Two days and no post! Nothing wrong here folks, just been taking it so very easy that I didn't deem it necessary to post about more pyjama days and television watching.
But here is one of the first cohesive scribbles from my time in hospital. Enjoy.
"I'm being encouraged to socialise.
My doctor, the nurses, they all want me to be engaging with others. They encourage me to attend group sessions or spend time in the patient lounge with the other patients. One nurse even went so far as to suggest I talk to people while I'm out in the smokers courtyard but he did follow that up by saying smoking is bad for my health.
I've found group sessions to be of little use since they're full of patients with limited insight, facilitated by health professionals who treat patients like kindergarten children (and provide information at that level too; "bipolar disorder is typified by two states; elevated and depressed!") and anyway, the sessions are usually hijacked by some middle-aged housewife aggrieved by the time her neighbour didn't say hi to her in the street.
And as for the patient lounge, the only thing there is a television, the remote for which is ruled over by a stony-faced woman who seems determined to watch whatever is the very worst thing on television at the time. Besides, I have a television in my room.
I prefer to watch the other patients, not interact with them.
I have favourite patients to watch too. There's Janette, a depressed lady who never gets out of her nightie but instead pulls a long, black, elastic-waisted skirt on over the top, right up to underneath her pendulous boobs, when the nurses tell her she needs to get dressed. I've heard the nurses entreat her to shower but I don't think they have been successful lately. Her pink, cotton nightie ironically has a decal on it which says 'fresh as a daisy'.
There's Francesca, a diminutive woman I first encountered when she was throwing a hissy fit over her hair straightener at the nurses station. She's made a friend now, Keryn, a nervous wreck who Francesca bosses and dotes on. You'll see Francesca ordering Keryn where to sit in the cafeteria and then bustling off to get her some jelly, like a mother rewarding a well behaved child.
There's Michael, a great mountain of a man who lumbers through the corridors seemingly unaware of his surroundings, eyelids drooping and his large mouth perpetually open. His massive body is hunched towards his enormous, protruding and often exposed pot belly, perfectly round like a basketball. I'm curious about the crucifix he wears around his neck. I wonder what comfort he finds in Jesus in a place like this.
No, I don't think I'll socialise, I think I'll just observe."
Sunday 30 December 2012
Thursday 27 December 2012
Nystagmus
I woke up to my alarm, remembered my morning medication, got on the bus and made it in to work on time. Wahey! This going to work business is a breeze!
I had expected I was going to be tired but nothing prepared me for how tired I actually was. When lunch time rolled around I wanted to curl up in a ball. Instead I went to the IGA across the road and bought corn chips and fruit chews for the office. When I'm tired I snack.
The other thing I've found out happens when I'm tired is my nystagmus kicks it up a notch.
Nystagmus is an involuntary movement of the eyes. I noticed that this started happening after my lithium was increased and indeed it is one of the known side effects of taking lithium. It would only happen every few hours and as it's only a quick flickering of the eyes it didn't bother me too much.
Tired and staring at a computer screen for hours and it started happening every few minutes, sometimes more frequently. This was particularly frustrating when I was trying to focus on things like numbers or dates or seating charts or little old lady handwriting or any of the other squillion things that I have to look at in my job.
There wasn't much I could do. In fact I don't think there is much I can do. I'm not going to compromise my mental health by stopping taking the lithium. I guess I'm just going to have to get used to blurry vision and do the best I can around it.
I'm in bed now, eyes darting wildly every minute or so and keen to get off to sleep. I have another big day of work tomorrow and a visit from my lovely but tireless nephews tomorrow evening.
Good night.
I had expected I was going to be tired but nothing prepared me for how tired I actually was. When lunch time rolled around I wanted to curl up in a ball. Instead I went to the IGA across the road and bought corn chips and fruit chews for the office. When I'm tired I snack.
The other thing I've found out happens when I'm tired is my nystagmus kicks it up a notch.
Nystagmus is an involuntary movement of the eyes. I noticed that this started happening after my lithium was increased and indeed it is one of the known side effects of taking lithium. It would only happen every few hours and as it's only a quick flickering of the eyes it didn't bother me too much.
Tired and staring at a computer screen for hours and it started happening every few minutes, sometimes more frequently. This was particularly frustrating when I was trying to focus on things like numbers or dates or seating charts or little old lady handwriting or any of the other squillion things that I have to look at in my job.
