*Note: This post contains talk of self-harm*
Last Friday (15th June) I had a complete mental health
crisis in the form of two dissociative episodes within hours of one another.
One minute I was at home watching
Netflix and the next thing I knew I was staring at a huge cut in the palm of my
hand, blood dripping from it and covering the floor; which was littered in
pieces of a broken cup. I still can’t for certain that I smashed the cup on
purpose and cut myself but since I’ve done that in the past it seems like the
logical explanation(!) I think that the only thing stopping me from accepting
that as the case is the fear that comes with it. If I’m capable of completely
switching off from the world and self-harming without knowing it, then what the
hell else am I capable of doing?!
And this was what spurred me on to
attend Minor Injuries. The cut was the worst I’ve ever had; it was short but
wide and deep and even my Taxi driver said that I’d need stitches! Once I was
finally seen by a Nurse and she told me I should’ve gone to A&E to get an
explanation on the dissociation, the voices began shouting. They told me to run
away; that if I stayed I’d end up being admitted to hospital. I apologised to
the Nurse and told her I had to go but I needed to speak to someone; to have
someone tell me that things were going to be all right. I needed someone to
keep me safe because I felt like I’d lost all control to be able to do it
myself. So, I called the Crisis Team and as we spoke I slipped further and
further away and the rabbits began running around my feet. When I told the
Crisis Team I was met with: “you have to
remember that this isn’t reality!”
They knew that I was disassociating,
and it helped me to know that the professionals knew what was wrong because
that meant that maybe they could help me with it. But it was too late to come
back; I hung up the phone and the next thing I knew a member of the public was
pulling me back from the ledge of a bridge; apparently, I’d walked down the
middle of a dual carriage way and climbed over the barrier of a bridge. The man
had called the Police and by the time they arrived, I was completely back to
reality. I knew where I was. I knew what was happening. I was in control of my
actions.
They decided to take me to the nearest Police station to ring the Crisis Team and come up with a plan. Apparently the
999 Control Room had received a number of calls about me from different members
of the public, Minor Injuries, and the Crisis Team and they were unsure as to
whether the Hospital needed me back to finish treatment on my cut. So, the plan
was to take me to A&E and see the Psychiatric Liaison Team there but when
they told us they would be six hours until they could see me it was agreed that
I had the capacity to go home. The Police took me home and waited with me while
I spoke with the Crisis Team and they arranged for two workers to come out and
see me within the hour. *Quick shout out to the Police Officers: PC 8295 Neil
Jobling and his colleague (whose details I didn’t get) James!*
I’d say ‘the thing with Borderline Personality Disorder is…’ but everyone’s experience with the same diagnosis is
different so I really shouldn’t make a general rule. The thing with my
experience of BPD is that the highs and lows (in my mood) are very erratic and overwhelming
and almost… exhausting? People talk about good days and bad but for me, one day
can be both horrendous and incredible; I can feel on top of the world – elated,
and within an hour I feel depressed and suicidal. And this is how my post ends;
just two days after the crisis, I was attending my first meeting in my new
voluntary position of Publicity and Marketing Officer for Remap (read more
about the branch I work with, the Tyne Panel, here) and two days after that I
was travelling to Derby to film a piece about recovery for Richmond Fellowship.
And the day after filming? I was in Carlisle!
Of course, when you’re in a mental health
crisis it’s incredibly hard to try and remember that it isn’t going to last. I
used to use this as an argument with staff; I’d say that there was no use
getting better because happiness doesn’t last either. The important thing to
keep in your head is that you won’t always feel this bad. Yes, there might be times
when – actually - you feel even worse, but they won’t last either. But you can only emerge from the darkness by letting
in the light. And really, aren’t you tired of it? Of finding the darkness in
everything? Of always feeling bad? Of blowing out the flame when someone
holding a candle comes along? I know I am.
