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    This is where your blog goes. Of course, not all of your blogs will be the same. Some will be different, because each day is a different day with different events and situations. If you were to have the same day twice, you would probably find yourself in the situation that the guy from Groundhog Day was in. In which case, you could do anything you wanted to. You could go and steal some ferrari's and drive right through the mall, getting arrested and thrown in jail, only to wake up the next day with the opportunity to do it all over again.

Worst Fear Faced

08.20.05 (2:33 pm)

I didn't realize it. I didn't think of it, until I said it in my therapy session yesterday. I really have just faced one of my two worst fears. I faced that breakdown to end all breakdowns. I lived through it, and came out the other side. I came out of the hospital. I'm stronger than before. I know that I may face it again some day. I may have another severe dissociative episode...but...I may not.

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Written 8-13-05

08.18.05 (1:32 pm)

9:10a I know this is long and it's asking a lot for my minister and therapist to read these, but I feel like it's critical that someone is listening, even if it's strangers here at Tblog. There are of course a few edits here, from what was actually written while in hospital. He saw me. The stalker. I was going to try to go to one of Dr. T's groups in the other building, and they were still downstairs for breakfest.  He was standing right by the door when I started to walk in. I turn, and practically ran away. I know he saw me.  I was, still am, terrified and trembling. I feel like the world is quaking apart around me.  I can't wait until I get out so I can at least settle the moving issue, get to a new apartment.  I'm also going to call about a restraining order. That's the last of what was actually written in the hospital, but I will write about the rest of the stay, and insert a lot of writing that I did in a workbook about my self-injury.

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Written 8-12-05

08.18.05 (1:25 pm)

After talking more with Dr. Boyd, I'm beginning to think I dissociated during my psychotic break, thus not remembering anything. That scares the hell out of me.  My special interest is dissociative disorders, and now I'm experieience the worst dissociative episode in my life.  It scares me so much to hear how I was that night. It's too painful for me to even write now. And I'm not sure I can "get over it".  What if I can't ever forgive myself for how I'mm acted that night? It's reality for me. It's no longer "somebody else". Worse...what if I do it again? I did make an important connection when talking to the therapist today. I finally know where my fear of being buried alive, the coffin fear, comes from.  It comes from the rapes. It's born of those two traumas at 5 and 18.  The Darkness. Being trapped. Being held down. Helpless. Not having a voice. Now how do I break that cycle? How do I rip the image apart? now what do I do with this? Now back on 300 mg of Neurontin twice a day.  Remeron 15 mg and Haldol 2 mg at bedtime.

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Written 8-12-05

08.16.05 (11:19 am)

6:45a No sleep! Not a minute. I'm so tired that every muscle hurts, is tense and aching.  I can barely sit up to write this. I'm hot and slightly light headed. I'm afraid to stay in the dayroom because Dr. B said J was trying to look through the windows for me.  Why am I, the innocent one, being punished for this? I should be on the other wing. I should have a yellow band. I shouldn't have to change my phone number or move. Why cant HE be moved? Why can't he be punished.  I'm scared so badly that I'm afraid to be in my apartment after dark. Maybe I should be punished for making a dumb mistake.  Maybe it IS my fault. I've sure learned my lesson.  Perhaps too well.  Will I ever be able to trust a man again? Will I ever be able to live without constant feear growing in me?  Has this incident causted this setback, to end all setbacks? Can I recover from this? Will Dr B give me the medical support I need right now? It seems unlikely. My hands and shoulders are shaking from the lack of sleep.  Tiny muscle twitches. There's a sick feeling in my stomache. I wonder if I'll ever sleep again, or at least well. The anxiety within me grows stronger every moment. I am tired of this existance. My feelings are helpless, and closing in on hopeless.  The depression deepens every moment. Thoughts of cutting come more often. I wish I had the courage to make satisfying deep clices, enough to cause the endorphins to surge. 11:15a What is it about me that attracts crazy men like a moth to a flame? I've had three men over here want my number, like I'm going to be that stupid again.  I'm sick of this!! I just don't think I can do this. I can't stay here. It's just increasing teh dread, fear, and anxiety. I think I'm going to have to broach that with Dr. B in the morning. Sure, moving me to Duall III gets me out of the building, but I was abused by two alcoholic parents. The last thing I need is to be around a bunch of people with drug and alcohol problems. Not to mention the whole twelve step program is against my spiritual instincts. 7:35p Ok, I feel like a freak. Sitting there listening to everyone saying they're an addict or alcoholic. And what can I say, but the trust. Maybe other women can learn from my experience. Maybe I can stop this from happening to someone else. Maybe other people can learn the danger and avoid it. The first thing I notice over here is how grimy and dirty everything is. I find myself obsessively washing my hands and face right now. I can't believe they let it get like this, when the other wards are so clean and modern. Icko! Maybe I'll shower while they're in AA. I don't feel  like the staff over here was notified of my situation like the therapist assured me they would be.  I know I'm not supposed to go over to the other building because of J. I hope they were told that. I'm really unsure of things right now, and it's full blown panic now. I feel that disconnected feeling. I feel like I'm floating above myself.  That feeling I know so well from my therapy sessions with Dr. W.

