Stuck In The Middle Of A Quagmire

Yesterday was an exceptionally bad day. Today, so far looks marginally better but I think it will be a long time before things are good again.

As you may, or may not know, my parents are soon to be getting a divorce. However, at present they are still living in the same house. I don’t know why this is but it was working out OK with people living their own lives. Yesterday afternoon, just after lunch, things changed. I was upstairs so I don’t know the full story but suffice to say my parents had an argument which ended with my Dad hurling verbal and emotional abuse at my Mum, who tried to get me involved, but I am fed up of being dragged into petty arguments so I said I wasn’t going to take sides. She then promptly walked out of the house. This isn’t new, my Mum often needs space to think things through, so I wasn’t that concerned.

I continued doing what I was doing when there was a knock at the door. I ignored it for a few minutes and then wondered if it was my Mum who had forgotten her keys. I opened the door to find 3 police officers on the doorstep. I obviously invited them in before curtains could twitch more than they were doing already. Turns out my Mum was scared about what my Dad was going to do that she rang the police asking if there was somewhere safe she could spend the night and they sent 3 officers round to the address. 2 of them go off to talk to my Dad in the garden and the policewoman talks things through with me. I explain about the divorce, and my Dad’s past behaviour and I’m halfway through explaining things when she gets a call on her radio. Apparently my Mum has rung the police back and told them that she doesn’t need their help. The officers take down some final details and leave.

My Dad then leaves the house, at about 4pm, presumebly for the pub, and I decide to get the car out and go driving round to find my Mum. I find her wandering not too far away and manage to get her into the car and bring her home. The police then ring to make sure my Mum is OK, I tell them that she is, and to ask where my Dad is, to which I answer I don’t know.

The evening progresses quite quietly with my Mum having what can only be described as a somewhat hysterical turn and by 10pm we are both in bed. At midnight my Dad stumbles back into the house and goes to bed.

I wake up this morning to discover no one else is up. My Mum makes herself a cup of coffee and then goes back to bed. I go up to make sure she is OK and my Dad is moving around making a lot of noise. He goes downstairs with a suitcase and asks me to move my car (which is blocking his car in). I tell him that I’ll move the car but report him to the police if he drives off for drink driving as he clearly has too much alcohol in his system still. He tells me if I do that then “it’ll be the last thing I do”.

Since then, I didn’t report him to the police as I couldn’t be bothered getting my own back. My Mum appears to have cracked and I don’t know what to do to help her. Meanwhile I’m stuck in the middle trying to smooth over the cracks. All I really wanted to do yesterday was drive the car far away from here and run away, like my Dad has done. Trouble is, I have so little money at the moment that I can’t really afford to put any more petrol in the car and it is only half full.

My Mum says she’s going to make a doctor’s appointment tomorrow to talk things through. I don’t know where my Dad has gone and I don’t care. I just hope that he doesn’t reappear anytime soon. I’m fed up of being torn between two parents. I’m been played like a pawn for the last 23 years and I can’t let it continue.

Ruth

Nausea, Hairloss & Vomiting: The Delights Of Chemotherapy

Sorry about my absence for the last few days.

I was back in hospital having chemotherapy. I now only have one more cycle to go before they complete another x-ray and decide if they are to complete more chemotherapy or operate to remove the tumour. However, because I now have had 4 cycles of chemo I am really beginning to feel the side effects. I am still suffering from horrendous nausea and vomiting due to the drugs used but a combination of ondansetron and cyclizine is helping but I tend to have that horrible metallic ”just about to vomit’ excess saliva feeling in my mouth most of the time. My hair is beginning to fall out which isn’t good news for a girl who is a trichotillomaniac and can pull an awful lot of her hair out without even realising it, although I have noticed that as my hair falls out onto my pillow or over my shoulders the need to pull at my own hair has lessened. My immune system is also beginning to become worn down. I am suffering from being thrown by simple things like a minor cold, in fact they were worried about a week ago that I had picked up my Mum’s pharangitis and would need monitoring. The only thing I have noticed from having a weakened immune system is that I am having to really look after the sutures that are in place in my legs at present and I feel very run down and tired. That’s not tired in a lethargic way but tired in a feeling ill way, like you do when you have ‘flu or a bad cold.

