Documenting my journey through the mental health system

My weekend was rough. I did not sleep much before work Saturday but I made it to work. It is very surreal, this new job. I’ll get into that in a bit.

My mother came back Sunday morning and I picked her up from the airport. I had been at my house, giving it a final cleaning. I replaced the living room throw rug. I tossed the armchair, shredded by the cats. I ordered a new armchair and ottoman. I am taking small steps toward getting ready to move in. Right now there is no room for me.

She hated the throw rug. “Too busy.” I thought it looked like the ocean. Nothing is ever good enough for her. Next up is the rest of the carpet, needs replaced. Then I will paint my room and throw away a lot of my mother’s hoarding, whether she likes it or not.

I stayed up most of the day. I work Sunday night but for some reason I was wide awake and did not doze off till two hours before I was supposed to be up and getting ready. I did sit up when it was time, supremely groggy and mixed up. I managed to call off work, then wandered my apartment a while. I did not get my bearings till late at night, and I ordered some food. I had not eaten in a couple days. I took my meds and fell into a sleep filled with dreams. Surreal and confusing dreams, dreams with people long dead, dreams of detainment and institutionalization, dreams of jail and the cruelty inherent to our for-profit penal system, dreams of the future and the fall of mankind. I take a medication for intense dreaming and nightmares but sometimes it just doesn’t work or do anything for me.

I woke up early this morning. In my bathtub. I had been sleepwalking again. I got up and sat on the edge of my bed and looked through the wall for about a half hour I think. I was dissociated and felt myself to be out of my body. I watched myself from outside myself. I missed my appointment with Dr Black. I did not go to IOP. I laid back down, staring at the ceiling.

I ordered food again. My appetite had improved somewhat. I’ve lost a few pounds. I took my meds again. It was a large handful as I took my morning and night meds together. I needed to be unconscious.

I dreamed again but I don’t remember them as well. I woke up and they began to fade. It was an hour before I was supposed to get up and get ready for work. I had slept a whole five hours. That is pretty good for me. I had not slept more than four hours from Friday to Sunday. I slept hard Sunday night and Sunday during the day.

I feel weird. I stare blankly. I am outside myself. I move through my work, flat and blank and wide eyed. I suspect my meds might be making me feel so strange and disembodied. The mood stabilizer, lamictal, is known to make a person flat and emotionless. I don’t know what I’m feeling.

There was a girl with bipolar disorder detained after a DCR (designated crisis responder) came and talked with her. She had been trying to leave that day. Originally admitted for an infection. She is going through what I went through. My new coworkers talk about patients and how crazy they get in a detached, often judgy manner. I think, you have no fucking clue. I have more in common with the patients than I do the people with which I work. It’s like I’m keeping a big secret. Sometimes I feel like such a fraud. Jack barges into my head and reminds me I’m not fooling anyone and I am filled with anxiety.

My unit manager called and left a voicemail while I was asleep. She said she had questions about my accommodation request. My anxiety doubled and my heart was racing. I took a cold shower. I have to call her in the morning.