There wasn't much I could do. In fact I don't think there is much I can do. I'm not going to compromise my mental health by stopping taking the lithium. I guess I'm just going to have to get used to blurry vision and do the best I can around it.
I'm in bed now, eyes darting wildly every minute or so and keen to get off to sleep. I have another big day of work tomorrow and a visit from my lovely but tireless nephews tomorrow evening.
Good night.
Wednesday 26 December 2012
Happy Boxing Day
Today was spent on the couch, digesting all of yesterday's overindulgences and watching DVDs that Santa had been kind enough to deliver (Annie followed by The Dark Knight Rises - you'd think they wouldn't work as a double feature but somehow they did).
At the end of this pyjama day I have lain out an outfit and now I'm packing my handbag and wondering what I'm forgetting in preparation for work tomorrow.
I suppose some anxiety about returning to work is normal for anyone who has been away from work for a significant period of time. But acknowledging that some general anxiety is normal isn't making my specific anxiety go away.
I have small fears; that I'll sleep through my alarm, that I'll forget to take my medication in the morning, that my Myki balance will have mysteriously been depleted and I'll be denied access onto the bus. I need to now practice a bit of the acceptance and commitment therapy we covered in hospital and accept that I'm feeling this anxiety and allow it to be and to pass. And if I do sleep in or have public transport frustrations there is always CBT and I can recognise that if in fact I'm late or even, god forbid, absent from work tomorrow then it will not be the end of the world, no matter what the Mayans say.
But I do so hope I make that bus.
I'm eager to take some forward steps and so scared I might fail again.
I think that because I associate failure with relapse it is made so much worse. I need to keep it in mind that even if I do not succeed at some everyday tasks that it doesn't mean I'm doomed to end up in hospital again. I've had a long period of respite and while I still feel weak I may be stronger than I give myself credit for.
But this is enough of blogging. I have work in the morning. Wish me luck.
At the end of this pyjama day I have lain out an outfit and now I'm packing my handbag and wondering what I'm forgetting in preparation for work tomorrow.
I suppose some anxiety about returning to work is normal for anyone who has been away from work for a significant period of time. But acknowledging that some general anxiety is normal isn't making my specific anxiety go away.
I have small fears; that I'll sleep through my alarm, that I'll forget to take my medication in the morning, that my Myki balance will have mysteriously been depleted and I'll be denied access onto the bus. I need to now practice a bit of the acceptance and commitment therapy we covered in hospital and accept that I'm feeling this anxiety and allow it to be and to pass. And if I do sleep in or have public transport frustrations there is always CBT and I can recognise that if in fact I'm late or even, god forbid, absent from work tomorrow then it will not be the end of the world, no matter what the Mayans say.
But I do so hope I make that bus.
I'm eager to take some forward steps and so scared I might fail again.
I think that because I associate failure with relapse it is made so much worse. I need to keep it in mind that even if I do not succeed at some everyday tasks that it doesn't mean I'm doomed to end up in hospital again. I've had a long period of respite and while I still feel weak I may be stronger than I give myself credit for.
But this is enough of blogging. I have work in the morning. Wish me luck.
Monday 24 December 2012
Friends
I've been looking on Facebook at photos from a party yesterday. It was my friend's 40th birthday and I wasn't invited.
This wasn't an invitation lost in the mail or some oversight, I checked with my friend's wife and she told me that the experience of me going missing had been emotionally distressing for both of them so she thought it would be better if I didn't come.
These are people I considered to be close friends. I was in their wedding party a decade ago, I know their parents and their children know me. But as I'm learning, things have changed with the people I considered friends.
I know I scared everyone when I went missing. I know that it was confronting for people to learn I was in a psychiatric hospital and I know that mental illness is a scary, strange thing still surrounded by taboo that makes many people uncomfortable. But I'm still a person. I'm still Katie. I still want and need friends and so many of them have been missing lately.
Mental illness is an isolating experience. Your internal world looms larger than life making connecting with the external world a challenge. It can, like any illness, affect your ability to be in social situations. It's also made challenging by the fact that it feels like nobody understands what you're going through.
