Writing is a way of communicating with the outside world when things are not ok. I’ve been holding it together by a shoestring for a month now and yesterday it all came to a head.
I’d been in bed for 4 days, sleeping during the day and staying awake until about 5am with loads of energy and creativity. The urge to write and express. I had to get it together to be at a LHLY meeting yesterday morning. I got up, showered and made the meeting and there were some very exiting topics covered, especially Mental Health Awareness Week which is happening a week on Monday.
After the meeting I went for coffee with my support worker and Jacy from Mind. I couldn’t eat anything and I was shaking and jumping from topic to topic in conversation. We discussed the exciting events covered in the meeting. Then it was time to go as they both had to go back to work. Panic set in! I couldn’t bear the thought of going home and felt I just had to walk for miles so I told them I was going for a wander down the old town, and that’s exactly what I did. I walked 5 miles having panic attack after panic attack. I was scared of going back to the place I’d been lying for the last 4 days unable to move. Now I had entered the outside world I wanted to stay there but my brain wasn’t coping with it very well.
After walking 5 miles and being scared stiff of going home, I went to cavendish house where my psychiatrist is based, and asked the lady at reception if I could see someone about my injection. I had in my mind that if they gave me my injection early then my brain would settle and everything would be ok. A nurse came to see me, and then another nurse as by this time I couldn’t breathe and I was very distressed. They carried out a risk assessment and chatted with me for quite a while and then asked me to go to A&E.
I left Cavendish House and called Jacy and explained what had happened since I left her, and she met me. We went to hers and after taking 2 paracetamol for my thumping head and refusing a cup of tea, I called a cab and went straight to A&E.
At A&E I was seen quite quickly by triage and then by a psychiatric nurse who spent ages getting to the bottom of my fears and plans. She gave me a diazepam and a sandwich and tea and spoke to me like I wanted to be spoken to. She understood how bad it had become, my triggers and what was going on. I must have been in a room with her for over an hour. She then called me a cab and sent me home reassuring me that when the systems were back up and running in an hour or so, my bed could be confirmed at The Sanctuary and I could gather some belongings from home in the mean time.
She stuck by her word and at 9.30pm she called with a bed for me. I was off in a taxi like a shot and straight there. A 5 bedroomed detached house run by Turning Point charity.
After an entrance assessment and handing over my medication I was shown to my room. I’ve been in here 8 times before over the last 10 years and I’ve had the same room before. I was safe and I was around people who understand bipolar and how bad I had become, and exactly what was going on in this poorly brain of mine. I don’t have to be scared anymore of my constant voice in my head and what it’s telling me to do.
I sat up until 2am in the office going through stuff and how it had got so bad, and realising what a month I’d actually just been through. At 2am it was suggested that I take my zopiclone and go to bed which I did.
I’m not writing this for sympathy, I’m writing it for awareness. So people can understand the process of being admitted to a crisis centre. I’ve not gone into too much detail about how severe the thoughts were that were floating around in my head and causing so much distress but I think you get the general idea.
I will sign off now and thanks for reading. This really helps me, writing, when I’m in crisis especially late at night. I’ve now been here just over 24 hours and I feel safe and that horrible voice of mine in my head had shut up and my thoughts are less destructive. Good night x