So the HTT are back again. I spoke to the Psychologist yesterday about my mood, increasing self-harms, suicidal impulses, stocks of pills and alcohol etc. and from that point on, it was all things go.
Firstly, he called my HTT and asked if they’d see me. They told him I had to refer myself, so he called me back and told me to do that and that if I didn’t, he’d be compelled to tell my parents. I got the Brother to call him to calm him a bit, then called the HTT. They would only accept a referral from the CMHT Psychiatrist. This is where it all went wrong.
The Psychologist is from my EDU, which is based in north London and is part of a NHS Mental Health Trust. My CMHT, HTT and IMPART are part of the North East London Foundation Trust. Basically, that means the communication between my primary care giver (the Psychologist I see weekly) and everyone else is essentially awful.
I called the Psychiatrist, but he was unavailable, so I called the Psychologist. He said he’d call the Psychiatrist then call me back. I called the Psychiatrist a lot of times and was given assurances he’d call as soon as possible. Then I just waited and waited.
At about five thirty in the afternoon, after giving up hope that anyone liked me or cared about my existence and convinced (yet again) that I should just kill myself, the Psychologist called back. Apparently he talked to the Psychiatrist and was told I’d be contacted. When I told him I hadn’t, he was pissed because he’d been told that they’d take up his issues. He then told me he had no choice but to call the Fam. He was all like “I don’t breach confidentiality lightly” and like “This comes from a place of care”, but seriously – fuck him.
So now the Fam know I have a stash of painkillers and I’m suicidal and ‘high risk’.
Luckily, I was out with the Pa at that point, so only him and the Brother knew, but I already knew what would await me at home. It would be tears and drama from the Ma. She’s terrified I’m going to die and I devastate her life.
Then, at 6pm, the Psychiatrist called and asked what was going on. I told him how fucked off I was that he’d messed up my Valium prescription and what my Psychologist had told me to tell him – suicidal intent over the past few days, worsening mood, worsening self-harm, stash of pills etc.. Because it was 6pm at this point, he couldn’t see me till Monday and told me I had to go to A&E. If he’d called half an hour earlier, I could have avoided the Famo issues and just gone to A&E whilst saying I was heading to the pub or something, but no.
I was right about the Ma. I got home – cue waterworks. Which in turn, rackets up my guilt, shame and suicidal thoughts. I don’t want to hurt my mum, but I do, every single day. Just by existing.
So anyway, I packed a bag, grabbed a really good friend and off to A&E I went. I was there from about 7pm till maybe 1am ish. The friend really helped lift my mood. He was fun with me and joked with me and made me feel better sometimes, though little triggers and memories kept knocking me back down again. Of course, me being a dick, I took razors to the hospital and cut myself in the bathroom. Seriously – who does that? Why am I such an idiot? Nurses had to dress my stupidity and I wasted their time. They were nice to me though. I’ve never been treated badly by A&E staff for my mental health issues, though I know for a lot of people this is a common occurence. I’ve only been treated well and kindly. I guess I’m lucky. I’ve always been offered the right, evidence based treatments, support when needed and been treated kindly. Maybe it’s because I’m in London. I know so many people haven’t had such luck.
Standardly, I had an ECG, my blood pressure taken, a blood test and a urine test. I don’t know why. My bloods were fine though, my blood pressure is a tiny bit below average (which is good) and my ECG was normal. Apparently I have a water infection. I hadn’t noticed, but now I’m on antibiotics for that too.
Anyway, it took till about midnight for the HTT people to see me, so now they’re back. I was sad because I wasn’t seen by someone I know and I wanted a recognisable face. I’m getting zopiclone now to help me sleep without Valium and green, which will hopefully help me feel better whilst cutting down on the diazepam, but will make me more drowsy in the day as my body isn’t resistant to it. And they’re going to provide me with Valium everyday so I don’t have to go cold turkey again. I slept through their appointment times this morning though so I’m not even sure if I’ll see them. They called and said they’d be coming, ad I know who it’ll be today and he’s lovely so that’s less scary, even if I don’t know what time it’ll be.
I’m still really on edge and have thought more than once about ending my life in the two hours I’ve been awake. Still, at least I had a good nights sleep. Now I’m just waiting and hoping the HTT turn up in time to settle me a bit. I’m fucking exhausted and have no appetite. The idea of eating anything makes me feel sick. And every time I go downstairs, the Ma looks at me like I break her heart and my whole body just aches with guilt and shame. I don’t know what to do.
So yer, I’m feeling really fucking low and I don’t know how much I’ll be blogging for a while. I’ll try keep up with reading, lurking and commenting, but I duno.
I feel like shit.
Sorry for whinging.