Documenting my journey through the mental health system

My first few days in the hospital passed in a blur, a fog of medication adjustments, sluggish pacing, and intermittent crying. I felt most suicidal, yet safe. At least that’s what I reported in my daily nursing assessments. It’s a strange juxtaposition of feeling – that given the chance, I would kill myself, yet in the hospital, feeling safe from myself. Mostly.

Amber was a nurse who had particular talent in the art of mental health treatment. During an assessment, I was forthcoming about the voices I was hearing, as I had been forthcoming with the doctor. I had command hallucinations ordering me to kill myself and instructing me on how. I was hearing a voice I named Jackie telling me about all 10 dimensions, how we lived in the 3rd, and how the 10th was a singularity. She showed it to me and for the briefest of moments I felt a true peace devoid of all feeling.

“I’ve been hearing them for awhile now. Years, actually. I was quiet about it for a long time till I admitted it to Dr Black and then here, to Dr Floura.”

Amber made me a picture with bright colors around a star. Each branch of the star had some positive description – intelligent, funny, strong – and in the center it said “magically creative.” This referred to the voices I was hearing and the things they told me. It was nice looking, with accurately shaped star points, all the colors within their lines, and a cursive script. I hung it on the wall in my room.

(When I was discharged two weeks later, I was very distracted with the fact I was about to move out of my house that very day. I forgot the “magically creative” star Amber had drawn for me and I’ve always regretted it).

I was getting used to a lot more meds. My cocktail was all new pills – Dr Floura had dropped the depakote and citalopram and I now took abilify, lamotrigine, venlafaxine and hydroxyzine. I also had PRNs trazodone and melatonin for sleep. Dr Floura did not use ativan for the most part…until he did.

He had started me on a medication I’d been on before, mirtazapine, or remeron, for appetite stimulation. I had dropped over 15 pounds preceding this hospitalization. I was also given artane, for EPS, or extrapyramidal symptoms like the shakes, tremors, or loss of balance. On that day I was using my phone at the nurse station and started shaking really bad. I went to Dr Floura’s office and told him I’m shaking really bad….what do I do? He checked my arms for something specific but I’m not sure what. Lifted them level with my shoulder, angled my elbow. He gave me the artane and I tried laying in bed, my breath getting faster, my vision blurring, and my organs clawing at my insides, trying to get out.

I started screaming. Nursing staff came to see what was going on and Dr Floura followed shortly after.

“Angel, you must give time for the artane to work. Try to relax.”

“I CAN’T FUCKING RELAX!” I screeched. And I really couldn’t. I had tried and just started thrashing.

I am not sure what came over me that day. I felt quite a bit of panic, felt my insides roiling painfully, felt my brain scraping at the inside of my skull incessantly. I was on a lot of new meds and several gave me intense side effects a few days, including constipation, headache, and blurred vision. I may well have been having a panic attack which is a little unusual for me. My anxiety plays itself out over the long term rather than in short, intense spurts.

Dr Floura left and a nurse came back with an ativan for me. Not 1mg, but 2mg. That is rather strong. What followed was some of the strangest journal writing I have ever done, but that is for another post.