They’re coming to take me away, ha-ha!

Bit of a weird one. The book launch went absolutely splendidly. Couldn’t have wished for a better evening – great friends, great talent, wonderful people, everything went splendidly. But you know how I know something’s wrong? I couldn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel that immense sense of pride, or joy, or anything. I’ve got to the point where I am now feeling nothing and my moods are so unpredictable that it has reached dangerous levels of indifference, interspersed with glorious highs and immediate crashing lows. So a couple of caring, wonderful friends said it might be a good idea to go to hospital. 
So I did.
Now, I’m prepared for this. I’ve been prepared for this for a few days, but I just hung on for the book launch. I was in A&E for about 10 hours all in all; I watched American Psycho on my computer, I did a lot of writing, I read a lot of Wuthering Heights (because THAT’S going to cheer me up ffs) and I waited, and waited, and waited. 

I was assessed by a really wonderful woman who went quite in depth with me but first gave me a lorazepam, so if my writing is cloudy you’ll know why. I had several ECGs because my heartrate was 150 and maintained that pace, but that’s because I’m constantly anxious. 

So, she asked me questions about my life right now. I answered with the kind of honesty that you can only give to a mental health worker; it’s an honesty that scares friends and family, and in turn angers or exhausts them and that’s not their fault, but sometimes the brutal truth is just – well, too brutal. Nobody wants to know someone they love is suffering this hard. I heard myself say it to the woman: “I’ve never gone this far down before and I’m scared because I don’t know what will come next. I have hit rock bottom”. So many times I’ve felt I’ve been at the bottom but I’ve always had a small amount of hope to cling onto. This time, I have nothing. No light at the end of the tunnel, in fact, no tunnel. Nothing. So I told them this, and how I’ve been feeling recently. It feels quite hard typing these words up and admitting it to all of you – I have not been quite myself recently. The hypomania has crept in and led me down lots of dark (yet exciting) paths, in fact the hypomania has meant I’ve been having sex several times a day every day with several different people, on the grounds that I’M YOUNG FREE AND SINGLE I’LL DO WHATEVER THE HELL I PLEASE! Yet I ignored the fact that hypersexuality, for me, is a BIG warning sign that something’s gone awry. I’ve also been alternating that with spending all day in bed, sometimes harming myself, crying, shivering. I’ve been going to sleep at 6am every night, waking up at 10 or 11. It’s not enough. I’ve stopped learning how to feed myself. I’ve lost a lot of weight. I’m relying on my friends because the second I’m alone, I no longer know myself. The voice in my head has returned, and he’s been gone for years now. He’s a menacing presence, and recently I heard him telling me to run out in front of traffic. I stood at the side of the road and stared out, wondering if I was actually going to take the plunge. So yeah, things haven’t been great. 
The woman I spoke to told me she would have liked to admitted me tonight / this morning, but that would involve a sectioning, and that would be scary. So, instead, the Crisis Team are visiting my address at 12 noon tomorrow, and will take me to hospital of my own accord. A voluntary admission. It’s time. I’m not scared of hospital any more because I know it needs to happen. The minute I’m alone my thoughts career out of control; I’m a passenger in a car where the driver is shitfaced on cocaine and laughing maniacally at things that aren’t funny. I’ve been talking at 100mph. Fuck that, I’ve been doing EVERYTHING at 100mph, then I’ve been sleeping either all day or not at all. I am rapid-cycling right now in the most extreme way I ever have. 
So yeah. Tomorrow, I’m being taken, finally, to the mental health ward. I wonder who I’ll meet there, and how we’ll interact? I need to start shaking this idea that I’m a horrible person who doesn’t deserve to be alive (and it would be super if jealous ex-boyfriends who are pissed off they threw something great away and some other bro’s picked it up could lay the fuck off, too). I’ve never felt this bad before, this out of control. My moods are unpredictable and wild. I’m making bad decisions. I’m not taking care of myself at all. 

Close friends, do message me (preferably by text or email) and I’ll give you the visiting hours. 

It had to be done. I feel… optimistic about this stay, actually. 

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1 comment
  1. Thank you for posting this. It’s so important to share what is going on. Yes, it is hard on our friends and loved ones. So we write. And hope that others will understand or hope it will make us feel better or even make someone else feel better. Good for you for noticing the problem. That means you’re getting better. Being more aware is a positive thing. Thanks again. Good luck to you.

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