Runaround Sue

In NY I had this hospital I went to frequently. It was very nice. One time I had an episode, ended up in the ER, and by the time I was medically cleared, there were no beds at the nice place. So I got sent somewhere else. Well, they sent me to a MICA (mentally ill, chemically addicted) ward. I don't know if it was because that was the only bed or they thought I needed it because I took pills with alcohol. Now, there is nothing wrong with being chemically addicted. It's just not my problem. And normally hospitals mix these people, which is fine. But being on a ward for this specifically in an urban area was a little, shall I say, advanced. One night I was sitting there coloring when two patients started threatening to kill each other. Frightened, I continue to color and stay out of things. While I was sitting there, two other patients started talking. One said, "I know her. She gives $10 blow jobs behind Stewart's for crack." Ok, then...

Lost and Found

I suppose I should share an anecdote rather than just ramble. So here goes. When I was hospitalized for nearly three months, I started getting bored and had cabin fever. Who wouldn't? They did 15 minute checks there and I had grown used to them. However one day, while they were doing them, they didn't notice me in the hallway. So I decided to experiment. I would duck into rooms after they had already checked them and basically followed behind them. After they checked my room, I went in there and hid. My room was close to the nurses station so I head them saying, "where's Melissa?" I let them sweat it out a bit and then walked casually out of my room making sure they noticed me. They asked me where I had been and I said, "Oh, in my room." They looked bewildered and a lady said, "I could've sworn I looked in there." We just all shrugged it off and I walked away chuckling to myself. Yeah, I'm an ass.

Take a Chance on Me

As I mentioned before, I am graduating DBT. It has been a tumultuous start to the year. I had two hospitalizations in February and one in May. There have been numerous med changes and countless calls to my therapist (yay, phone coaching). I've felt recently like my therapist has given up on me. As I move away from the hospitalization and into more stability I feel less like that. Let's check the facts. I started DBT in 2013. It usually lasts a year. It has been about a year and a half. I wasn't forced to graduate - I was asked nicely when I wanted to. Still, part of me is thinking, "shit, they're going to throw a fucking party when I'm gone." I've never been in a therapy program that ends. I can go back to the therapist that I saw before but I kind of like my current one and I feel like we do good work. It's just triggering sometimes. But it's like one of my therapists (who was a little nutty) correctly said, sometimes it's like a pregnant woman giving birth. You have to learn to push through the pain, not avoid it. So I guess as I wrap up, I need to use my time wisely, push through the pain, and not freak this therapist out like I did earlier this year. Hopefully the Saphris is working and I won't relapse for another year (or more!).

And This is Crazy

Let me introduce myself. I am in my thirties (never mind the specific year), I'm married, have no kids (but I have two beautiful cats, Astrid and Mabel), and I live in Virginia. I have a PhD in Physics, Particle Physics to be exact and I have done all this with a significant mental illness. I've been told many diagnoses over the years and I think the closest I can say is that I have Bipolar and Borderline Personality Disorder. Some professionals feel more strongly about one or the other but those seem to come up the most. So I just say I have those two. I am on meds, like so many others. I take Lamictal, Saphris (better know as Ass-phris because it is nasty), Zoloft, Remeron, and Buspar. At this point I could probably drop one, maybe two but I am currently stable (thank FSM!) and I don't want to mess with things. I have had ECTs before but not since 2008. They were helpful but I have managed to live without them in the past couple of episodes, luckily. I have had more hospitalizations than I can count (we're up in like the 15-20 range at this point). I had a psychiatrist point out that was a lot (thank you!) but surely they've seen worse. I have tried to kill myself many times, some more severe than others but none even close to successful. When I'm not suicidal, I'm grateful for that. I had one psychiatrist point out that my method of choice was stupid (again, thank you!). I don't plan on going back to that hospital. You can argue that I don't really want to die, and there might be some truth in that. I am afraid to die but sometimes living with myself is unbearable. It's hard to explain why. I just hate myself. Sometimes that makes me sad but it's true. And this is a really long intro.

Hey, I Just Met You

I have written many blogs. Some we won't mention in the general public...But I was recently reading through an old one and realized how bitter I am/was. I am ending DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy) soon (I graduate next week) and I thought maybe I needed to begin to reflect on how I'm feeling now. Or maybe continue harping on old points. Anyways, I thought it might be nice vomit out my life as a mentally ill person. Probably no one will read it. That's ok. It's just kind of fun to do.