Tenacity

In the past, I have always been proud of how tenacious I have been. When things haven’t gone my way, I’ve gone back to the drawing board and looked at how I could get to where I wanted. Because of this tenacity, I was able to build a successful business and be happy in my social life at the same time.

My care co-ordinator has always said to me, that it’s my stubbornness (ok so maybe she calls my tenacity stubbornness but I like my word better!!) that will get me through this period of my life. Surprise surprise, I doubted her! I honestly thought it had disappeared, the trait that I had relied up on so much, my fighting spirit; all gone.

And then something has happened over the past few weeks that has made me think, just maybe, it is still there. I have made no secret over the fact I want to retrain as a doctor and move in to the psychiatry field. And so I set out to see what I would need to do in order to qualify for the medical school that is closest to me.
In no uncertain terms, I was told by the admissions manager that I wouldn’t get a place as I didn’t have the right qualifications. My degree is in a business related field and I got a 2:2 (all be it only 2% off a 2:1 but that’s not important is it!) and so I was told I wouldn’t be accepted. Even if I had an access to higher education qualification at the college they recommend, they would still look at my degree result and reject my application.

My question was, how can something I did 10 years ago in a completely unrelated field overshadow a recent, science based qualification?

When I got this from the university, I felt squashed. This was the first thing I had felt was worth working towards for me. I felt I had a purpose again. After a couple of days wallowing, I decided that instead of applying for the pre med course through the university (which made the 5 year medical degree, 6 years), I would go straight to the college and apply for it. Then once I had concrete results, I could show how serious I was and how my results were better (I would make sure they were!) So that was my next plan. I looked on their website and I met the entry requirements, so I put my application in.

A couple of weeks later, I got a rejection letter. Apparently my level of qualification was too high and therefore I wasn’t allowed on to the course. Again, I felt squashed. Who was I to think I could better myself anyway? I needed to get in to the real world and realise my limitations.

And then another couple of days passed and I realised I still wanted this and so if that meant me having to study for maybe an extra year or so, then so be it. I contacted my local college and they have an access to higher education course in science that looks interesting. So it wouldn’t get me in to medical school, but it would show how serious I am and I would look at another 2 medical schools that are a bit further away to try to get on to their foundation courses.

Today, after sharing a few emails with the course tutor to make sure I am eligible, I have put an application in for that course.

And so I have found my stubbornness, my unwillingness to never give up. If I can do it for a course, I can do it for my own mental health, right?

 

Triggered

**TRIGGER WARNING – PLEASE ONLY READ IF IN A SAFE PLACE YOURSELF**

I wanted to write a post that’s a bit different from my other ones in that it’s about a couple of things from my childhood. I never normally mention these things as I feel they are boxed away and therefore not really up for discussion. I’m not sure if I will keep this post for long as ultimately it can identify me to anyone who might know me in real life.

The police coming round on Saturday (see previous post) has left me feeling extremely triggered. There are three reasons for this:

1) One of my earliest memories is when our next door neighbour was murdered and there was a lot of police around as my dad was the person that found him. This was just a bad memory but still one I struggle with regarding safety.

2) Not long after that my mum had amazing courage to leave my dad. He was extremely violent and adulterous and when he left us at home whilst he went on holiday with another woman, she left. This next memory is not long after we’d moved out (I was 5 or 6) and he came round angry and shouting. My mum locked us in the front room with her but he broke the doors down to get in. I remember the police arriving and telling me and my brother to go to the local park for a while. For obvious reasons, this memory is pretty distressing!

3) the third reason is when I was bit older (7 or 8) I slid down a pole at school that we were forbidden to go near. It made me bleed and when my mum saw the blood in my underwear and asked about it, I didn’t want to get in to trouble for going near the pole and so I said I didn’t know. After being taken to the doctors, the police were called as there were obvious abrasions. I had to have an examination by a police doctor and remember it all being very clinical and a lot of people being involved. I don’t remember at which point I told the truth but I do know they questioned the immediate males who had access to me.

The thing is, I was being abused at that time but he’d only ever made me touch him. But after this, he said no one would ever believe me now and he did more. I’ve got so much guilt around that whole thing. If I’d never lied about that pole, would he have ever done the things to me? Did I therefore bring it on myself?

