"My head's fucked up and I'm in a mess,
too many drugs make me high,
I wanna cause havoc, I wanna die!"
Words from The League which at the moment ring very true for me.
Since coming off one lot of anti-d's and going on another, walking and thinking has become a task on its own. My temper over the weekend and Monday was like The Hulk with a hangover who's just discovered he's out of painkillers.
Cd's were flung, things tossed about the place; anything that I bumped into suffered my rage. This all culminated in a big SH on Sunday which left my thigh looking like the death of a hundred cuts. The odd thing is, though, at the end of it when I felt like my inner rage had been calmed I realized that the chances of me doing it again would be nigh on nil. have since binned my blade. Looking at the mix of slight, deep, long and small slits on my thigh I also finally understood that this wasn't how people deal with 'stuff'. something which I have never really concluded before in all the years that I have SH'd.
So, next day, after feeling dizzy as and not in the highest of spirits, off to Hospital I went just like I did back last Oct.
In I went Monday morning and the first conversation I had before mentioning 'it' regarded the confectionery machine. I thought the nurse wanted water so I offered her some of mine. 'Not that rubbish,' she said -odd for a nurse?- she wanted choccy. 'Ok,' I smiled and then told her that I wanted to kill myself.
Quite an odd way to start my hospital admission day no?
You would think that having admitted to wanting to so something like that to oneself there would be a sense of urgency to proceedings. Which there were.
Nearly fours hours later I saw the clinic psychiatrist. In total, I was there for nearly six hours, an hour of which was with said Psych'.
I think the idea is to bore you out of suicidal feelings.
On the plus side, I did get to spend it away from people in a separate room with three pictures of a sunny beach and I did get a sarnie and a tea.
On the down side, waaaaiiitttiiinnngggg and then a sluggish response from the crisis team.
Last Oct when I'd actually tried to top myself the response was a bit faster but only say, compared to a snail moving on a slight incline as opposed to a flat surface.
So, saw the crisis team the next day and that was ok, a good chat and an agreement that they'd look into other ways to try and sort my big flare ups and send my Doctor either group therapies to attend and/or other therapies available in the area.
We shall see though. They said they'd call next day and so far, nowt.
The new meds haven't really kicked in but from what little difference there is, I'm more sleepy -getting up is like getting up on a Monday when thinking it was a Friday- and my head and thought sin general ,when not in a rage, are kinda, soft. That's all I can write really.
I seem more emotional than usual too, certain Boss songs do it as does me crying over MSP's guitar solo break in, 'Motorcycle Emptiness'. It is a beautiful bit though.
Doesn't really tell you the full story but right now I can't. It is very difficult to put into words, the feeling, the dreams, everything. Something is a bit different though but what, I just don't know. At least, not yet.
One more thing that I have realized too is that keeping, 'King of Queens' and 'Frasier' on whilst I am in a sleepy med' induced slumber makes for more view-able and more interesting plot lines and interesting dreams too.
I do sort of recall art of my dream from last night. something about seeing Bristol city in a field sort of stadium like venue and wanting a cider and opting for some sort of Pear cider. This, of course, led me to buy some today. It's more about the partial visuals and the feelings from the dreams and its aftermath more than the dream itself though. Hmmm.
"Black hole, won't you come and wash away the rain, Black hole sun, won't you come......"