Aaaaaaaaand We're Back.

On Thursday evening I did something I would never suggest anyone ever do. I attempted to overdose on a fist full of pills. In retrospect it was more an exercise in self-harm. There was no well thought out plan. There was no giving away of my things. There was no note. In a moment of desperation I swallowed a fist full of my pain meds and then decided what a stupid idea that was and immediately notified my husband.

An ambulance was called and within 20 mins or so I was shunted off to the local hospital for observation. The pills I took didn't warrant having my stomach pumped, so that was a good thing. I was under observation for 12 hours and I woke feeling extremely bratty about the fact that my Husbfriend hadn't been there. Later on I found out that he had been there for hours, but I was pretty much incomprehensible by that stage. There was a mere muttering of words and a few brief movements on the bed, but that was about it.

Come Friday morning I was out of the woods and left in a state of extreme drunkenness without the fun of a good few tequila shots with good mates to balance it out. I couldn't walk a straight line. In fact I actually peed on my foot because I couldn't aim on the toilet properly (I don't sit down properly on public toilet seats). Now that I write it down this does sound much like a night out in my early 20s! All jokes aside the hospital contacted Belmont with the request that I be admitted here due to the high risk I was of reoffending, for lack of a better word. There was a lot of discussion between my Husbfriend and my psychiatrist about whether or not I would be admitted or not.

So I was discharged from Ippy hospital around 10am, went home for more sleep, and then was told to be back at Belmont for 2pm. Trying to get me organised was probably akin to getting a belligerent toddler to pack up his toys at bedtime. I was so so so so tired that I found it hard to get my act together to pack my stuff up. Sometime later I had my bag together and we were out the door, making it here somewhere between 2.30pm amd 3pm. Hooray for my time management skills!

My timing was terrible. My doctor left after our appointment and now won't be back until Monday. There are no activities of any value on over the weekend. So I kind of have to find my own way through the weekend. There are nurses here to talk to if I need to, but it isn't the same. Meanwhile I am spending time with another friend who has been admitted, gone for a bit of a walk, did some painting and moped around wondering how the hell I'm going to fix my broken little self.

If you have any tips or tricks, I'd be happy to hear them.

Love and hugs xxx

This Little Piggy Goes To Market

This weekend I'm doing my first ever market stall for my business as a Plumeria Independent Distributor. I'm nervous and anxious. I don't like being on my own for hours. I had my kit set up, I have my paperwork printed. I have everything I may need. But I already feel that I am going to fail.

My business is awesome. I sell bath bombs, shower bombs, and other beauty items. Recently I have been buying some items to have on hand. A trestle table has been purchased after doing a practice run on a card table and realising it was a bit too small. I took a photo of my smaller table set up but not the bigger one yet.

My anxiety and fears about this market stall scare me. Usually I use this as fuel for not doing what I was going to do at all. So normally I would stick my head in the sand like an emu, and pretend that the world wasn't happening around me. This time I have my trusty Google Pixel phone, I have my earphones, I have e a backlog of podcasts, and I will be surrounded by yummy food. What could go wrong?

With regards to preparation, I have a black and white version of the catalogue printed. I should go get a colour one done tomorrow. I need a display folder of sorts for that. My business cards arrived today and I have an armful of brochures. Not sure that there is much else I can have done.

Still, that nagging feeling is gnawing away at me. That awful anxiety. I have my meds to take if so need. But I find they make me tkees. I just want to be able to take it through the night.

Looking forward to proving myself wrong a d sharing a pic of my set up and talking about my success.

The Time Has Come To Say Farewell... Again

Tomorrow I pack up my worries in my own bag and smile. Or at least try to. I have so many feels and not all of them are good. How do I cope out there? What will be different? Will these meds work? I feel like these questions are just spinning around in my mind all day long. I get excited. I cry. I get excited. I cry. I feel dead on the inside. I cry. Blah blah blah.

