Category Archives: Hospitals

Winter Mood Problems

snowflakeWow, it’s been a while since I blogged. Sorry, dear readers.

One reason is that I met someone special and we are beginning to share our lives together on a more permanent basis. The process is slow because he also lives with mental illness, and putting us together means my or his illness can interrupt plans to spend time together.

Another reason is that I had shoulder surgery in December. I’m now in physical therapy and function is getting better, but strength is still elusive. All in good time.

The major reason I haven’t written in a while is that I have struggled with my Christmas delusion (that I am bringing Jesus to the world and have a special mission to bring unity or hope or joy to the world). Fortunately it only showed up a week ahead of Christmas Eve. I was on haldol to keep me in this plane of existence, but I did experience psychosis from time to time when I was not in touch with reality.

I went off the haldol – as my doctor indicated – when the delusion passed. Unfortunately my mood tanked and I ended up in the hospital for a few days before the new year. Putting me on low dose haldol brought my mood back to mostly stable so I went home for the holiday.

Then last week my mood tanked again – no trigger. So frustrating. So shameful to me to have to go back to the hospital for no apparent reason. Especially after only 10 days. No med changes were made, much to my chagrin – fix something! I thought. Suicidal thoughts eased up as did my depression, and I was discharged on Friday. Another short stay! Hooray!

Now, it’s been a couple days. I can feel the suicidal thoughts again building up steam. I can feel my mood tanking. I don’t want to go to the hospital again, but I feel it coming up again. It seems the only time I stay out of the hospital are the times I mostly seem “up” which means hypomanic or manic, usually the summer. And I hate the summer. I’d rather be in the hospital then, than the rest of the year when I like the weather better and can find some solace in the times of the year.

I don’t know what to do now. I committed to teaching middle school at church next week. But I might be in the hospital again. I see my psychiatrist tomorrow and she may send me there. I try to make plans and my mood always wins. This is so freaking old. And I always feel ashamed when I walk onto the adult unit – again. Why can’t I take care of myself? And it’s hard to explain to a new person in my life. Though being in and out of the hospital shows part of the story.

 

Depression Moon

Waxing gibbous, perigee Moon mocks me

with her neither large or small shining call.

She terrifies me when full –

some symptom flares up.

She sneaks up on me when new –

surprising energy leading to health or shame.

Moon mocks me in all guises except crescent.

The Cheshire Cat grins and I know

I’m safe for tonight.

 

Waxing gibbous, perigee Moon glowered at me.

Sadly, I’m reminded that Moon

guides/tempts/throws me. I, her slave.

No path to guide me, save to the hospital.

No salvation from temptation

except a friend’s interruption.

No lifeline thrown, save the red bag

half-packed awaiting Full Moon’s beckon.

 

Waxing gibbous, perigee Moon shines brightly

as she rounds out, rings around her.

She tells me it’s time, though she is not full.

My hunch from her confirmed as I crawl around

trying to function

and the Mom confirms Moon.

Depression drops me off at the hospital.

Cycling, the Endless Cycling – and Consequences

Well, I’ve had a volatile 2 months since I’ve written. I had another bout with mania that led to great consequences with my NOT thought out at all high-risk, high confidence behavior. One of my doctors thinks I may have been psychotic. And that should make the legal battle with my finances a bit easier – to argue that I was out of my mind and therefore not responsible for the behaviors. We’ll see, I guess. I have yet to secure a pro-bono or sliding-scale lawyer to take the case.

Following the first day of dealing with consequences, no surprise, I ended up in the hospital for over 2 weeks. I was out for 5 days dealing with more clean-up and consequences and ended up back in for nearly a week. Two days out cleaning up and in again. Anxiety was the primary motivator for these. Even when I knew what to do to clean up my psychotic mess, it was still too overwhelming to do it. And I got too close to making more foolish decisions (suicidal actions) out of anxiety instead of mania this time. And when the anxiety lifted a little, post-mania depression was waiting for me.

I’ve been out 10 days and have finished as much clean-up as I can. Next week I begin stage 2 with trying to find a lawyer.

But I’m suicidal every day. Every day I see suicide as the answer to a question that only exudes pain. I don’t know where it comes from. Existential angst is the closest I can come. Anxiety about handling life to the expectations I have for myself? Which I know are way.too.high. I’m trying to get back into healthy schedules and healthy eating and exercise. I know that will help, though it will only help a little bit.

I’m supposed to fly to visit my family on the 1st. I haven’t seen them in 5 and 1/2 years. We’re doing Thanksgiving early. We haven’t all been together for Thanksgiving in over 20 years.

I’m hoping in 11 days I’m at least only a little suicidal and not obsessional so I can take the trip. I’d hate to be in the hospital instead of going. This is the $78 round trip I booked in July, expecting to be stable this whole time.

Fate had other plans. Manias, depressions, and anxiety. My eternal companions until I can shake them permanently. (See how helpful suicide sounds?)

What Stable Might Look Like

I’ve been out of the hospital for a month now. That is a milestone for this past year. Last time I was out for a significant period of time was last spring and summer for 6 months. I wasn’t happy, but I was out of the hospital. Not suicidal at all.