In other news I am still feeling very depressed but got home to discover that the valve on the radiator in my bathroom has been leaking whilst I was in hospital and as no one has been in there since Tuesday morning the carpet is absolutely sodden and is now beginning to smell as it dries out, which isn’t particularly pleasant. I haven’t heard anything from the CMHT or any part of the mental health services. It seems as if I have disappeared off the radar after seeing Gavin nearly two weeks ago. I find this shocking as it is only 2 weeks since I was discharged from hospital and my supposed ‘care plan’ disintegrated within 72 hours of being released. A part of me wants to tell them to stick their care and attention because if they only want to see me when I’m acutely unwell or when I pitch up into A&E (although on Monday they didn’t even bother) then clearly I am well enough to stumble through my own mess and sort myself out. However, I know from past experience that I’m not very ood at coping on my own so I will continue to wait, patiently, or as patiently as I can.

I have to make an appointment with the practice nurse next week to get the sutures out and to have a blood test. I also have to see my GP to get a repeat prescription so these will be ideal times to mention the lack of support and see if they can push it along any faster. I don’t hold out much hope though, which is sad because although Gavin wasn’t the ‘wonder boy’ that everyone had made him out to be, he did seem a decent guy who did as he promised (contacting me to let me know what would happen). Maybe something has got lost somewhere along the line. There are a variety of things that could have happened and I guess I need to stop being so paranoid as to assume that I am not worthy or care and support.

Ruth

Leaping In With Both Feet: How I Am Far Too Impulsive At Times

Luckily the conversation with the strange blogging troll seems to have ceased for the moment. He went from my blog to Experimental Chimp’s and then I don’t know where. Hopefully back under his stone.

Last night proved to me that I will get involved in arguments and debates far too readily. I didn’t agree with what he was saying and I told him so. This has got me into fights and trouble in the past and I really should have learnt by now to bite my tongue and think before I speak. However, I continue to stand up for other people and get involved in petty arguments and discussions that add nothing to my life except to drag me down.

I was impulsive again this morning and cut myself. I had promised I wouldn’t do it since coming out of hospital but the need was overwhelming so I did it. I then realised it needed looking at so I went to A&E, which was worryingly busy for a Bank Holiday, and got it sutured by a charming FY2 who hadn’t sutured anyone since qualifying and a staff grade who observed the FY2 and stepped in at various points.

I am now back home. My legs are sore. I am tired and depressed. I am trying to sort my room out but it is requiring too much energy. Plus it is cold and raining on a day where rain was not forecast.

Ruth

Virtual Therapy: The Online Therapeutic Community Of Blogging

There’s been a bit of a hoo-hah going on over at Emma’s blog about whether depression is in fact a lifestyle choice. The majority believe (and I am included in this group) that depression is an illness and therefore no one chooses to be depressed, the minority (one person who seems hell bent on forcing his opinions down people’s throats) says that people think themselves into depression and therefore choose their state of mind.

I do not want to get into a debate about this. All I have to say on the matter is that I did not choose to suffer with depression and borderline personality disorder, in the same way I did not choose to have a cancerous tumour in my leg. If I had the choice I would erase things that have happened in my past that have contributed to my mental health issues. However, I accept full responsibility that part of the time I have a choice in how I deal with the depression. This involves taking meds, going to therapy, engaging in every day activities etc etc etc. However, sometimes due to the chemicals in my brain I don’t have any choice in dealing with the illness because the illness prevails. End of.

What this whole sorry little saga got my thinking about (and you can read the somewhat verging on obnoxious and abusive comments here and here) is the notion of an online therapeutic community. A group of people who would not know each other or have contact with each other if it were not for two common strands; blogging and mental health issues.