I've come up with a few coping strategies. Exercise being one of them. Yep, you heard me right. I am going to get myself walking. Much easier now that the sun isn't trying to suffocate me every time I step out the door. I am going to walk, chuck in my earphones, listen to music, and zone out. There is also a thing called a worry box. You can either have a physical or metaphorical worry box. If there is a worry I write it down and put it in the box. It then gets dealt with at a particular time of the day. Say 7pm. The rest of the day I don't worry about those things. They get pushed aside to a time that is more convenient. Apparently most of the time people find that the things they worried about are no longer that important.

My attitude needs to be different to what it was last time. I need to stop being the victim. I need to stop running away. I need to stop catastrophising. That is one of my biggest issues. "If you got  problem, yo I'll make it a thousand times worse!"does not need to be my mantra. I need to learn to breathe deeper and slower and try to remain focused in the moment. Committing to things is important to. I am doing this Acceptance and Commitment Therapy class on Fridays. I need to commit to that. I am also starting a Cert III in Pathology Assistance in July. So I need to commit to that too. These aren't monumental tasks so I am pretty sure that I can do it. I just have to keep myself motivated. Any tips?

Recently I have begun taking Lithium. It's a mood stabiliser and reminds me of the Nirvana song of the same name. Usually I will read the heck out of the medication list, finding out the side effects, etc. To be honest I think that's made me feel worse. Almost in a psychosomatic sense. However what I do know is that it is used to treat the swinging moods of people with bipolar. So since it seems to be having a good affect on me so far the doctor said that it is a possibility that I have Bipolar Affective Disorder. So now I am on so many meds that I can't believe I have much room left for food. And yet I do!

I'm still waiting to see my doctor for the day, which is a bit annoying since I have been waiting since this morning. I understand he is busy, but I am very busy just sitting around and thinking about how shit I am.

Double Denim Day

Yesterday I had a chat with a friend about her outside view on the private psychiatric hospital that I'm in. We discussed her views before she came to visit, and after she arrived. We also discussed if she would consider admission if the situation were to arise for herself or for her make believe late teens child. We also talk about cheesy bread. A lot.

Prior India was under the impression that it would be a lot more clinical. Like, much less nice and comfortable. Originally she didn't think there would be anything nice about it at all, assuming it would be bare rooms, barred windows, typical movie type set up. Initially she was concerned she would have to sign in like a jail, behind locked doors. She expected the patients would not appear to be as "normal"as they mostly are. Another thing that struck her was the limited number of staff that are in the ward. There is more free reign and not as stringent monitoring. I filled her in on the fact that it is up to the doctors about who is monitored how regularly. I am not monitored regularly at all as I am much less of a risk to myself and others. It really isn't possible for me to just organise to sign in and out. The psychiatrist needs to give approval for me to have leave, how often they need to check me, etc. based on risk. Although those on stricter monitoring aren't watched by orderlies in white coats, like they are in the movies. I originally expected it to be more like https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ioBueVTZ0RM

India admitted to me that she has had some encounters in public mental health as a child seeing a psychiatrist, but never admitted as a patient at all. When asked if she'd consider being admitted if a health professional told her she would  benefit from being hospitalised, would she consider it, she said "Yeah I’d definitely be more inclined to do so. Less afraid. I’d be like wondering where the drugs are at. Hook a sister up! Where’s my sizzler buffet you c*nts are talking about? I want my cheesy bread!" Prior to having visited the hospital and seen it with her own eyes she originally would have told them to "literally go fuck themselves. No chance. None."!

What if the time came that she had a teenager sick enough to be here? "Fucking oath. Absolutely." I think that is something that is confronting for both of us as a parent. This isn’t as if it is an unrealistic possibility. Both of us have our own mental health issues, and that does increase the possibility of a child of our own growing up with them too. My stepson said to me “Yeah cool. I will probably need to come stay here myself sometime soon” hahahahaha. I find it frustrating seeing “normal”people out there who don’t come to places like this when clearly they should. And that is where the problem is. People are too afraid because they don't understand the reality.

To India, the place has a nice tone to it. Although the first time she visited and we went to dinner (still no fucking cheesy bread) she felt rather confronted by seeing some of the people were clearly depressed, or had obvious physical ailments, and those who were sitting alone because they are socially isolated and don’t know anyone or they are too anxious to sit with others. I must admit that I find the communal style of dining to be quite difficult and having to sit and eat with people I don’t know. Even after 4 or so weeks I still find it really awkward to sit across from someone I don’t know. I usually just plug in my earphones and listen to music while I eat.