One of the best things about being in hospital was being around people who understood. When asked how you were, a simple shake of the head could communicate something comprehensible and well understood. But a lot of the time I was in hospital, I was in fact fine apart from being sick. I was tired, weak and flat, same as would be expected if I were recovering from the flu or following surgery.
The few wonderful, precious friends who visited me found me just like this; flat, tired, but essentially still the same person. These were the same friends who texted to check in on the progress I was making, texts which buoyed me and really did help restore me to my normal self.
The rest of my friends were missing.
It was my turn to experience what a scary things it is when this happens. My fear now, especially following my shunning from a social event, is that they might never come back.
Being friends with a person with mental illness can be a terrifying, confronting experience. But to the person who is experiencing the mental health crisis it is the most warming, reaffirming thing they could possibly hope for.
I will never stop being grateful to my little band of lifesavers who came to me when I was most in need. And as for the rest, well, I wait to see if they ever return.
This wasn't an invitation lost in the mail or some oversight, I checked with my friend's wife and she told me that the experience of me going missing had been emotionally distressing for both of them so she thought it would be better if I didn't come.
These are people I considered to be close friends. I was in their wedding party a decade ago, I know their parents and their children know me. But as I'm learning, things have changed with the people I considered friends.
I know I scared everyone when I went missing. I know that it was confronting for people to learn I was in a psychiatric hospital and I know that mental illness is a scary, strange thing still surrounded by taboo that makes many people uncomfortable. But I'm still a person. I'm still Katie. I still want and need friends and so many of them have been missing lately.
Mental illness is an isolating experience. Your internal world looms larger than life making connecting with the external world a challenge. It can, like any illness, affect your ability to be in social situations. It's also made challenging by the fact that it feels like nobody understands what you're going through.
One of the best things about being in hospital was being around people who understood. When asked how you were, a simple shake of the head could communicate something comprehensible and well understood. But a lot of the time I was in hospital, I was in fact fine apart from being sick. I was tired, weak and flat, same as would be expected if I were recovering from the flu or following surgery.
The few wonderful, precious friends who visited me found me just like this; flat, tired, but essentially still the same person. These were the same friends who texted to check in on the progress I was making, texts which buoyed me and really did help restore me to my normal self.
The rest of my friends were missing.
It was my turn to experience what a scary things it is when this happens. My fear now, especially following my shunning from a social event, is that they might never come back.
Being friends with a person with mental illness can be a terrifying, confronting experience. But to the person who is experiencing the mental health crisis it is the most warming, reaffirming thing they could possibly hope for.
I will never stop being grateful to my little band of lifesavers who came to me when I was most in need. And as for the rest, well, I wait to see if they ever return.
Sunday 23 December 2012
He knows if you've been bad or good...
If he really does know if I've been bad or good, I'd like a word with Santa.
I've been keeping myself busy today; gym, pre-Christmas cooking, present wrapping, planning a trip back to the States. I took a moment after dinner to sit alone and smoke a cigarette (filthy habit I picked up again this breakdown) and I felt a bit flat.
I tried really hard to work out if it was feeling down or just having a tired moment. It's hard to know whether I should panic over every little dip in mood or ride things out to see what the overall trend is. I'm worried I'll keep excusing bad moments and assume that things will get better until my life is full of just bad moments and I'm suddenly paralysed by despair. On the other hand, I can't spend my time overanalysing each and every fluctuation or I will drive myself insane.
For the most part, it was a day of good moments, particularly good was Skyping with my best friend in the US and eating some nice Gouda, so I'm calling it a good day.
I've been keeping myself busy today; gym, pre-Christmas cooking, present wrapping, planning a trip back to the States. I took a moment after dinner to sit alone and smoke a cigarette (filthy habit I picked up again this breakdown) and I felt a bit flat.
I tried really hard to work out if it was feeling down or just having a tired moment. It's hard to know whether I should panic over every little dip in mood or ride things out to see what the overall trend is. I'm worried I'll keep excusing bad moments and assume that things will get better until my life is full of just bad moments and I'm suddenly paralysed by despair. On the other hand, I can't spend my time overanalysing each and every fluctuation or I will drive myself insane.
For the most part, it was a day of good moments, particularly good was Skyping with my best friend in the US and eating some nice Gouda, so I'm calling it a good day.
Saturday 22 December 2012
Merry go round days
A merry go round day; up and down and slightly exhilarating.
