I am bunking off!

Seriously, I should be at the unit right now and once again I am taking Sunday/Monday off. I cannot face going back but also, I have chosen to take the days off to sort myself out – I have to attend the STI and family planning clinics and I felt it was best that I took responsibility and sorted it all out here in Chichester rather than in London, only to have to send my notes down when I leave the unit.

I have got myself into a rather huge mess and if I am honest, I left the unit in a very bad mood on Friday. I wish I could leave now in some ways, but in others, I wish I could stay there forever. It is only the thought of how hard it will be to leave, that is making me act like a right bollocks – I am so scared that in 9 weeks time, I will be alone again. If I work on stuff up there and it opens a can of worms, then in a few weeks, I will back here with just outpatients to rely on. It sounds so pathetic, but if I fight and argue then I won’t be so hurt. But then again, I will not be using the unit to its full potential. Grrrrr. I have all these areas of ambivalence and confusion, like how during the week, the unit firmly controls my meds and treatment, yet Friday – Sunday, I am allowed to do it all. They will not let me do my own meds at all. It’s like they say I am useless all week but suddenly on Fridays, I am responsible?? Then all the stuff about being abandoned in Kings – I am still really hurt that the second I was physically ill, they just left me. I feel that those 3 days were awful, I was given no support or help with the difficult issues bought up by having that kind of treatment. I was not given any space to get my head around it all. I talk about my experiences over the years of being ill and in hospital – all of which are very hard because I get flashbacks all the time, but they (the staff) stop me and say I am talking about the wrong thing. If I am upset by something, surely then it is worth discussing? The relationships between me and a number of the staff are very strained and I know that they do not like me as much as the other residents. One nurse hugged another resident in front of me as if to say ‘J deserves a hug as she is good, you do not because you are bad Sian,’ I am so anxious al the time, my anxiety scores have doubled since my admission (they test our depression, anxiety and social functioning scores 3 times per 6 months of admission).

But the argument with the staff on Friday was my entire fault. I was upset that the doctor of the unit is leaving. I have argued with him before but then we started to get on. So, I thought that I would be able to see him and say goodbye properly so that the therapeutic relationship was ended (closure issues and all that ….). But the staff said that I had to say goodbye in group. No reason, just a decision. I refused. I will not talk about really personal stuff in group. It was bad enough to have to answer questions about my hygiene and cleanliness in front of the group (I do not look after myself very well – I have a new care plan demanding that I clean myself up and try to take more pride in my appearance – embarrassing and humiliating but at least I am trying to sort it and the other residents also said they had similar issues), but I couldn’t say goodbye to someone I really cared about in front of them. So I picked a fight with him over medication with him. I did try to fix it, and I did him a nice card with what I wanted to say in it, but all in all, I was not very nice. With all my health problems, I am very reliant upon doctors. The whole 6 month rotation stuff is harsh on me because I just get to know them and then they leave. They leave, and I stay the same. Sometimes, I’d see them again as they progressed through their career, but usually, they’d be there one day and gone the next. I thought this time I would get to say goodbye and have a chance to say all this. But once again, I am left behind. Still useless and ill.

To deal with all this, and the expectation of the new male resident tomorrow, I got pissed last night on my own (cherry liqueur). Not big or clever. I have cut twice this week and I am generally feeling really miserable.

I cannot do anything right in London and I am so tired of being who they want me to be, but then again, I wish I had long to work on my deep and complex issues. Why do I behave so badly? I do these things, have these arguments and then I feel deeply ashamed. But not ashamed enough not do it again.

I am scared of tomorrow; I hate those types of appointments and examinations because of stuff from the past. I know that no one likes them but I find it brings things up and I just get upset by the memories. I have learned some grounding techniques and hopefully I will be ok. But then I have to travel back to the unit 11pm at night because of the trains. It’s mad but I am not allowed to miss Tuesday’s program.

I am sorry to go on. There are some other bits going on. I am doing physio now and that means my walking is getting easier. The new resident from last week, C, is lovely and although she likes being the worst self harmer and the biggest safety risk, she’ll get there in the end. The other residents are doing ok and S, who I really feared has actually been ok. She has to stay or she’ll end up in a behavioural unit so she is trying harder, at last. I have chosen a new perfume which I love – its Elizabeth Arden ‘Mediterranean’ and its lovely. So not all bad, honest.