The worst part about it would have to be the cost. A couple of weeks in a place like this would set you back a couple of thousand dollars. And there are some self funded people here. However with private health funds you are usually covered for psychiatric treatment 2 months after you start yor policy. Please check with a provider and don't take that as gospel. But for anyone who might need some extra help, please look in to it. Private psychiatric inpatient time is vastly different to public inpatient time.

You know you are in a psych hospital when

There are so many subtle differences ​in this ward that make you realise the seriousness of what some people go through. These are all related to stopping people from suiciding. Consider this a trigger warning.

Where do we keep our clothes? In a series of shelves. No wardrobe rail. Fold your things and put them away. Stuff that requires hanging, like dresses, you can skilfully manage to get them on the curtain rail if you are tricky enough​. There are no coat or hat hooks, so thankfully we don't live in the 1950s.

The bathroom makes me feel really sad. The mirror is made of glass. The hand rails are completely covered over so that nobody can get any material through it.

From the moment I first stepped in to the shower I was so confused. How the fuck do I get the water out. They only have these small things that you have to twist to get the water out. The hot water is that hot that I only need to turn the cold on a smidge. I have my theories about the reason behind this, but I won't delve in to that part.

Here's the shower curtain. It is connected by a strong magnet. You can give it a good tug but any extra weight would result in the connection breaking. The shower rod and anything/one conected to it would collapse to the floor.

The door handles are at an angle. Makes it really hard to open them when you have are.s full of stuff. But...

That is probably enough of the dramatic stuff. Just thought that it was really interpreting (interesting/depressing).

Hope you're having a wonderful weekend x

A lapse or a relapse?

I'm back in hospital. Things didn't turn out the way I had expected. These things included my health, my brain, my general symptoms and my inability to feel safe at home. I was at a point where I would have hurt myself or run.

On Monday I had an appointment with my ortho spine specialist. Originally anticipated an appointment to discuss my surgery. He looked at my MRI results and figured that surgery would not do nahzhing. So now I'm back where I was 12 months ago with no idea of what's wrong with me, with hands that ache and go numb, often being unusable. I now hove ankles that sting when I walk, and hips that don't lie about how painful they are. So apparently I finally am getting the rheumatologist referral that I asked for months ago.

After absorbing this information about my health and pain I figured that I wasn't too keen on spending possibly the rest of my life like this. I started formulating an "exit plan". I felt really unsafe and anxious. So then I popped Valium and neulactil like they were lollies just to try to chill out. My psych and GP figured I needed hospital. Belmont doesn't do an Emergency section so I would have to go via the public system. So we skipped Ipswich and headed in to Royal Brisbane Hospital.

When ​we arrived they checked me in and quickly whisked the crazy lady out of the waiting room, only to find myself in another waiting room. I waited around 2 hours on my own before they brought food around. What they didn't factor in was the 5 anti-anxiety pills that I had taken just a few hours earlier. I was so damn tied. Needless to say that by the time they night dinner around halfway through the delicious meal of dried silverside with a side of ugly vegetables that were worth of my digestive tract, I fell asleep. My plate slipped and ended up as part of my clothing ensemble. Thankfully black leggings go with EVERYTHING! I asked for a bed but the logos said no. I had to be seen first. When they finally did offer me a bed I felt as welcome as a cold sore on formal night. Their preference was that I spend the night with my family and see my psychiatrist the next day.

Psychiatrist day came. Yippee! Finally I'd get the help I needed to keep me off the proverbial ledge. He pushed for me to stay at home. I told him if he did not admit me I would go to Toowong hospital and ask to be admitted. Finally he relented and here I am, in my own room and everything.

So here I am. With more to write once my hands feel better and it isn't 4am.

Hope you all slept well xxx

Trigger Warning About Suicidal Thoughts

Hello you sweet readers. I may have to go a little quiet for a bit. See, I'm not doing so well. After a diagnosis from a doctor relating to my pain not being treatable, I have been thinking that life really isn't worth living like this for another 40 or so years. It is not a fun thought to have but sometimes you get to a point where you stop caring.