I went to the gym for the first time in forever. I also finished my Christmas shopping and cooked dinner for my aunt and uncle. Quite virtuous really!
My energy waned mid-afternoon, a lull I've noticed often affects my mood. When possible I sneak in naps but I'll need to ensure I can make it through the day nap free before I get back to work.
At work there's always the 3pm coffee break and visit to the chocolate box I suppose. But I'll need to start watching what I eat and keep up the effort at the gym if I want to abort this seroquel baby (it's what those of us in hospital, puffed up after taking seroquel called our pot bellies). At the moment I look like I'm about 10 months pregnant and it's only my clothes with forgiving elastic waistbands that actually fit.
Tomorrow is supposed to be stinking hot so I'm going to see how much of the day I can spend prostrate under an air-conditioner. And go to the gym. Positive, proactive plans.
I went to the gym for the first time in forever. I also finished my Christmas shopping and cooked dinner for my aunt and uncle. Quite virtuous really!
My energy waned mid-afternoon, a lull I've noticed often affects my mood. When possible I sneak in naps but I'll need to ensure I can make it through the day nap free before I get back to work.
At work there's always the 3pm coffee break and visit to the chocolate box I suppose. But I'll need to start watching what I eat and keep up the effort at the gym if I want to abort this seroquel baby (it's what those of us in hospital, puffed up after taking seroquel called our pot bellies). At the moment I look like I'm about 10 months pregnant and it's only my clothes with forgiving elastic waistbands that actually fit.
Tomorrow is supposed to be stinking hot so I'm going to see how much of the day I can spend prostrate under an air-conditioner. And go to the gym. Positive, proactive plans.
Friday 21 December 2012
And once again...
Discharge day.
I feel a lot more prepared for that big, scary outside world than I did last time I got out of hospital.
I went through a few more weeks of hellish moods and zero energy, I had my medication upped and tinkered with and then I finally turned a corner.
I swear it's the lithium. It's my wonder drug. A blood test revealed that my lithium levels were low so my daily dose was increased and almost instantly I perked up.
For good measure I'm also taking lamotrigine, lexapro, cymbalta, seroquel and zyprexa. Phew! If you shake me I rattle like a pill bottle. True story.
I'm going to keep up the blogging to chart my mood and force myself to write cohesively (hopefully) once a day. I might also transcribe some of my scribblings from my hospital stay. But for now I unpack and look optimistically towards the next few days.
I feel a lot more prepared for that big, scary outside world than I did last time I got out of hospital.
I went through a few more weeks of hellish moods and zero energy, I had my medication upped and tinkered with and then I finally turned a corner.
I swear it's the lithium. It's my wonder drug. A blood test revealed that my lithium levels were low so my daily dose was increased and almost instantly I perked up.
For good measure I'm also taking lamotrigine, lexapro, cymbalta, seroquel and zyprexa. Phew! If you shake me I rattle like a pill bottle. True story.
I'm going to keep up the blogging to chart my mood and force myself to write cohesively (hopefully) once a day. I might also transcribe some of my scribblings from my hospital stay. But for now I unpack and look optimistically towards the next few days.
Wednesday 28 November 2012
Worse
Today I would have seemed to any outsider like things were perfectly normal. I had what might even be described as an active start to the day.
My aunt has purchased a gym membership for me for my birthday (not in any hostile, suggestive way like my ex-boyfriend's mother who got me a self-help book for Christmas) and I went to the gym this morning and did a gentle 45 minute workout.
I then went to work where I tackled a busy inbox full of emails and started on the rest of the days tasks.
But I knew something wasn't right. It's the sort of something that I usually ignore but after what has happened to me recently I feel like I can't ignore any signs now.
It was like a veil had come down over me and I felt disconnected from everything around me. If I had to speak to people it required a temporary breach of the shroud between us and I would sense myself being personable and funny but it was coming from a place very remote from where I really felt myself to be. Where i felt myself to be was in a swamp of deep sadness. Simple movement feels strained, like walking through water, and my throat feels constricted, the way it does before crying.
I rang my psychiatrist and told him something wasn't right. I told my boss I needed to take more time off. I called my sister and told her I needed to go back to hospital. It has all transpired that I'm now waiting for a phone call from The Melbourne Clinic to let me know there is a bed for me.
