Documenting my journey through the mental health system

I am at a loss on what to say. I’ve felt a powerful sense of blankness and loss of feeling. I’m like a mannequin, or robot.

Didn’t make it to work last night. Too much going on, house stuff, work, family stress… I spent most of the day at the house supervising a housecleaner who washed all the dust off the walls from the hardware restoration. I may hire her again to clean and restore my ceiling light fixtures. My mother managed to clear out my dining room. It is virtually ready for the contractor to take out the wall on the 28th. My dining room table should arrive at the house any day now, but I won’t put it in there till the construction is done.

Talked to my other brother in Idaho, married with kids. He reports the usual – when talking to mom, she spends the whole time complaining about me. Complaining about the workers I have hired, the changes to the house she hates so much. What does she care, I wonder? She always says how awful my house is. I’ve learned to stop caring; I spent a lot of time in therapy learning boundaries and how to enforce them, no matter how butthurt and bitter this makes the other person. My brother is genuinely concerned she’ll drive me into the psych ward. It’s a legitimate concern. My main concern is just staying on the path I’ve set for myself. I have plans for the house and plans to take away her ammunition. This is where the boundaries come in. I know she will have a lot of trouble with this, and that’s going to be really hard on me.

I haven’t called Dr Black for my follow up since IOP – so I’m calling her Monday morning. I’m having a lot of trouble with PTSD and flashbacks. Triggers and constant reminders. I laid awake for hours today, even with sleep meds, and couldn’t stop thinking of the past. The things that have happened to me, and the things that haunt me. I told Dr Black not long after last summer’s detainment – I feel haunted. In IOP the others talked about having flashbacks too, and how they never really go away. You just get more used to them. This is depressing.

My mind has been blank and quiet, otherwise. Besides the constant flashbacks, especially when I’m trying to sleep, there is not a lot going on. I’m not hearing any voices. I’m not having any weird compulsions. I don’t feel like killing myself, even if I take this life with a big grain of salt. I just kind of exist, floaty-like.