Living life on the borderline

Discharge and an incoherent rant.

Posted on: December 4, 2011

Possible triggers for self harm, substance abuse, eating disorders and generally not very nice thoughts.

 

I have been released into the community, armed with benzodiazepines and not incredibly further forward than when I went in. My first night in my own bed involved DVDs, rum and a very poor excuse for a wound dressing. The night workers at the supermarket barely raise a brow when I arrive in the late evening at the self-checkout  (how annoying is that woman’s voice?!) with various bottles and “sharps”. I don’t necessarily expect them to do anything, but seeing as nearly everyone I do know is indifferent at best towards this latest “episode”, it just makes me feel more invisible.

My team and I have come to an agreement that the aim is not treatment, per se, but management. It’s dreadful of me to say, but the term “management” makes me think of a palliative care patient. There is no treatment or hope – the vast arsenal of psychiatric and psychotherapeutic interventions have seemingly been tried, all that can be done for me now are sympathetic faces and making me as comfortable as possible while I wait to die. The poison that invaded me as a child has turned into some cancerous growth that is taking over my existence and I grieve for the person that I could’ve become, had this disease not taken it away.

I get even more upset when I think of how precarious the balance of my mind really is. I sit among people my age at college and wonder how many of them have families that need to know the protocol for having them detained under the Mental Health Act. It scares me that one day, my family will be faced with that decision, that I would have no control over what people do to me when control is the one thing I need so much. I understand now why people call it going mad. You are entering a strange land with laws and regulations that you don’t understand, in a language you don’t speak and every time you end up going down that path, you wonder if you’re going to return this time.

And I’m resentful and bitter and angry. When I eventually sleep, I am tortured by nightmares. When I’m awake, I’m back on the merry-go-round of cut/drink/purge/cut/drink/purge to just escape the chaos in my head. The sound of the phone ringing sets my heart pounding, someone coming up behind me makes me scream, I can feel thin layers of grains or seeds, some irritant, under the skin on my face. I can see it. I want to claw off the flesh and wash it away.

I don’t think I’m going to return from this one. I don’t know whether what’s happening in my head or what’s happened in reality is the scarier thing.

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2 Responses to "Discharge and an incoherent rant."

Even though this post filled me with sadness and empathy for you… it was beautifully written and made so much sense. You put it so well, even if its not something any of us should have to say. I really hope things get better. They will, its episodic, you know that. You will come out the other side, but it doesnt help you right now. It will pass…. I hope soon! xxx
”I understand now why people call it going mad. You are entering a strange land with laws and regulations that you don’t understand, in a language you don’t speak and every time you end up going down that path, you wonder if you’re going to return this time.”- This is beautiful x

To be honest I don’t think they had any right to say that, I don’t think professionals should ever say that, but especially not for someone so young. It sounds to me like they’re just giving up – there are always more options, and there is always more hope – I know several people whom the system gave up on, but then went on to recover.

Maybe they mean that you’ll never get rid of the demons, and that is what they mean by “management” (although even saying that is unforgivable, because it destroys hope) – but there is always room, hope and the chance of improvement.

I hope that you find the strength not to give up on yourself.

Take care.

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About the blogger.

I'm an 18 year old girl/woman/person of the female gender who blogs about growing up, living with mental health problems and her experience with the NHS mental health services, both CAMHS and CMHTs. Expect plenty of teenage angst and general craziness. Nothing out of the ordinary here.

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