I have been told that surgery isn't likely to help me long term. The idea of driving into the concrete divider, or drink wine and down a few boxes of opiates became something of a viable option. So I saw my psych with Husbfriend in tow and we decided hospital was the go. We called around to find my options and, well, there aren't many good ones.

First of all, I'm still waiting to hear back from Belmont. Both my psychiatrist and the admissions desk. Second option was for me to go to Ipswich Hospital. I've been there for mental​health issues before and they treated me like and amoeba on a flea on a rat. Fuck that again. So our third option is to drive in to the city to the RBWH, and pretend that I had my mental break on there. They should admit me as a public patient and then move me off to Belmont within 24hours. Fingers crossed.

Problem is, dear reader, I will loose access to technology for a spell. So if I don't post, don't despair. If anything serious occurs, Trent can inform you.

Otherwise, see you on the flip side. Sunny side up.

Home Again Jiggidy Jig

Well, ladies and gentlemen , I am back home!!! It hasn't been an easy time, but I'm getting there. It isn't easy coming from a controlled environment to one that is full of teenagers, a baby, a dog, and three cats. There was so much boy mess, and my senses were on overload. However Husbfriend has done an amazing job of looking after everything in my absence. Couldn't fault him, and wouldn't want to any way. Although the dog did need washing this morning. Smells better now.

The biggest thing I have found since leaving hospital is that a lot of what I brushed off as something else is actually anxiety. I can't take valium forever, so I have started vaping. No nicotine included. Just a vape with something sweet to curb my taste for sweet things. It helps me concentrate on my breathing. I'm a shallow breather naturally, so therefore my oxygen saturation always freaks people out. This is helping with that too. I understand that people will consider this silly, but considering after 10 years I was still tempted to ask for a cigarette this seemed like a better option.

My littlest man had swimming lessons yesterday. Honestly it is one of my most favourite parts of the week. We get to spend some precious time together and he has an absolute blast. This week my beautiful boy levelled up. He is now in Baby Group 3 and I'm super proud. What a way to end a shitty few weeks.

So this week is gonna be a big one. I started with washing the dog this morning, then off for an MRI later in the day (you know people are worried when they squeeze you in on a Sunday day). On Monday I see the spine surgeon and my psychologist, Tuesday my psychiatrist, Thursday I have an appt at Ipswich hospital for preadmission, and Friday. So much for taking it easy.

What do you have on to keep you busy this week?

The Day Before Tomorrow

Tomorrow is the day. It is a Friday, but it is also the day I am meant to be going home. I am both excited and anxious, but I'm also nervous about this horrific weather delaying my plans. Thanksfully I have my Squirtle to cuddle and remind me of my baby boy, whose nickname is Squirtle.

As many of you have likely heard, Brisbane is in the midst of some rotten weather. Well actually most of South East QLD and North East NSW. The train is too dangerous to drive in at times, roads are closing due to flooding, and we have to run the gauntlet between Carindale and Ipswich, which is around 40 mind for those who have no idea where these places are. Plus there are sharks on the road, so fuck driving alongside a fricking shark with fricking laser beams.

So lets say I make it home. What's next? Well I see my psychologist on Monday, my ortho spine specialist Monday, my psychiatrist on Tuesday, and then start ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy) on Friday I think. There are a whole lot of things to keep me busy during the week, so I am sure I won't have to worry about not being supported after I leave. I am very much looking forward to seeing my big boys, my kitties, and my Renly. I haven't seen much of this lot, so I am desperate for some time with them. Who knows, we might even get to play some Exploding Kittens.

If things don't go to plan, as they sometimes don't, I am able to come back for more intensive therapy. Apparently going home can be a massive anxiety trigger. We live in a pretty controlled environment here. There isn't an abundance of stimulation to make your senses explode. It is all pretty calm. Home, on the other hand, can be complete chaos. Dogs chasing cats, kids not cleaning their rooms, mess, noise, etc etc etc. So not only is there the anxiety that comes from leaving hospital, but there is the anxiety that comes from being in our own daily lives again. When I see my psychiatrist on Tuesday he will assess me and see how I'm going. However readmission is only a phone call away.

