anxiety
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My heart constricts in my chest, and my breath shortens as I go through triggers in the environment. I perseverate on memories and traumas, and my body goes through it all over again. I’m so frustrated at what feels like a never-ending battle. I’m not supposed to fight it but comfort the painful feelings and
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I’ve been reading a book popular in psychology circles and recommended to me by numerous doctors and therapists. The Body Keeps the Score, by Bessel Van Der Kolk. It’s thick and complicated and right up my alley. Triggering, too. He’s talking about the patients in psych wards and hospitals in which he’s worked. Talking about
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So sensitive to noise. Every crash and bang startles me. Reminds me of the mental hospital, all the cacophony and slamming of doors. But I’m getting through it. The meds deaden my response. I’m not cycling so hard. I have short lived mood swings, especially if I miss my meds even one day. That did
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I have been off, but trying to bounce out of it. My charge nurse and coworker asked if I’d been taking my meds. I have! But I have been overwhelmed and frustrated with a lot. I am killing it, though. Despite the government shutdown, 97% of VA employees will work and continue to get paid
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Things are bad at home. There was a fight…and I’m not sorry but I still feel like shit. I never called names, I felt instead like I was defending myself. But she’s so good at positioning herself as the victim and me some kind of evil abuser. Who knows, maybe I am. And I don’t
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Putting on my watch. The color of rust. New triggers that aren’t new. I have to live with it. My watch always reminds me of the restraints. It’s so dumb. The color of rust is the color of the scrubs for elopement risk patients at work when they’re on med surg. It’s a new thing.
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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
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I am exhausted but buzzing and wired. Work is strangely still. I’ve eaten a sandwich and mashed potatoes over the last couple days. I don’t have much appetite. The Kirk shooting is wild, huh? I can’t help but feel the sick irony of it all. The universe, god, South Park…all have a sense of humor.
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I am absolutely plagued with flashbacks. I pull out everything in my arsenal…distraction, meditation, medication, music, writing, reading…I can’t concentrate on a movie. I tried, but I keep losing focus. It’s driving me crazy. Work is a heavy stressor. There are a lot of politics going on, and bickering among staff, and poor management. Yet
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This is so fucked up. The flashbacks won’t stop. Even in my dreams. Surreal nightmares of being locked up, tied down, and screaming in fear and despair. I am spared the horrible task of sitting with a suicidal patient tonight. I am often spared because some of my coworkers know my history. I can’t even
Documenting my journey through the mental health system 