Documenting my journey through the mental health system

Sometimes the dissociation gets so bad I can’t move much or talk or otherwise do anything. Today has been one of those days. I cut back on my drinking, but not today.

I spent last night on my back, amongst my new weighted blanket (more on that in a minute) sucked into flashbacks and strange dreams that only occur in the between state of consciousness and sleep. I needed to sleep but it didn’t come. I take a lot of meds for it too. I saw my father again, just vaguely, just enough to reopen old wounds, again, and again. In a dream, someone questioned my competence and ability, and I became enraged. I fear that version of myself. I fear what I have become after mental illness takes everything. I felt the police grabbing my arms again, the overwhelming urge to get out once I was brought to the ER, the restraints in which I fought like hell, and the eventual drugs I was forced to take, I remember it all, it stays in my mind, how do I get it out, how do I move on, how do I stop going back there, it’s like it was yesterday, today, all over again, and again, and again…AND THIS ISN’T THE FIRST TIME.

I mentioned in the hospital the anti-suicide blanket I got after they took my sheets and bedding. I took a real liking to that suicide blanket. About 2 weeks ago I bought a weighted blanket, 20 pounds, and made sure to research for quality. I love it and it helps me feel more secure. It holds me in. I have grown a little too warm in the past but sticking my feet out usually solves that problem.

I will continue the story when I am able. Right now I can only exist moment to moment.