The biggest question I've had to ask myself is, where do I go from here? Well I have my ACT group and Psych appts. I want to get to the stage where I have Ezra back home with me out of day care for one day a week so we can go swimming and have fun together. Furthering my education is a big thing for me to pursue, especially considering how many times I've started and failed study due to my self esteem convincing me that I'm totally shithouse. So I am going to work on that in baby steps, starting with an on campus Cert III in something or other. Might as well get an edumacation, right?

Time for me to embrace these medications and go to sleep. I need to put my worries away for another day and see what tomorrow brings.

Lots of love to you all

This is what depression and anxiety looks like

My day started off relatively well. I'm doing Optifast this week (planning to continue and will post about this some other time) and I start to the food plan. There was a session on called "Managing Your Emotions" which seemed like a really appropriate session for me. We all got seated, I borrowed a pen because I didn't think to take one, and then I got called to my appointment with my psychiatrist. So bang went that crystal set. However the session with my psychiatrist went relatively well and I left feeling pretty good about taking on the day.

At 3pm there was a relaxation session that I wanted to go to for the second time. It is located in this weird little section where you enter on the ground floor, yet somehow you have to go down the lift to get to the other ground floor. I had arrived early because I wanted to make sure I was there on time. Seeing the little kitchen nearby prompted me to go make myself a cup of tea (Madura tea bag, a splash of zymil milk and an Equal to sweeten it). "Wouldn't it be a nice idea to go and have this cup of tea in the sun?" I asked myself. Back to the lift I went and pressed the button to go to the other ground level. However I ended up in the Basement. Fuck knows how that happened. But I could see trees and figured it was as good an exit point as any. Down the drive there was a shady path surrounded in fresh air. Just what I needed! When I had a few minutes before the relaxation class was due to start, I made my way back to the lift. I pressed the button. Nothing happened. I pressed it again. Still nothing. Then I noticed a swipe card thingo there. I could only get in if I had access. So I had to try to find my way back by walking the long way around. Unfortunately I didn't have a lot of success.

Before long I found my brain going down the rabbit hole. It started with "Urgh you're an idiot. You can't even make it to class properly". Followed with "There goes my three sessions a day target. Looks like I've failed again". Then we spiraled in to thinking about all of the times I haven't succeeded or completed something, That I'm useless. That I'm a bad example to my children. That they'd be better off without me. That I should just walk down the hill to Creek Rd (a busy street in Brisbane) and walk in to the middle of the traffic. I transformed into a crying, heaving, puffy eyed mess. Nobody ever said that depression isn't pretty, but not many people show exactly how that looks. I want to change that. Here is me and here is an explanation of how I feel.

My eyes hurt. They feel scratchy, puffy, tight and dry. Crying has a really horrid affect on my eyes. They become these little slits that make it hard to see much in my peripheral. Which isn't really a bad thing since I'm feeling pretty self-centered at the time. Being a glasses wearer increases the level of discomfort. I can't wear my glasses when I'm crying, but I also can't see for shit and therefore my self-loathing only increases. "I'm so useless. I can't even wipe my tears or stop myself from bumping in to things, or find where I've flung my glasses when I needed to find a tissue."

Snot is a part of life. It is there to make us look awkward when someone points out that we have bats in the cave. It runs out of our nose like a tap when we have hay fever and the season changes. It goes green when we have some kind of funky infection. It also clogs up my face as soon as I cry for more than 2 minutes. Before long I'm in a position where I can't breathe through my nose. Unfortunately this makes it really difficult when the nurse comes to try to assist me by telling me to "take a biiiiiiiiig deep breath in through your nose and then sloooooooowly exhale". Ummmmmm I can't even breathe in through my nose AT ALL. So how the feck am I going to do that???

One of the stupidest things that I did in my self hatred moment was clean my lipstick off. Very vigorously. With a dry face washer. All the while I was telling myself how ugly I was and that I shouldn't even bother putting lipstick on in the first place because I'm such an ugly fat beast that makeup only serves to make me look ridiculous. So I hate-cleaned my beautiful Lime Crime lipstick off. Eventually I wet the cloth because I found the dryness wasn't appropriate for actually removing shit. But now here I am, with the shiniest feeling lips in the universe. Shiny, but not in a good way. I need to get some moisture in those buggers any minute now. BRB.