Anyway, this is why I’ve been so triggered and struggled since seeing the police at my door. These are things I’ve buried, but are now on the surface and I don’t know what to do with them. I’m desperately trying to package them back in to that box and hide them away!

 

The Police

You may, or may not, have noticed that I deleted my last post. The one that said PTSD has won and I give up. I’ll explain the reason I’ve deleted it in a minute, but the content is still relevant. I do feel very low, I do feel that the PTSD has won, that I will always have it hanging around my neck and that I don’t know what purpose I have in this world right now.

BUT what that doesn’t mean is that I am going to kill myself or that I am using this blog as a platform to announce that! I have NEVER and never will put something like that out if I was planning something. Go back over my past attempts, I’ve never told anyone through this of any specific time or plan before I’ve done it. I’ve told my care co-ordinator and psychiatrist of deadlines I’ve given myself and that’s the times I’ve ended up in hospital and in hindsight I’ve told them because I’ve needed the help.

I’ve a very honest relationship with my cc and if I’ve wanted help, I’ve managed to, in someway, ask for it. Whether that’s going to a&e, calling out of hours, a duty worker or my care coordinator.

I used this blog as a place I could write my true emotions, things I’ve not always felt able to share in the short term with any of my support team. I’ll admit, it’s been an emotional crutch for me and it’s even on my list of distractions – write a blog about how I’m feeling. It was extremely important to me.

Now, back to Saturday after I wrote the last post (that’s been deleted). I wrote it at 4.30am after yet another sleepless night due to me being terrified of dropping off in case I have a nightmare. As I’ve already stated, it feels like the PTSD has won and that’s exactly what I wrote as well as what I feel it’s taken from my life – my relationships, my business and my freedom. I was/am down about it all and I’m grateful for the many people on twitter who seemed to care about me enough to get in touch and ask if I was ok. I didn’t disappear offline, I didn’t ignore those asking me how I was. In fact I was online all morning, again trying to distract myself and I was talking to many people.

Imagine my surprise then when I got a knock at my door to find two police officers standing there. My first initial thought was something had happened to a loved one. They asked to come in and if I knew what this was about. I said I didn’t have a clue and then one of them asked if I wrote a blog.

I was dismayed, someone had called the police based on one post and with no attempt to speak to me? Yes, I get it, I should be glad that someone cared enough about me to go to that trouble. But surely, it would have made more sense to speak to me directly as others had done? I am always around, via twitter, DM, email and comments on this blog. As already mentioned, it wasn’t like I wrote that PTSD had won and then disappeared. In all honesty, I felt betrayed. If someone knew my rough location, it meant that they know me quite well as it’s something I keep very quiet. I also give my nearest town as my location, as it’s more well known than where I actually live. So it’s apparent to me it’s someone I supposedly trusted as it was that same location they gave the police. As it turns out, I live on the border of two different counties, with the town I mention being in the one I don’t live in. So the police that attended were actually out of area which is why I know it was someone I’ve trusted.

There were two police officers, a female and a male. The female was lovely. She had read my blog and knew a lot about me. This made me feel extremely vulnerable. I’d only ever been able to tell my cc some of the things I’d written because of the shame and guilt and so to have someone I didn’t know or trust, in front of me knowing my innermost thoughts was horrible. The male pc wasn’t very nice. I felt like I was being interrogated, like I’d done something wrong. I was tearful throughout, as I had been anyway, and his style wasn’t helping. They left once they understood my meaning behind the post and whilst they didn’t ask me to remove it, I did anyway.

As I’ve already said, I felt betrayed and in all honesty angry. Like I said, I understand someone must have cared and thought they were doing the right thing for me at the time and for that I should feel grateful – but I just can’t.

So what now?

I write this blog not just for my benefit, but as a place where others can read what this journey is like. I get at least one email a week where someone tells me how grateful they are for it as well as others telling me, as the first person they’ve ever told, about their own traumas. That it has given them the courage to ask for help.

In all honesty, this blog is sometimes incredibly difficult for me to write. It can be very raw and at times when I’ve not wanted to carry on with it, I have – purely because of those emails.

