Still here, still on the ward. I’m not booked in to see the consultant until Monday, so I guess I’m here til at least then. It’s tough blogging from my phone so I’ve been writing entries on paper ready to type up when I get back to the real world. On the plus side I’ve lost a couple of pounds this week.
Well… will write again at some point in the near future. Maybe I’ll get really bored and type up one of these posts.
Every word is a struggle so I’ll be brief. It’s a struggle partly because I’m on my blackberry and partly because I feel like an absolute mess. On the bright side, it’s good typing practice.
I know I said the other day that you don’t get admitted round here, but apparantly I was wrong. I am sitting on the psychiatric ward right now, failing to get out of bed. It’s noisy, a bit scary and I still want to die. I find myself wondering whether I could scald myself to death or just beat my head against a wall. Sorry to so morbid.
Anyway, should be out by Monday.
So my mother phoned the crisis team last night. I was spacey, suicidal and hearing the Voice in my Head. I say was, I in fact still am spacey, suicidal and hearing the Voice. I’m putting a trigger warning on this next bit as it includes a rant from the Voice. Keep reading →
Things are not good at the moment. That last dip turned out to be nothing more than a blip, but this time around it’s getting bad. I’m plotting my death, gathering Equipment. I’m not really up to writing much at the moment, I’m not really up to doing anything. I’ve spent the day mostly staring at the ceiling. But I’ve been here before. I’ll get through it. Right?
Has anyone seen this? It’s an article on that guy with manic depression who was in prison in China for smuggling heroin. “Was” being the operative word. Apparently the only reason Akmal Shaikh was smuggling drugs was because he was manic, delusional and talked into it by someone. The Chinese government wouldn’t listen to the twenty seven pleas made by the British government for his release, or at least for a fair trial, considering his illness. The Chinese government refused on the grounds that they’d never seen any proof of his diagnosis. This all makes me very sad and angry. I wrote to my MP about this, who in turn wrote to David Miliband. What else could I have done? Gone to China and campaigned? Maybe. But I can’t believe that he’d be executed on a drugs charge, no matter what the amount. I don’t believe in the death penalty anyway. We don’t have the right or power to give life therefore we shouldn’t have the right or power to take it away. Sure I’ve occasionally tried to kill myself, but that’s really not the point. I had a choice in the matter, didn’t I? Back to the point. The article says that criminals sentenced to death (including people committing non-violent crimes such as tax fraud) are usually shot, whereas this guy got the lethal injection. I’m not sure which is better, maybe they just wanted to appear more humane. It doesn’t matter, it amounts to the same thing: this guy committed a crime, through no fault of his own, and was unfairly punished for it. They should have handed him back to the UK. What makes it worse is that the Chinese Foreign Ministry is still refusing to admit that they’ve done anything wrong.
In other news, my mood is heading south again. I am irritated by this for two reasons, firstly I don’t want to go down again, and secondly I haven’t had my usual climb before the fall. What goes up must come down but it has to go up before it can crash surely. Apparently moods defy the laws of physics and I am not at all pleased. I’m doing what I can to make it go away, I’m following my own advice for once in my life. I’m doing what I was told to do in CBT, I’m following my own lists of things to do (see below) and I am taking the ever hated medication. I’m not even sure why I hate it anymore, I think I just hate the idea that I have to take pills to make me like everyone else.
What to Do If You Find Yourself Getting Depressed
1. Talk to someone. Make them aware of how you’re feeling so that they can help you to prevent yourself from getting any lower.
2. Consult your list of numbers to call. If you’re more than a bit depressed it might be worth calling your CPN (or equivalent) for an appointment.
3. Make preparations in case you get lower. Cook some meals and freeze them to keep yourself eating. Try to get as much washing done so that getting dressed is easier. A few basic things to help you function.
4. Try to lift your mood by doing things you like.
- watch a film
- go for a walk or play badminton or something (also releases endorphins)
- read
- baking
- go and see a close friend
- go shopping
- do something creative like playing an instrument or painting5. Reduce stress
- get extensions on bits of coursework
- make arrangements to have library books for longer
- make sure your boss and colleagues are aware of the situation so that they don’t put any added pressure on you. Easier said than done, I know, but it’s better to try than just leave it.
- don’t do too much cleaning or washing up. Make sure it’s shared equally.
- don’t be a destressor for other people. They know you care, but you’re not the best person for them to talk to at the moment. They know you’d be there for them if you were able to. Don’t feel guilty.6. If you have the Bipolar Survival Guide, read chapter ten, or equivalent.
7. Remove your access to weapons (i.e. razor blades, ropes, etc.) and any medications that aren’t completely necessary (e.g. antihistamines, paracetamol, old medications, etc.).
8. Keep up with your mood chart. If you have a pattern it will help you to see the light at the end of the tunnel, or at least work out how far away it is. I recommend this site.
9. Remember you have manic depression. It will go away.
10. Repeat mantras in your head, e.g. “it’s gonna go away, it’s gonna go away, it’s gonna go away.”
And keep taking those pills.
This list helps me, my favourite point being number nine. It’s got me through some dark times. Yes it will go away, but then it will come back. But those times when it’s away is when life is worth living. I just have to convince myself of that on those long, lonely days and nights. But you know that, you’ve been there too.