Yeah, now that I think about it I should have done something for my skin while I was off looking after the moisture on my lips. In order to clear up my nose I wet another cloth and then put some drops of  Wide Awake essential oil from Plumeria which I huffed and puffed until I could blow air out of my nose. Now my face feels drier than a you know what. So I think it's time for a shower and a moisturise.

This is the physical side of depression. Well, part of it. Sometimes it is easier. Sometimes it can be much much worse. But this is a pretty good insight.

Love and good wishes to you all, and thanks for the positive feedback so far xx

Nightmares Are Balls

OK seriously. Why on earth does our brain give us nightmares? How is there possibly any reasonable explanation for why we wake up in tears, having relived a trauma from our past. Especially after yesterday was rough enough as it is, thanks to a potential bad reaction to my new meds. Although the awesome group sessions I attended and shopping trip with Husbfriend made it totally worth it.

Just a few minutes ago I woke to find my heart racing and my eyes watering. I can recall dreaming about some past trauma, my subconscious playing on my insecurities. I'm not good enough, I'm an easy target, I'm overreactive, it's funny to see me get upset. So now my brain is racing and I can't sleep. Should I go and get something to make me sleep and miss out on my morning gym session? Or do I hold out and save my PRN (anti anxiety meds) for later in the day since I always run short? Decisions, decisions.

Speaking of medication, as I've mentioned previously I have started a new med called Pristiq. I woke fine yesterday morning, however when Husbfriend arrived and took me shopping I found myself very overstimulated by the lights, sounds and movement there. My vision was a bit sparkly (as in things looked like they were sprinkled with glitter), and I felt very agitated. My speech was quite scattered and I found it really hard to focus, jumping from conversation to conversation without finishing the last. Definitely wasn't the best I've ever felt. Not even close.

On the topic of shopping, I did manage to pick up some amazing​ things, courtesy of a tax adjustment working out in my favour.  I got myself a swag of stuff at Daiso, which is an amazing Japanese store filled with items that are only $2.80 unless otherwise marked. I filled my basket with an assortment of goodies, freaking out that I would have spent close to $100+ dollars. Worked out I only spent $40. THIS PLACE IS AMAZING! I also went and got my other nostril pierced to match the other side. Believe I or not I got it to help with a compulsion I have. Hopefully it works!

Groups are part of our every day life here. As a general rule you should attend 3 sessions a day. Today I only managed two as I had also gone for a walk around the grounds for 30 mins as exercise.. One of them was a relaxation session (which helped my wired brain) and the other was a creative writing session. I loved it! Got my mind to head off in a more creative and mindful direction. Well not entirely long term. But it did help for the short term.

I should probably attempt this sleep thing. I feel wiped out after succumbing to PRN. I wish you all a wonderful day ❤️

I'm Certified!

Just a quick one to say that yesterday I completed my Cognitive Behavioural Therapy course. This is the first course I have completed since Year 10. I have started many, including my Year 12 study, Uni degrees, Tafe courses, etc
 None of them have been completed. And now here I am, the proud owner of a certificate that I received in my mental hospital hahahaha.

While I may make a little fun of​ it I have to admit that I am so damn proud of myself. I could have stopped going. Others did. Even on the evening before I only had 4 hours sleep and I was tempted to skip it. So damn glad I didn't.

Pic of certificate to come.

Time for the Freakin' Weekend (I'll drink to that yeah yeah)

Weekends have a whole new meaning when you're in hospital. Therapy stops, therefore your whole routine stops. Suddenly you only have to do the things you choose to do. Which is a bit of a double-edged sword. For those who don't have friends or family to visit, or who don't feel like engaging with the outside world at all, I could imagine it would be a pretty dark couple of days. Thankfully I have the opposite. Although throw a medication change in there, and you have a bit of trouble brewing underneath.

