Talking Gooder…..

I really think my meds are affecting my brain, negatively. Sometimes i just sit there and stare at the wall with nothing to think about. Then after a minute or two, i blink and i am back to the real world.

I feel like my speech is getting worse too.

I make up words with out thinking.

I write SO much better than i talk. I dont know if there are different parts of the brain for speech and writing.

I think so though.

If i didnt do spell check, here would be a sentence: I writed so much gooder then i talk. I add extra syllables. I dont realize it till someone points it out..

Its a little embarrassing. I sound uneducated.

I wish i could talk gooder. sigh.

Advertisements

Traumatizing Restraint….

I crept out of bed and tiptoed past the nurses station. The night staff were on shift. I snuck by and went to the door that allows freedom.

there was a code you needed to unlock the doors. I considered trying a few pin numbers.

But what if there was an alarm?

I didnt try.

I pressed my nose up against the door’s rectangle window. It was 2:00 am and the hopistal was dead. Everyone was asleep.

I should be too, but I was having a hard night. Earlier that day i had been restraint, for no GOOD reason.

I actually cant remember why, but i remember it was dumb.

I wish staff at any psych ward, would think twice before using a restraint chair or bed.

It is traumatizing! I still have nightmares, years later!

There are SO many other good ways to calm down someone like me.

Talking, ice on my wrists, getting fresh air, drinking water… if only they would try that FIRST!

My Head was FULL of voices!!!~

I looked at her, but couldnt hear her. My head was FULL of voices. It was like the voices in my head choose that moment to all talk at once!

I was in therapy. I was on a fluffy couch across from my therapist who had a notebook. I HATE when people write about me… u never know what they will write.

Not only was I hearing voices, but i was seeing things too.

I saw my name, in cursive all over my therapist’s rug.

“Why did you do that?” I asked her angrily.

“What?”

i pointed to the rug. I got nervous, too many words!!

I left the office. My Dad was in the waiting room. I walked past him and left the building.

He and my therapist came after me. They stopped me before i reached the street.

They loaded me into the car…. Dad drove me home and i never saw that therapist again…

My Favorite Coping Skill is BLOGGING!

In the past 13 years, since i have been diagnosed with schizophrenia, i have learned MANY MANY coping skills. Some worked for me, others did not. I learned them in therapy, psych wards, school…

My favorite coping skill is definitely blogging. I do 2-3 blogs a day. Whenever i am sad, or having a hard time, i write.

My LEAST favorite coping skill is deep breathing. I dont find it helpful, i find it makes me dizzy.

I like to take baths, color, do makeovers, watch movies, walk, call a friend, clean…

I just dont like the fact that to me, it seems like I always have to distract myself with coping skills. I wish i could live my life with out mental illness.

Who knows, maybe one day there will be a cure!

 

Anxiety VS Getting Dizzy!

Whenever i get dizzy, i reach out to the closest person.

I took karate for one day.. I got dizzy and grabbed the instructors hand.

In 2nd grade, C lost her tooth. I got dizzy and reached for a friend. I passed out.

I was visiting my Mom in rehab, and I got dizzy. I reached for the nurse.

I have been getting dizzy randomly since i was very young…..maybe 6 or 7?

I went to a school sleepover trip at the Ecotarium in 3rd grade. I got dizzy and grabbed my teacher. My Dad had to pick me up.

I dont know if getting dizzy and having anxiety are connected… I am not sure.

But i cant pick which is worse, anxiety or getting dizzy. They are both scary.

 

I was about to cut, but didnt!!~

I was in a therapy session in the psych ward, one on one. My stomach was burning because only hours before, i had cut my belly with a plastic knife.

I could not concentrate on what my psychiatrist was saying. I looked around his office. I Saw lots of awards and framed certificates. He must be good.

I tried to focus and he told me he wanted to change my meds.

NO!

that means i will be in the psych ward even longer!

I started to cry, i was overwhelmed. I looked him in the eyes. He looked exhausted.

He handed me a tissue.

I left therapy and went back to my room. I grabbed the knife under my bed and was about to cut.

But something, not sure what, stopped me. I threw the knife away and climbed into bed. I was proud of myself!!

I started to smile.

Even if i had to try another new medication, I was not going to give up. I am strong.

 

In the ER waiting for a bed in the PSYCH ward!~

I was in bed in the ER. My parents had left. it was 3:30 am. The lights were off and the place for once, was silent. I opened my eyes. i had a sitter watching me. My head hurt so bad from crying.

at 4:00 am, a staff came into my room with a wheelchair. I knew where they were going to bring me. The PSYCH ward!

“Noo” i said softly. I pulled the blankets over my head.

“Emily, there’s a bed open for you” The man said.

“I dont want to” i started to cry. They were not sympathetic.

They lifted me out of bed and sat me in the chair. I slumped over and cried.

we rode the elevator to level 2. I got buzzed in and the ER staff left. I got my room, it had two beds, but no roommate.

i picked the bed closest to the window. The night staff got me a toothbrush, comb, soap and deodorant.

i went to bed in my clothes because i came here unexpectedly.

I had 4 blankets but i was still cold. hot tears dripped down my cheek. I stared out the door.
I could NOT believe i was in ANOTHER psych ward. It was my 12th admission.

I finally fell asleep.

I knew everything about the psych ward, it was my 6th time in this particular one.

The morning staff are my favorite. They seemed to be happy to see me again when i came out for breakfast.

They moved me to a single room because i am scared of other paitents.

First thing i do every morning i am there, is call my Mom.

over the day, i call her over 20 times.

I go to group, i do crafts, i get one on one therapy.

The psych ward really isn’t SO bad. I just dont like that i cant just walk out the door.

I am locked in and have no freedom, but i do like the fact that there are nurses there 24/7 for taking my BP and heart rate. I feel safe.