LadyVer
Definitely not a mouse
- Joined
- May 26, 2012
- Posts
- 19,013
{Deep breath}
I don't know why, but I need to get this "out there" someplace and I'm not feeling brave enough to do it in front of my friends on Facebook. I hope this helps someone else, which is why I'm writing at all.
I didn't have Mother's Day this year. Very early in the morning I attempted to check out with an overdose of painkillers (ironic?) and failed spectacularly. I laid down, intending not to wake up, but a few hours later I heard voices (the real kind), woke up feeling unwell but obviously not dead, and asked my son's friend to please take me to the ER. I spent most of the day there, got the lovely charcoal cocktail (not), and got transferred to inpatient treatment in the evening.
At first I was really scared. I read "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and "I Never Promised You a Rose Garden" in high school; I thought I knew how it would work. I was so wrong! The staff was very kind and involved, the other patients rapidly became 'family' to me. Patients had a frequent turnover, so there were always some about to leave and some who were brand new. Alone-time was fairly limited (and a very good thing). There were groups in the morning and afternoon, plus fun times doing art-ish stuff or typical group games like Apples to Apples. By midweek I was getting my sense of humor back and had the nerve to suggest that they need Cards Against Humanity in the collection. (I am, seriously, going to sort through our unused collection of games and donate some new ones, plus some books.)
I learned so much, both from my shrink and staff and other patients. Some of them really touched my heart, and took me out of my own head enough to want to reach out to them instead. The most important thing I learned will probably seem obvious to those who are 'well' in a mental sense...no matter how dark and hopeless things seem to be, there are people who care, people who want to help you, and chances are very good that life isn't as bad as you think it is. Depression makes your own brain lie to you in some incredibly insidious ways.
I got a new (improved? uhhh, not so much) possible diagnosis: I might be bipolar, but the doc there felt that I need further, more intensive evaluation. I have a therapist lined up (first appointment on Thursday) but need to find a psychiatrist, too. I started a preliminary search today. WTF is it with docs who don't take insurance??? Greedy fucks.
I guess it will be a work in progress.
If anyone reading this, now or scrolling through later, wants a 'been there' shoulder to lean on, PM's are welcome.
I'm glad you're still here. A brother took an overdose of Elavil 10 days before my 30th birthday, and since then when my birthday comes around, it's impossible to feel any joy about my birthday. I've had my own battles with depression. I don't have any words of wisdom. Life sucks sometimes and we do the best we can.