Documenting my journey through the mental health system

I have a manic patient. I am simultaneously triggered and yet in my element. I had so much training. Experience. I was able to calm the patient before sedatives.

I told Ceila about the flashbacks. They just don’t stop. Told her about the visions of the future I get, but not in great detail. She asked about the triggers, if any, that bring on the disturbing and debilitating flashbacks.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “So many. Ambulances. Cops. Fire trucks. Driving by the mental hospital on my way to work. The signs at work. Certain patients, if they’re in restraints, if I have to sit with them for whatever reason. I feel like I chose the wrong field sometimes. But they come on unbidden too. Out of nowhere my thoughts are invaded and hijacked. And I’m powerless.”

I sounded dejected. It was 3 in the morning. Our tradition is to go to Denny’s every time I get off on my short shift, and that is at 2:30 in the morning. We sat in my car smoking before going in.

“It’s PTSD,” she said. “You should call your doctor back.”

I had told her about missing my appointment. Not rescheduled till December because I am relatively stable. But these intrusive thoughts are really hard to deal with.

I’m doing my best. The mood swings are not so severe as they used to be. I’m trying so hard to stay focused. Another quarter of grad school is coming. I psych myself up. Lean into the mania a little bit. I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Am I suffering under the delusion I can somehow control this? Control my fluctuations and manic depression? Without meds, there’s no way.

But it isn’t just me. Everybody is so fucked up. I am staying out of it. I don’t put my head in the sand, and I have my opinions. But I cannot stomach the behavior, words, and actions of most of my fellow countrymen right now. My country is vast with several different cultures and dialects and ways of life. These clashes may be insurmountable.