Hangover times one.
Not from alcohol. When I got home from therapy on Friday I’d taken 2mg lorazepam, to add to the 3mg I’d taken over the course of the morning, because I’d been in such a state. Then sometime later, unable to bear being conscious any longer I took another 4mg and went to sleep for eight hours. The sleep, while it lasted, was dreamless and blissful, but this misuse of benzos is a recent development and rather concerning and needs to be controlled. When I woke up around midnight I took 22.5mg of zopiclone and slept through the night. Come the morning I was dazed and tired and still part-drugged. Not in the state to make wise decisions.
Phone call to family times one
Enough said, really. Speaking to my family always confronts me with the impossibility of the path I am on. How can I start talking to the professionals about the things I am starting to talk to them about and continue communicating with my family as though everything was fine and lovely? It’s a dissonance that threatens to break me, and I currently see no solution other than to be broken.
Self-induced Vomiting times three
This hasn’t been much of a problem lately but yesterday we really went to town. Food that was meant to last four days all ended up in the toilet. Now somebody needs to do the shopping again. The only consolation is that I didn’t carry on – I didn’t get dressed again and go out to buy food for the sole purpose of throwing it up. Accidental purging always seems a little less shameful than intentional. But it’s a big warning sign. I need to be really careful. I don’t want to end up in the kind of hell I was in with food a year ago.
Cans of beer times five
There are times to drink and there are times to . . .not. And probably when you’re already feeling desperate and suicidal is a time to not. I was seeking alteration of consciousness and oblivion, but before oblivion comes all sorts of dramatic drunken tweeting which only leads to shame the following day. Time to lay off the alcohol – to lay off all the drugs – for a bit. (But how will I sleep? whines a voice, how will I endure? )
Phone calls to the Crisis Team times two
A “bad patient” call, and a “good patient” call.
The first brings up all sorts of wormy feelings in me. There *is* an attention-seeking side of me that could be called “manipulative” although that’s not a pleasant word. But if I tell someone – or indeed, tell Twitter – that I am planning to kill myself on Tuesday and have ordered what I need, what exactly do I expect them to do? As the worker said to me , she *has* to do something with that information, and I *know* that she has to do something with that information, so *why* am I telling her? And this is true, and I can see it logically *now*, it’s just that it’s not at the time as calculated as the word “manipulative” makes it sounds. I was trying to express how desperate I was in that I didn’t actually know how I was going to make it through the rest of Saturday, let alone to Tuesday. But at the same time there is slowly dawning an awareness even in the midst of crisis that I have been in this situation of being suicidal so many times that isn’t it getting a little boring, and shouldn’t I stop making such a fuss about it and just trust I’ll get through? She advised lorazepam and cooking something hot to distract myself. I thanked her and rang off.
The second phone call, sometime later, was quite different. In that I was quite different. Rational, calm, expressing how tired I was of “this illness” and how hard and how often I tried. And the man was sympathetic and supportive. One funny moment in which he said “The person I was talking to a few minutes ago was entirely different to the one I’m talking to now”and if I’d had the energy in me to laugh I’d have laughed, because he didn’t know how right he was. Out of the mouths of crisis workers. At the end he said he hoped he’d helped, and I assured him that he had. People pleaser to the end. But somehow to have “successful” interactions with professionals in which I’m not left feeling like they are sighing and rolling their eyes and writing me off is a need of mine. It must have something to do with the reflected self. The self he reflected back to me was strong and brave and worthy of help. Why I need to rely for my self image on selves reflected by the Crisis Team is something to ponder. Or maybe I need the reassurance that I can navigate these bad patient/good patient tropes. And maybe that’s the true “manipulation”.
Lorazepam times four
And just to put an end to the unwelcome day, so I couldn’t cause any more distress to myself or others, I took some benzos. It was that or go out and get more beer – I needed to be unconscious. And I was in too much of a state to want to go out again. It was leaving myself a little short on the loraz, but at the time that didn’t seem to matter, because I was still thinking “oh well, I’m going to kill myself on Tuesday, I just have to get through till then”.
Shame times infinity
And then the morning, and the sore throat and the beer cans and the tweets you wish you’d never sent. I hope my friends can forgive me. The question is, can I forgive myself? I hate it when I behave like that.
The future times one
It’s morning. I’m trying not to beat myself up too much.I’m going to have a bath, tidy the house, and go out to replace all that wasted food. Then I’m going to take it easy. I feel like I can’t – I feel like I just want to curl up on the sofa in my own stink and the mess I’ve created over the last few days and fall apart further, because I can’t see a future I can bear. But there are three possible outcomes to this recent deterioration in my mental health – a) I end up in hospital again eventually, b) I kill myself, or c) I use the support I have in my life to be as brave and strong as they keep telling me I am and somehow pull through. I can tell you now, it won’t be a (all selves are now under firm orders to make no more calls to the crisis team). I’ll survive or I won’t survive, and I’ll probably survive because that’s what I do, and whether I survive or not I want it to be with a clean house *gets out the hoover*