Yesterday I had a couple of visitors. My lovely friend Jess came to pick me up and take me for a cruise around the shopping centre. We got our nails done, drank coffee and looked in clothes shops. I picked up a few of the bits and pieces that I needed, and a few that I didn't need but really wanted. Leggings (to wear as pants), thongs, makeup bag, and some body scrub to try to give my sense of smell a bit of a good time. We laughed lots, avoided committing crimes, and made it back to the hospital only almost an hour later than I said I would. Un/fortunately nobody seemed to notice/care that I wasn't back in time. I know I am a low risk patient, so perhaps that accounts for it?

Later in the afternoon I had a visit from three of my boys. My stepson wasn't feeling well so he stayed behind, however I had Aedin, Ezra and Trent here which was amazing. We went to a little wing place called Lord of the Wings. Ah mah gahd! It was so great. Wings, burgers, poutine, mozzarella sticks. How could you go wrong??? Can't wait for someone to come visit me around dinner time so we can go there again. And to top the night off, when we got back to my room I was able to take my littlest guy in for a shower with me. This is one of our routines that I have missed the most. Afterwards he lay on the bed with me and had a bottle. It was divine. A-Dawg had a great time playing with my Nintendo Switch, drinking the complimentary hot chocolate, and eating as many of the biscuits as he could hahahaha. Gosh I love that kid.

Sunday rolled around before I knew it, and thankfully my roomie woke me to let me know that today was Cooked Breakfast Day. Considering I had missed breakfast the past few mornings I decided I should definitely make a move to score myself some bacon. There are not many more motivating forces stronger than bacon, amirite? Afterwards I worked on doing my laundry and waited for my boys to visit again. This time I had the pleasure of seeing Trent, Ezra and Josh. I grabbed the box of equipment required to play table tennis and we went outside for some fresh air. Ezra had an absolute blast. Apparently people hitting a tiny little plastic ball is HILARIOUS! Ez gives it 10/10. We had a nice afternoon and it was sad having to say goodbye again.

The rest of the afternoon has been pretty ordinary. Anxiety levels have been high. The doc is weaning me off my current medication, which can account for some of it. However it wasn't until I came in here that I realised a lot of the symptoms I've been having have been anxiety. The biggest one being shortness of breath in the absence of exercise. Some moments I find that I just can't seem to catch my breath, no matter how hard I try. Thankfully my psychiatrist had written me up for some valium to take when I feel I need it. Problem is, the more I wean off this medication, the more the anxiety is kicking in. I'm not looking forward to how I will feel the next few days.

Anyway it's almost time for me to go and get my nighttime medications. I've already had my shower and spoilt my senses with some body scrub. I've rubbed some magnesium cream into my sore ankle (I'm doing a magnesium cream experiment as present, which I will talk about soon), and soon I will lay in bed with the lights off, and some Iron Fist on my laptop while I wait for sleep to hit. Sleep seems to be a lot more accommodating now that I am on some different medications. Once I go to sleep, I stay asleep.

Now enough about me, tell me about you. How was your weekend?

Therapy Begins

It has been a shit couple of days. Not because of the facility, it is because of my illness. My head has been taking me to some dark places and it really hasn't been nice. But I'm doing ok. Please don't worry. Lol I just accidentally typed dong instead of don't. See! I'm fine.

The Cognitive Behaviour Therapy has been interesting. We have discussed how the brain processes "worry". We have talked about depression and anxiety, the what when where how. It has been great information​, but the introspection afterwards can be rough. I've cried, hated myself, thought about how much of a burden I am, how much of a failure I am, how I wish I could just die. Thankfully I had my wonderful my here who looked after me, stood with me while I had a shower and washed my back. He let me know that things were ok.

I started some new medication last night to help me sleep. It was so good to actually have a good few solid hours of sleep. Sleep is so amazing because you can do it in your PJs, but having dreams can go either way. Unfortunately I woke this morning after a horrible dream and found myself in a mini panic attack. The realisation that it was just a dream helped bring me back down.

The food has been good. The coffee has been fine. Well the stuff I buy has been fine. The shit they provide is so darn awful that it makes me sad when I see people drink it.

Anyway just a little update for you all. Hopefully I will have some positive news to share next week ❤️

The First of Many

Today I woke feeling a little less enthusiastic than the day before. The reality of being away from my family had hit a bit, and so did the snoring of my roommate. Although to be fair she wasn't as loud as Trent is.