But now, I’m not so sure. I feel like I have to edit my feelings and that was never the point of this. And so this could be my last post, I’ve yet to make my mind up. But I didn’t realise someone who I’ve never met could have the ability to hurt and betray me so much. As always, I’m just being honest!! Let me re-iterate though, I would NEVER put it in the public domain that I was going to kill myself!

**update** The person who called the police has emailed me and explained their thinking. I feel better knowing who it was and the intention behind it so I’d like to put it behind me now and try and move on. Thanks for everyone’s support through this x

 

Graded Exposure and Emotions

On Thursday I met with my care coordinator (cc) to begin a program of graded exposure. This basically means that in order to build up my confidence in going out in public in the day, we were going to start doing exactly that.

My cc thought that I had too many psychological blocks on going out near me and so we decided to meet in a local park’s car park when we thought it would be relatively quiet. The plan was to see how I was and maybe go for a walk around the park.

It didn’t quite go to plan. By the time Thursday came along I’d turned myself into a nervous wreck. I hadn’t slept at all the previous night and felt close to calling the whole thing off, but I didn’t. I met with her and we essentially spent 45 mins stood next to my car as I was too on edge to move any further. I spent the whole time looking around and making sure I knew where everything was, and if any people (thankfully few) came along, I followed their every move to make sure I was ok.

By the time I got home I was drained, both mentally and physically and wanted nothing more than to sleep, but the adrenalin had kicked in and that was the last thing my body allowed me to do. I was positive though, it was a step forward, a very small one, but in the right direction and my cc had been pleased with me for the amount of time we managed.

That night I thought I’d sleep, but again it felt like my body was on high alert and wouldn’t let me relax enough to close my eyes. I could kind of understand this, but I didn’t expect it to last as long as it did. In the night I had a huge wobble. I cried, a lot! I wondered if this was it, was this all I was going to be capable of? Standing by my car for 45 mins and then spending the next 24 hours recovering from it!

On Friday I decided I needed to be kind to myself. In my old life getting so worked up over something so tiny would have been pathetic, but this isn’t my old life and what I did wasn’t tiny. So I spent the day watching tv and snuggled under my duvet (not in bed though!).

And then today hit. In PTSD, anger is one of the symptoms and I’ve seen flashes of that in me and I really don’t like it. However, it’s one of the things I do keep in check for the majority of the time. But today, I’ve got this deep down, in the stomach, kind of burning anger. I can’t really describe it better than that. I’ve kept away from people on purpose as I know I’d lose it at the tiniest of things. As the day has gone on, I’ve tried all my known strategies and yet still I feel very much on the edge – this is something new!

And so it begs the question; why have all these emotions come to the fore? Is it because I’m trying to move forward and this is bound to happen? Am I finally feeling anger because of what I went through or is it anger at not being the ‘old’ me and not being able to do the simplest of tasks? I’m not too sure at the moment but I don’t like this side of me one bit!

 

Dissociation and PTSD

I have just come out of hospital after spending 3 days in there. The reason why is a bit more complicated so let me explain!

If you have been reading my blog, you will see that I have been under the home treatment team (old crisis team) after having a particularly bad month. I have been working with them and seeing them every other day and whilst I was having high suicidal thoughts, we were managing them quite effectively.

It started for me on easter week, when I felt like I had been losing time and when they asked me questions about what I had been doing, I honestly couldn’t remember. Have you ever felt like when you’ve gone in to a room for something and for the life of you, you can;t recall why? Well it’s that kind of feeling – no matter how hard I tried to remember, I couldn’t! They told me it was because I wasn’t doing anything in my days and so everything was just merging in to one. I didn’t really feel like it was for this but just left it as nothing anyone could do anyway.

In the past when I’ve had very bad times, I have dissociated and actually thought it was a time before my trauma and didn’t even recognise my care co-ordinator. However, she has always been ok with this as it meant I was ok – it was pre-trauma and so I was happy!

On Tuesday night, I went to bed at about midnight and the next thing I remember is it was 2 hours later and I was ‘waking’ up at the side of a local reservoir with an empty bottle of my medication. At first, I thought I was dreaming but after realising I wasn’t, I panicked! I wasn’t suicidal, I didn’t want to take too much – why had I done this without knowing it?