The urges to self harm still come and at times I have more strength to face them than at others. Sometimes I know if I give in, then at least I will get a release from the feelings but sometimes, it’s not long before I’m off again. I am scared by what I know to be within my capabilities. I know how to seriously harm myself and at times, I want to see if I am still meant to be alive or if I should be dead. If I tempt fate, try to do something serious, and then if I am saved, then I know I am meant to be alive but if I die, then I am finally where I should have been all along. I died for 10 mins when I 20, and I still wonder that each time I have been resuss’ed, was I meant to have died? Was I meant to be saved? Should I still be alive?

And now it’s time for big brother.
See you later (and thank you for reading – you have done well to plough through all my crap!!)

I am at a sort of crossroad with the unit, it has been an exhausting week where I feel that I have given all of myself and have not really enough left for me.
Let me explain …
I knew this week would be hard. K leaving was already a big issue and I knew her last week would be awful. I tried so very hard to make it special and as easy for her as possible, but each night I went to bed beyond tired. I had lots of ‘heart-to-hearts’ with L, K and J. There were only 4 of us all week which is not really that different from 6, but the absence of 2 people was more severe this week. Especially as we had news about the next 2 residents booked to be admitted this Monday and the next (23rd and 30th July). The big news is the admission of a 40 year old man. I flipped at this news. We only have one shower, three toilets and one bath. Sharing with an unknown man and having him sleep in the rooms next to us is so scary. 3 out of the 4 of us at the unit have been raped. And the nurses do not seem to care. There have been men on the unit before and there have been no significant problems. I just think that it is really inappropriate. We have to be able to talk about our experiences of sex and rape, but a man will prevent all that work from going on. Plus, and this makes me cringe but J thinks the same, I am worried that I will behave very badly and end up shagging him. It happened twice in acute psych and I just am scared I will repeat the same old patterns. I don’t want to be in this situation and I am terribly jealous of K’s admission because she sailed through the unit without such issues because the last time a man was on the unit was 2006.
Then there is the return of angst-ridden teenager from hell, S. She is 18 but so young and she is someone I have so many issues with, that her not being at the unit for the best part of 5 weeks has been a blessed relief. She returns today and that is the main reason I am not going back until tomorrow. I do not want to be there with her. I do not want to talk about anything in front of her because I do not want her to know anything about me. She is the one that thinks if she cuts badly enough to need stitches in a&e, then it is a ‘success’. She has no reason to get better as she spends all her spare time on the net moderating a self harm website, so if she stops harming, then she has nothing. It is all she talks about. Last week the whole needing an escort to her local unit was a load of arse if she can get herself out of the acute unit within a week. Clearly she said all the right things to the duty doctor and staff at the unit, but her local team know her better and can see through all her pretence. It makes me so angry, I am liable to launch a nasty, aggressive diatribe at her and I know that is unfair, I am 30 years old and I should be able to control myself.

So, all in all, I am seriously thinking about my position at the unit. My psychologist cannot take me back unit October but I could go back to uni and the day hospital for support. Yet I do not want a stupid teenager and violent bloke to take away my one chance to have all this help? I was starting to talk about this on Thursday and the staff couldn’t care less, they are so arrogant. They were like, it’s your choice and we can fill your place no problem. My associate nurse, who I currently can’t work with at all, called M, was then beyond horrible. There was a water leak in my room and he laughed saying it was nothing when actually; it soaked my bed, my books and ruined my wash bag and quilt. I cannot believe the total lack of support and kindness from the unit. Did you know there is a rule that staff DO NOT hand you tissues when you cry? You have to take responsibility for getting your own tissues. What? And then the other day, I needed some indigestion stuff and there was no nurse around to help me for over 2 hours, so I took some from my own supply and I had to report it as self harm. Self harm? I was helping myself, looking after myself when they couldn’t be bothered.

I can only take so much of their petty stupid rules, boundaries and regime. I am tired, K did not appreciate any of what I did for her (which was not the aim of all I did, but a thank you would have been nice) and I am at the stage where I do not know what to do. My parents don’t really understand and there is a huge family situation going on with my grandmother (as per bloody usual) and so they’re busy. I should be able to sort this out for myself anyway.

But, there is hope on the horizon, I have ward round tomorrow. Now, I am not a fan of ward rounds. In the past I have avoided them like the plague, hiding in hospital bathrooms for hours when I was ill with my asthma. I hate loads of people talking about me and making me sound nothing more than my symptoms. So, as hard as it is, I think that is the only space to get people to listen to me. I know I should have gone back today, but I want to send them the message that I am miserable and have serious doubts about continuing my admission. There is no point cutting; they never listen to that, so I will return tomorrow in time for ward round. I have planned to get the same train as my care co-ordinator so I have some time to be with someone who knows me before I walk into the unit again. It is a tad pathetic and I am very frustrated with myself. I know I am going to get to the stage where I have to cut because I feel so crap, but this way, I at least have more time to think and work out what I am going to say and do tomorrow.

