mental health system
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Maybe something is changing. Even if just a little. I have so much pent-up energy and my bones are sizzling. I used ativan, melatonin, vistaril, and gabapentin to force myself to sleep before work. On my way to work, I drove by the mental hospital as I always do and this time, not the panic
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A man knows not where he is. Drifting through a conscious unawareness, confused at why these people are in his house. Calling out to his long dead wife. Do we live too long? Have all our medical advances only prolonged the life of our bodies at the cost of our minds? I don’t know. We
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There is a construction zone around 4th avenue, and I must detour on my way to work. The mental hospital is on my route to work, so now instead of driving by it, I drive with it looming in front of me. I don’t know that I will ever get over it. I have a
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I don’t feel very good and I feel bad for feeling bad. I’m thinking a lot about my psych meds. The first group I had to attend my very first morning in the mental hospital last year was about “making the most of your psychiatric medications.” How to take them every day without fail no
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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
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I fucked up. I had an appointment with my psych doctor, who prescribes my meds. I set my alarm and didn’t think I would actually sleep; I have not been sleeping much lately. But I did sleep…for three hours. Not much, but I slept right through my alarm and missed my appointment. Now I have
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Don’t look. Don’t look at the mental hospital. Don’t look at the signs in Sacred Heart pointing down the hall to the psych unit. Every fucking day, triggers and flashbacks. Even flashbacks of the future. I take my meds religiously. But my sleep meds are quickly losing their power. Even the Ativan is just not
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Today is my birthday. I’m 40 years old. I am amazed I’ve made it this far. I never would have imagined I’d make it to 40. But here I am, scarred but alive. My mother made me a special dinner to take to work. We are trying to get along. I’m soaking up this break
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My brain is churning with thoughts. I have an internal monologue; talking to myself but not out loud. I converse with the voices in my head silently. I’ve finished the first quarter of grad school. Mostly – I talk to one of the teachers in the morning to get more guidance on the eportfolio. Turns
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A year ago today, the cops hauled me out of my apartment, and I was locked up in a mental hospital for a couple weeks. To this day, I still have flashbacks, a lot of anxiety around it, shame around it. I left that apartment and have moved back into my house. Living with my
Documenting my journey through the mental health system 