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Written 8-12-05

08.16.05 (11:04 am)

1:45a Yep. You guessed it. Here I am writing when I should be sleeping.  2 mg of Haldol, and nothing.  Guess I'll start on what I was going to write later. First let me start by advising you against saying: "I told her so." or "She knows better." I've learned my lesson, and painfully so. I met two very dear people here last time. A vibrant loving woman around my mom's age and another woman my age.  N has called me several times to make sure I was doing ok.  I loaned K by Harry Potter book when I finished it. No regrets there. My mistake came in trying to simply befriend a guy, be supportive. Big mistake. I was up front that I couldn't date anyone from here, and reinforced that point frequentlyl Despite all of my efforts he's become (yes, still is) obsessed with me.  One morning he called my phone 20 times in a 2.5 hour time span. He sent me a dozen roses at work, and brought me another half dozen.  I'm not gullible, but I supposes I was vulnerable. You've seen how much I've been through.  My mom died two days later. My best friend, A, moved to another apartment complex, after more than ten years next door to me.  I became especially afraid of being home alone, when J started showing up at the apartment uninvited, despite threats to call the police. If that weren't bad enough . . . I cofinded this experience in the charge nurse who was actually there when I was brought in. She made me promise to tell Dr. B, but before I could, she did. He told me that J had admitted himself yesterday, less than 24 hours after I was brought in. Dr. B is going to keep me "red band" so I don't have to leave this side to go to the cafeteria.  He's going to move me tomorrow to Dual III so that I will be in another building, as long as J's psychiatrist isn't planning on moving him there.  I signed a release to allow Dr. B to talk to his psychiatrist. So I don't know what tomorrow will bring. They've kind of put me in their own sort of "protective custody". I already had my phone number changed, and Dr. B told me to work with the apartment complex to get moved.  Hopefully they will help me.

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Written 8-11-05 10:05 PM

08.15.05 (3:44 pm)

