Long Time…

It has been a crazy long time since I’ve last posted. I have not been doing very well. I have been in and out of the hospital for the past three months. I made several attempts and got a bogus diagnoses. That diagnoses then sent into suicidal thoughts, which I followed through with.

Now I have damaged relationships to fix and have no idea how to do so. How am I supposed to deal with other people’s feelings when I don’t even understand my own. My therapist is pretty sure I’m bipolar and have BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder).

This post will probably be a short one. I need to get my thoughts together. I’m a little flighty and I’m actually surprised I sat down and wrote a post. Anyways… Bear with me. I’m trying to get back to my routine.

Struggling

I am still really struggling… It appears that I’ve been released from the State Hospital too soon. I have relapsed. I went to my second doctor’s appointment and ended up having one of my episodes. In my delirium afterwards, I had confessed my plans to commit suicide again. So, I was sent to the ER once again Monday afternoon.

The good thing is that Noble was there, so everybody got to see him in action. The sad thing is, they got to see him in action… Apparently they didn’t let him do exactly what he was supposed to until Papa came. He then just let him go. He did exactly what he was supposed to do. He gave me Deep Pressure Therapy and then licked my face until I came to. I was so tickled to hear that.

Anyways, I was admitted to what is called the Hope House. It’s a short-term live in facility for people who are suicidal. I was told that I wouldn’t be allowed to because my conversion disorder is considered medical. They don’t have medical staff at the Hope House. The crisis evaluator ended up setting it up to get me into the Hope House.

Sure enough, I had three episodes the next morning, and they sent me to the ER. Very frustrating to wake up in the ER with two IVs, and people yelling at me to stay awake when I so badly want to sleep. They apparently called my mom to let her know I was in the ER and my mom chewed them out. My seizures don’t cause brain damage, so I don’t need to go to the ER after every one.

They got the message after that and I had some more seizures the next day. I didn’t end up in the ER. Yay! I was actually getting really frustrated because it took three days for me to be seen by one person. Wednesday was a really bad day. U was struggling with suicidal thoughts. No fun.

Then, I had another episode last night and I fell out of a chair. My episode only lasted 5 minutes instead of 15, but I ended up getting a concussion when I fell. I am always pretty confused after my episodes, but I never remember the confusion. This time though, I was so confused. It was scary. I ended up in another seizure after that.

I didn’t come back from the ER until 11 PM last night, and staff had me sleep on the couch so that they could keep an eye on me. I didn’t sleep very well, so I’m probably gonna go back to bed. In my room this time on a bed… I will probably take some Klonopin to help me sleep and with the anxiety.

Committed (Part 2)

16a064c76cdd76c04b44374690f41f47On my first day of being at the State Hospital, I met with a lot of doctors. They do a full medical work up when you first come to make sure you’re physically healthy. The docs soon learned I was a difficult case. My TBI proved to be a complication in my mental health treatment… Yippee…

It was a lot of trial and error on finding the correct treatment, but eventually found one that kind of worked. The psych doc changed all my meds and upped them of couple times. I spent the first four days hiding out in my room. I had four of my episodes my first night, so my mattress was on the floor. Not very comfy.

The only reason I did come out was because a fellow peer dragged me out of my room. I’m an introvert and she is an extrovert, so we worked perfectly together. She talked and I listened. It may not seem like that is much of a change, but it got me out of my dark room and out among people.

I didn’t converse with anyone but my new friend, D. She of course talked with everybody, so I just kind of became her shadow and observed. Eventually, I became comfortable enough to make small talk with a couple new people. I hate small talk, so that took a lot for me to do.

It’s amazing how sane places like that can make you seem. There were quite a few delusional people who thought they were in the FBI, or whatever. But the craziest thing was that other people were actually believing their stories. That lead to complications in the gullible patients because they became convinced that the hospital was just a safe house. They believed they were in a safe house because the patient that claimed to be FBI, said they were just getting paperwork ready for witness protection for all of us.

Oh my gosh… I couldn’t help but laugh to myself…

Please help me out financially with my medical bills HERE. If you want to know how Noble’s training is going, follow my blog Noble Devotion.

Support Groups

My follow up appointment went fine. It was just getting me into the system. There is a long waiting list to get a therapist or psychiatrist, so I’ve got to find something to help me cope until then. Guess what it is? Support groups.

I have never gone to a support group, and the only thing I know about them is what I have seen in the movies. You know… You sit in a big room at church in a circle and tell your story to people. I have gone to two group so far and I like them.

They are very chill and we sit in a room with couches and talk. It starts out with telling how you are feeling today, and then we start talking about a topic. Today’s topic was radical acceptance. It is mainly about how you need to accept who you are with your issues, without feeling shameful.

That is something I definetly need to work on. I am really nervous about going to work because of all the questions. My brother-in-law told everybody that I have been in the hospital because I was having a lot of seizures. It’s not a lie because I was originally admitted because I was having my non-epileptic seizures due to the stress of me being suicidal. And me having a plan that I intended on following through with.