So this is a down, but perhaps experiencing it rather than ignoring it will help me in the long run. Doubt I'll be blogging in hospital so please excuse this absence. Hopefully the next post comes from a much better place.
My aunt has purchased a gym membership for me for my birthday (not in any hostile, suggestive way like my ex-boyfriend's mother who got me a self-help book for Christmas) and I went to the gym this morning and did a gentle 45 minute workout.
I then went to work where I tackled a busy inbox full of emails and started on the rest of the days tasks.
But I knew something wasn't right. It's the sort of something that I usually ignore but after what has happened to me recently I feel like I can't ignore any signs now.
It was like a veil had come down over me and I felt disconnected from everything around me. If I had to speak to people it required a temporary breach of the shroud between us and I would sense myself being personable and funny but it was coming from a place very remote from where I really felt myself to be. Where i felt myself to be was in a swamp of deep sadness. Simple movement feels strained, like walking through water, and my throat feels constricted, the way it does before crying.
I rang my psychiatrist and told him something wasn't right. I told my boss I needed to take more time off. I called my sister and told her I needed to go back to hospital. It has all transpired that I'm now waiting for a phone call from The Melbourne Clinic to let me know there is a bed for me.
So this is a down, but perhaps experiencing it rather than ignoring it will help me in the long run. Doubt I'll be blogging in hospital so please excuse this absence. Hopefully the next post comes from a much better place.
Tuesday 27 November 2012
There'll be days like this
I'm contemplating re-admission.
That's how utterly crap I feel today, I'm contemplating going back to hospital.
See in hospital you don't have to be around people and if you feel like sleeping all day you can. You don't have to make hard choices, in fact, all of the choices are easier. Choosing what to wear is a doddle because you only have a suitcase worth of clothing, plus the answer is probably 'tracksuit pants'.
I want to be protected from the world and I want to be able to cry all day, which is OK when you're an inpatient at a psych hospital.
I saw both my psychiatrist and psychologist today and both of them mentioned that after a psychotic episode it's normal to have a depressed mood.
I'm so glad I'm doing something normal but I wish it wasn't this.
I wonder if I discharged myself too quickly. I may seriously go back. Let's see how I'm feeling tomorrow.
That's how utterly crap I feel today, I'm contemplating going back to hospital.
See in hospital you don't have to be around people and if you feel like sleeping all day you can. You don't have to make hard choices, in fact, all of the choices are easier. Choosing what to wear is a doddle because you only have a suitcase worth of clothing, plus the answer is probably 'tracksuit pants'.
I want to be protected from the world and I want to be able to cry all day, which is OK when you're an inpatient at a psych hospital.
I saw both my psychiatrist and psychologist today and both of them mentioned that after a psychotic episode it's normal to have a depressed mood.
I'm so glad I'm doing something normal but I wish it wasn't this.
I wonder if I discharged myself too quickly. I may seriously go back. Let's see how I'm feeling tomorrow.
Monday 26 November 2012
Back at work
I’m so glad I have tomorrow off! I am exhausted!
There were 120 or so emails in my inbox which I’ve managed
to sift through and I’ve remembered how to do almost everything. I did forget
my computer password and had to ask it to be reset, the IT manager eyeing me
like I’m a loonie in the process.
Everyone else has been friendly, almost too friendly. They
all have that fear in their eyes which I’m becoming accustomed to.
I have been meaning to see the General Manager all day, to show her
I’m back, thank her for calling my parents while I was missing and apologise for dragging the company into the
media fray but she’s either been out of her office or on the phone each time I’ve
gone by. The later the day gets, the more anxious I feel about doing it.
Stupid really. I should just go down now
Because I’m really good at taking it easy/slowly (where’s
that sarcasm font?) I’m seeing a play tonight. I shouldn’t be out much later
than 9.30 and I can sleep in tomorrow morning so it shouldn’t be too taxing.
And what’s the play about? Two people released from a psychiatric facility…
Appropriate surely!
I also bought a new book for myself yesterday. I opened it
up and found the first chapter was set in a rehab facility – I just can’t
escape them!
Tomorrow I’m booked up with appointments and possibly lunch
with my ex-boyfriend. At the moment we’re being civil to each other with an undercurrent of sexual tension.
