coping

Changing room on a ward

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Today I was told that I had to move to another room on the ward. Big deal? Turns out it was, as I really didn’t want to endure the anxiety associated with being a new room. Initially I thought “I can do this”.

I then become focussed on the anxiety about moving altogether, but over time (3 hours…) I figured that the staff could help with with the issues with the furnishings in the new room. The staff suggested swapping the chest of draws and dust bin with the ones from my old room.

A couple of hours later things were setup in a way I liked, after going for walk to calm down, and spending time adjusting things.

So magically all good? Not yet, my anxiety about being in a different room is still there, it should fade with time though 🙂

Rationalisations used

Remembering that I’ve experienced being in a “new” and “clean” room before, this is just the same, except for the fact I already have a room that’s setup – previously I went in “blind” as a I had no idea what to expect from the room, this time I could see the new room, compare it to where I was, etc.

I was probably moved because they needed a new patient to be close the the office, and putting them in a room at the far end of the ward wouldn’t do that.

That, and they must have really wanted the room, as me freezing not doing much for hours didn’t get them to change their position.

The new room is in a quieter location; I don’t need to put up with noise from a radio now 🙂

I can feel something else?

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My emotions are less intense now. My anxiety is still a factor though.

Tried running when I was on a “walk” the last few days, seems to generate the most intense feelings at the moment.

I’m not even sure what I’m feeling most of the time, just that something, anything, intense is felt when running.

Now my emotions are turned down it seems that I want another thing that’s intense, fortunately running (short bursts repeatedly) is a safe, and practical, thing to do.

If I had to make a comparison I’d say its like I’m 15 again (22 now) and running just for fun.

Other people seem to view it as “OK” and react a bit surprised (I think). Its a bit scary as I’m feeling stuff that hasn’t been felt for a long time, and I don’t know what will happen next.

I’d say this is progress, but I don’t want to jinx it.

Missing: Intense emotions

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Description

Make coping in difficult situations even more difficult, and turn an “OK” situation into a nightmare.

Last seen

Unknown, I’m not sure when they dissipated, just that I have suddenly realised they are gone, and that what might be low might just be the absence of any intense emotions. Anxiety isn’t gone though (not an emotion).

Suspects

A medication known as aripiprazole. This effect only happened after I started taking it (along with increased anxiety, which seems to have faded)

Further steps

Speaking to medical professionals.

Additional notes

I miss the emotions.

Postscript

Doing different formats for blog posts is fun.

Why do I go on?

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I don’t know.

I used to though? The plan was to go to a unit in London for treatment.

Now I’m scared the unit will refuse to treat me because distress still causes thoughts of self harm.

A unit near where I live that is rehabilitation accommodation refused me partly because of the self harm thoughts, and partly because I was “complex”.

I feel lost.

I may be experiencing short term side effects of my latest medication.

I’m not sure it matters if the feelings are the medication, they feel real to me.

Back to the original question, why do I go on?

I still don’t know, and that scares me.

…And Nay!

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Trigger warning: If you’ve worried about accommodation, hospital/home changes or suicidal thoughts this might be difficult to read. Writing it left me crying.

Of course I’m going to get anxious about leaving, even if I want to. This leaves me confused as to what I really want, leaving, or staying. I kinda want both, so if either one goes wrong I can escape to the other.

Knowing that my room on ward was still mine to occupy if being in my flat became too much would be a amazing safety net to let me risk trying to function in my flat.

With my flat I’m terrified of things ending up how they were before I went onto the ward. The consequences are potentially even worse this time around as I’ll be “asked” (or, from my point of view, pressured) into going into supported accommodation, and forgoing my flat permanently.

The intensity of these feelings make me feel like I’d prefer to overdose, and be in A&E, rather than deal with transferring to supported accommodation at a later date. Its scary (for me), and I need to persuade my care team quite how strongly I feel.

Got to stop writing as I’m starting to cry.

Yay!

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I’m going to be trying living in my flat again (with support). It is basically what I want (minus having OCD).

I really hope it works out, and I don’t have to return to the ward.

At the moment it feels like anything (good) is possible.

Admittedly going shopping is going to be a struggle, as is sticking to a budget when buying cleaning products. Hopefully the at home support the ward/CMHT offers helps me get through those problems.

I really don’t want something to come up that stops me going to my flat. I’m will need to keep up with a lot to make this work, the Covid-19 crisis doesn’t help, but at the moment I’m on cloud 9.

I’m restless, but have nowhere to go

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In normal times, if I was restless I’d go for a long walk, go to the library or take a bus to see my parents.

These aren’t normal times, and I can’t do any of those things. I miss my old coping strategies. I still have one hour a day out, holding onto what I have is really important for me to cope.

For me restlessness is feeling unsettled and unable to focus for long enough to get anything done. When I relax enough and forget the world around me I can focus, but any disruption breaks me away from what I’m doing.

It’s not pleasant, and at least partly due to a new medication, which has agitation, anxiety and restless are common side effects for the first few weeks.

My OCD has become so overwhelming, that enduring those side effects feels worth it. Its a turn about from feeling tha medication would never work. I now feel like medication can help, the clomipramine seemed to break me out of feeling hopeless.

