*DISCLAIMER: I am not a doctor, therapist, or health professional of any kind. I’m sharing things that I have been taught that have helped me (or not). This is my experience.

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Thursday, April 19, 2012

Journal From Sometime in March


After reading and typing into the computer my hospital journals, not to mention the day I’ve had, I just want to cry.  It would prolly be cathartic.  I don’t want to do this anymore.  And by this I mean being sick.  Plus, with Barb bringing up every mistake I’ve ever made, while other people may be able to just blame that on my illness, I can’t.  I feel guilty enough.  She has no right to judge me.
 
I just know how happy she is that I’m here (mindreading, I know).  She was right; I ended up back in placement.  Wrongfully, I believe, but yet I am here.  I just wish she wouldn’t have talked to me today.  It’s like picking at a scab:  It’s healing, but she just had to pull at it. 
I just want to fade away.  Imagining living 60 more years like this, going to placement every so often, is something I can’t (and don’t want to) do.  Thinking about it makes me want to make a bunch of bad decisions.  Not like hurt myself, but do something that makes me appreciate life.  It would be nice to do something that I really enjoy. 

But it doesn’t seem to matter what kind of decisions I make, they are the wrong ones.  Every move I make ends me up back in the same place.  I hope to make it a year this time before I have to go back to the hospital.  Perhaps the Latuda and Wellbutrin will last longer than that.  I wouldn’t bet my computer on it.  Being realistic and accepting the reality is what I’m working towards.  I’m trying to use my knowledge to help those around me to help me from falling too deep again soon.

It’s terrible how once I start thinking I can’t seem to stop.  Today the topic is loneliness.  I can’t seem to get by the logic of my illness.  My illness is a burden, period.  It’s a burden for me and makes me a burden for others.  That is pure common sense.  Men don’t want women with issues.  Nobody wants to date someone with so much baggage they would have to haul it with a semi truck.  I don’t want to date someone like that, how can I expect anyone else to be willing to do more heavy lifting for me than I want to do for them?  It’s not fair, and I know that.  When others tell me I’m not a burden and some guy would be lucky to have me they clearly haven’t thought the whole idea through.  I mean really, who would jump at the chance for dating someone who has got a past (and present) like mine?  People who are not right themselves, that’s who. 

While I have a tendency to take care of everyone, especially those close to me, I know that being in a relationship, even friendship, with someone I have to take care of is not good for me.  Sure, it seems fine while I’m healthy, but as soon as I start to slip (which I always do) they will expect me to continue playing mommy while I need to be taking care of myself.  Not only do I need to take care of myself when things get bad, I need someone who will be able to help me.  I especially don’t need them to cut-and-run while I have to face the music alone.  People think, “Oh, we’ll just put her in a nice place with people ‘like her’, that way we don’t have to lift a finger or even have to deal with the issue.”  The problem is that while I have a mental illness, which I do have in common with people in psych wards and RCFs, I am not like them.  Most of the people in these places are not high functioning enough to realize just how sick they really are.  From my perspective that helps them deal with their illness more easily.  Perhaps I’m just more perceptive? 
I try so hard to feed myself with information about what I’m dealing with, but I think it varies in whether or not it’s helpful or harmful.  I suppose most of it is both.  I have full realization (right now, at least) with what I’m dealing and what my future seems to hold.  I just wish someone (other than Nathan and Dr. Larsen) would have enough sense to understand.  Not only that, but I wish someone other than a fucking professional support would even try. 

But yet, even when someone is willing to do whatever I wish it is just too much.  It’s like I have to take care of those people too, just in a different way.  I have to coddle them when my illness gets too much for them and it’s like they’re scared to do anything.  God forbid they do something wrong, even if it is a trial-and-error game to find out the best thing to do.  Isn’t that in every relationship?  Everyone thinks they have to walk on eggshells around the fucking crazy girl.  Either they aren’t willing to be with someone who’s crazy or they think they can handle it, until that day…that one day when things get a little too real for them.
After doing some research, it seems that the all glorious Latuda is what is causing me have broken, restless sleep.  Living on two or three hours of nightmares a night is making me so emotional.  Not to mention how it has increased my pain.  Perhaps it’s the mixture of the pain and sleep deprivation that is causing me to start tearing up at the blink of an eye.  Not to mention adjusting to being in placement again.  I really don’t think I’ve accepted that this is going to be my life for awhile.  I put off calling Nathan, I think for that reason.  I am disappointed in myself for being here, and while I know Nathan never holds my illness against me, I didn’t want him to be disappointed too.

