Crash

The breakdown came. The tears flowed morning, noon and thereafter. A phonecall, a trip to the minor injuries unit & an emergency GP appointment.

There was so much comfort i wanted yet so little i got. From K, the nurse who patched me up, No. From my boss briefly, but from his dog plenty! I think if i'd asked the newer receptionists (who don't know my detailed and unsettled history with the doctors surgery and my teenage attachments with staff there) i may have got a hug but i purposely didn't accept their offers to sit behind reception to hide my distress from others because i really wanted to try and leave that troubled teenage longing behind. It was too hard though and just caused more tears and sobs. G seemed to understand this when i explained it to her, and it was nice to know that there's someone there who understands and knows my fears and panic.

Seeing K felt so safe in her room. I knew the destruction wasn't going to happen there, and i knew i could cry as much as my eyes would let me (which seems to be infinite). She gave me 2 different PRN meds for anxiety and panic, one for psychological and one for the physical symptoms. And the anti-depressant, which was the original reason for the telephone consultation, has been changed yet again to Sertraline (Zoloft or Lustral), hopefully no more sleeping but a lift in mood again.

I can handle mild depression, maybe even moderate but when it reaches severe and/or destructive, it's too much to manage alone.

K told me to call her in the week if things got out of control, i don't want to phone her because i know if the meds don't contain things the next step is one i don't want to take. I'm not going back to Serpent Ward, i know i don't really want to. Yet the place has been playing on my mind, day dreams almost like flashback about the place. Something inside me has been questioning whether a rest there would be an escape for a while but as i realised when i was saying all this to K, it's not going to let me escape from me mind and what goes through my head.

K tells me she's pleased with me, but everytime she tell me i struggle to accept it. She say i've come a long way and i understand what she means. As a teenager i would have overdosed or run away when feeling like this, but instead i ran to her - i ran to her for help. It just doesn't feel very different to those previous years, up here, in my head. The thoughts are the same, the destructive demon inside my mind still compels me to do the same things. The main difference is my age, my maturity - i've grown up. I think of others now. Mum, in particular. I was semi honest tonight after trying to put up the front. She still doesn't know how bad things got today, at least i hope she doesn't.

K always brings me back to reality. After sorting out short term meds and changing the other over, i mentioned her earlier suggestions of a stabiliser to go with the anti depressant. I wasn't meaning there and then, i simply wanted her to know i was thinking of it. Her words:

"perhaps this is not the time to think about that, when you are so acutely ill right now."

Acutely Ill. I'm verging on hospital. I'm even considering it myself! She's right. Things aren't good. I need to stop denying it. I'm just hoping today's crash was the bottom and that there's no further to fall.





P.S I don't think Eastenders helped a great deal but i felt i needed to watch it, as though i was being cowardly if i didn't. But that scene with Stacey Slater is very similar to how my first hospital admition came about. Police, chases round the village, ambulance journey to A & E and a sobbing mother & daughter. I was 14 at the time though and went willingly to escape, so sectioning wasn't necessary on that occassion.