Maybe By The Sea

Yesterday I had a mega awesome freak out.

I don’t know what was wrong with me.  I guess I had anxiety and exhaustion building for days and then it turned into a full-blown suicidal anxious psychosis.  I was scared I was going to die.  I was scared that actually I couldn’t live like *this* any more anyway.  I thought I might actually do something bad, but I was going to call work first and tell them that I couldn’t do the job any more because I was too ill and it was making me more ill and they would be better off without me and sorry for letting them down but it was nice knowing them and everything.  Then I was going to kill myself.  I didn’t quite figure out how.  I didn’t want to overdose in my bed because then my parents would find me and I didn’t want that.  I wanted to drive somewhere.  Maybe by the sea.

What I really wanted was for someone to talk to, but there wasn’t any one.  I was too far gone to ask for help from friends (not that I have many of those in the real world).  I could’ve posted here, just to try to get things straight in my head, but I wasn’t thinking straight.

Somehow, trembling, I managed to get to my GPs office. I felt very scared and out of control.  I was going to ask him if there was anyway I could be admitted to hospital so they could euthanase me.  They do it in Switzerland for chronic mental illness.  I’d done my reasearch a long time ago.  I was going to suggest they do it for me here, because it was what I wanted, I would give my consent.  I just wanted to fall asleep and not wake up.

The idiot sat across from his desk to me.  I told him I didn’t feel real.  He asked “Like a zombie?”, “I guess,” I said.  He said there was nothing he could do and I should contact my psychiatrist.  I sat trembling.  I managed to walk back to the car, tears stinging my eyes. I thought that was it. My death sentence.  I could get a pipe and attach it from my car exhaust through the window and die of carbon monoxide poisoning, like they do in the movies.  I didn’t have a pipe.

I got my ”crisis card” out of my purse.  When I was discharged from individual therapy, my psychologist and I made an “emergency plan”.  I’ve always been too scared to ask for help.  I’m scared it makes me look vulnerable.  We did a lot of work on that in therapy.

I couldn’t call the number on the crisis card.  I’m not very good on the telephone at the best of time, especially when my voice is wobbling with anxiety. The drive from the GP office is not far from where the mental health team ”live” so I decided to drive there.  If I got there and changed my mind, I didn’t have to go in and talk to them.

I didn’t feel real anyway, so once I got there it didn’t matter if I went in or not, because it wasn’t real. I got buzzed in by reception and spoke to someone on the desk, other people queuing for their therapists.  “I don’t know what to do, I don’t feel well, my GP is being useless, I don’t know what to do” voice shaking worse than an hour ago.

The lady on the desk said “Do you want me to get someone for you from our duty team to talk to you?”, “Yes please, if that’s OK” I replied.  “It’s Sailor isn’t it?”, ”Yes,” I was surprised she remembered my name, even though I’ve not had an appointment for two months.

I took a seat for a while.  The lady sitting next to me kept asking if I was ok, I must’ve looked a right state. She started talking absent-mindedly to me, it was her first time there, she must’ve been as nervous as I was but perhaps a different kind of nervous. I assured her that everyone was really nice here.  She offered me a drink of water, I declined.

A lady psychologist came out from the offices and took me into one of the interview rooms.  I don’t remember much really, but we talked for a long time. It helped sort my brain out and helped reassure me that perhaps I might be able to continue.  It re-inforced that I’m still “in the system” and help is on its way, but it seems that I am on a huge waiting list again.  Since discharge from individual therapy I’ve been on a waiting list for group therapy.  I haven’t spoken to anyone since November and they’ve failed to keep me updated on what’s going on.  I’ve since found out that group therapy won’t start until March. My psychiatrist forgot about me, so a new appointment has been made for another medication check.  God knows how long that’ll take for an appointment to come through.

After I was feeling better, I went home, tidied myself up and got ready to go to work.

I can’t believe I made it in. Sometimes I don’t know how I manage it and wonder if I’m really ill at all.  I guess, really, I’m just too scared of letting people down, and that is what keeps me going, despite the fact that I’m let down time after time.  In the meantime…….

Love Sailor xox