I should stay away but… There’s no really good ‘but’, except but I’m an
idiot and don’t know when to get out of the way of oncoming traffic.
At least I’m seeing my psychoanalyst twice a week. Hopefully she can keep
me in check if I start displaying signs of my head being messed by him again.
Sunday 25 November 2012
One day you'll laugh about it
I awoke this morning with a low mood and low energy. Morning only lasted a few hours before I needed a nap.
When I woke up from that I was running late to meet someone for lunch. I rushed into the city and felt the rush absorb me. Unfortunately my friend was also running late so I was forced to linger on the street, the crush of people swarming, going about their own business as I tried to reestablish my place amongst them. It has been a few weeks since I've been around crowds and I felt anxious. I very nearly got on a tram and went home.
My friend turned up and we sat outside the State Library and chatted. I recounted my story and when I came to the part about hiding out in a hollow tree, he laughed.
People have been saying to me that one day I'll be able to look back at this episode or incident and laugh. But nobody else has actually laughed yet. Everyone is very respectful and concerned, some seem almost fearful, but my friend was the first to actually laugh about it.
It felt good.
I'm still exhausted but my mood definitely picked up.
Tomorrow is the first day back at work. Hopefully I can remember the lesson of today and make it through even if my mood is low and perhaps find just one thing to turn it around.
When I woke up from that I was running late to meet someone for lunch. I rushed into the city and felt the rush absorb me. Unfortunately my friend was also running late so I was forced to linger on the street, the crush of people swarming, going about their own business as I tried to reestablish my place amongst them. It has been a few weeks since I've been around crowds and I felt anxious. I very nearly got on a tram and went home.
My friend turned up and we sat outside the State Library and chatted. I recounted my story and when I came to the part about hiding out in a hollow tree, he laughed.
People have been saying to me that one day I'll be able to look back at this episode or incident and laugh. But nobody else has actually laughed yet. Everyone is very respectful and concerned, some seem almost fearful, but my friend was the first to actually laugh about it.
It felt good.
I'm still exhausted but my mood definitely picked up.
Tomorrow is the first day back at work. Hopefully I can remember the lesson of today and make it through even if my mood is low and perhaps find just one thing to turn it around.
Saturday 24 November 2012
What happened
About 6 years ago I woke up in a gutter.
When you wake up in a gutter... Well, I say when but I hope it never does happen to you, so let's say if, if you wake up in a gutter, you will know something is seriously wrong.
Not the kind of wrong that comes from being a normal fucked up brat in their 20s. There had been some regular mistakes; dropping out of university (twice), taking too many party drugs, drunkenly sleeping with a random ferret-faced Irishman. Waking up in a gutter is different.
Prior to my rude awakening I had slept a total of about 10 hours in 10 days, I had partied, drunk and fucked my way through the inner suburbs of Melbourne and most unusually I had decided that a colleague was trying to poison me.
I had previously been diagnosed with major depression but after this episode I was re-diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
My diagnosis was a double edged sword. It was a great relief to know what was wrong and be able to seek treatment, but bipolar also sounded so serious and crazy. But then the treatment started to work. And my life turned around.
I was able to hold down a job, I lost the impulse to drink with the same desperate fervour I'd previously had and I felt like I finally had some control.
I stayed stable for months and then a year and decided to trial myself off medication. Unmedicated I felt my creativity flourished and I still felt in control enough to function.
I had a number of good years. No, that's an understatement. I had a number of brilliant years. I was accepted into the ATYP Fresh Ink playwriting mentorship, I began working for Melbourne Theatre Company, I returned to study, I had my work published in the Text Camp Reader and then I lived in New York for a year.
It was upon my return from New York that things started to crumble.
I felt like the Melbourne I returned to was a hostile place. I struggled to find a job and a place to live, my friendships seemed strange and strained and I desperately missed the dear friends I had made in the States.
I rapidly sunk into a stubborn depressive episode. I started back on medication, but as is the nature of mental illness, there's a lot of trial and error before the doctor gets it right.
I finally found a combination that worked and started improving. My improvement was great enough that I was able to return to work and reintroduced myself to my social world.
Then... There's no other way of saying it I suppose; I got caught in a shitstorm.
