On the Monday morning I had an appointment regarding my benefits and after arriving there early, I decided it was a sign to overdose. Finally.
It’d
been a thought for quite a while now and I’d tried to use all of the coping skills
in my arsenal to manage the urges; even using self-harm (http://www.imnotdisordered.co.uk/2018/03/lets-be-honest-about-self-harm-my.html)
to try and abate the voices’ (http://www.imnotdisordered.co.uk/2018/03/how-it-feels-to-hear-voices.html)
commands to overdose!
In
my assessment the Doctor asked me when my last overdose had been; “well… right
now” was my reply. She ended up calling an Ambulance and as much as I didn’t
want to go to Hospital, I finally agreed because, to be honest, I didn’t want
to put that drama on the Doctor. The voices were still loud, and I knew that I
needed to take a larger overdose before they would quieten down, but my promise
to get help once I was finished (the overdose) and they were quiet, wouldn’t
stop their insisting that I go to Hospital and see an A&E Doctor.
Once
I was there, I had to have a ton of tests to check the levels of paracetamol in
my blood to decide whether I needed the antidote treatment (Parvolex) for the
overdose. Luckily, I was meant to have a support session with Richmond
Fellowship that day and so my support worker came to A&E to sit with me but
when she had to leave I was ready to follow her out of the automatic glass
doors. The Doctor tried to take my bloods again and failed and she was about to
attempt again, stating that I was going to have a decent bruise from her last
go, when I burst out crying. “How come everyone has the
right to hurt my body except me?”
She tried to calm me down and convince me to stay but I took my coat and bag
and ran as fast as I could in my red heeled boots. My first stop? The toilets
of M&S to take some more paracetamol and then I took the next bus home.
After
packing a bag, stroked my cat and rabbit, and talking to my Mum there was a knock
on the front door and the back door and I spotted fluorescent before opening
the door to find a police officer stood there. It soon became apparent that I
was surrounded; the knock at the front door was the Sergeant and within minutes
three more officers arrived. When they explained that they couldn’t leave me at
home, I had to go back to A&E and that I had to have someone sit with me
there. There was a heated discussion when I told them that if my Mum sat with
me I’d still run away if the voices told me to and the Sergeant was
particularly rude, hostile, and abrupt with me. After deciding that they would
be my company in A&E, I got in the van with two of the officers and as we
headed back to the Hospital they explained that they agreed that she (the
Sergeant) had been that way with me and it came out that I’d actually trained
one of the officers! So, four out of five isn’t bad! And luckily, the two who
came to the Hospital were lovely, comforting, and kind.
Back
in A&E, there continued to be a number of discussions between the Doctors
around whether or not I needed the treatment; the issue was around the fact
that my overdose had been staggered (I’d now taken it across the course of the
day) and my blood results were taken too early to properly determine the need
of the treatment. Eventually it was agreed that I needed the medication and the
attempts began to put a cannula in my vein to administer it.
This
next part is hard to write about, I wasn’t 100% sure on talking about it but I
like to be honest and share as much as possible with you guys and this is a
huge part of my current mental health… status, now…
My
Mum came to the Hospital to give me my overnight bag (I’d left it at home) and
told me that my partner – ex partner – had been rude, impolite, aggressive, and
had sworn to her friend. And he and I split. Whilst I was sat in A&E being
treat for an overdose with police alongside me. In that moment, I learnt what
heartbreak was. My heart physically hurt when I was told, and a million feelings
raced through my body that ranged from disgust, hurt, and furious, to regret,
loss, and sadness. I felt my breath catch in my throat and my breathing became erratic
and my hands tingled from being so over-oxygenated. I was having a panic
attack.
After
calming down, my Mum left, the Police switched with the late shift, and a bed
was ready for me on the Medical Admissions Unit (MAU), my cannula stopped
working and there were a few more attempts - I think we got to 10 before they
were successful, and I was moved to MAU. Within an hour it broke again, and a
surgeon had to come down to use an ultrasound to place another; and when that
broke, it was decided that I needed a central line. I was moved to the High
Dependency Unit and after a few more attempts, the central line was placed, and
my treatment finally properly began!
During
the following day I struggled a couple of times and the voices in my head were
loud and I couldn’t cope with it, so I fashioned myself a ligature and hid
under the bed sheets before I was found, saved, restrained, and sedated.
I
completed my treatment and once I got home I was put under the care of the
Crisis Team. They came to see me and gave me the opportunity to tell them
everything that had gone on in the past 48 hours (it was now Wednesday) and it
took about an hour! Afterwards, I felt some relief.
Today
(Thursday) I’ve just seen a Psychiatrist from the Team and she was so
incredibly helpful; advising me on utilising my medication and using my
Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT) skills and coping strategies. She explained
to me about The Bucket Analogy and how everyone has a bucket in their heads and
the size of it is dependant on birth (so, genetics) and trauma and everyone has
holes in the bottom which are your coping strategies so that can let the water
out to stop it getting too full. But everyone has the chance for it to get full
and leak over the sides. That is mental illness. And it’s about how we cope
when it does overflow. I explained that it felt like there’d been a cloud over
the top of my own bucket that had just burst open and flooded me. It had felt
sudden. But really, when we talked about it, we could pick out several
stressors and incidents that’s happened over recent months that could have
contributed to the spill. She advised that I take some ‘me time’ and do the
things that I like, try not to let myself worry about other things, and to use
the Crisis Team as scaffolding. “You’re not
alone; you can be strong and independent but we’re there to back you up and
hold you steady”
– and everyone needs someone like that in their life.
Finally,
I just wanted to say a quick thank you to all of my friends, family and followers/readers
who have sent me ‘get well soon’ messages and tweets of support.
And to: Doctors Jess and Tom, Nurses Tara, Sam, and Ashleigh, and Healthcare Worker Jed!
And to: Doctors Jess and Tom, Nurses Tara, Sam, and Ashleigh, and Healthcare Worker Jed!
I’m
getting there.