It was a mostly good time. I was doing important volunteer work, but it wasn’t feeding me. What was missing was something that seemed meaningful to me and used my skills that I still had from being a pastor. I wanted to speak and teach, two of my greatest strengths and what I imagined I would do in the future. Instead I was volunteering where I was mostly alone.

This time around I am putting together a presentation that I will share with churches. “Hear the story of the Rev. Deborah xxxx and her life with mental illness and how congregations can be involved in mental illness help in and outside their doors.” I’m offering it for free – there is no barrier for small churches with little or no budgets for adult education. I think this will help with reducing my own stigma about myself, as well as stigma in society. Congregations can be powerful actions for change. I can start somewhere.

I feel like I’m doing meaningful work and using the skills I love the best. I hope this keeps me out of the hospital for a very long time.

June at the Hospital

Well, I ended up in the hospital again after not making to my next dr appointment. And then 4 days after that discharge I ended up going in for suicidal and homicidal thoughts – something I’ve never experienced before. I had gone to NAMI’s Living Room where you are screened by a counselor, then talk with a peer specialist, then get screened again by a counselor. All of which ended up with an ambulance ride and then waiting for a transfer from the ER to my psych hospital.

Sigh.

At least that hospitalization was mercifully short – 3 days. There was a treatment team meeting about me and to be honest, I don’t think anything important came out of it. They think I’m too comfortable at the hospital and they want to make things uncomfortable to help my treatment. And they want no big med changes. And pointed out that the longer I am at the hospital, the more likely I am to get sicker. It’s not like I WANT to be at the hospital. Just that it’s a safe place when I’m not feeling safe.

In addition, while I was in my first June hospitalization I had extensive psych testing done, which came back yesterday. I talked with my psychiatrist about it yesterday and we agreed it was bunk. We know what we’re dealing with since we’ve been working with it for 5 years together now.

Sigh.

I’m still re-entering the real world from the long hospitalization, as well as the shorter ones. I’ve got people I’m checking in with, tasks to do each day. I’m taking it slow and giving myself lots of credit. I’m actually doing pretty well with this plan. Slowly I’ll add back in the gym and starting in my plan to talk about mental health in churches. But no rushing. Got to get back in the swing of things, gently.

Psychiatrist Says Overwhelmed

Understatement of the year. I shared how overwhelmed I felt doing very small tasks. And I shared my thoughts and feelings about suicide and my wish to die. And she wants me to stay with people, even while going home to handle little tasks. That’s when I feel safest – with people – even though I still want to die. I’m obsessing about ways again, the way I was in the hospital. I have an appointment with her again on Friday. I guess my goal is stay out of the hospital for the next 3 days. But it’s so painful – the feelings and wanting to die, as well as the struggle to stay out. Hour by hour I hurt and I have to tell myself “just thoughts” or “just feelings” or “just an obsession.”

I want to die.

Bipolar sucks.

Eighty Days In

My longest stay occurred from early March to late May. I was mostly confident I could discharge since I was going to a friends’ house to stay and daily spend some hours at home for a couple weeks.

2016-01-18 21.08.16I was overwhelmed with my first time back at home, even with friends there. And then again today when there alone. It’s filthy, with even just one cat living there alone. I guess she really does need staff to look after her. I called a cleaning service but they are booked out till the following week, which is probably the case for most places. So, I’m looking for teens who need spending money. 🙂 I can’t do this alone. I’ve got to keep asking for help. I spent 80 days institutionalized. Living on the outside takes some time.

Some details about my time inside. My doctor increased my mood stabilizer and lowered my anti-depressant. That led to a depression that led to a suicide attempt. So we spent 6-8 weeks coming back up from depression. Then we tried a different mood stabilizer cocktail. That didn’t seem to help. Then we added an additional anti-depressant to help the one I was already on. That would take 4-6 weeks to kick in, and we figured I’d be out before it kicked in but ECT would speed up the process. So I tried one ECT again and called it quits. It’s just not for me. Never got results from it anyway. And as it turned out, I was in the hospital the 4-6 weeks needed for the second anti-depressant. Meanwhile I’m taking heavy duty prns to handle anxiety and agitation. Finally got a day of stabilization without having to take haldol or thorazine on a huge increase of mood stabilizer. I got sent home with haldol and accompanying drugs just in case.

Whirlwind, right?

All the while I’m in daily group therapy with a very good therapist. And we uncovered the shame and anger and embarrassment of being in the hospital again, of having and living with bipolar and having to ask for help. Lots to talk with my regular therapist about.

For about 9 weeks I felt like this:

Death is not. It is nothing

I am not. I am nothing.

I don’t want to die. I want to die.

Make it end. Make the thoughts of hurting myself end.

Make the emotional pain end – anger sadness.

I am less than human because of them – thoughts, feelings.

I am pain, a hemorrhage of negativity.

No one understands unless they know this darkness.

Black hole, sucked into nothingness from images of gruesome death.

 

Am I romanticizing it, or speaking truthfully from a hurting being?

I am not thinking of others.

Their pan will be deep and unending.

I will not be in pain anymore.

Whose pain is worse?

Do I deserve to be less human because others will have pain?