Been awhile

Been a little while since I wrote anything here. Two days after I wrote my last post, my world started to really crumble and I ended up in the hospital again. The sad thing, well not really sad...the pathetic thing is more like it, is that I knew it was happening and I did nothing to stop it. I'm so full of self loathing that I would rather die than do anything to help myself when I know I'm headed downward.

Saw my pdoc on the 3rd and he offered to put me back on the Lamictal I'd taken about six months earlier. Said maybe since I was on different meds now that it may work this time. I was feeling so hopeless, in part because the Lithium was making me so sick, that I told him no thanks. Told him I never should have even gone to his office. He kept asking what my plans were, asked if I wanted to be in the hospital, but I didn't answer. Guess what I wanted him to do was save me because I couldn't save myself, though I know that isn't right. No one can save me but me.

I ended up leaving his office completely distraught and going to the hardware store across the street to buy razor blades. Just started out as cutting to release the rage, but each cut down my forearm got deeper and deeper. Finally decided that when I got to my wrist, that would be it...I'd make sure I sliced thru the vein. But when it came time to make that final slash, I couldn't do it. I saw the blood already flowing down my arm and thought of my daughter. Thought how incredibly selfish it would be for me to desert her, to leave her without the one person she depends on most for love, support and understanding.

So I drove myself over to the hospital. Of course they freaked when they saw all the blood. Insisted that I at least let a nurse look at my arm to make sure I didn't need medical attention. I refused and told them I was physically ok, but that I needed to be admitted.

I'll never understand this hospital. It's the closest one to me now, plus I'd been there previously so that's why I drove myself there. They had told me before when I was trying to help reconcile my account with them earlier in the year that Medicaid does not pay for inpatient stays for people 18-65 at psychiatric hospitals. Said though that they could not turn anyone away that needed hospitalization. Their little plaque said at the very least they had to stabilize you and then they could transfer you elsewhere.

Guess it turns out that this particular hospital just won't accept Medicaid. You have to be rich and/or have excellent insurance to be a patient there. Considering the number of people in this country that don't have insurance, that to me is really asinine. But I guess they can make their own rules...and ignore rules as they want, like the stabilizing you first one.

They left me sitting around for 4 and a half hours while they made arrangements to ship me off to another hospital. They didn't even try to stabilize me. They just held me against my will, ignored my requests for something to eat and to maybe have a smoke, didn't allow me to make a phone call until my mom called in hysterics trying to locate me because I hadn't returned home, and then they had the nerve to actually suggest I needed to be in restraints because I was so angry and swearing at them. Well hello?!?!? I think anyone in that situation would have been pissed as hell.

Wasn't a long inpatient stay. Went in on Friday and was out on Wednesday, so just 5 days. I probably should have been there longer, but being a repeat admittee, I know what to say and do, plus how to act to get myself out quicker. I know I'm only doing a disservice to myself by leaving before I should, but I can only handle so many days in the nuthouse before it becomes more harmful then helpful anyway. I didn't want to turn this time into another month long stay like the last one.

I've been doing ok since I got out, which is better than I was doing when I went in. The depression is still there, but the suicidal thoughts aren't. Saw my therapist the day I got out and she tried to dump yet another diagnosis on me. Tried to tell me I have post traumatic stress syndrome from all the abuse I suffered as a child. I read the brochure she gave me and did some research online. I don't think that one applies to me, the only criteria I even matched are the same ones that apply for depression. None of the rest applied, so when I saw her this week I told her I didn't believe I had that. Last thing I need is more labels making me feeling even more defective than I already do, especially ones that don't seem to me to fit.