depression
-
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
-
Sometimes all you can hang onto are the little things. I got up early despite my meds making me feel a little groggy. I went to bed at 1am and actually slept until 8am, only waking up twice in the night, but able to fall back asleep. This new sleeping med, Lunesta, is helping. I
-
Flashbacks are strong today. I can still feel the police grabbing me, pulling me out of my apartment and I can still feel the panic I felt in the ER, the overwhelming desire to run, and doing so. I can still feel the straps around my wrists and ankles when they strapped me down. It’s
-
I still remember quite clearly my first morning in the hospital. I woke up after restless, fitful sleep, in which I was frequently startled awake by room checks. I just wanted coffee, so I went to the dining room. The kitchen would bring a large carafe of coffee in the mornings and it would be
-
After a couple weeks of seeing Dr Black, I was starting to shut down and sink deeper and deeper into relentless depression and despair. My PHQ and GAD scores couldn’t get any worse. I was calling off work a lot, unable to face anyone or function within the limits of the job description. I made
-
Last fall, almost a year ago exactly, I started hearing voices again. Started to decompensate again. A female voice was telling me to do things, in particular, kill myself. Showed me the 10 dimensions and told me at length about them, where I would go, that only death would free me. I posted previously some
-
“The universe knows. You’re a good person.” No. The universe doesn’t know of our existence. The universe doesn’t care about our existence even if it could know. Justice is not inherent to anything. According to biocentrism, the universe and all within it might not exist at all till it is observed, similar to the results
-
I finished my first week of intensive outpatient, or IOP, through the mental hospital’s outpatient program. Tomorrow I start my second week. I am still processing it and how I feel about it. I am still just not sure. Everyone is very friendly, very supportive. Almost too much. On the first day the therapist running
-
Sleepwalking again. Wandering into other rooms, trying to get out of the heavy, locked double doors to the psych unit. An MHT following me, attempting to talk to me. Not redirectable, I eventually wandered toward and attempted to get through the door to the interior part of the nurse station. Seclusion was right there and
-
I started to write. Frantic, hurried writing, as though my memory had an expiration date and it was fast approaching. As though I were making up for lost time. And in a way, I was. A few days into my detainment, psych ward staff gave me a notebook to use as a journal. I wrote
Documenting my journey through the mental health system 