Home!

Yesterday, after seeing a doctor, I could go home from the hospital. Hurrah!

 

I am far from well, but I am better. It feels as though I have been down at rock bottom, in the deepest dark, but managed to push upwards and start on the journey towards the surface. Climbing. I’ll try to keep climbing.

 

The experience was horrible, but also just what I needed. Somehow, in that strange place, there was a sense of calm and security. The men and women working there, caring for the patients around the clock, are amazing. Kind, caring, and rock steady. My stay there may have been brief (thankfully!), but I think it had a profound impact on me. I expect I’ll be mentally returning there in times of trouble, to steady myself in the memory. So thank you!

 

 

No fear

It’s amazing how much a good night’s sleep can do. For once I managed to sleep through the night, and this morning I woke up feeling far better. It might just be a temporary boost, but I don’t care – I’m savouring it.

 

So yes, I am still stuck in a psych ward. (Read THIS POST first btw, if you haven’t already!) Day three, and it is crazy how badly I long to go home. I miss my husband. I miss my cats. I miss my house. I miss being able to do whatever I want. I miss my garden. Aaaaaah, so much I miss. And you know what? Today I see more clearly that all that ‘missing things’ actually is a pretty good thing. Because everything I miss is a GOOD thing in my life. Things that are worth living for. And that’s a major revelation.

 

In other words, today is a bit better. After breakfast I even managed to locate a training cycle here in the ward, and I went to work up a proper sweat. Just having gotten out of the shower now, I feel like a brand new person. Plus, I’ve found some really nice people here at the ward, and we have come to talk for hours. Genuine, relaxed talk. That helps too. Because you know what? These people, who like me are in a psyche ward for whatever reason, aren’t the scary crazies one might imagine. They’re generally good people, just stuck in a bad situation.

 

No fear. No shame. We’ll get better.

So that happened

I visited the doctor yesterday morning. The conversation went something like this:

 

Me: “I am not going to kill myself. But I gotta admit, I do feel like I probably should, because it would be best for everyone.”

Doc: “Can you trust yourself?”

Me: “I… I don’t know.”

 

 

And just like that, it happened. The doctor decided I was at risk of hurting myself, and I was instantly lead over to another part of the hospital. They gave me a room with bars covering the window, and went through my things to remove anything I potentially could hurt myself with. So… yes. This actually is happening.

I really didn’t see it coming. Going into town yesterday I thought I was just heading for a regular doctor’s appointment, to follow up on how the dreadful meds have affected me. But instead I end up… here. Ouch.

I realize that I probably shouldn’t write this, tell you all so openly. Because you know, there is a massive stigma around mental illness, and just me being here (or having been here) probably is enough for a lot of people to judge me as crazy. I’m not, though. Just depressed. And I feel like I do need to speak, or rather write, of what it’s really like.

Hopefully it’ll just be for a few days, while they adjust the meds (and take away the one that made me so much worse). I have been here for less than 24 hours now, and already it is crazy how much I long to go home.

And one last thing. My husband is the best. THE best. He was as shocked as I was of course, when I called him to say I was here. Even so, he managed to make me smile. And when he came to visit he even had me laughing for a moment. Laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

How strange life is. Every day a new experience.

I’ll be back.

 

Now

I lack words to explain how difficult the last month has been. Month, by the way? I am not sure of the time, weeks have just passed by in a blur.

 

I got a new doctor, again. Seeing that I rather than improving, my depression had gotten worse, he decided to put me on new meds. A lot of new meds.

 

Without exaggerating I can say that since taking these new meds, I have experienced darkness like never before. Hope has disappeared. I know now that all I am is failure and disappointment. I am good for no one. I wish to create but only wreck what is good. The world would be a better place without me.

 

I won’t do anything foolish to end it. Wouldn’t ever do that to my husband. He has suffered enough due to my dysfunctional self, I would never add to it by killing myself and leaving him alone with the pain. So don’t worry, I won’t do that. But if I am to be honest, I think it probably would be best for everyone if I did.

