Monday, August 10, 2009

Where have I been?

I spent the weekend in a mental hospital. It's not an experience that I'm wanting to repeat. Ever.

I'm not quite sure how to explain the lead-up to all of this. I could say it started on Thursday, when I got into an argument with mom that culminated in me causing her to fall. Or maybe it started earlier that week, when I was feeling insecure and not wanting to get out of bed. Or even earlier than that, about six months ago when I was seriously considering, once again, that I could possibly have PMDD.

But whenever it started, it all ended with me thrusting a small pocket knife into my right thigh five times.

This is not something a person in their right mind does. And, indeed, I wasn't in my right mind when I did it. I was brought to the ER to be bandaged up (the wounds didn't require stitches, but have steri-strips on them now) and from there, I was handcuffed and put in the back of a police car. The officer kept reassuring me that I wasn't under arrest, but it's difficult to believe that when the metal is biting into your skin, peeling a few layers off, and leaving enough pressure to bruise days later.

The officer drove me over to Telecare, a local mental health facility. I was quickly ushered inside and the cuffs were removed. From there, endless questions about my mental health: what kind of medications am I on, do I take them regularly, why did i stab myself? And I repeated myself over and over and over until I thought that, by now, everyone in the known universe must know why I did what I had did.

I'm not going to go into every little detail of what happened in Telecare (And there's plenty to get into, between my clothes being stolen by another patient and someone asking if I was aware I had false lips). It wasn't very nice, though. The staff only half listened to what I had said at any given point and would fill in the rest. I stated my mother is disabled and they write down that she's "near death." I truly feel that the people who run places like this are only in it for the money. They make $1000 a day for each patient they keep in that place, so if they can keep a person there longer, why not?

But despite everything that happened, I came to realize that I haven't been myself lately. I've been withholding things from everyone, including both Master and mom. The night before I stabbed myself, I had thoughts of doing so. If only I had spoken up, I might not have had to spend the weekend in that crazy place. So I've made a decision to speak up more. No more hiding, no more trying my best to keep quiet so I don't worry people. I'm going to speak up, even if it annoys everyone. I will NOT end up in a place like that again.

Also, even the psychiatrist I spoke to agrees that it most definitely sounds like I've got PMDD, so my speculation all these months has been true. Now to just schedule an appointment with my doctor so we can discuss what can be done, so these kinds of episodes can be reduced in the future.

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