(I wrote this 12 days ago, didn’t finish it or post it.)

So I took a break from everything
(writing) to catch up on the end
of the school year, my laundry,
more nocturnal reading and the garden.

A family crisis added to my perpetual
mental crisis made my feelings of being
overwhelmed peak in a massive
pseudo seizure yesterday.

It feels like it was two days ago
but I have begun to understand the
mental roller coaster I’m living with.

I’ve decided that my new psychiatrist
is having an ego problem. I suspected it
before, but it has been confirmed. I hate
being in the middle of two male egos.
I guess it just sucks to be me. Let me explain.

I had a minor bout of suicidal ideation
that resulted in my forced hospitalization
a month ago. I had been fairly dutifully
logging my moods on a mood chart given
to me by Dr. G. (My bear complained that

he didn’t have one, shouldn’t he have one,
why didn’t he have one? I stared at him
blankly with my mouth open until he stopped
complaining and I told him to ask his doctor,
not me. Are we to the point of comparing
treatments and competing over it???

Life is too ridiculous for me to waste my
time in a pissing match about my treatment,
with my boyfriend. Ugh.) Take that non sequitur
police. HAH!

My side effects to Latuda and Lamictal had
been steadily been poo-pooed by Dr. G and I
was told to be patient and wait it out for
three months. My new GP told me to tell my
psychiatrist about my concerns, though

I had communicated them to Dr. G without
any change in my medication or concern
about my cognitive impairments or effing
brain fog when speaking. I appeared halfway

cognizant to Dr. G who doesn’t know me
very well when I’m used to being sharp
fairly eloquent and mentally together even
in the middle of a breakdown. It’s my curse
of being a highly functional, dysfunctional
well read woman/art geek/mother/former business owner.

Every complaint about my change in mental
capacity was received with a rebuff and was
promptly swept under the rug. (Why do people
say that? Angry complaints don’t lie quietly

in a brain much less under a rug. That would
make it very difficult to walk on and perhaps
even more likely than not intentionally trip
the unsuspecting doctor who ignored the signs
that the medications were not working well
for me.) So much for a new doctor and a new
perspective. Damn!

So one Monday morning, I woke up and decided
to clean my bedroom. That should have been
a sign, but I kept cleaning anyway. It started
innocently enough, I found a tie that went to my
tie, vest and dress shirt combos, then another
tie then three or four belts.

With each new find I thought,
“I could hang myself with that.”
No anger, no terror, there was no
planning to get a drill and install a
hook in the ceiling, just seeing with the

warped perspective of suicidal ideation that
I had not experienced before. I’m a cutter, so
this was mildly disturbing and I decided that I
needed to talk to someone to figure out, “What the
hell was up?” I felt numb, but I’m not usually this

blank in the emotions department, especially at six am.
I wondered who I could call so early in the morning,
but I know that most of my friends just have too much
on their plates to deal with my crap so early in the morning.

I decided to call a warm line. Yeah, like a hotline
but not so urgent. The warmline was not open yet
so I got to speak with a hotline crisis counselor.
He was nice, unflappable, I explained my out of the blue
fixation with hanging and he suggested that I create a
safety plan. I was to eat, call one of three friends,
get my kids up, go to therapy in the afternoon and
call my psychiatrist. Great. I’m fairly ok being
compliant so I followed the plan.

1. Breakfast was dry cereal
2. Called a friend in Pennsylvania
3. My crisis got put on hold. Wet diapers control my world.
4. I was on time to therapy. She made me call my psychiatrist when
I nonchalantly commented on the fact that I could hang myself
with the electrical and window blind cords that were in her office.
She made me go to my car, bring my phone inside and call my
psychiatrist’s office in front of her. She was alarmed
because I was so calm.
5. The nurse at my psychiatrist’s office freaked out and told me to
immediately go to the emergency room or call an ambulance to
transport me to the nearest hospital.

This is where my life went “BOOM!” My balloon burst and crashed,
I wound up spending the afternoon and evening in the emergency
room followed by being transported an hour out of town to a
crisis holding tank, then admitted to a psychiatric ward
the next morning at 8am. The process was fairly complicated
and disorienting. Happily, this time, I did not get put in a
high risk ward and accused of faking seizures or being possessed.

I spoke with therapists, nurses, social workers, and a very
enthusiastic young psychiatrist (Dr H) each day. This wasn’t a
coloring book with crayons ward. They gave me pencils and let me
have my journal from my purse so that I could continue writing
or do word searches during my four day stay. Later, I’ll edit
those journal entries and post them or not.

I arrived with my bi-polar diagnosis from Dr. G only to have it
reverted back to major depression disorder and anxiety by Dr. H.
My medications were slowly tapered down and switched to a
simple cocktail of two anti-depressants Paxil and Wellbutrin XR.
The Klonapin(anti-anxiety depressant) was to be stopped and I
have Atarax (a milder anti-anxiety medication) to take as needed.

The psychiatric ward was mainly a drug and alcohol recovery unit
with about 24 plus or minus patients. The group therapy sessions that
felt mandatory, were directed primarily at the majority of patients
who were in recovery, detoxing with underlying mental illness issues
that may or may not have been diagnosed. I sat through an AA/NA meeting being told that the process was much easier if I admitted that I was an addict, so I wouldn’t get locked up in the “Looney bin” with the “crazy people.” O-kay?

Yup, time to go home. I’m not addicted to anything other than reading and writing in bed. My Major Depression and Anxiety Disorders when treated with an
anti-psychotics and mood stabilizers, turned into something that got me
locked up.