I started my blog as a way of expressing my emotions. I used to keep a hand written diary but writing in it annoys me because my brain works far faster than I can write and therefore my hand cannot keep up and it all turns into an illegible scrawl. It doesn’t help that my writing is atrocious to start with. Instead of going down the private online diary route I decided to share my thoughts with the world. At first this was because I thought there was too little information around on OTC/prescription drug misuse and I therefore thought I could add to this via my own experiences. Then people started to find my blog and left comments and in turn I read their blogs and left comments and I began to find compassion and support and empathy on a level which was unknown to me before.

What I find fantastic about the whole blogging scene is that it is totally on your terms. Unlike supporting a friend in real life you can choose how often to visit a blog and comment. Unlike in real life you can take time away from blogging and commenting and choose to restart when you feel like it and I thought, until I saw the correspondence on Em’s blog, that people were on the whole supportive and willing to help you through things.

I have made friends via this blog. Some of them I have spoken to on the phone, some I have emailed and some I only have contact with via each others’ blog. I have met someone in real life from this blog (heck I even had a relationship, albeit short lived, with that same person) and I have learnt that there are many people in the same situation as me.

If I didn’t have this blog as an outlet right now then I would feel extremely socially isolated. I have alienated a group of my friends because of the rape in February (a lot of them are standing up for him and not believing me, and the other portion don’t want to be involved until after the trial) and therefore I feel quite alone. I know I can type out how I am feeling though and people will give me words of encouragement and support. I don’t post expecting comments. I post for my benefit, but receiving comments makes me feel as if the effort I put in here, which has dwindled of late, is worthwhile.

In short I think the blogging community is highly therapeutic and supportive. I think that 99.99% of people who blog have good intentions and I feel angry at and upset for the 0.01% who have to belittle people and make them feel like a sham.

For goodness sake, enough of us receive a reaction like that in real life whether through family, friends or professionals. We keep blogs as a record of our feelings, an output for our emotions and to keep track of our lives. We do not try to twist people’s thoughts or feelings, or to change their viewpoints on issues, so why should other people do that to us?

For the majority of us we live in democratic countries where the freedom of speech is taken for granted. However, this does not mean that you have the right to say anything without thinking of the consequences. Everyone is entitled to their own viewpoint, you just don’t have to be as narrow minded as to think that your viewpoint is the only correct one in the world.

Rant over, I promise.

Ruth

Curled Up In A Corner: How I Am Becoming Anti-Social

It’s official. I do not have a social life anymore.

When I was in hospital I dreamt of being discharged so I could go out with friends during the day and night. To the cinema, for a cup of coffee or a meal, to a bar, or even just to wander round the shops.

Since I have been discharged I have done none of those things. I have been out for one cup of coffee with my Mum. Admittedly I went to Paris on Thursday but I hate the incessent socialability of it all and the constant being talkative and engaging.

Instead I am curling up on my bed and sleeping most of the day. Or if I am not sleeping then I’m just sitting with my eyes closed or staring into space. I occasionally venture downstairs when my parents yell at me or if they tell me I have to eat some food. In fact a couple of hours ago my Mum said that all I do is “eat and sleep”. I would like to alter that comment to “eating minimal amounts” as I can’t even be bothered to eat. Chewing requires too much energy.

A part of me would love some form of social interaction. To see people or talk to them on the phone, but it would have to be on my terms andunfortunately my terms at the moment involve a lot of long pauses and general mopiness.

I know that holing myself away from the world isn’t going to make me feel better but equally getting on the Tube at Bank Holiday won’t make me feel better either. I have a feeling that if I go out then I would just get irritable and want to hit the slow walking person in front of me, or I’d start an argument, probably for no reason, that would get me kicked off the bus.

Instead I think I may have a few drinks and go to bed and before anyone says anything… I don’t care about alcohol in moderation tonight. Getting drunk and going to sleep is going to suit me a lot better in the morning than the other self-destructive urges I’ve been thinking of.