I feel like I am letting everyone down and making such a drama out of nothing, but I truly feel scared of what I am capable of, and scared of the other residents. It is my admission and I want to do myself justice as well as get better for all those around me who are hurt by my behaviour. 10 weeks left and so much to sort out, I don’t know where to start or just to take what I can and go home now before I really lose it.

I hate myself so much, I wish I could be a nicer person but I seem to have to work at being nice. No unit is going to change that, is it? And if that is the case, what the hell am I doing? Is life worth all the pain and hurt I cause? I hate this and it feels like it has always been this way. Can I change it? Is 30 too old? What do I want from life? Do I want life?

Sorry.

Here is an ode to retail therapy:
I have spent too much
On many pretty things
…
Bank statement will not arrive for ages
So for now, my heart sings

Ok, very bad poetry, but you get the idea. I have bought happiness (and 2 t-shirts, pants, some earrings and a whole lot more!!!) and I really enjoyed it. The sun helps and being with my mum was a real treat. It’s so hard to leave the unit behind. In my mind I keep thinking I have to evaluate about this on Sunday night, what will I say in group? It kind of destroys the moment and allows the unit to define my leave at home which is a bit sad. I must try and leave the week of hard stuff behind in London and have almost a separate self for the appreciation of home.

A comment on my blog (thank you) talked about decorating and I am sorry to say that did not really occur to me. I have never attempted DIY of any sort and may be that might make the flat more mine that having the décor decided by a lovely little old lady who sadly died. I will ask my support worker about the practicalities of what I can and can’t do as it is a rental flat but that is a great idea.

I am in a funny mood really. I have some many things to deal with this weekend. Another lovely resident is going home on Friday. So I am expecting a very emotional week, again. It is hard for us to comprehend the feelings she has because until you leave, you don’t know how it is. She has spent most of last week crying and going for long walks. I am planning a surprise party for one of her last evenings and we have all clubbed together to get her a special present. But … change is unsettling and it reminds us all how hard it is to leave. My parents think I can handle it and that I will not make a big scene or drama, but I have my concerns. I arrived in such a hurricane, angry at everything and everyone, I so want to leave them with good memories of a nice patient they enjoyed treating and then I go and pick fights all the time. I was told off for bad language and being rude to the staff, I am ashamed to admit. I lost my temper because another resident had to be escorted home to her local hospital acute ward. I was sad for her, but before the sadness, I felt furious with jealousy that she got an escort and yet when I was really unwell at Kings, I was left on my own with no help at all. I was so frightened and unwell, it was a horrible experience and none of the staff could care less. It is no real excuse, but it is an explanation for my behaviour. I need to work on my emotional reactivity and be less extreme. It’s as if I need to be able to be in more control. The staff no longer believe I am sorry for all the times I have been rude or angry because I am not changing enough. I feel very stuck this way because I can think up all these management skills but when that something explodes in my head, I just launch into nasty-mode. I don’t really know why, but it feels like it will last forever and then … its gone again and I’m left as I am now, deeply ashamed and confused.

I feel all wrong, like at the unit I have to be constantly on guard and check my behaviour, incase I am in trouble or I have upset someone. I spend most evenings alone trying to keep myself away from the others in an attempt to limit their exposure to me and so I don’t have to change how I feel to fit in with them. I do this all the time. I can only see my friends infrequently because it is such an effort to be around them.

They are also on at me about my use of crutches. I use one crutch around the unit and 2 for balance if I go out anywhere. I have really tried to fit in and move as much as everyone else but mobility is really hard for me. My legs swell a lot and retain fluid, I am unbalanced, I can’t feel much below the knees and so on. But the staff think I have made it all up to gain attention and keep ‘disabled’ when I don’t need to be. I know this is real, I’ve had tests and it is peripheral neuropathy. But they will not let it go .I know it is easier in many ways to be ill but I am trying my hardest to get on and not make a big thing of it.

I don’t really know how to get through the next 11 weeks. It will be tough, 2 more people to leave, potentially 4 more residents to join …. What is important to talk about and what is a distraction? How best can I use the time? Hard stuff.

I am doing more in the main hospital sites like woodwork and sewing, they are with other patients from other units and it is nice to do stuff that is not endlessly analysed and picked over. But I must use the unit to its full potential. The Trust are paying so much money, my parents want me to get better so much and I need to change so much in order to be happy. I must get over myself a bit more and not argue so much. I am so torn between being the way they want, trusting them and doing as they say, and the slightly removed position I take now. I kick the systems so much, but they must work, why else does the keep going in this era of accountability and evidence-based practice.

