mental illness
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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 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…
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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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My mood is fluctuating wildly… I was jittery with energy yesterday and the day before, now I am tired and worried. I don’t even know what I am worried about. I’m preoccupied with school. It looms in front of me like an insurmountable mountain. There is a lot of work stress – the employee morale…
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I started this blog a year ago today. Hard to believe a year has passed since I had a violent and devastating mental break from reality and tried to kill myself, ending up hauled into the hospital by police. I felt the need, later, to write it all down. The aftermath was intense as well.…
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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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I feel like a fool sometimes. Taking on grad school, taking on this other job, moving back into my house. Everything compounds. Everything is a lot. And I have so many intrusive thoughts and feelings. This job. I don’t really need it, but I want it. A sick part of me insists on the exposure…
Documenting my journey through the mental health system 