I called NHS Direct and tried to explain what had happened. I wasn’t aware of the effects of taking the amount I had done and didn’t want to drive home if there was a chance I could hurt someone. They told me they were sending an ambulance to where I was, but I didn’t want to waste resources and so said it’d be quicker for me to make my own way there.

I arrived at accident and emergency and was seen by triage. She took my ob’s (blood pressure, heart rate and oxygen levels) and picked up the phone and asked if they had a bay for me. I thought it was just in the normal bit but she told me I had to go straight to resus. My heart rate was tachycardic at 155 beats per minute (the normal is between 60-80). I was hooked up to a heart monitor and had an ECG and was really well looked after. After a few hours I was moved to the Medical Assessment Unit (MAU) where a doctor eventually came to see me – this was now Wednesday evening. He told me they still needed to keep me in and redo an ECG over night and hopefully discharge me on ward rounds the next morning.

At about 11.30pm they moved me up to an escalation ward. This is essentially a place they open when it is busy and use it to keep people who are close to discharge. For this reason, it is trollies and not beds that are there (it’s a day surgery unit). There is a 23 hour rile that you aren’t allowed to be on them for longer than this timeframe.

The next morning, the ward round happened and I hadn’t had another ECG so the doctor ordered it again. It was still high – 110 and so they said to have it repeated in the afternoon and go from there. It had gone up to 111.

I spoke to the doctor and asked if I could self discharge as I felt ok. I explained that I had PTSD and that being in the hospital where I was extremely anxious meant that they were never going to get a heart rate below 80. She agreed that as long as it was below 100 I could go. She said it was extremely risky that I leave and we agreed I’d stay another night and be checked the next morning. I was to be moved to a ward and given a proper bed. I was given a bed twice and each time when the nurse called to do a handover they were told it had been given to someone else and so I was told I’d be staying where I was. I asked what about the 23 hour rule and she said there was nothing that could be done. This is what I was on:

I understand they have to make difficult bed decisions, but no one came to speak to me to explain this and just swept it under the carpet. There were 2 empty beds opposite me on the same ward and were eventually taken by one woman who had severe constipation and one who was withdrawing from alcohol. If mine wasn’t based on a mental health problem, would I still have been just left? I honestly don’t know the answer but it did cross my mind! I wasn’t even supposed to know about the 23 hour rule, it was only because I was speaking to the nurse on the night shift and she told me don’t worry they can’t keep you on there for longer than that.

The next morning, the doctor (who I had seen the previous day) came in and I heard her say, “what on earth is x still doing here?” She was excellent and saw me straight away and had my heart rate taken – it was 95, yay – I could go home!! Well that was after I had been referred for a psych review. 5 hours later I was seen and it was obvious it wasn’t intentional on my part and so they discharged me to see the home treatment team (htt) the next day (I was still under them anyway). All in all I was on the trolley for 39 hours!!

I am seeing my care coordinator tomorrow and will be discussing what happened but the htt said they had discussed it and think I had fallen asleep, had a nightmare and woken up in a dissociated state where suicide was the only answer. This has scared me – it’s hard enough to control those thoughts when I am aware of them, nevermind when I’m not!!

 

Police, A&E, Triage Nurse, Crisis Team & Own Team

This post is purely about facts – were things handled correctly, should any thing have been done differently?

I was suicidal, so I took some sleeping tablets and I was driving to the place I was going to do it so when I saw a motorway bridge and decided that’d be a good place to jump. It was midnight & so the motorway was quiet enough to have long stretches with no traffic so noone else would be involved.

I stood there, I have no idea how long for, just staring over the bridge, knowing this was it.

Then a police van turned up, asked me why I was there. I couldn’t answer through the tears and cold. They asked me if I’d be willing to sit in the van to warm up a little as I was shaking. I agreed.

They asked for my details, I gave them – no reason not to and asked if I’d been drinking – I said no. After doing a check on me and my vehicle, it was decided that it’d be best for me to go to hospital. I went in the police van and one of the policemen drove my car. Whilst he was driving, I took the rest of the tablets but he heard the packet, stopped the van and asked what I was doing – I told him they were anti-anxiety tablets and he got back in the van & continued to hospital.

When I arrived at hospital they walked me in and then left me there.