I don’t know, but I’m over half way and I do feel better overall, so you can’t say fairer than that.

I am sat here in my flat on leave from the unit and wondering what on earth to put in my blog. So much is flying around my head and I feel so full of emotion that I do not know where to begin.
My last entry seems a life time ago. I am back in treatment and this is only weekend leave not the naughty step again. The last few weeks have been a real rollercoaster of situations, behaviour, thoughts and feelings. The unit has been in a great state of flux, one resident came to the end of her treatment and we had to say a very tearful goodbye to her. She was very dignified but at the end of living somewhere for six months and telling them all your secrets and problems, it is awful to face leaving everyone behind and returning to a world which you were all too ready to forget. I personally fear getting too attached to the unit and its staff, so I try to keep myself one step removed. The staff have noticed and have asked me to trust them and the process more, and realised that being attached is part of the treatment. I will not use the place properly if I do not trust them. I am so scared of being unable to function in the world and being all alone again that I feel pulled in all directions. I desperately want to be paert of the unit, the resident they want to care for and like having around, everyone’s friend and tell them all the shit that fills my head in hope of wisdom and support to sort all of it out – but in doing so, I can never be with them again as I am now. Once the treatment is over, you only go back for out patients for 3 months and then you are transferred to your home team and that’s it, you can never return. All their input and kindness, and you can never see them. I have experienced this before. I had a lot of time in acute general wards and there were a couple of wards in particular that looked after me for months on end – and I thought I was very attached to the staff there, but when I got better, I never saw them again. I went back for a day and they had forgotten me. It hurt so much to have a place and a set of staff be so involved in my life, and then be nothing to them. Life changes, it moves on and that feeling of care and safety can be recreated elsewhere, but it’s never the same. And then to have these people in your life, making such differences but that being just their job … I find it so hard to think that all of them are there because it is a job and pays money – their care is not friendship but professional. It’s a bit like having sex with a prostitute, it feels real but its just their job. (ok that is a bit extreme but you know what I mean)
So, I need to dive in, let them know all of me and then help me get better and that means trusting them and not thinking about leaving all the time. I will have to face it and there is a proper time for that once I get to the last 3 weeks. I must get hurt, engage and then have to wrench myself away to the rest of my life. I am so scared, so very scared but that is the process.

The other day, I found a letter I wrote to myself when I was 19 to open on my 30th birthday. It was an idea from a TV programme called Northern Exposure. I read it and it broke my heart. I was suffering so much back then. The letter speaks of being scared that every night I could breathe and it was as if I never expected to live that long – that I’d not make it to 30. I asked myself what had changed in the world and I suppose I expected the world to change a great deal and I am not sure that it has. I know the advent of mobiles has changed life a lot but the wars, pain, misery and suffering in the world feels much the same. I spoke of hoping that I would be a doctor as I had just filled in the forms to apply for med. School. I wanted to be a gynaecologist in a family planning clinic and that is what I put in the letter. I feel that in reply, I have totally failed myself. At 19 I had hopes and at 30, I have none except to survive treatment. Its is such a let down to my 19 year old self. I have nothing. I wrote that I hoped I would be happy as I was not happy then. I cannot remember how unhappy I was then and whether it compares to my despair now. But I wrote this ‘love life or change it’. I think that advice is the most important of all that I wrote. I do not love life, thus I am in the process of changing it. It is such a coincidence that I said that and it is now that I find it. The staff at the unit believe there are no coincidences in life, that everything happens for a reason and I think right now, I needed that letter. I also said that I hoped my sister would find her niche in life and it only last week she went for her training to be a member of BA cabin crew. I am so proud of her, but she will not acknowledge my existence – still. So I can’t tell her how I feel or ask her about her exciting new life. It’s all so sad and I just keep listening to the song ‘halleluiah’ by Rufus Wainwright. It is sad and it matches how I feel.

More changes at the unit – one girl just walked out, another ended up back in acute psych in her local area when she was sent on leave for breaking rules, I went into Kings College Hospital for 3 days with pelvic inflammatory disease then spent time of the depression unit instead of having weekend leave because I was so depressed … 2 members of staff away on leave, new nurse starting Monday. All very unsettling. Borderlines hate change, we like things the same, like a child hearing the same story over and over again at bedtime for security. So I fear more emotionally charged groups and mood swings are on the cards. It is all so much to take but I am now more than half way through, It feels like I have been there forever and still very new to it, at the same time.

Love life or change it, I said that over 10 years ago and now I must do it, my 19 year old self would expect nothing less!

Hope all is well in your world.

Nos Da