Intead of writing a made for TV movie, I'm writing more "Made for Dr. W" journal entries. How the hell did this happen? How could my meds end up so messed up? How could they have made me so psychotic, when they're supposed to be anti-psychotic? How did I get so messed up as to need five point restraints and have completely dissociated the entire night. I have no memory of it. That scares me, upsets me, knowing how I acted, and not know I did it. It wasn't me. I swear. Even the nurses told me it wasn't me. It was the medicine. I'm both relieved and mortified that I don't remember that part of the night, most of the night.  The last thing I remember was getting to the waiting room at S. F. Hospital. Then I woke up here (the psych. hospital).  What a mortifying and embarassing experience. I use the word mortify twice because it's the strongest and best description I have. The one good thing that came out of it was that I did actually sleep after a shot of 10mg of Haldol and 2mg of Ativan.  It's weird because I've actually asked Dr. B about Haldol on a couple of occasions. Right now I have the strongest urge to tell him, "I told you so." (Ed. to add - I did actually tell him today 8-15) I only have a vague picture of this, but I must have gone back out to the car, after getting to the ER. I must have fallen on the curb. MY forearms are scraped and my foot may be broken. It's a serious sprain if it's not. My job gives me a little knowledge of that area.  What scares me about that is the possibility of a cast. It's a trapped, claustrophobic feeling. Will know tomorrow.  They're taking me to get it X-rayed. It's 10:20p and I still am waiting for Dr. B. After 6 years of his late night callbacks, I shouldn't be surprised. And I'm not. Frustrated as hell because it's this late and no meds yet. And all the medical doctor gave me for my foot is Motrin!  How much sense does that make. I realize you'd have to see the foot to understand. (I'd post a pic if it was still as swollen and bruised as it was.) He thinks it's potentially broken too, but yet it's not even wrapped or iced.  I told him it was at least a level 6 pain, and that was probably understating it. I guess I shouldn't have understated it, huh? Still waiting! I just want to get through until my appointment with Dr. KB. A couple of people recommended her, but it's a long wait until the end of September. This room is ungodly hot. I'm burning up. Of course it doesn't help that I'm now running a  low grade (99.7) temp.  Heart rate is still elevated at 103, twenty four hours after my last Seroquel dose.  And that was at the dosage reduced from 800 to 400. That's also with 6 mg of Gabitril, and 2 of Thorazine. My shoulders are aching. The fibromyalgia invariably flares when I'm stressed or sleep deprived, and right now I'm both.  So I'm going to stop for tonight, unless Dr B gives me something else new to write about. It's now 10:30p. 11:00p I'm convinced he's forgotten me. I guess we'll see what happens w/out any meds. Can you tell I'm looking forward to that next 8 hoursor so, or worse, actually until tomorrow night, since I won't get meds til then if he doesn't come tonight. How did this once "perfect" doctor/patient relationship turn so sour on me?  I used to think only he and Dr. W were people I trusted. I feel like he's betrayed that trust so often in the past 6 months. 12:15a He just left. 2 mg of Haldol. More in the morning.

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Seroquel Nightmare

08.09.05 (10:36 am)

For the second time, my heart started racing 15-20 minutes after taking my prescribed 800 mg of Seroquel at night. It didn't stop after an hour and a half, so I called my psychiatrist, who's taking down the dosage and adding Gabitril, an anti-seizure med that's had some success with anxiety disorders. I'll start it tonight. After talking to him, at his suggestion, I went to the ER. I was kept on heart monitors and admitted for observation, just to make sure the ticker calmed down. My heart rate did manage to come down to 80 by this morning, so that's good news. I still feel like crap because I didn't sleep a wink. I got a little sleep after I got home, but awoke with a nasty headache. Not sure why. I suppose just the lack of sleep. Or not enough sleep. I am definitely looking forward to getting a second opinion on my meds. Unfortunately I have to wait til the end of September. But I guess we never know, the Gabitril may make a difference before then. The doc has also mentioned a few different sleep docs, so I might have to try that. I've had two sleep studies already, and basically all they did was rule out sleep apnea. I could have told them that. :) My problem is the nighttime anxiety and insomnia. If you've had experience with this kind of thing, I'd love input from others.