Dr. G is in a snit that I’m not doing badly off his suggested meds. He told me I would relapse and to come back in two weeks. I don’t have anything nice to say about him, his bedside manner or his lack of optimism for the change in medication. He is the only doctor who could diagnose me? Is his ego so fragile that I should suffer because of indignation that his treatment plan was changed. I am the patient and I get to say what I feel I think about his mind clouding drugs. They were not right for me. I did not tolerate them. I need a new doctor.

Why can’t I find a team player for my care? I need my team to be supportive not easily insulted and petty. He demanded to know who was my doctor, how many times did I see him? How long were my sessions? He obviously thought the hospital psychiatrist was young and inexperienced. I thought he was perceptive and caring about my well being. I wish he practiced outside of the hospital.

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32 thoughts on “Time Off (long)

      1. That’s it. I’ve been lectured to and told that I will not do well. What a bastard. I was so happy to be better and clear thinking. It took the wind out of my sails to be told, that I would fail.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Yeah, there are so few good psychiatrists here where I live in this county. I have learned to travel far out of county to see a good doctor. I have to call next week after the holiday to make an appointment.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. It’s about power. That is not what I need in a doctor. I want to feel better and I put my trust in a system that shames the patient for doing what was requested. I called my doctor and was told to go to the emergency room. That is his tacit approval of the system that can override his diagnosis and treatment plan. Why punish me for following the rules of this stupid game?

        Liked by 1 person

      4. He didn’t call the hospital while I was there. He didn’t visit the emergency room while I was across the street from his office. He did nothing to help me when I was forced to go to the hospital. I felt abandoned and then treated like a criminal.

        Once you get pink slipped. You are sent to the psyche ward that has a bed available. You lose your clothes, your belongings and get transported in the safety of a locked vehicle, like the back seat of a police car with a cage. I suppose it is geared toward patients who are flight risks or facing hospitalization instead of incarceration. It was terrifying.

        Liked by 1 person

      5. That’s horrible. I remember when it happened to my sister-in-law. They locked her in a room without a pot to piss in – literally. It’s true she was in such deep psychosis she didn’t know what was real, but she knew they’d stripped her of her dignity, and she was terrified before they even started on her.

        Liked by 1 person

      6. “Pink Slipped”on my blog was my response. I went the the hospital 3pm and didn’t get checked in until the next morning. I wanted to see my children, the next day was my son’s birthday and I missed it because I was not stable (again.)

        Liked by 1 person

      7. emergency room 3pm until 11pm, then driven an hour away to a crisis stabilization center for pre- hospitalization assessment until 2pm. I slept on a couch in a locked holding room until 7am.

        Liked by 1 person

      8. Yes. Thanks Jane. Talking about it makes me feel like it wasn’t a nightmare or something that I hallucinated. I don’t have hallucinations, but my concerns about the medication being ignored until I was to the point of wanting to hang myself is ridiculous and negligent.

        Liked by 1 person

      9. It’s the same the world over. A couple of days ago a report came out which claimed that 20% of children in the UK who were diagnosed with mental health issues are receiving no help at all. to tell the truth, I was surprised that the figure was so low – but then, a lot of troubled children don’t get diagnosed. Our National Health system is falling apart under a callous right-wing Government.

        Liked by 1 person

      10. We are having higher statistics of mental health issues because we are no longer living off our land and integrating with animals and our environment. My brain says this is true. It probably has a gain of truth, but the practicality of returning to nature is , ugh. there ends my train of though. 😦 depressing.

        Liked by 1 person

      11. I think it’s a combination of issues – we know longer rely on our instincts because we prioritise the intellect, we place too much importance on possessions – and on comfort which makes us soft, we feel insecure and anxious because we can’t see much of a future for ourselves, and particularly for our children – and they in turn grow insecure, we worry about global warming, we distrust our self-seeking Governments, we get tuned in to conspiracy theories, we feel disempowered, we know we’re poisoning ourselves each time we breathe… the list goes on.
        Oh, joy 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      12. You’re on a roll dear Jane. It can be overwhelming to see where we are without seeing where we will be. Trying to get to the end and still feel like a good person, worth breathing our air is hard.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Wish I’d read this one first! I’m backwards on the Reader. Can that young doctor suggest ANOTHER young doctor? Sounds like the younger ones may not have had the time to work themselves into a snit about how wonderful they are yet. I’m glad you’re back on a regime that feels right to you. Feeling better?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Baby girl, the system is about doing specific actions that generate fees and perscriptions (money stuff) while covering its liability. That’s it. Sounds like the people you were dealing with had anxiety issues given their reactivity. But again they were just covering their liability and responded out of fear. When they got you to the hospital they were free from liability and went on to the next case. There are some decent and competent people in the the system but the system itself is a machine. Dont be disappointed in the system just know what it is and treat it as such. I hope you can find some humans to deal with.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, humans. I need those. I miss them in health care. I want to tell my doctor that he is an ass, but it does nothing to help me. Vengeance only feels good. It is not a good trait or practice. Though my brain is craving satisfaction. I try to weigh how much I listen to my sick twisted brain. I write things I can never say.

      Dear man, nice to talk to you again. (She who has finally crawled out from under her rock.)

      Liked by 1 person

      1. You don’t need vengeance. You need a doc who’s skill is greater than their ego. He can’t help his inadequacies. His education told him he was god but deep down he knows better but is afraid to say so. He’s a boy playing at being god and doesn’t know how to stop the game.

        Liked by 1 person

Any thoughts on the above post are appreciated! Otherwise, I think I must be living under a rock.

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