I don’t remember what they were, but I had horrible apocalypse-esque dreams. There were lots of big waves, and my brother was there.
Anyway, I was glad to wake up.
Stirred a couple of times in the night again, but managed to get through to about 6AM.
When I got up, I went and drank a coffee on ‘my’ bench again. It was really cold, but sunny.
Helps to wake me up a bit, seeing as my meds leave me so groggy.
Showered, dressed, meds, and BACON SUNDAY.
I sat with a vegan patient who was happily chowing down on a bacon sarnie . She said being a vegan in hospital is just the worst, because they literally just give you salad, and she’s so hungry. Was nice to have a bit of a chat with her and some of the staff.
I tried to practice mindfulness while doing my makeup again – I’m making it a daily thing.
I was aware of my thoughts wandering, but tried to bring them back every time, and to just focus on there here and now.
I then did a bit of writing, and texted some friends. I was feeling OK – better than the day before.
The weekly Sunday trip out was planned – the University Park near where I used to live with my husband.
I ummed and ahhd for a while about whether to go or not.
Would it fuck me up too much?
We used to go walking there together, and I would jog round there loads in my running phase. So many memories…
But I eventually decided that I actually would go.
That part of my life, for the most part, was fairly miserable. And then afterwards I found my friends, my independence, and the most wonderful man I have ever met.
I found happiness, even if it was fleeting.
My logic was that if I reminded myself of the misery I experienced before I left my husband, it might give me some renewed hope that I can find happiness once again when I am discharged, well, and in my new flat.
Unfortunately, it didn’t go down that way.
Six of us went out for the weekly walk, and on the journey over I was intensely anxious. I could feel my thoughts darting all around my head, and couldn’t stop thinking about my problems on the outside.
How the fuck am I going to put my life back together?
Those thoughts didn’t stop.
I had been worried that I would be reminded of my marriage, but it didn’t even cross my mind.
I tried to focus on the geese, the ripples on the lake, the different trees, the cold weather, the sun, the sky… but I just could not push the bad thoughts out of my head.
I asked one of my friends to take this photo of me. I look happy enough, but on the inside, I felt completely hopeless.
Complete rock bottom.
Absolutely no hope for the future.
I had a chat with another of the patients. She is being discharged tomorrow after four and a half months in hospital.
I asked how she was feeling about it. She said she was a bit nervous, but really excited. I said to her that I hope I feel like that someday. She said that it will come, and that you can’t rush it – that just makes it worse. When she first got admitted she thought she would never ever be coming out, and she has never had such a long admission, but she feels completely ready now.
That was comforting to hear. But I still didn’t see it.
The thoughts intensified in the taxi on the way back.
I tried to focus on the conversation going on, but I just could not stop thinking the bad thoughts.
When I got back, the ward was loud, and I was visibly shaking. I went to the nurse, told her I’d been having really dark, spiralling thoughts. She gave me some medication, and said she’d come and find me in a bit.
I had the roast pork for Sunday lunch, and sat with two of my best friends that I have here, but I still couldn’t stop the bad thoughts. I just shovelled my food in my mouth, trying to fill myself up as much as possible, in the hope that when I got back to my room, I could have a nap and reset my brain.
As I was lying in bed, the nurse came to see me as promised. I explained to her again that I’d been having such dark and spiralling thoughts. She said that a nap was a good idea, and said to come and get her if I felt worse.
When I woke up, I felt really lonely.
I posted some of the pictures that I had taken at the park on social media. It sounds really sad, but I hoped a few likes and comments might perk me up a bit.
When I was first admitted, loads of people got in touch, but a lot of the messages have kind of dropped off now.
This might sound really ungrateful and bitchy… I guess it’s a bit of a novelty at first isn’t it? Knowing someone who’s on a psych ward. But regardless of how the media portray these things…
It’s not cool.
It’s not glamorous.
It’s real, and it’s fucking torturous.
I did get some likes and comments, and also some private messages, which that was really nice. I really appreciated it because it was a particularly lonely Sunday.
I’ve had a very lonely weekend tbh. Very low. Very black.
I decided to go and have a cup of tea on ‘my’ bench.
On my way out, I saw the staff member who had the ambulance called for her yesterday. She said that she was fine. She’d had an anaphylactic shock because of some fish, which she didn’t think was a big deal, but everyone else did. I had a bit of a chat with her about my trip out this morning. She said that it’s clear I’m trying really hard, and I should be proud.
One of the other staff members asked if she could plait my hair. I said today might be the day.
I met a new patient too. I introduced myself, and asked her name. She seems fine, but she’s just been transferred over from the other female ward at this hospital, and I can’t help thinking why?…
Is she a trouble maker?
