I’m still waiting for a bed on the psych ward…that’s been over a week now. I know they are busy but does anyone think about what it is like trying to muddle along with a head that is driving me crazy. They just keep saying “no bed yet” but no other help or support is offered. Maybe I only become “sick” or in need when the bed actually becomes available.
Self harm is bad, suicidal thoughts chronic and when I follow my crisis plan and phone my consultant he doesn’t phone back. I’m feeling very let down. And yesterday in arts group at the hospital someone kindly announces how I’ve really gained weight and how my face has really filled out. Now I KNOW from the scales that I have gained NO weight but that sort of logic doesn’t matter and I really went mad inside my head. Evil ED voice yells and yells and I’m like a puppet on a string. I had to leave the group and go home and not just leave the group but get my mum to come and collect me from group so I couldn’t go via the chemist for that ever reassuring packet of paracetamol pills. I ended up drugged up on diazepam, freaked out and just went home and crashed.
Today the ED voice yells and yells to keep busy and burn calories and never ever been seen as doing something lazy. I can’t cope!
Tags: anorexia, BPD, psychiatric beds
February 2, 2009 at 5:36 am |
Hang in there. If the dumb doctors can just be told about schema therapy, it will make a world of difference. The schema therapist I went to was the first compassionate therapist I had ever been to. He actually helped me a little before I quit. I wish I hadn’t and now I am nowhere near a schema therapist, and I can’t afford to talk to one on the phone. Jeff Young’s website has slide shows for people labelled borderline. I know how much labels hurt. Please hang in there.
http://www.schematherapy.com
March 19, 2009 at 5:32 am |
My God. I know those feelings. Psych ward is pure shame, isn’t it? Hold out though. I made it out of there and haven’t been back since. I still have the scars from the self harm but i’m 2 years clean.
I’ve heard the voice of hate shrieking at me too. They turned into real voices, actually. But now i’ve built a relationship and am living with them. Anything is possible.
There is hope. I didn’t think there was but there is.
Find something to hold onto and grasp it till your knuckles turn white, both literally and figuratively. Look for your shield.