Ruth

From Pillar To Post: How You End Up Being Passed Around

Gavin rang me back on Tuesday after he had contacted all the people he needed to contact. He thinks I am too stable and compliant to be under the Assertive Outreach Team and therefore is referring me back to my local Community Mental Health Team (CMHT).

In essence this is good news but it means that I have had no support since Tuesday and am unlikely to have any now under next Tuesday thanks to a Bank Holiday weekend. I have the number for the Crisis Team and Gateway Worker but I’m notoriously bad at seeking out help for myself. Instead I just sit and wallow and drag myself deeper into a black hole.

I didn’t mention this to Gavin when he asked if I had any questions. I just mumbled “no” and he wished me well for the future and hung up. I feel as if I am slipping backwards. I am so lethargic, I can’t be bothered with anything, even the nice things in life.

Yesterday a group of 3 of us took the Eurostar to Paris for the day (£59 return tickets). It was meant to be a nice day out with a change of scenery. It should have been fun but instead I felt myself wandering around aimlessly feeling numb and empty. I know that this is a downward slope but I’m don’t know what to do to stop it now I have no continuous or nearby support.

I’m not even sure if I want to stop it in all honesty. Sometimes I think being depressed is easier than trying to fight it and work myself into recovery.

Ruth

Assertive Outreach: aka the non compliant, disengaged, non attender’s service

I had my first meeting with Gavin, the CMHN at the Assertive Outreach Team this morning. I have since discovered the the AOT is for service users who have been difficult to engage in standard secondary mental health settings. This got me thinking as to whether I am worthy of being referred to the AOT. I am engaged, most of the time, although I have deliberately missed some appointments. My medication compliance was less than useless but I have now realised the error of my ways and take it religiously, and without alcohol. I have been mostly compliant in therapy, apart from the odd temper tantrum and I haven’t always seen eye-to-eye with my key worker/care co-ordinators. I guess I am the sort of person that the AOT was designed for then. The non compliant, unwilling to help themselves, disengaged mental mess of a person. Isn’t it wonderful to be such a no hoper at the tender age of only 23!

Anyway, Gavin is perfectly pleasant even if I didn’t feel totally at ease with him. We talked about the overdose in early July and then the subsequent loitering on a bridge and by the side of the dual carriageway which led to me being admitted. We then talked about my suicide attempt in hospital (of which he said I was the first person he had met who had tried to kill themselves whilst in a psych unit, but that I wasn’t to take that as a compliment). After all the history of the last 6 weeks we went through the standard “how is your mood?”, “how would you rate your concentration?”, “what’s your sleep pattern like?”, “how would you describe your appetite?” questions. Tedious, but I guess they have to be done. I was fairly honest with him, albeit if it was in too much of a jovial tone. I hate myself for putting on the happy, smiling, ‘isn’t life just one big laugh’ mask when faced with mental health professionals. It’s bloody hard to try and convince someone that you do suffer from depressive episodes when you’re sitting there smiling and using humour throughout the session.

I apparently didn’t fool him though as he’s going to contact the CMHT I used to be with in London for my notes and a copy of the emergency assessment in January and see if my notes from Newcastle can be faxed down. Then when he has collated all the information together and had a chance to talk with people who have been involved in my care previously he is going to ring me to let me know what the plan of action is. He thinks I’d benefit from CBT, which I agreed to, and possibly group work, which I didn’t agree to as the idea of group therapy completely freaks me out.

The session was quite positive and yet I left feeling angry and let down. Sometimes I confuse myself so much. I have no idea what I expected out of this morning but I sat for half an hour after the session on a bench fuming internally and rocking. I feel that sometimes even people trying their hardest isn’t enough. I mean what did I want him to say? “You’re fine, go away”; no because that would trigger the borderline fear of abandonment in me. I’m such a fuck up at times.