I’m starting to realize that not only am I disappointed that I have my illness, I also feel guilty.  I should write a book on guilt.  Being raised by a mother who parented by using sarcasm and constant guilt trips mixed with the guilt I feel over being a burden gives me the perfect credentials.  Maybe I should explain the burden part.  I bring it up so often (being a burden, feeling like a burden, other people treating me like a burden) that I’m pretty sure putting an explanation on the page would help me arrange my thoughts eloquently enough that I can share them, eventually.
I feel that I am a burden on mental health services, my family and friends, the hospital systems, and society.  I know what you’re thinking:  Mental health services are there for people with mental illness, so how could I be a burden to them?  Well, I feel that I should be able to manage my illness better, as I am fairly intelligent and self perceptive.  I have been fighting this battle since I was a child, thanks to my home environment and, as things progressed, my genes.  I should have a handle on it by now.  Yes, it’s true that the schizoaffective disorder is fairly new in my life in comparison to the depression and borderline personality disorder. 

The psychotic symptoms started about six years ago.  I really can’t be more specific on the timing than that. I don’t remember the first time I heard or saw anything out of the ordinary, or having some belief that didn’t align with reality.  I just remember that when I was nineteen I got drunk, smashed my phone, and confessed to hallucinations.  Not one of my finest moments, though it showed me who my real friends were (and still are today).  The depression was the beginning, however. 

As a child I always felt out of place and alone.  My parents who, after their divorce when I was ten years old, were both diagnosed with severe mental illness; my mother with bipolar disorder and my father with paranoid schizophrenia.  Abuse was rampant in my household.  I remember my mother telling me sometime after my move to a new town and school that I was not sick, that I was depressed.  That was shortly after their divorce.  At sixteen I overdosed on pills for the first time in an effort to commit suicide.  It was no surprise that shortly after I turned twenty I was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, which one could say encompasses both of my parents’ illnesses.

It surprises me that throughout that history I failed to mention my brothers.  I am the middle child of three.  When I talk about being a burden to my family, it is them and some of my non-immediate family that I speak of.  My older brother had some problems with psychosis after he became addicted to meth (which he has been clean from since treatment).  To this day he takes no medication and, while he lives with some anxiety, is free from psychosis.  Though my older brother was supportive at the beginning of my illness, his support dropped off after awhile.  I know that I feel it’s because he’s disappointed in me for not being able to recover completely from my illness, as he did.  He helps me now when he’s forced to, like when he didn’t have a roommate for his two bedroom apartment and needed help paying rent.  Other than that, although he calls other family members regularly, he only gets ahold of me when it is advantageous for him.
As for my burden-ness with my younger brother, the well is much deeper.  My younger brother was diagnosed a couple years ago with schizoaffective disorder.  I feel I should be helping him through his problems with his illness, as I have the same diagnosis.  And I do help him some.  But my ability to help gets limited when I get sick.  It’s basically cut off completely.  I also feel that he has followed my example by overdosing on pills.  While he said it was not in attempt to kill himself, I still feel that he would not have had the idea to do such a thing, had I not repeatedly done it before him.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Hospital Journals 2

I miss Nathan.
I am too embarassed to call him.
I don't want to talk to anyone.
I may have to stay another day in order to not come back anytime soon.
I wish there was someone who wants to take care of me.
I wish there was someone I would let take care of me.
Still have hallucinations.
Ups and downs,
Happy and sad.
Letter upsets me because they are so selfish.
No more selfish than I am.
Happy to talk to Dr. Larsen, very nice.
Back pain sucks.
Eye sight is not the best [side effect of meds]
Getting worse not better.
Need to be distracted.

Who would I be without the medication?  I would never be able to function.  I would be so anxious, so paranoid, so depressed.  But even on the medication, I am unhappy, I am anxious, I am paranoid, I am alone.  I miss having friends and being in love.  I miss being able to concentrate on anything other than being sick.  I'm worried things will never be that way again.  I'm cold inside and out, all of the time.  I am alone.  I'm afraid I always will be.  I'm just unhappy, so very unhappy.

I hope they will help me here, though I am questioning their motives.  They don't believe me and Rick and Becky are my only hope.  I hope to stay out of palcement.  Tomorrow I will go to group as much as possible.  The restlessness in my legs is so much better.  Maybe Rick will put me on Buspar.  I can't handle spending much more on meds.

My roommate is terribly annoying, so LOUD.  They told me she wasn't too bad.  They were lying.  She never gives me peace.  I just need some damn rest, some peace.  I want to sleep but my back is killing me.  Now my head is killing be because of the damn roommate.  FOr god's sake, the nurses don't understand.  They act like I enjoy being here.  Trust me, that's not the case.  I just wish I could calm down.  I'm really scared about going to placement. 

Hospital Journals 1

The following are my journals from my recent hospitalization.  Some of it may seem whiny and petty, but here it is anyway.  Oh, and none of them were dated so I'm not sure of the order.  Enjoy.