I made my way to the cafe after breakfast and got myself a coffee, which wasn't too terrible and made me not want to stab something. I did try the machine coffee in the kitchen but it was a Nescafe machine and the coffee tasted like a mixture of dirt and ash. Although to be fair I did kind of expect that it would, so at least I wasn't let down. The little cafe is pretty cute. There is indoor and outdoor seating, and some food options. The coffee was decent and it made me feel less like I was in hospital and unable to leave the grounds for 72 hours. When Trent came to visit a little later we walked down to grab a coffee and share a brownie together (nawwww).

Therapy wise I met with my psychiatrist again and talked a little about how I'm doing and what I'm going to be doing. He has got me in to a 2 week CBT course starting tomorrow morning. I do about 2 hours a day there learning about Cognitive Behavioural​ Therapy and how to use it in my every day life. The course actually started on Monday so to save me waiting another week they have managed to get me in if I do a bit of catchup reading tonight. Thankfully I don't have Foxtel here otherwise I'd be all "sorry but I really have to watch the latest episode of The Walking Dead. BYEEEEEE".

I went to the gym today and did a workout with the exercise physiologist which was great. He did a bit of an assessment first and I talked about my nerve root issues and my joint pain. He got me doing some treadmill, exercise bike, rower, and some hand weights. I'm not gonna lie. It felt good man. The sweat was dripping off me like crazy so I can back to my room for a shower and to spend some more time with Trent before he went home.

It was after he left that I felt like I was going to crumble. I didn't sleep too well and then I exhausted myself at the gym. I miss my boys. I am yearning for a cuddle with my baby. So while the facilities are amazing, I still have this brain of mine for company. And the depression and anxiety follows me everywhere I go. Even to the dinner buffet.

I am hoping that I am able to work on what I need to do to make life more positive and fulfilling. Depression has taken so much from me and let it hang on like a toxic friend. The kind of toxic friend I really need to get rid of.

By My Own Admission

I've had mental health issues since I was around 15 years old. I have struggled with depression and anxiety, signs of PTSD, and suicidal ideations. I have taken more medications that you can poke a stick at, and seen more therapists than I have fingers. Yet here I am almost 26 years later still struggling with the black dog.

Today I took the plunge and did something I've needed to do for a long time. I checked in to a private psychiatric hospital as an inpatient. There is a reason why I have done this now, and I will talk about that some other time. For now I want to talk about what my first day has been like.

I received a call this morning advising me that I needed to be here at 1pm. What the fuck! I thought I was going to be admitted on Tues or Weds. I don't have enough clean clothes! Ezra had gone to his Family Day Carer and I didn't get to say a proper goodbye! Cue internal meltdown. I still managed to get my stuff packed and buy myself some new pyjamas while Trent (my husbfriend) toddled off and bought me a freaking Nintendo Switch. Fuck yes! He wins best human of the year award.

We arrived here just after 1pm and waited for someone to come take me to my room and show me around. And waited. And waited. Eventually the nurse showed up and took me to my room to fill out forms before she took me for a tour. So I filled them out and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally a friend of mine with some experience here had popped in to see me so she gave me the tour. Hooray!

I got to meet the psychiatrist who I will be treated by. He seems really nice and has super clear handwriting, so I'm not sure that he actually is a doctor. I might need to check his credentials next time to make sure he isn't another patient who is delusional, who just thinks he is a doctor.

Dinner time came and went. There is a cute little buffet which the nurse told me was a more upmarket version of Sizzler. There was a distinct lack of cheesy toast so I have decided that she is either a liar or fucking delusional :D But seriously the food is pretty decent and there is also a cafe here so here's hoping they make a decent cup of coffee in the morning. Otherwise I will likely end up on the section with the padded cells.

All in all, my first experience here has been pretty good. I have a roomie who is nice and pretty much does her own thing. The psychiatrist told me that I am looking at a minimum of two weeks here. I will be chilling out, doing some group therapy, taking part is an exercise program and making sweet arse art projects. Just waiting for Angelina Jolie to swing by soon to take me on some crazy night time adventure like in Girl, Interrupted.

Good night lovers ❤️