t get it quite right. This time I was stripped of my own clothes, glasses and made to wear a hospital nighty (which luckily and thankfully the guy who was in charge of the shift had some kindness to let me retain some dignity by letting me wear my leggings with as my arse was out at the back) and made to go in to a room with only chairs in. They took away anything I could make myself comfortable on (the bean bags…which I spent most of my days laying on with my iPod) and left in there and told I couldn’t come out unless it was to go to the toilet. Anyway, that’s the background. I was talking to another member of staff that night about the incident and he had said he didn’t understand me. Why would I at 6.50pm tell a member of staff to tell me when it was cig time and then go and tie myself up? He said it was obvious it was an attention thing. I told him that this was a load of crap; I had never said such a thing. And you know what he said.

“Well GP, people with PD’s are known to lie and manipulate. It’s pretty obvious it’s what you are doing here and you know who I am going to believe in this situation”.


If not one thing if I continue with this Social Work Masters I have some pretty interesting material for the “case study” I am doing in my dissertation. This was not the only time that something like this happened. I just learnt that there was no point arguing the cause.

One thing I will say about PICU is that the consultant Psychiatrist in there was brilliant. A lovely jolly bloke who sat and listened and seemed to genuinely care. He seemed to listen to what I wanted and spent quite a lot of time with me. He has put me on sodium valporate. I can say 4 weeks after being put on it my mood has stabilised. Mood wise I have improved greatly since I was admitted. Yet, the thoughts and feelings about suicide are still there. So much so I am planning on trying again tonight. I have been asked why I try when I am here and I say because it might work. There may be that time where it does work, where I am not checked on and I succeed. Try try again. Never give up.

PICU staff said I was one of their longest staying patients. The average length of stay being about 7 days. While I was there it was awful being told that they were looking for an acute bed for me then see people transferred out before me. PICU staff said they felt I didn’t need to be on there, so why was I still there. I spent my days laying in a bean bad listening to my iPod. Having a cig and drink on the hour and peeing a hell of a lot. I wasn’t keen on the staff and found them un-supportive, un-caring and kind of lazy. I would be told by the docs I needed to engage more and try and talk about the feelings I was having. Yet when I did all I was basically told was I needed to learn for myself how to deal with them and how to take responsibility for those feelings. In the end I didn’t bother to seek anyone out to speak to. I found them patronising and really lacking in empathy. I also thought that they were unprofessional. I mean, sitting discussing past patients round the table in communal areas taking the piss out of them. I wonder if they’ll be doing that about me now I have left. Their days seemed to consist of one of them occasionally making a cup of tea for the rest of them and then sitting and watching TV. Getting them to do anything like getting a towel for you was a nightmare. There were a couple of nice ones. In particular one HCA who would sit and play Black Jack for hours at a time with me. And one nurse who I just felt a bit easier with.

I had nearly a month on PICU. I was told after the first week they wanted me back on the acute side and then other people were moved before me. I suppose when I was still self harming and ligating as much as I was I couldn’t really be on acute. But seeing people come in after me and then be discharged was horrible. I didn’t feel as though I could speak to anyone about this. As I knew I would just be told the same thing.

The consultant Psych on PICU had told me he had wanted to discharge me but the community team didn’t want me discharged. They had not been to see me and as far as I was aware had not been in contact. I had been there about 2 weeks when Beth the CPN/CCO got in contact and consultant psych arranged a meeting for Beth, Sam and the PICU team. I said I didn’t want to go. I was told that this would be a pre discharge meeting thinking I was going to be discharged soon. I still stood by that I did not want to work with the community team and my feelings about this and working with anyone remained the same. In the end DR T didn’t go to the meeting so it turned out it was a bit pointless. I was dragged in to the meeting in the end and it was horrible having to talk about what is going on with so many people.

I knew that the Section 2 was coming to an end. I was quite hopeful with the PICU consultant saying he wanted to discharge me that they were going to let me go. But. Community team had turned around and said not to discharge me. They were going to do another Mental Health Act Assessment with a view to a Section 3 and moving me back to my own city from town on outskirts of city town!!!!!

August 15th - Day 5 in the Big Brother House

Dragged out of bed again. They don’t get the whole “give me two minutes so I can actually wake up”. Put me in a bad mood for the day. I am not a morning person. Well at the moment I am not an any time person, but dragging me from sleep, that goes down even worse.

Managed a piece of toast. No food no fag. Didn’t eat the crusts though.