I like this word. I wondered what my dreamland would be like, would there be pink fluffy clouds, helter skelters and ferris wheels? Would there be sofas made of marshmallows and 0% fat chocolate? Would everything be pink? Would everything be blue? I don’t really know what my favourite colour is anyway. I think it’s red. I wouldn’t want everything to be red, that’d be creepy. But really, what would my dreamland be like?
There would be no such thing as mental illness, no such thing as manic depression. That way I wouldn’t have a choice about whether I wanted it or not. There would be no magic button scenario. I wouldn’t be unwell, none of us would be, we’d be well adjusted, happy human beings. Personality disorders would be out of the window, although there would still be enough variation in personalities for every human being to be different from the rest. There’s an issue there… maybe those in charge would find deviations within the personalities that existed and try to modify those as well. Maybe they’d always find something wrong, maybe that’s human nature. But this is my dreamland and mental illness doesn’t exist so there’s no need for mental health professionals, so they can’t diagnose these non-existent issues.
Crime would not exist. I realise this would mean that a lot of people would lose their jobs, but again, it’s my dreamland and crime was phased out gradually as people left jobs and weren’t refilled. That means we get to keep the history of crime; people like Dick Turpin. The history of crime is too important to lose completely, but we don’t need it now apart from to provide jobs. Crime helped to shape our culture through the stories we tell, but let’s face it, no one needs to be robbed, raped or murdered for society to continue to function.
I haven’t decided if my dreamland would have a god. At the moment I am somewhere between agnostic and atheist. I just haven’t made my mind up yet about whether or not there is likely to be a god. I’m also not sure if I want one or not. The main pro of having a god would be that there is an afterlife, but that is simultaneously a con. When I want to die I want oblivion, I don’t want heaven or hell. Other pros include that there would presumably be a reason for all this. Again, this could be construed as a con.
Some selfish dreamland features include me being able to afford a masters, funding being the only thing that stopped me from doing one in the first place and the only obstacle now. We also wouldn’t be in a recession so I could get a job to pay for the aforementioned masters. It also means other people’s jobs would be safer. What’s the alternative to a boom and bust economic system? I never really understood. In my dreamland I would be skinny and could eat as much cheese as I liked and still be skinny.
I wouldn’t be self absorbed and egotistic.
But ultimately what’s the point in wishing? I’ll change what I can.
I’m not a fan of Christmas, haven’t been since long ago when I suspected there was no such thing as Father Christmas and ran an Experiment to find out. This took me several years, from the age of about four. Basically what I did was collect evidence, for example noting that the presents I discovered in my parents wardrobe were the same ones as those I received in my stocking. In the same wardrobe on a different year I found a bushy white beard. All very suspicious if you ask me. This experimentation culminated when I was about seven and I’d finally managed to stay awake until midnight. I saw my mother sneak in wearing the aforementioned beard and place the presents in my stocking. I wasn’t upset, I wasn’t even disappointed, if anything I was triumphant, my hypothesis had been right all along and now I had conclusive proof. Who knows what sparked my disbelief in Father Christmas, probably a friend’s older sibling or someone at school. Possibly my parents never tried very hard and I never believed in Father Christmas. Maybe I’ll have to ask.
Apparently, Christmas is a time of joy and of giving. It’s certainly not joyous for me and the giving is limited due to the fact that I still can’t find a job. Presents have been bought with the funding I have courtesy of the Bank of Mum and Dad, but they’re not big ones and people will be missing out. I survive on £200 a month. This has to pay my phone bill, my now weekly prescriptions (because the pharmacist is an arse and won’t let me pay for a month’s worth) and everything else. As a result I miss out on things like having a winter coat, so I’m still wearing my autumnal coat from three years ago. This would be fine, but it’s not very warm and is liable to fall apart at any second. Fortunately I don;t have to pay rent, bills or anything else or I would be completely and utterly screwed.
The mood is never good over Christmas. I am expected to participate in family life over the few days and subsequently the mood tends to plummet. It’s not that I don’t love my family to bits, it’s just that enforced “fun” and frolics have never really been my cup of tea. Then again, is it anyone’s?
The day goes something like this:
12am: I pretend to be asleep while my mum puts the stocking at the end of my bed. Yes we still do this, it’s turned into something of a tradition these days. And extra little presents I have no idea what to do with are nice. It also gives me something to do while…
7am: Wait for everyone else to wake up, because I can’t sleep Christmas Day. I hate it, but I like presents and I want them. Now.
9am: Parents and brothers finally awake. Tea making and breakfast eating begins.
9.30am: Presents start to get unwrapped, we all pretend to be surprised. Actually this year my present from my parents (always the biggest) will be a surprise. I have no idea what I’m getting.
11am: We start to make “lunch” and end up cooking until…
4pm: Starving, we finally get to eat.
6pm: Enforced family time, involving whatever stupid game my parents have bought us this year. Last year was pinball, the year before that was a duck shooting game. These amuse for about five minutes then just get tedious. We might just sit and watch TV instead.
8pm: Freedom. I get to escape to Alex’s house for cheese, crackers and more presents.
So my day ends.
Merry Christmas one and all.
