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This isn’t going to be a pleasant blog. Nor will it carry an overall message of positivity or hope for better mental health. I have no advice. It will instead describe incredible pain, despair, fear, anger, and hopelessness. I will detail my experience in the mental health system and it won’t necessarily be organized, chronological,
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Maybe something is changing. Even if just a little. I have so much pent-up energy and my bones are sizzling. I used ativan, melatonin, vistaril, and gabapentin to force myself to sleep before work. On my way to work, I drove by the mental hospital as I always do and this time, not the panic
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A man knows not where he is. Drifting through a conscious unawareness, confused at why these people are in his house. Calling out to his long dead wife. Do we live too long? Have all our medical advances only prolonged the life of our bodies at the cost of our minds? I don’t know. We
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I ordered the bunk bed with shelving and the two twin mattresses. I am totally fixated. I want this done and the room restored. It’s a storage area too, and I’ve told my mother to put in there whatever she wants. I bought a nice two layer clothing rack and hung up all her stuff.
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I had a bunk bed with shelves and new mattresses, all picked out. Then my mom goes and throws a bunch of shit in there. Not so bad but right in the way of where the bunk bed will be. I peeked in the boxes, and it appeared to be mostly Liam’s (my nephew) old
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Finally, it is done. The room is completely revamped. I knocked down the wall that made a sort of “closet” because it was just in the way. Took it out entirely to expand the tiny room. New LVP flooring and redone walls – mud, sanding, etc. – before the paint. Now I’m fighting with my
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I work too much. I’m aware of that. But I wouldn’t quit my jobs. Even the Sacred Heart one, in which I may be doing my APE project for grad school. It looms in front of me like a mountain, huge and imposing. Last night we had a terrible case of squamous cell carcinoma of
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There is a construction zone around 4th avenue, and I must detour on my way to work. The mental hospital is on my route to work, so now instead of driving by it, I drive with it looming in front of me. I don’t know that I will ever get over it. I have a
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I am a man who feels more stable under routine conditions: I develop routines for my day, my week, for grad school and work and I apply these routines to the smallest things like what clothes I wear or how I arrange my house. I have always been into a routine. Or sought to develop
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I’m trying to use coping skills. The little dumb ones, like listening to music, especially during triggers and stress. Writing. You think this blog is cringe? Should see my paper journal. I use grounding when I dissociate – what can I feel? See? Hear? This involves a bit of mindfulness, and I am not always
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Not as paranoid as I was. It felt, for a minute, like I was being watched. I still think old powers are at play, that never left. Maybe I’m being successful in my desire to stay out of any radar. I’m trying to maintain my momentum. I have started my third accelerated quarter, biostatistics and
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Documenting my journey through the mental health system 