So, I was first in to see the Doctor. It wasn’t just one doc. It was his F2, a psychologist and the nurse. Dr M is my consultant doc here. His accent wasn’t too bad. He said I looked depressed and I needed an anti-depressant also. So he is giving me that alongside the Quetiapine. I can’t remember the name of it. Apparently it will make me drowsy. I am also written up for zopiclone. Gonna try and have everything tonight as didn’t sleep well last night. I find if I lay in the same position too long my hips start to really burn where they are pressured on the mattress.

So he asked me the usual questions, why I was here, my thoughts, he asked me about the self-harm the other night. I didn’t really say much. Just asked about when I could go home and he said he didn’t know. I spoke to the nurse last night also and she said they want to use this admission so I can learn to acknowledge feelings and deal with them in proper way. So I get the feeling it could be heading in to a S3.

I am going to have to contact uni about it. I am supposed to be going in to uni. I am going to get my Mum to call the head of the course for me. Maybe not explain full details but tell them I want to go back when uni goes back and I am working towards that.

I am not able to go to the festival I have tickets for either which I am really really pissed off at. The line-up is amazing. AMAZING. But that is only in 2 weeks so it is probably being quite optimistic anyway.

Lunch. I had a couple of spoons of carrots. I am trying to get away with eating as little as possible. I’ll see how long I can keep it up for. I don’t want to eat and it is the only thing I have some control over at the moment. I feel like I am in a prison. I hate it here.

Friday, 14 October 2011

Sunday 14th August

I can’t get the thoughts out of my head. I really want to do something right now. I want to use that tape that I have. It could work but at the moment I am on higher obs and if it doesn’t then I lose everything again. I lose my laptop and iPod. I have not left the room other than for going for a cig or to ask for something to be gotten out of the locker which they have locked the majority of my belongings in. I need to feel as though I still hold on to something. That I have one over on them. I know I have a needle in my purse, I have a needle in the shower and I have this tape. I need to know I have those. I need to know I can get away with not eating. I need something that makes me feel like me. Like I can be me if I need to be.

My Mum is annoying me quite a bit by saying some of the things she is saying about being here. She is making jokes at people’s expenses calling them loonies, crazies and other derogatory terms. Well I am here, so that makes me the same. It’s quite hurtful. The people here do seem quite ill though. I have had to ask for the window in the door to be closed as the man next door keeps staring in at me and it freaks me out. He has no appreciation of personal space and he makes me feel really uncomfortable.

I am supposed to be seeing the psychiatrist tomorrow. I have been told he is nice, but people struggle to understand his accent. Judging by his name he is Eastern European. I do struggle with people’s accents. The medical doctor who clerked me kept calling the scars harm marks. I was like “you mean scars” and he was like “yes, yes harm marks”. Weirdo. Why not just say scars. And then when I took my cardigan off he was like “oooo more harm marks”. SCARS, you idiot, SCARS!

I am feeling so frustrated today and I really wanna self harm or even attempt. Being in here is making me feel so much worse. I don’t think I need to be here, I don’t understand why I am here if I am honest. I said I didn’t have a plan and I don’t. And, now my Mum is back I am not going to attempt while she is around. That has always stopped me in the past. They don’t get it. They don’t listen to me at all. I know it may seem as though I am going on and on about it, but it’s the way I feel. I really don’t want to eat and I don’t like how they are forcing me to. I know I take metformin, but it is not for diabetes. It doesn’t affect my blood sugar. If only they would read up about it they would see that I am not causing myself any damage by taking metformin and not eating.

I really don’t want to be here. I am trying to figure out the exits so I can make an escape. It’s a locked ward, but if I can get off the ward then I can make a runner. I just wish I knew where I was going. If it was my own local hospital I would know where to go and how to get out without being caught. I am not sure if I can here.

I am also sick of hearing that I am an intelligent person. I really don’t get what that has to do with anything. The Doc who clerked me even said because I was doing a Masters I obviously had a greater brain capacity than most people. Seriously! What the fuck does that have to do with anything?

Yesterday I spoke to the nurse, the nurse who got the needles. She said had I considered a mood stabiliser. It’s never been offered to me so no, I can’t say I have considered it. She mentioned Sodium Valporate and another one I can’t remember the name of. I said I was worried about medication as of putting weight on. She said is more likely with the anti-psychotics, and I was already taking a good dose of anti-psychotic. Whether or not she will put it in the notes about what I said I don’t know.

The AMHP said I could request to see my own medical notes. I have decided if I am after tomorrow I will request them as it is something to read rather than be bored and not doing anything. I wonder how it will make me feel. The AHMP said there wasn’t anything in there that was harmful to me so he didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t. All I need to do is put it in writing. There are a hell of a lot of notes though. I bet it would take me a day to read them.

