Reality and I might be losing touch. . .

. . . but I do intend to keep her as a Christmas card correspondent.

So it has been awhile since I gave a proper post about what I am up to which I realise may have been a little silly given that it was only just over a week since I the citalopram silliness and close to since I was in A and E.

On Monday I had an appointment with B, which I was late for but it was fine because I called and apologised and turned up ten minutes after I was due to. So we discussed briefly my thought that self harm is stupid – a point I have expounded here. Then we talked about why I cut and negative thoughts and such. I was asked if I had any friends who don’t have a mental health problem which is fair enough though a little saddening; I don’t have a lot of friends with mental health problems, I just have a tendency to mention those who do over those who don’t when in therapy. I have spoken about my best friend in Aberdeen a few times and despite some issues after a death he is completely fine – one of the sanest people I know, more importantly one of the happiest. When I told her about the suicide attempt – after all it is an act of self harm, she asked if when I saw her the day before if I had been telling the truth when I said that I felt like I wanted to die but knew I don’t. I told her yes and she asked another question then I went back to the first one. I felt horrified that she thought I could lie to someone about that sort of thing, that I could deceive someone who could help so blatantly. I am aware I over-reacted, I felt hurt. I couldn’t do that to someone though. Much like I told Dr P. when he reminded him I had only said I wouldn’t overdose on lithium, I wasn’t thinking about setting up a get out clause when I spoke with him, nor when I was gulping pills was I thinking I can’t take lithium because I said I wouldn’t.  Anyway the appointment was fine.  And, yes, dear readers I doubt this even faintly passes as surprising that I can be a really horrid jerk at times.

I then met up with K and grabbed a coffee and went to see “Dan In Real Life”. The movie was a bit dull, fun and earnest but it felt overly long for essentially a two character movie. The trailers were fun because both K and I were on top form and joking lots, when not joking I would laugh and make her laugh. This is a trick she hates but something I derive a lot of fun from. I made her burst out laughing when she was on the phone to her mom once and that made me laugh – it was a two person giggle loop. We stayed up late talking and laughing and pacing the room.

The next morning I got my stitches removed. This is the point I began to lose touch with reality. Mary asked me three times if I was okay, my answers were, respectively, “I am doing well thanks”, “yes, really” and “Why, wouldn’t I be”, the last answer met with sad eyes and a sigh. Apparently the wound has healed well which can only be a good thing really. There was another of those sharp intake of breath moments. Last time she saw my scared but demurely so right arm, this time my left. To be clear I can count over 100 scars on my left inner arm alone and all those are 5cm plus, twenty or so around the four inch to 6 inch mark. She let out a horrible sigh when she asked if the longer scars across the back of my arms when burns and I told her that they had been cuts. It sounded like the sort of sigh my mum makes when she realises I have cut and doesn’t want to cry. Mary moved past this by saying they should have been stitched and that I could come and see her whenever. I won’t be taking her up on this offer, it doesn’t seem fair to.

I spent Tuesday afternoon completing crossword puzzles, watching Jonathan Creek and packing a suitcase for home.

Wednesday morning, I decide that I will have enough time to get from the hospital back to my flat to pick up my suitcase and catch my bus. Thankfully paranoia meant that I packed my notebooks (well diary, journal, scratch-pad and writing notebook) ipod and medication in the satchel (which I adore) I took the hospital, when things ran really late I was prepared.

So I met Dr. P first. The third question he asked was “is it possible you are going hypomanic?” The prior exchange went thusly:

• Dr.P – How are you today?
• Me – I’m really good thanks, yeh, doing well. Can you hear a dog whimpering?
• Dr.P – I am glad to hear that. There is a dog somewhere about, don’t worry, did you think you were hallucinating?
• Me – No, just thought it was odd. But stranger things right? Maybe it is a therapet.

A therapet is apparently not a portmanteau that I came up with, it is in fact a service offered at the hospital.

So we talked medication and such and I told him that the hallucinations are still around and are getting more vivid, I may have neglected to mention the decaying flesh thing. So probably just as well the anti-depressant dose remains the same but the anti-psychotic has been pushed. He asked about sleep. I am getting about 4 or 5 hours a night but the hypnogogic hallucinations are returning – decaying hand is a scary thing when you can only feel it because the hallucinations accompany sleep paralysis.

Dr. P decided we should get my lithium level checked. So I dropped the script at the pharmacy and headed to the phlebotomist. I waited around for half an hour before being seen. I had forgotten she was a Johnny Depp fan so being in a chatty mood I entered into conversation. My favourite of his movies is Secret Window and hers is Chocolat.

I picked up my pills and realising how late it was headed straight for my bus. I picked up some lunch on the way after getting a bollocking from K for not eating.

That’s pretty much all since last time

S x

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How much of yourself do you give away in order to be well?