In other news the side of my fingernail is infected from me chewing at all the hangnails and skin. It isn’t pleasant and I really should have grown out of it by now but it really hurts and is red hot to touch. I shuold go and see a GP but I feel as if my entire life is spent in health centres so I’ll try some iodine solution on it and a dressing and see what it is like in the morning.

On that note I think I’m going to drag my depressed self back into bed where at least I’m out of people’s way and can’t get angry with things. I’m in the mood to start a fight in an empty room at the moment.

Ruth

Sedated & Lethargic: The Flip Side Of Medication

The post on self-harm is still being created, and I keep meaning to tidy my blog up and rearrange my links section. Trouble is I am just so damn tired. I’m currently on venlafaxine and mirtazapine and together they are totally knocking me for six. If it were up to me I could just sleep for England (and Scotland, Wales & Northern Ireland).

It’s so ironic that when my mood actually starts to pick up that because of the drugs that are helping my mood to pick up I have bugger all energy and therefore cannot make the most of my elevated mood. I tried to put this across to the Crisis Team yesterday and today but they just patronisied me and told me that side effects will pass and surely my mood being better is worth it. I told them it would be worth it, if I were awake enough to appreciate it. Luckily though I don’t seem to be eating anymore or gaining weight on the mirtazapine, which was my greatest fear.

I meet with Gavin, my new CMHN, tomorrow and I’m freaking out about it already. I can’t decide what to wear (as we all know clothing and attire is such an important part of an assessment) – too outlandish and I’ll be labelled ‘manic’, too much black and I’ll be an ‘emo depressive’. I think I’ll settle for jeans, a white t-shirt and my favourite black cardi. Or maybe not, I can’t decide.

In the meantime though the bread I tried making with my Mum earlier apparently hasn’t worked so it looks like it might have to be turned into a bread and butter pudding, or fed to the extremely brazen Kensington foxes.

Ruth

Getting Back To Normality: Being Home Again

I am finally back home. In my own room, on my own computer drinking a nice glass of chilled white wine. I am only having one glass though as my psych said I could drink in moderation and I presume one glass to be moderation.

It’s been a strange day. I have had so many people make me sign different pieces of paper; care plans, crisis plans, therapy plans, therapy contracts etc etc etc. that I haven’t known if I’m coming or going. All I do know is that 2 people from the crisis team are coming to see me at 2pm tomorrow and then again at 11am on Sunday. I have the telephone number of the ‘gateway worker’ (basically the out of hours nurse who mans the telephone) and the crisis team in case I need extra support. I am seeing Gavin the CMHN on Monday morning to discuss my care plan and where to go from here.

It seems as if people are worried about me being discharged. In fact they wanted to keep me in longer but there was a shortage of beds and the crisis team reckon they can do intensive home treatment, so who was I to complain? I am determined to go onto the straight and narrow and this evening mark the start of that. I ate dinner and haven’t thrown up, I am only having one glass of wine and I have taken all my meds like a good little girl.

I am in the process of writing a post on self-harm but it’s got very, very long already and I’m only half-way through it so I may split it into two posts. Watch this space.

Ruth

The Escape Is Near: Pre-Discharge Planning

I am to be discharged on Friday. My 28 day section will then have come to an end and I can be released into the wide world again. However, prior to all this happening I have to have the obligatory pre-discharge and CPA planning.

This currently stands at seeing the crisis team daily over the weekend and then meeting with the Assertive Outreach Team on Monday at 9.30 to meet my new CMHN (Community Mental Health Nurse) who apparently is called Gavin and is, according to my current named nurse, “a very approachable bloke”. From then on I will be having 2 more sessions of ECT as an outpatient at the South Kensington & Chelsea Mental Health Unit and then we’ll go from there.

At present I am being the perfect patient. Med compliant, therapy compliant, engaging well with psychiatric and psychological services. All this despite having a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder slapped back on me, which was fairly inevitable really, wasn’t it?

More from me on Friday evening when I’m back at home!

Ruth