It’s been a while. 27th September I was admitted voluntarily to a psych ward for my safety as I was suicidal, self-harming and going off the rails big time. I felt I had no other choice, nothing was helping and I was getting worse. At the time I decided with my psychiatrist that a medication change would be undertaken at same time so it was gonna be a bumpy ride. Boy, was it ever. It’s a horrible place to be, and for staff being in the caring profession most of them couldn’t give a fuck. I walked out the ward several times and on one occasion to commit suicide I was brought back by police not because they noticed I was missing but because I said goodbye to my friends on twitter more or less and one of them tipped off the ward.
3 months I was in there, the med they changed me to I was on for 7 weeks and I knew it wasn’t working, I became vegetative, stopped communicating, eating, doing anything. I couldn’t stand being around anyone. i kept telling them it's not working, they said to persevere. Turns out i'd been on it twice before and the 2nd time i showed no response so i was put on something else to try, which i had to pick?!!!! how does that make sense? i'm no doctor!! Staff kept telling me to ask for help, to talk to them so I tried but most of the time they were busy and never got back to me. This is consistent for most patients and the feeling of disharmony and apathy in the ward was infectious. I harmed myself several times on the ward and rarely the reasons were discussed. When I walked out to commit suicide it wasn’t discussed.
In between xmas and new year I got a 2 day pass which went ok but on the day I was to go back I didn’t. The next day the ward left a voicemail asking If i was going back I sent a text message saying I was knocking myself out for a few days, they left another voicemail saying ok. I had no meds apart from some temazepam and diazepam I had stockpiled. I used these meds to keep me under for three days, I was taking them like candy. On new years day the temazepam was lasting about an hour, I’d taken maybe 80mg upwards and 45-60mg diazepam so I called nhs 24 asking if there was a lethal limit. Even I knew I was taking too much. They said I was at serious risk and should go back to ward. Next thing I knew I got call from ward saying they had no doctor and should go to a&e, nhs24 had pieced enough together to call round and find out who’d called. my friend took me and stayed with me. They monitored me for couple hours then I went to the ward. I asked to speak to someone so I could explain why I was knocking myself out, why I was so suicidal, they were too busy and hadn’t had their break. I asked if tomorrow would be better and it was agreed. No-one ever spoke to me about it. My friend at the time was furious because she said they were rude and dismissive. I said it was just par for the course.
Normally you see your psychiatrist on a Monday morning but because of the hols it was Wednesday I saw him. (My provisional discharge date) Normally you’re in for a few minutes, how they’re supposed to assess you I have no idea. I tried to talk to him about new years day, he wasn’t interested. I tried asking why patients ask to speak to staff and are constantly turned away when extremely distressed. My answer to those and several other questions? “you’re being discharged today I don’t see why we’re talking about this” after him saying this a few times I got up and just walked out. I just wanted to slap him.
It’s 3 weeks since I’ve been out and the damage that place has done to me and my trust in the caring profession is undeniable. I have a great GP and Psychologist but can I trust them? I have no idea now. I don’t know what way is up. I’ve spent the last 3 weeks in bed because I don’t want to live but have so many people telling me they’ll never forgive me if I killed myself. Having been on the receiving end of such news, Malcolm killing himself, and seeing the devastation it caused and believing I was the cause of the devastation means I haven't been able to do it yet. I sit with my tablets and water or wine and knife and cry trying to think of some reason to live or i try to knock myself out with benzodiazepines. This is not a life. It’s an existence. I’m the only one that can change it but I have no idea where to start this time. I’ve done this a few times but I think this is the worst I’ve ever been and cant see any way out. But I have friends rooting for me, not just local friends but twitter friends, we support each other although I feel I’ve been a bit lacking in my support of others lately and that will have to change. Maybe the fact I’m writing at all is a sign that things are changing. I sure hope so.