With any luck this new medication will break me out of being trapped by obsessive thoughts. The odds aren’t great, and getting medication that works feels comparable to finding gold at the end of a rainbow. I keep going by focussing on how awesome it would be to escape my mind.

I’ve been hopeless for so long that it feels strange to have a hope of beating my once OCD again.

P.S. Still on a ward, not transitioning to rehab accommodation my “risk is too high” and I’m “too unwell” to go there; I’m relieved though, as I won’t have to fight for my leave, as the rehab accommodation wanted to restrict it to groceries, once a week, probably enforced by threatening discharge if I didn’t comply.

I don’t want to leave…

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…the psychiatric ward. And I didn’t even want to go onto the ward in the first place. What happened?

The plan was to transition to rehab accommodation, but I’ve been told it would mean only being allowed off the premises once a week (Covid-19 precautions), and even then to only visit a supermarket, not to have a a walk. Being able to get out of my living “zone” helps me cope when the anxiety in one place becomes too much, just change place (zone) until I feel a bit better. Relying on sedatives isn’t something I want.

I don’t want to go back to my existence before I came onto the ward, being dysfunctional is no fun whatsoever.

I don’t want to stay with my parents, I moved out because they had trouble dealing with my OCD, and its worse than it was back then, so it will become an unpleasant issue that isn’t addressed or quite ignored.

I don’t ever want to try swapping medications in a community setting again – back in May it felt like I’d been forgotten and left to deal with any side-effects unsupported; there’s no way I’d cope with my current switch alone or without adequate support (my anxiety is up, a lot, made worse by the fact that is was lower than usual before starting the medication.

My coping strategies at the moment revolve around the ward and the staff, if I move I’ll create new coping strategies, but going to someone I don’t want to go as a “voluntary” patient isn’t something I can consent to.

I can’t stay on a ward indefinitely, I need an exit plan that works for me, but I don’t what that is now. The rehab accommodation was that exit plan, but Covid-19 has made that unpalatable. It’s possible something will change (I hope), but my mental view of the future is some kind of darkness, with nothing good visible, just spectres out to get me.

Shopping with OCD, during a pandemic

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This experience is strange, as for the first time how I act appears in line with everyone else:

  • Taking items from the back of the shelf
  • Using gloves to touch the self-service machine
  • Dodging and freezing in place to avoid getting too close to another human being
  • All round jumpiness

For me this feels wrong, somehow my OCD behaviour is so bad it can’t ever be treated as something to accept, but the world has changed to the point that it is acceptable.

Having a real threat to avoid makes it hard to justify not taking something off a shelf if I just saw someone else handle it. I can’t refute the logic that using a clean carrier bag is safer than reusing a shopping basket, or that taking two carrier bags, one to hold your shopping, and the second to put it after scanning; so your shopping never hits the surfaces on the self-checkout is excessive.

The sheer strangeness of a world where dodging contamination so overtly that others around you can’t help but notice is treated as “normal” isn’t something I’ll ever get used to.

Although despite the efforts of “normal” people to avoid contamination, their behaviour has so many holes in the avoidance, that it isn’t as effective as it seems it should be. My favourite examples are using gloves in a supermarket. I’ve seen people use disposable gloves, winter gloves and the cuffs of their sleeves to supposedly avoid contamination. As they try to shop their gloves/cuffs hit so many things, including themselves in the process – contamination avoidance isn’t a natural habit – that I’d probably experience a lot of distress if I reacted like them. My view still isn’t “normal”, but it’s closer than it has ever been 😛

It does seems like the world should be ending, as everyone has been thrown in a form of contamination hell, terrified that something bad could happen if they mess up and get contaminated (Covid-19).

P.S. Still in hospital, its possible this will persist until the lockdown ends. Finally felt safe enough to ask the staff for what I needed to eat food on the ward, so I’m eating on the ward now. The routine is that mine is served first, and I’m allowed to eat it in my room. Its works.

Red, yellow, black or blue?

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Those are the cards I can put in the window of my room in a psychiatric ward. They’re personal to me, I’m the only person who uses cards on the ward.

They do cover all the ways I feel though.

Blue

Blue, like a clear sky when the sun is out. This one means “I’m fine”. Green was another option, but blue epitomises my existence. It is pretty sad at the moment, even when I’m “OK”.

Suffering from anxiety isn’t the slightest bit fun.

Black

I’m not angry. I’m not OK. I’m highly anxious and stressed, but it’s lasted so long it feels like the colour and joy has drained from my world.

I don’t need an intervention, but just talking to me lets some colour seep back into the scene I occupy.

Yellow

The perennial fire of my anxiety is heating up. Someone else can still help me get it down, but dealing with it alone is no longer possible.

Someone needs to stop and just wait for me to explain what’s wrong, then help me work through it.

Red

My anxiety is all consuming. It devours everything, including my ability to move or speak, like an unstoppable wildfire. The best way to deal with it is to prevent it from happening in the first place.

Intervention from staff is necessary.

P. S.

I’m still on a ward, not sectioned, the consultant psychiatrist thought I wouldn’t challenge the status quo by leaving the ward, so he didn’t see any need to continue to section. I haven’t gone missing, but I’ve taken plenty of time off the ward during the day.