Anyways, I am SO ready to get back to work. My emploers have been so awesome and were willing to give me a month off if I needed it. They were very adamant that I do not need to worry about work, and just need to get better. I’m not 100% yet, but I intend to stick it out until I am. I am not someone who can just sit around the house. I have to do something.

Hospitalized

Yup… I was hospitalized again after 2 years of… Coping. I was extremely suicidal

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Before Hospital

and made an appointment with my primary doc. Next thing I know, I’m having multiple seizures and admitted to the hospital. I was in the local hospital for a day, and then shipped two hours away to a psychiatric hospital.

I have been there for the past ten days. Most people think that being in a psychiatric ward is hell and that they would do anything to not be sent there. But I needed to be there, and it actually helped me get better. I slept for three days straight and then I hid from the other patients for four days.

I finally came out and ate a meal with a fellow human, and I actually enjoyed the interaction. Before I knew it, I was putting a puzzle together with a vetran, hippie, fellow teen, and a mama. We laughed and made fun of eachother, and helping eachother make it in that place.

Sadly, I only got to hang with them for two days before I was discharged. I am

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After Hospital

actually greiveing their company. You have a special bond with the people you meet in there because they know exactly what you’re going through. We are all in the same boat.

Anyways, I haven’t been posting because I haven’t had any access to a computer… Or Wifi. Now I’m back and I will have plenty to write about. I have to take some more time off work to figure out where to go from here.

My Heart Is Breaking

I keep wishing this is a really bad nightmare. But I’m not waking up. Keen is being sent back to the shelter on Friday. I just want to scream. I have screamed, but it doesn’t help. I never thought I could hurt this much. I went to church without Keen for the first time. I couldn’t stop crying. I still can’t stop crying.

I have a migraine and it is extremely painful now because I can’t stop crying. I cried all day yesterday and all night and I’m still crying. Keen knows he’s done. He doesn’t ask to go to work anymore and he spends all his time in his kennel. He only comes out twice a day to get fed. He knows it and it’s breaking my heart.

The program that I went through is now wanting us to pay for a whole other dog. Or my other option is to train one myself. I am not stable enough to train one myself and I just don’t trust the program. So, I’m screwed. Excuse my language, but this is bullshit. I was so excited to see where my future was headed with the new job and college. 

Now, I think I lost the new job because I didn’t get back to them due to all the shit that’s happened. And I don’t think I would be able to handle college on my own. Much less the ACT in September. I’m so screwed. AHH! Why did he have to do that?! I don’t know if I can handle this.

Blankets

Warning: This post may be triggering for some people…
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I love blankets. Growing up, my grandma always made us a quilt every couple years for our birthdays. I love blankets because they hold so much memory and meaning, especially when they were a gift. I have blankets from two of my friends and whenever I wrap myself up in them, I feel as if they are giving me a hug. 
My grandma’s most recent quilt she made me, was given to me a few years ago. I don’t ever use it, and I think she is a bit offended by it. The thing is that the blanket holds bad memories for me. She gave it to me when I was admitted to the psych ward and then transferred to the surgical ward when they discovered I was malnourished.

 
I can’t even handle looking at it without the terrible feelings and memories that are linked to it, rush back. That year was hell for me. I will probably never forget it. The year before I was admitted, was spent trying to get a diagnoses for my seizures. I spent more of my time getting multiple EEGs, than I did at school.
After I was finally diagnosed with non electro graphic seizures, I was sent into a rapid spiral down to severe depression. People kept telling me that I can’t control my seizures and that it’s not my fault. Then I would have one and I remember waking to my parents or other family members discussing how angry they were that I kept having them. My dad being the worst culprit for telling me that I was faking it.
Every negative thing just sent me deeper and deeper into the depression, until I just had enough. I began planning and preparing for my exit from this world. Two years ago today, I was going to kill myself. I was saying goodbye to a friend and before I knew it, my mom was in my room. Reading my will and scolding me for ever thinking of committing suicide.
I was admitted to the hospital the next day and sent to the psych ward. I woke up the next morning, after being admitted to the psych ward, in the emergency room. I had had another one of my seizures during the night and the on call Doctor wanted to get me an EEG. He didn’t believe that it was a non electro graphic seizure. He said it looked too real. 
So, I was sent to get another EEG taken that revealed it was indeed one of my usual seizures. I was then sent back to the ward to sleep, and I woke up again in the emergency room because of a high temperature of 103 degrees Fahrenheit. They ran tests and discovered I hadn’t eaten in nine days. 
I was the. Sent to the surgical ward to get weened off the migraine medication that caused my loss of appetite, and to get a feeding tube inserted. That is where I met J and his service dog, Grace. That is when I got the blanket. My grandma laid the blanket on my hospital bed and looked at me with disappointment. 
That is when the guilt and shame began. That look is all I see when my grandma looks at me. Disappointment. So, I don’t use the blanket that holds all that shame, guilt, disappointment, and painful memories. I know that is all my family sees in me anymore, and it really hurts. I gave up. I couldn’t keep strong.