I am trying to distract myself.

My brother has just been. Queue more crying.

I really just wanna go home. They made me eat something before I went out for a cig. I picked the chicken out a sandwich and played with the rest. It was rank. I got a can of vimto also. Sneakily I pulled the ring pull off. In my pocket for later. If I’m going to do anything it’s gonna be big. I’m not losing everything for something tiny. I need to plan what I want to do now.

I don’t want any medication at the moment. If I take it now it will mean I won’t sleep tonight as it will knock me out. I need to try and wait until about 9pm.

This is now just rambling.

I’ll write tomorrow when I have seen the doc.


From The Hospital - 12-14th August

It went a bit downhill on the 12th. I was really struggling. I ended up breaking up a DVD, one I knew didn’t work and getting my needle out and cutting. They barged in on me but I couldn’t move. I had stuff in my hand but I wouldn’t/couldn’t give it up. I could hear them talking to me but they were just words. They didn’t mean anything. I ended up being restrained on the floor. Dragged out the bathroom and restrained. First on my back, but I was able to get out of it. Then they moved me on to my front. The guy on my left arm was really hurting me but I couldn’t communicate. They were saying I needed stitches in my leg where I had cut. I didn’t want them anywhere near me so I was trying to wriggle away. So I had someone on my legs also. In the end the IM’d me. 5 Haloperidol and 2 Lorazepam.

While I was being restrained they had cleared my room. Took everything away from me. Everything. I was upset at losing my iPod as music seems to be the only thing which can help calm me down. They kept saying over and over how I needed to talk. I don’t need to talk I need to be left on my own. They called the duty doctor and she said I needed to go to the ED to get stitches. So off I went to the ED with 2 escorts. So embarrassing. People only need to look at you and they know you are a patient at the psychiatric hospital. And then they wonder what’s wrong with you, and then they wonder if it’s catching? It was quite quick at the ED. Only 45 minutes. Because I had seen the doc here and because of what I was they rushed me through. Made it back in time to have a cig. It turns out I didn’t need my iPod that night as by the time I got back the meds had caught up on me. They let me have my phone though so at least I could tell the time.

So yesterday, I was without iPod for most the day. I was told my room was going to be searched. I came back and they had got the broken DVD which wasn’t actually concealed, just left on the sink. I had no plans of using it again. It was just what they hadn’t removed the night before. So then I got a lecture about trust that if I can trust them then they can trust me to have some of my items. I asked them what they had found and they said only the CD. In my desperation, I asked if I handed over something I shouldn’t have that they hadn’t found then would I be able to get some stuff back. So in comes the nurse in charge wanting to speak to me about how I should know they are all there for me, rah rah rah. Then she asked me about the needles. I told them where they were and one of the nurses got them out. I was ok given them over as I knew I had one concealed in my bathroom so I knew I had something. But as it turns out she got two but there were more in there. They are not too good at searching these nurses. I am not complaining though. Also they are a bit careless. The doctor who saw me yesterday as I had been restrained and no one had managed to get blood out of me yet left his tape in the room. So I have hidden that and that can be used as a lig when I feel like I can’t go on anymore. I have decided I am going to wait until tomorrow to see what happens with the doc. If they don’t let me go home, I really can’t cope with it in here. I have 10 minutes for it to work in. Maybe longer, as they are not exactly spot on with the obs here.

So, I am still not eating. It’s a control thing, I know. But I can’t control anything at the moment and that seems to make me feel as though I have some element of control. Since Wednesday (it is now Sunday afternoon) I have had 1 sandwich. That was because they are now saying I can’t smoke unless I have food. So I had a sandwich yesterday. Today when they tried to get me to eat I just flushed it down the loo. It was rank anyway. They do keep checking my blood sugar but I feel if I drink a sugary coffee every time they expect me to eat I can bluff it that way. I know it sounds a bit “mad” what I am doing, but it is my way of feeling as though I have some control.

That’s it for this blog, I do have more to write about but I don’t have the concentration at the moment.


MHA Act Assessment -11th-12th August

I have been detained under S2 of MHA. I don’t have internet access but I do have my lap top so at least I can write and keep an updated blog kind of. Excuse the tenses as I am writing as I go along.