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Let the Games Begin

08.08.05 (3:08 pm)

Today I dealt with the bank and with grandma's nursing home, as well as got information on my mom's lawyer, and some miscellaneous bills that need to be taken care of. It's so overwhelming for me who's not financially savy. I also have two properties now that will have to be dealt with. I'm feeling completely overwhelmed and am trying to take things one piece at a time, but mom's boyfriend was really laying the pressure on me to fly up there and take care of things immediately. I want to see what I can accomplish from down here before I make a trip up there that might not be necessary right this minute. I have high hopes that between all the technologies available I'll be able to take care of most of what I need to. I will call mom's lawyer tomorrow and see what's next. They are sending me the death certificate so I'll have that, and I've paid off the remainder of mom's car loan. The bank is having all statements sent to me (I'm already listed on the accounts) as well as checks in my name and address and access to online banking so I can take care of those things from here. (I'm 750 miles from where I grew up)

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Meds R Us

08.08.05 (1:25 pm)

Frustration! Again! Another bad night with little sleep. The meds are close to useless. Sometimes I think they just make me feel worse and more frustrated. But I'm also useless without them. There's got to be some other approach, something we've missed. But what? Right now I'm taking 800 mg of Seroquel, and 50 mg of Thorazine at bedtime. The only good things is that once I actually get to sleep, I do manage to sleep through the night now, whereas I used to wake up every couple of hours. I've got a call in to my psychiatrist, and I'm sure he'll do his usuall call at about 8:30 tonight. It's frustrating to have to wait up for him to call when the problem is that I can't sleep and that I have to be up at 5 in the morning for work. I had to go in late again today. I saw a second psychiatrist the same day my mom died, and that was a useless appointment. She barely spent 15 minutes with me, for a first time appointment. That made absolutely no sense. She didn't even do a complete, thorough history. Needless to say I won't be going back. I've got an appointment for yet another psychiatrist, but that's not until the end of September. I did make myself a note to try calling her office tomorrow to see if there have been any cancellations. She was recommended by a friend, so maybe that will be a better appointment. I'm continuing my work with the therapist I've been seeing for years now, and am also working with our new minister. I think that will help fill the gaps in between therapy sessions, as well as giving another viewpoint or perspective on things. They both have this web address, and I'm keeping an open dialogue with my minister via email as well. I really have to thank him for jumping in to help me in his first week here.

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Apple Juice

08.04.05 (2:27 pm)

The only reason for that title is it's what I'm drinking and I couldn't think of a better one, especially since I don't know what on earth I may end up writing about. I am reaching out, trying to strengthen my support network, and that includes improving existing relationships, replacing others, and starting yet new ones.

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Self Injury

08.04.05 (3:01 am)

It started with a few cuts with a razor blade to my ankles, probably a year or so ago. They were always shallow, never infected, never scarred. I went almost a year without resorting to it, but once in the hospital, couldn't resist. Well, actually I could because there was nothing to cut with, and by the time I got out I was distracted enough to not buy any new razor blades. I did cut with a kitchen knife at some point last week, after I found out about Mom's death. I don't remember when I did it, but the cuts are merely superficial, and will fade in time.   I've found a better way to have control. I can control what I eat and what a drink, and how much. I didn't eat the week I was in the hospital and no one would have even noticed, if I hadn't been honest with my doctor and told him I wasn't eating. I went over 5 days without food, and even the first 2.5 days without anything to drink   It began to be some kind of sick contest in my mind to see how long I really could go without sleep and food. I did give in to liquids at least. My intent was not to die. Posted: 8:39 AM, 8/3/2005

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My Other Job

08.04.05 (3:00 am)

I have two jobs. I have the job I get paid for, the one where I sit in a little cubical all day and answer people's questions and solve there problems.   The other job I don't get paid for, and it's much more demanding. It's the acting job I do every day when I'm trying to do the job I get paid for. It's the job of pretending I'm fine. Posted: 7:40 AM, 8/3/2005

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Good Morning?