I finally finsihed my necklace.  It's really cute.  My stomach is killing me and I am drowsy with my new meds.  I have Kerry as a teck, an old "friend".  Things have changed a ton since I saw him last.  IT brings back memories I had forgotten when he asked me about how I've been.  Dr. Larsen won't be here this weekend.  THat means I have to put up with Eeyore.  Dan is such a pouty ass.  I miss the old nurse Dan that moved to Oregon last time I was here.  Ok, prolly not the last time, but one time.  I've started to cut back on my caffeine for anxiety sake.  Larsen said it may be caused by the Prolixin and Wellbutrin.  I have to still take a shower ever so many hours if I am in bed for any decent amount of time [because of back and hip pain].  It's a pretty big pain in the ass, but it helps.  I am so tired of the crap here:  Everyone calling names, yelling, and threatening each other.  THere's a reason I graduated early [from high school].  I can't stand all the stupid drama.  It's going to be wonderful getting to know Michael's new  18 year old girlfriend.  Hopefully she's nothing like Kayla...I should prolly call Nathan and Michael.  I haven't talked to Nathan since I have been here.  I saw Michael a couple days ago but I should stilll call and see how he's doing.  I lost my numbers though :(.

I am worried about taking so many meds.  I'm up to somewhere around 18, including PRNs.  It's pretty ridiculous.  My roommate is finally a good one.  Other than her player the radio while she sleeps, she's the best one I've had so far.  I would still be happier downstairs.  My eating difficulty has returned.  I can't eat much without wanting to spit it out.  I wish Dr. Larsen was here this weekend.  My doc is going to be Dan :( for the weekend.  I want things to go better.  I really just want to go home.  I don't know what I should do, pretend or act how I feel.  I want to paint in project group, but I don't know if they'll let me since I have done so many already.  I could make another necklace I suppose, or make a stained glass thingy.

I am sitting in my room, waiting for my mother to show up.  I need her to bring me colored pencils to keep me busy.  I am tired from the Wellbutrin.  I can't believe Jen [an ARNP] tried to change my meds without talking to Dr. Larsen.  I figured I would wait until he gets back to change anything.  I'm starting to worry about oging to palcement again.  I have been here so long and there is not an end in sight.  I n eed something to preoccupy myself.  I am writing this while my roommate reads from the bible.  She had asked me if I believed in God, and I told the truth, no.  It's true that I am an agnostic on some days.  They are reading somthing about a battle.  They talked a lot about prostitutes in the passage they are reading.  Listening to this, it only confirms my thought that the bible is just a collection of stories men made to teach people what they thought they could get people to do what they want.  I'm so tired of listening to people who try to preach to me.

I can't wait until I feel better.  I really want to go home.  I'm antsy and anxious.  I just need something to focus on.  I think I will start painting at home.  It's a good distraction from life and I enjoy how focusing is such a large part of it.  I WANT TO GO HOME.  I don't want to do this.

I feel so bad for Violet.  She's a good person and she deserves to go home.  I want to go home too but I know I need to stay.  My brain isn't functioning well.  Not to mention the bad thoughts.  I want to ask Rick to change everything.  I don't know how receptive he will be to that idea.  I am feeling like I've completely lost my mind.  The words disappear when I say them and I lose the meaning of words as I'm saying them.  I hate it.  It makes me seem stupid or crazy-er than I think I actually am.  Not to mention I keep repeating myself.  I need a really good distraction.

I am prolly going home tomorrow!  I want to make it a year without coming back.  I think I can do it.  I'm awesome.

I am so tired, frustrated, and finally accepting my feelings about palcement.  I do not want to go.  I am tired of everyone thinking they know what's best for me.  And not to mention what's "wrong" with me.  I don't even want to think about what's "wrong" with me.  I have been avoiding my feelings and the situation.  I can't stand this.  I need to vent and BEFORE the hearing.  I am sooo tired of rude, annoying people.  I'm using my coping skills.  I colored, I talked to family, I laid down, I did my number puzzles, I did deep breathing.  Fod god's sake, how am I supposed to feel better?  Once the hearing is over I can go back to ignoring the truth.  Whatever works I guess.  GRRRR!  I hate not being able to remember everything.  I think the lists are helping, but maybe not the exercise.  I am not looking forward to the weekend; sooo boring.  Grr!  People are soooo annoying, with their bitching and ranting.  How hard is it to respect other peoples' everything?  I feel like my head is going to explode!  There is no peace here.  Ugh!

Update

I am going to post several posts at once today that have been written since I have been without internet access.  They may be repetitive with some of the other things that have been written, but they're just my thoughts.  Enjoy.