Documenting my journey through the mental health system

I am a 70% service connected veteran. I served after high school, during the OIF/OEF campaigns. I earned a grenade launch pin as well as service medals and one promotion. I was raped and reported it but my report went nowhere. In those days, rape was rampant in the army. My father died on my 21st birthday. I spiraled and experienced the first symptoms of bipolar disorder (the age of onset perfectly matched my age at the time, 20-21 years old) and PTSD, later receiving these diagnoses from a military psychiatrist and medically discharged. This was the first major failure of my life, leading to a pattern of failure and regret. It seems everything I start ends in failure. It is hard to come to terms with a lifetime of failure and regret. I just had my birthday last week and am now 39 years old. It is too late to try again.

I graduated college in 2011 and subsequently attended graduate school for social work. After nearly a year, I was fired from my practicum, a crucially important part of the grad school process and my degree. I could not continue with classes until I started over with that. I lost all hope for myself, quitting my meds first. I don’t know how I finished the last few weeks of the year. I was detained in a psychiatric hospital against my will after a few short months. It was violent and horrifying but that is a story for another post.

I have been working the same job as a nurse assistant for 15 years, 10 years at the same VA hospital where I receive all my medical and mental health care. I have tried to be more than just a nurse assistant. I attended school again for surgical technology training beginning fall 2017. I couldn’t keep up with anatomy though. I can’t memorize all the bones in the body in less than a week. In January 2018 I was arrested for a DUI and spent the night in a jail cell, sleeping it off. I had been experiencing so much stress, pressure, depression and hopelessness. After I finished that winter quarter, I did not continue. I just couldn’t do it with work (12 hour night shifts) and my worsening mental health. I was referred to vets court for the DUI and made to submit to a drug and alcohol evaluation. They found me to need treatment and I was made to do an intensive outpatient drug and alcohol treatment program as part of my vets court probation obligations. I was made to attend drunk driving education classes as well as monthly vets forums – 2 classes a night, once a month. They did feed us dinner for these. By June of 2018 I had decompensated significantly, medication no longer had any effect. I willingly submitted to my psychologist and social worker insisting I voluntarily go into 3 south, the inpatient psychiatric unit at the VA hospital, for suicidal ideation and withdrawal . I spent a week stabilizing on new meds, getting sober, and preparing for legal obligations. Trying to move on from another failed schooling attempt.

I experienced some relative stability for a few years. I regularly saw a psychiatrist and social worker and was deeply involved in the supported employment program. This program is the only reason I’ve stayed employed as long as I have at the job I have. They helped me get this job. Being a disabled vet at the VA also makes it harder to fuck with me. Plus we have a union. But I have had much trouble with employment and have been fired from several jobs.

As a nurse assistant I worked all through covid and saw a lot of people die. Saw them gasping and drowning slowly to death on their own lungs. I deployed with DEMPS, the disaster emergency management personnel service, to Kentucky to help with their covid response. I learned I’m quite adept at responding to an emergency situation and reducing the impact of an emergency. If only I could do it for myself.

Last year I spent another couple weeks in 3 south, the VA psych unit. That too is a story for another time. This year, only about 9 months later, I experienced psychosis, suicidal ideation/attempts, and a violent detainment in the civilian mental health system. (The VA psych unit is voluntary only). I will be continuing this particular story in my next posts.

I am very alarmed at how close together my hospitalizations are becoming. I scare myself. It is harder to recognize the signs and symptoms and triggers, despite so much training and education on the topic from doctors and counselors. It is harder to get the help I need when I need it. My shame increases day by day at the thought of needing help. I hate being a burden, I don’t want to bother anyone. That is what I told the police that day, just a month ago. I hate the possibility of being seen as weak, incompetent, stupid, or otherwise incapable to living a normal life. I can’t live a normal life. Dr Black says I must soon accept who I am and stop being so hard on myself. That I am different, and will likely have hospitalizations in the future. Could I accept that? Radical acceptance is a popular counseling mechanism in therapy. I get what she’s trying to say but the shame and fear is powerful.

I scare myself.