08.04.05 (2:59 am)

Not really. I'm not awake yet, even though I took a few extra minutes in bed this morning. Last night was the roughtest night since A moved, and I've been out of the hospital. I had a hard time getting calm enough to sleep, but eventually did it. Once I did I slept through the entire night. I'm learning now that I don't need a friend to spend the night anymore, that it actually disrupts me more than helps. I guess it's time I tackle this on my own, and not ask anyone to stay with me anymore. I kept having this urge to go across to As apartment, except for it's not her apartment anymore, and she lives 10 minutes away now. Weird how last night was harder on me than Monday night. I guess because I didn't see her at all Monday, but she game over for dinner, to do laundrey and to watch TV last night. I hope this gets easier.   I received a condolence note from T. He claims there are things he needs to say to me in purpose, given how much I went through for him, and how he treated me. I don't know how any words could possibly help, so I'm not sure about that idea.   I had therapy last night, and was given homework, to write a eulogy for my mom, an honest one, not some sugar coated one that would actually be used. I've never heard or seen a eulogoy, so I imaigne I neeed to find a couple to find out what one says. Dr W really pushed me in that session. He just dug in and pushed harder and harder into that image of the funeral home. Posted: 7:14 AM, 8/3/2005

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Dear Mom,

08.04.05 (2:57 am)

I'm tired tonight, but I know now you are at peace, and rested, no longer sick. I'm grateful for that. I'm glad that your suffering is over. I know that I made it worse in the end, but I hope that some day you will forgive me, and understand that it was the unbearable grief of losing you, that sent me into a horrible depression, a depression so bad that I was actually committed, and unable to leave the hospital, for my own safety. I had no idea how bad things were. A few days earlier you had said I should try to wait a month or two if it meant I could get a cheaper plane ticket. I knew you'd be mad at me for not coming up right then, but I just assumed I'd have the time to make another trip, after I'd gotten treatment, gotten my medications evened out, talked with my therapist more. I was wrong. You left me, two days after I left the hospital. I didn't call you, because A said you didn't want to talk to me, when you called to check on me Saturday. I didn't know, mom. I didn't know it would come that soon. No one told me. I had no way of knowing you were at the end.   I love you, Mom. I miss you so much. We haven't always been friends, but in the end we were, and that's what matters. Give dad a hug for me, ok? And pet Bandit, throw a basket ball for her to chase. You know how she always loved that. Oh, and would you please brush Frankie, maybe get someone to braid her tail and mane. She always looked pretty that way.   I love you, Mom. Posted: 8:15 PM, 8/2/2005

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Want to call, Want to write.

08.04.05 (2:56 am)

I want to call my mom, just to tell her about my new vaccuum and the cute shoes I got this weekend. I want to email her a picture of me in my new outfit that A helped me pick out. I want to send her email jokes, the ones she always looked forward to, but I can't anymore. Posted: 8:50 AM, 8/2/2005

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Good Morning from the Office

08.04.05 (2:55 am)

Good morning, if you can call it good. I mean, I'm at the office, relatively conscious, and making money, but I'm miserable here. I know. I know. Look for a different job where I'm less miserable. Unfortunately this one pays well, for what's expected of me. So I stay. Hopefully some day I'll actually finish graduate school, if I can ever get through statistics. *sigh* Every time I try to take the class something happens that ends me up in the hospital. First the spinal tap that went wrong, and landed me in the hospital for fluids and pain management before they could do the blood patch. Then the kidney stone that wouldn't move, which meant two surgeries to place and then remove a stent, plus time in the hospital in between for fluids and pain management. And finally a nice "relaxing" - NOT- stay at what I affectionally refer to as Camp. The local psychiatric hospital. The anxiety and insomnia became too much to bear on my own. I needed to do something drastic to get my meds on track and get some rest. Immediately after getting out of there, my mother died.  It's improving, but I felt better yesterday than I do right now. (It's 7:07a) Maybe I just need this coffee that's sitting next to me.   So now I'm working with the disability office at school to get things back on track. I do believe they're there to help me, and I have to trust that, and do what they suggest. Maybe I should just take a term off. I could work on statistics during that term, without pressure, and then be really on top of it when I went back.   How do I know I'm unhappy here at work? Because I dread it every more. I always want to crawl back under the covers and hide from it. I feel totally miserable all day long, constantly watching the clock, waiting for 3:30 to come. Then when I'm home I'm worrying about the next day, and the day I just finished. Posted: 7:00 AM, 8/2/2005