In the space of a few weeks every aspect of my life seemed to blow up; work seemed uncertain, my apartment was vandalised, my health was ailing and personal relationships were fraying. Through all of this I tried to behave like nothing was wrong and I could handle everything but the stress became too much and my brain chemistry went crazy.
I had a psychotic episode.
I had a number of good years. No, that's an understatement. I had a number of brilliant years. I was accepted into the ATYP Fresh Ink playwriting mentorship, I began working for Melbourne Theatre Company, I returned to study, I had my work published in the Text Camp Reader and then I lived in New York for a year.
It was upon my return from New York that things started to crumble.
I felt like the Melbourne I returned to was a hostile place. I struggled to find a job and a place to live, my friendships seemed strange and strained and I desperately missed the dear friends I had made in the States.
I rapidly sunk into a stubborn depressive episode. I started back on medication, but as is the nature of mental illness, there's a lot of trial and error before the doctor gets it right.
I finally found a combination that worked and started improving. My improvement was great enough that I was able to return to work and reintroduced myself to my social world.
Then... There's no other way of saying it I suppose; I got caught in a shitstorm.
In the space of a few weeks every aspect of my life seemed to blow up; work seemed uncertain, my apartment was vandalised, my health was ailing and personal relationships were fraying. Through all of this I tried to behave like nothing was wrong and I could handle everything but the stress became too much and my brain chemistry went crazy.
I had a psychotic episode.
I thought somebody was implanting thoughts in my head, reality started splitting and I felt like I was going to kill myself if I stayed in Melbourne and let my thoughts be controlled. I booked the first available flight out of Melbourne then left my phone and a rambling, nonsensical note at my apartment and flew to Launceston. I spent 3 days there feeling like I was dying. I was rapidly detoxing off my medication so my head felt like it was being cracked open and my body felt like it was falling apart.
I was unaware that the police had been notified I was missing or that it was all over the news and facebook. The police found that I'd been using my bank card in Launceston (to buy apples, almonds and chicken, the only things I could stomach when I was able to eat) and told my family.
My parents, along with my older brother and sister flew to Tasmania. At the same time the Tasmanian police tracked me down at the hostel where I'd been staying. They told me people were looking for me and to call my sister.
In my paranoid state I panicked and ran away and went and hid in the hollow of a tree in a nearby park. When it got dark and I thought it was safe to come out of hiding I went to a payphone and called my sister. I yelled at her for calling the police on me then she talked me down and got me to tell her where I was. She came and found me and took me to hospital. I spent a week in the psych unit of Launceston General Hospital, the first two days
of which I slept solidly. I was then transferred to The Melbourne Clinic where I spent another week recovering and having my medication adjusted.
I was discharged this morning.
At the moment I wish for my family's sake that I hadn't gotten sick, because I can see in their faces and their hesitating ways that they were scared shitless by what happened, and probably to an extent, still are.
Me? I'm embarrassed and saddened and tired and angry and hopeful and thankful all at the same time .I'm sorry to those I frightened and thankful to those who love me, even at my worst.
I feel like I'm getting better. If I am then I hope I stay well. I'm hoping that writing things down will help me make sense of it all.
So, that's us about up to speed I should think.
My parents, along with my older brother and sister flew to Tasmania. At the same time the Tasmanian police tracked me down at the hostel where I'd been staying. They told me people were looking for me and to call my sister.
In my paranoid state I panicked and ran away and went and hid in the hollow of a tree in a nearby park. When it got dark and I thought it was safe to come out of hiding I went to a payphone and called my sister. I yelled at her for calling the police on me then she talked me down and got me to tell her where I was. She came and found me and took me to hospital. I spent a week in the psych unit of Launceston General Hospital, the first two days
of which I slept solidly. I was then transferred to The Melbourne Clinic where I spent another week recovering and having my medication adjusted.
I was discharged this morning.
At the moment I wish for my family's sake that I hadn't gotten sick, because I can see in their faces and their hesitating ways that they were scared shitless by what happened, and probably to an extent, still are.
Me? I'm embarrassed and saddened and tired and angry and hopeful and thankful all at the same time .I'm sorry to those I frightened and thankful to those who love me, even at my worst.
I feel like I'm getting better. If I am then I hope I stay well. I'm hoping that writing things down will help me make sense of it all.
So, that's us about up to speed I should think.
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