Was she not getting along well with the other patients?
Or is this ward just better equipped to deal with her needs?
Either way, it put me on edge a little bit. Especially after what the other new girl asked me the day before.
Going for a little walk, and seeing people helped a bit.
I honestly just don’t think I’m ready to go out. I actually might not do it next Sunday.
It really proper messed me up.
I’m not ready.
I did a bit of writing until my brother and sister in law came to visit. They bought more chocolate, which was much appreciated! We talked a bit about my week and their week (and my brother’s amazing Snape costume for World Book Day – he’s a chemistry teacher, and it was just spot on!), but honestly, I just still felt a bit flat and hopeless.
Sunday dinner is always a bit depressing. It’s the ‘buffet’, which is just various sandwiches. I sat on my own, and just tried to stuff as much in my face as I could possibly stomach.
I wasn’t hungry, but I’ve learned that if I don’t eat, I tend to feel much more anxious and my mood spirals down.
I had a cracking headache (again), so went to get some painkillers. The nurse suggested I bring it up at Ward Round tomorrow (my weekly meeting with the doctors).
As she was sorting the meds out, the emergency alarm went.
I was just talking to my family about it earlier that day – it happens a minimum of 5 times a week.
She dropped my meds, opened the safe that contains the ligature cutters, and all of a sudden the staff all ran off in the same direction.
It’s always worrying. The noise is really loud, you don’t know who it is, and you don’t know what it is.
Honestly, I just wait for the day when I find out that one of my fellow patients has died.
I know that sounds really grim, but that’s the kind of dark place that my thoughts are in right now.
When I got back to my room, all of a sudden I felt really fucking hopeless, and I knew that if I was on the outside I’d be in the darkest place I could possibly be…
I could see the way that my thought processes were going, so I went to the nurse and asked for a chat and possibly some meds. They were clearly understaffed and busy, and I felt like a huge inconvenience, but she said she’d sort me out some meds for starters.
She asked me what was wrong, and I told her…
I want to die.
I went back to my room, and shortly after the staff member who’d had the ambulance yesterday came and spoke to me.
She’s young, friendly, and really down to earth. We talked a bit about how I was feeling – that I can’t possibly imagine what things will be like when I’m eventually discharged. She said that it can be overwhelming to think of doing things like cooking and laundry etc, and I was like no, that’s not it.
I told her that I felt I’d ruined so many relationships (including the most important one, with my boyfriend), that I didn’t see how I could possibly go back to work, that I was in the midst of moving, and it just felt like my life had been turned upside down.
I have absolutely no fucking idea how to piece it all back together.
I told her exactly how my thoughts had spiralled today when I was out, and how dark some of them had been.
She shared some of her experiences, including a heart-breaking breakup that she went through, and said that a lot of the things I am feeling are totally normal, but can imagine that it’s super amplified because of my BPD.
She’s not wrong.
She also said that I need to try and focus on the now, as difficult as that is.
She thinks I might be pushing myself too hard.
I’m in hospital because I’m unwell. If I want to stay in bed and watch Netflix all day, that’s not failing, it’s what I need to do at the time.
She’s not wrong.
I always strive for perfection (Virgo), and I feel like I’m wasting time if I’m doing nothing. But it’s like what the patient I’d spoken to earlier that day had said – I can’t rush this, that’ll just make it worse. Discharge is a way off (hopefully!). I need to focus on what’s going on right now, trust the slow process, and eventually I’ll get well and feel strong enough to leave.
I felt a bit better after that, but more than anything, super sedated, as I’d been given a fair whack of promethazine. It’s an antihistamine that is used to sedate super anxious people, and also to help people sleep after operations.
I was in fact so sleepy, that I managed to do a bit of colouring with my thoughts completely turned off – all I focused on was the task at hand.
I then watched Drag Race, drank a load of tea, and ate a load of chocolate (standard).
I was safe in my room, trying to block everything else out, but it was hard.
Shouty lady was going MENTAL pretty much outside my door, because she’d sought out a member of staff who was monitoring the patient who has to be watched at all times, and she’s in a room really close to mine.
Also the emergency alarm kept going. Apparently, it was the new patient. Thinking about it logically, that’s probably why she was moved here.
The environment here is loud and chaotic, but it’s a necessary evil.
I’d rather be here amongst the madness than out there on my own. I know that if that was the case, I’d be in severe crisis within the day, and probably land myself straight back in A&E, or worse.
Managed to sleep without a sleeping pill again, but then again, I was pretty sedated from the meds I’d had earlier.
I was really glad for the weekend to be over.
It’s been truly shite.