Monday, September 11, 2006

Day 22.1

In my own world today, the world a step behind reality - I had the blackest day for a long time.

Since I came back from my mum’s last Tuesday I have been falling into a slow decent of emotion. Most days this past week have involved sobbing of some description and today I became hysterical. It got to the point that I had to action my ‘in case of emergency’ phone tree. Mum called at the point of no return and managed to convince me to call my CPN for help. As she (Mum) is so far away there is very little she can do practically on days like today. I could hardly speak on the phone to the clinic, but through heart rending sobs tried to get out that I needed help. My designated CPN is away on holiday for three weeks so I had to get an emergency appointment with the CPN on duty. “Can you come down to the centre for 2.30pm?” she said. I couldn’t get the words out to say, “I don’t know how I’m going to get off the floor never mind get clothes on and catch the bus”. But I just mumbled “Yes”.

I needed to know if what was happening to me – this rapid decline into emotional distress - was due to coming down to 10mg of my Citalopram or if this was just how this illness works. One minute fine – the next, on the floor trying not to end it all. All I wanted to hear was “Just ride it out for the next couple of days and it will become more manageable...” all she said was “Have you thought about joining the gym or going swimming?” I erupted into more hysterics and she said something on the lines of “harsh, but true…” I tried telling her that I couldn’t manage to shower and get dressed properly never mind join the real world. I thought back to the flat from hell that was awaiting me - a cripplingly out of control mess of unwashed dishes from the last week. Piles of washing and furniture moved manically into an unfathomable mess during a manic spell last week. If I’d had a house visit they would see what’s really happening.

You would think that someone who is still considered ‘at risk’ and that regularly self harms would have a giant red sticker on their file that says “If this person comes in, in a distressed state, or calls sobbing her heart out – take serious notice”.

I asked if it would be possible to get an emergency appointment with my psychologist as I’m not seeing her ‘till next week and she almost snorted with laughter. “That’ll never happen,” she said – “You just have to keep yourself busy for the next few weeks.” She ends the appointment, me still shaking with hysterics saying “Just try no to work yourself in a state and I’ll tell your psychologist you called.” Never once mentioning the elephant in the room.

I came home and booked an emergency appointment with my GP for tomorrow morning in the hope that she will have some helpful advice.

I don’t care if they say “This is what happens during withdrawal – you just have to ride it out for the next few days and it will get better.” Just as long as I know what this is and that I’m not losing my mind.

Things are a little calmer this evening as I lie on the couch, steeling myself for Round 2 under several blankets.


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