 

I am not sure why I am posting this. Part of me is hoping that no one reads it. I certainly don’t want attention, this isn’t a cry for help or whatnot. I just felt the need to express what I feel. So there you have it.

Odd

How odd it is. Getting out of bed, and getting on a bus, going to work on a regular day, frightens me more than a haphazard trip to the other side of the world.

Let me face an angry bear and a pack of wolves, it would be a relief compared to the deadly sting of everyday life.

 

Forgive me for being absent from here. I am not gone, merely busy working through the pain of anxiety and depression.

 

And speaking of anxiety, time’s up. Time for work.

Wandering

Again I have been silent. No, I haven’t forgotten about you all, I have merely retreated for a bit to take care of myself. Times are rough, emotionally. But I’m hanging in there, so don’t worry. I’ll climb back out of the hole again. Hopefully with some fresh insights after lessons learned, but for now I’d settle for just being able to go through a day without chest pains and tears.

 

I’ll be alright.

 

My greatest sadness is the strain it all puts on my beloved husband. I so wish I could be a normal, happy, rock steady wife for him, but instead I am this. That is what hurts the most. It is worse than all the rest, and it is not rare for me to think those horrid thoughts – that he would be better off without me.

 

But, there are also still moments of joy. It’s in the scent and warmth of my husband as I hold him close. It’s in the deeply satisfying realization that I’ve learned something new. It’s in being able to help a friend, and put a smile on another’s face.

 

woods.jpg

 

If you are lost in the woods, who would you rather have guide you? One who has never been in those woods themselves, only seen it from the outside, or one who has walked the paths herself, and found the way out? Or perhaps even she who has made the woods her home. No longer lost, but safe and happy right where she is? I don’t know, I am still wandering.

 

 

 

Fasting Day 1

To say that I have a difficult relationship with food is an understatement. The truth is I have an eating disorder. Not anorexia or bulimia, which most people would assume from such a statement, but what in medicine is called UNS, unspecified. To be more exact, I am a food addict. Yes, for real.

I don’t need an excuse to eat. The urge is always there, I always want to eat, and every waking moment that I don’t is the result of a conscious decision and effort to not do it. Resisting when the urge grows stronger doesn’t just lead to me getting hungry – I panic. I cry. I beg. I tremble like a leaf. My entire existence screams at me to EAT! Even if I had a hearty lunch just two hours earlier, that doesn’t matter. Because it’s not a matter of eating to satisfy a physical hunger, it’s addiction.

How do handle an addiction, normally? You make yourself stop. You get sober, stop drinking alcohol if that’s your vice, stop taking drugs, stop gambling, stop… But you can’t stop eating. Basically I am like the alcoholic who tries to get rid of her addiction, but who has to drink a glass of wine three times a day.

Why am I telling you all this now?

Well, here’s the deal. While I can’t stop eating entirely, what I can do is fast for a few days. It’s horrendously difficult, but I can do it. I must be able to do it. It’s not to lose weight, it’s not an extreme form of dieting, it’s all about breaking addiction’s spine. It is about taking back control.

It’s been a few years since my last real fast, but now I feel it is time again. The husband is away, so I won’t have to suffer through the ordeal of seeing him cook and eat. Smelling it, hearing the sizzling of meat in a hot pan, hearing the crunch of chewing… So, now is the time.

It is morning now, and I have had a cup of tea. Day 1 of fasting. I will not eat today. I will not eat.

I’ll drink plenty though, water and tea. If it gets too bad I might allow myself fruit juice. But that’s it.

I know that many see fasting as too extreme, as potentially dangerous. But don’t worry. My body has plenty of energy stored, I’ll be fine. It’ll be difficult, but I’ll be fine. And of course I’ll stop if anything seems to threaten my health.

Commence Fasting Day 1.

Wish me luck.