hsphaven

I can’t believe I’ve just had another screaming episode. I didn’t think I had it in me; I felt like I’d been run over by a truck most of the day. The nurse who was on earlier told me she would move me into an actual room today once the patient had left. It was a relief as I was just in a curtained area and could hear all the commotion in the ward. My disability support worker came to see me today. He sat in the chair by my bed while I lay in bed, all the life drained from me. We could barely hear each other speak as there was so much hustle and bustle. Finally we moved into the small courtyard and sat in two bean chairs while we waited for the room to be cleaned. I kept expecting a nurse to come out and tell me the room was ready, but no one did. Finally I went inside to ask about the room and found out it had been given to someone else. I couldn’t believe it. Everything was just too much. I felt like no one in the world gave a shit about me. I went back into the courtyard, only to find it wasn’t empty anymore and a few other people were out there. All I could see were blurry faceless figures as I have a vision problem. That was the point when I completely lost it. I felt suffocated, like I couldn’t get away from people. It all hit me like a lightening bolt. I stormed back into the ward cursing and then I began screaming. There was a leather armchair outside the room I was going to be moved to. I curled up on the chair facing the back and screamed and screamed. I just couldn’t cope. I was tired of people promising me things and then breaking their promise…. Promising me a room, promising to stick with me and then abandoning me. The nurse and my disability worker stood by me trying to get me into a room to have a chat. I continued screaming.

“Do we need to call security?” asked the nurse.

Finally they managed to get me into the meeting room. I lay on the floor. The nurse kept asking me to sit in a chair. They don’t understand that this trauma takes everything out of you and after screaming so much you end up bound to the floor, like a person with bipolar crashes into depression after a manic episode and cannot get out of bed. My disability worker had to leave, and I was left in the room with the nurse. I managed to sit up, but that’s the best I could do. Then my mum arrived and found me in the room with the nurse having a dry cry. A dry cry is when I want to cry but barely any tears come out. The nurse left me with my mum. I really wasn’t in the mood for a visit. Thankfully she didn’t stay long. She left the chai and some food by my bed and went home. For a while I just lay on the floor curled up under my dressing gown. It was nice when the light turned itself off. Then a peer support worker found me and we had a chat. The peer support workers have been some of the most helpful people I’ve spoken with here. She knew what it was like to just need to curl up on the ground. After chatting with her I found the strength to get up. I returned to my bed, drank some chai and started writing this post. Then a nurse came in to check on me. I wasn’t sure if it was the same nurse who dealt with me before as everything was a blur. She said yes, she was the nurse who dealt with me before. I had gathered myself and when I am not screaming I am a completely different person.

I’ve been taking Largactil, an old antipsychotic, to sleep at night. I have managed to sleep the past two nights, though I still get nightmares and dream about my psychologist. Last night’s dream was set at a beach. The waves were big and the water threatened to swallow me up, even though I was at the very top of the beach. In my dream I had died, and I was at some place by the beach scared and lonely. I wanted to go back to my life and my parents, but I didn’t know how to go back. I think I was given a taste of what death would be life if I decided to kill myself. The dream was trying to show me that it’s not what I really want. That, as painful as this life is, there are still things I have to live for.