They turned up on mass. Five of them all together. Dr T, a GP who I have not seen in a while but I used to see him regularly. He knows my history and is the lead person at the surgery. The AMHP, who I found patronising, but I will get to that in a minute. Beth my CPN/CCO and Matt from Crisis team. It was horrible. They were firing questions at me from all angles. Hard questions. Questions I found hard to answer in the comfort of my own home. Asking me my intentions. What I wanted. I explained I didn’t want input anymore. I explained I felt that having input made things worse. Things had become worse since more people were involved. Again, I could not make eye contact. The pattern the rug became interesting. Very interesting. I couldn’t seem to make them see that things were being made worse for me.

They asked me to go informally. I said no. I don’t want to be in hospital. Worst nightmare comes true. I was asked to leave the room. I knew what they would be saying. Then I heard them on the phone trying to hunt down a bed. I was out the room about 20 minutes and a few of them trickled out. I am not sure why Matt from Crisis team was there or Beth. I knew what they were doing and I knew my fate. Hospital! Section 2. Up to 28days. Possibly followed by a S3, up to 6 months.

After a while they all left bar the AHMP. He didn’t seem to appreciate that I had worked in the local hospitals. And what impact that would have on me. In the end he did manage to arrange a bed in the nearest town. He managed to get someone to swap for me. It is the same hospital that I was taken to when I was detained on the S136.

I had to pack up some things at home to bring with me. I was told no sharps. Well I didn’t let them know I had already stowed my needles away. I need them. It took about 45 minutes to drive to the hospital. My mum drove and the AMHP came with us as he needed to be here to sign me in etc. We were put in a side room. Queue being stared at by others.

I was petrified. I didn’t know what to do with myself. The AMHP kept saying how well I had done to get here. I was like “yeah, I’ve done really well to be locked up under S2”. Patronising. Me; sarcastic!

They left. I was shown to my room. At least I get my own room. Basic and no lig points. I have already looked in to that. I was lying on the bed, staring at the wall. Vision became blurry. I spaced out not really sure where to. Not one with my own body. Not me.

Being here is making things worse for me. I have spent hours planning how I can self harm. How I can kill myself. The thoughts are so much stronger since I have been here. I can’t eat. I am not sure how much of that is I can’t or I won’t as a control thing. I think part of it is a control thing. It’s something I still have control of. I don’t have control over anything. I don’t choose when I take my meds. I get them forced on to me at 10pm. 8am, 12pm and 10pm. I don’t like taking the Quetiapine that early. I am on 10 minute obs. Or I was and I am now not sure. No one seems to have been in a while. I don’t want to be on obs. As soon as I come off I plan on somehow attempting again. I am also going to cut. I have what I need to cut. I also have my needles and I did blood let earlier. No checks were made on the stuff I brought in.

Last night (my first night) the nurse had a chat with me. She said it was down that I am not willing to engage. I don’t want to talk to people. I want to be on my own. I wouldn’t be planning another attempt this soon if I wasn’t here. Proof it is making me worse. I have spied the board in the office with patient’s names on. I am on the only one on obs. Also next to my name it says risk of DSH and non-engagement.

I am not going to engage. But I don’t want to be here. I need to make them see that it makes things worse for me being here. I have stayed in my room since I have been here. Only leaving to have a cigarette. They won’t let me hold on to my own cigs. They won’t let me light my own and they watch me like a hawk while I am outside. It’s a secure courtyard so it’s not as though I can go anywhere. First opportunity though I am making a run for it. I need to be away from here.

Last night I was given lorazepam which was supposed to make me feel a bit less agitated. Didn’t really work. Then I was verbally dragged out of bed to go and get stupid medication. I am going to try and store them somehow. I don’t want the medication. I don’t want anything. All day today I have been planning self harm. All I have done all day is lie on the bed listening to my iPod thinking about how I can cut. I think I am off obs now. So it will give me some more opportunity.

I don’t even get to see a Doctor until Monday. So I am def here until Monday. Ward round is once a week so if I don’t get out then, I will be in for another week. Fucking fantastic.

So yeah, I suppose I am feeling quite angry at the moment. I am also worried. Nursey last night said there are people who work here who have worked at the places I have worked before. One of my friends from when I worked at the secure unit also works here. Not on my ward but on another one which I am likely to get transferred to. I would rather it be him than anyone else though. I think I may even open up to him. I was quite close to him when we worked at the forensic unit. He looked out for me. If I had come off the ward crying for some reason or when I was attacked he was the one who came after me and got me through tough times at work.

Although there is this, I am still ashamed that I have been sectioned. Have I royally fucked up my career? There is still that part of me that wants to go on. I would say at the moment its 80-20 death-living. Not great odds really is it?

So that has been my MHA and first 24 hours in hospital under section.

I will try and write quite often as I do find it quite therapeutic.