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Ground Zero

08.04.05 (2:53 am)

It all starts here. It all starts today. I'm no stranger to major changes and upheaval. Four years ago, I lost my father to a sudden heart attack, lost my job due to a merger, was seriously injured in a near fatal car crash. Then I started a new job, working my way back up from near the bottom.  I've undergone several surgeries, including a total hysterectomy and all of the symptoms that come with menopause. A year later, another surgery to implant a never stimulator to regulate my bladder frequency. Surprisingly that incision was much larger than the tiny incisions for the hysterectomy, but that's neither here nor there.  In between there were numerous smaller procedures and surgeries, and treatments. But those aren't the real focus of this blog. The real focus here, is my struggle with mental illness. This will be written from the perspective of the patient, and the graduate student with hopes of becoming a therapist herself one day.  If I end up helping even one person, I'll be grateful and thankful. But this is primarily for me, and that's what I need right now.   My life has been filled with loss. Loss that goes back to being raped at 5 years old. The loss of my innocence, the loss of my childhood as it should have been. Further loss, due to alcoholic parents, who were both physically and emotionally abusive. The loss continued in their absence from my life. Oh, they were physically there, but not emotionally. Never the types to cheer me on at school events. And in truth, I didn't want them to most of the time, because it usually would mean dad was drunk. And who wants their drunk dad showing up at school events, especially when you live in a town of 1100 and everyone knows everyone else. Plus he was a business owner, even worse.   The losses continued when I went to college. I was only 50 miles away from them, but never had visits, and rarely made it home on y own. One summer I even stayed on campus to do research with my major professor. I got married just to get out of that small town environment. He was my best friend, but I just wasn't in love. I wanted a way out, not a husband. We went through with the marriage after living together down here, then the marriage lasted 9 months. I no longer have any contact with him, though occasionally I wonder how he's doing. I know he's completed his PhD, and I'm proud of him for that. He's brilliant and worked hard to get there.   The biggest loss during college was the death of my favorite uncle. It hit me hard, and I never had the chance to talk about it. He was considered the "town drunk", but in the end had been recovering. He was the uncle that doted on me, that would have done anything for me.   Then I lost all of the friends I grew up with. When you grow up in a town that small, you know everyone. When I moved down here, I knew no one. The first people I met were the friends my fiance had made since he was a year older and came down here the year before me to get started on grad school. If he's reading this by some strange twist of fate, I don't hate him. He was a wonderful friend, and I truly loved him as such.   After the divorce I lost a few more friends, but kept the ones that were important to me. They stuck by me, and still do to this day.   I've lost jobs, friends, family, parts of myself, even. Most recently, I've lost my mother. She passed away last Tuesday, and I was too weak emotionally to go visit her before she died. I was too weak emotionally to attend the memorial service. I failed her on two counts, and I have to live with that.   One thing I have changed immediately, is the care of my grandmother. She is in a nursing home, and I have called every single day since her daughter, my mother, died last week. I wil do everything I can to make sure she's taken care of properly, even if I have to do it from this distance. I dont' know. Maybe, some way, some how I could find a way to bring her to a facility down here. I haven't thought of that until now, but It's worth considering.   Well...I'd say that's probably a pretty hefty start for one night. I will say that I am writing this for several reasons, one is for my own self-discovery, but also intend it to be completely open to my therapist, should he ever want to check, and open others, that might need encouragement on their own journeys. Posted: 7:12 PM, 8/1/2005

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Why Seeking

08.01.05 (5:09 am)

Why seeking? Because that's where I am in my life, seaking for truth, for meaning, for my self, for my purpose, for my calling. There is very little I am sure of right now, so I am seeking answers, explanations, and reasons.

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