The triage nurse called me in and was lovely. She asked if I’d been drinking, I said no. She asked if I’d taken any drugs and so I showed her the packets and said whatever was missing, I had taken.

She told me the psych liaison team were in the department and she’d she if they were available. I was put in a small room and left for half an hour whilst they got ready to see me. It was the usual crisis team questions; tell me what happened in the lead up to you being here, how are you feeling now etc. I asked to go home, they accepted it and off I went.

Today I had a voicemail from my cc saying she’d seen I’d been at a&e and if I wanted to speak to her then call or speak to duty. I called her pretty much straight back (around 2.30pm) but she was busy and duty wouldn’t speak to me whilst my own cc was in the office. I left my name and number and asked for a call back, but nothing.

All in all, do you think this has all been handled correctly, anything wrong, right etc?

** UPDATE** When I originally wrote this, I wanted to see what people thought others roles were in the events that took place. Some people have asked for their response to be private so I won’t be giving specifics. But I also wanted to write it without emotion and then add this bit on to say how I felt I was handled. To say I have tweeted both the hospital and police department to say thankyou for how they helped me that night pretty much explains my point of view. The police did exactly what they needed to and never once made me feel stupid or a waste of time. The same can be said about the triage nurse and the liaison team (2 of them).

I guess the problem came with me answering their questions, they can only go on what I said and I knew the questions well enough to know what answers to give to get out of there as quickly as possible!

My cc called me back this morning and by 1pm, one of the home treatment team were here as a referral.

 

Psychiatrist Appointment

Today I had my quarterly psychiatrist review to see how I am getting on and if anything can be changed with medication etc. Normally my care co-ordinator is there as well but she couldn’t make it today so it was just me and my psychiatrist. I actually get on quite well with her, I think she is fair and I know that she backs the high risk management plan my care co-ordinator uses with me and without her, I’d be in a very different place right now.

Each appointment basically takes the same brief outline with questions such as:
How are you?
Do you think you are better or worse than last time you were here?
How do you think your meds are working?
How is work?
How do you see your future?
etc…

I generally struggle with these appointments because it feels like you have to bare your soul and then just be able to switch off all emotions once you’ve done that. It was all going ok until she asked about work and I told her about recent issues with my main client and with a smaller one which has left me with little income (I’m self-employed). In response my psychiatrist said she doesn’t think I’m fit for work and I should think about stopping it altogether at the moment.

I can see where she is coming from but I also think work has given me the incentive to get up at times and taken my mind off things. It has helped with my self esteem as I’ve known whilst working, my clients see some worth in continuing with my service and therefore that I am good at something.

We also spoke about suicidal thoughts and my recent overdose. I explained that I’m currently struggling daily with thoughts but they have just been thoughts. I told her that I have the means and a plan but that’s all and the last time I seriously thought about it was this morning but my plan needed darkness so I didn’t do anything. I guess this shows me how precariously on the edge I am – if it was dark and I had those feelings would I have gone through with it? I can’t answer that right now!

My psychiatrist then told me that on Friday, her, my cc and a psychologist were going to be meeting to discuss the way forward in terms of therapy. Is this not something they think I should be involved in? I only hope they are meeting to discuss options and not to make a decision as I honestly believe I need to be part of that final choice.

The next thing we spoke about was my medication and how I was finding it. I said I felt the promazine (for night anxiety) wasn’t as effective anymore and that I’m not sure the fluoxetine (anti-depressant) has ever been much use. She explained to me that she didn’t believe I had a major depression and so didn’t think upping my anti-depressant would help. Instead she believes because I have been victim of severe abuse, this is just the reaction to that abuse.

To be honest, that has completely thrown me. When I had depression as a diagnosis, I could tell myself, it’s ok, your brain isn’t working properly and that’s ok. But now I feel like this is my fault, that it’s about my ‘reaction’ and therefore I’m in the wrong.

I always remember an equation someone taught me; e+r=o (event + response = outcome). They said that the only thing you can control in that equation is your response to change the outcome. Now all of a sudden I am being told its my response to the event that is leaving me feeling this way, and that I have full control of that response (as opposed to only some and depression the other), I feel like a complete failure.

So basically the outcome of today was that