I have been feeling blah for a while now. It’s almost like my meds were working, and then they don’t seem to work anymore for me. So then I stop taking them cause can’t see the point of taking them if they aren’t doing what they are supposed to do for me.
I wasn’t ready to leave the hospital when they discharged me. So much so that I had a hissy fit. It wasn’t pretty, I didn’t hurt anyone or myself. I just basically told them that I wasn’t ready to leave but that they were kicking me out of the hospital anyways. I told my doctor there that I didn’t feel ready. That I wanted to stay longer till I felt I was ready not when he thought I should be ready. But all he had to say to me about that was that I had been manipulating both him and the nurses for the last month. I to this day don’t think I was manipulating anyone. I was just wanting to get help. But I didn’t really get it.
I was told that I had 20 minutes to pack my stuff up or my nurse could pack it for me. And that if I wasn’t ready to leave in the 20 minutes than security would come and help me leave.
I wasn’t ready to leave. But no one would listen to me. I didn’t feel fixed enough to be able to make it in the outside world. But I was forced to leave.
I thought my doctor was an asshole. He told me at one point that I needed to train my son like I would if I had a puppy.
I still talk to a few of the other patients that were there with me. I am not sure if they are making it outside of the hospital or just really good at faking it. I hope and pray that they are making it. Because it’s really had to fake it, I know.
I find it funny how those who want to leave end up staying for a really long time even though they keep asking to be discharged. And me on the other hand was practically begging to stay and they sent me home.
I went on the weekend to visit a wonderful lady who still happens to be in the hospital. My 3 months were up so I could go and visit. As I sat there with her, and I knew it was getting closer to the time I needed to leave to catch my bus to go home. I was so hoping and praying that I was dreaming about having to leave. I was hoping that I still had a bed there waiting for me to sleep in at night.
How does one put there child through leaving them again? How do people survive life when all they want to do is curl up in a ball and never come out of the ball. And if they do come out of the ball, the only answer for them is to either kill themselves and end the suffering one feels or abandon there child and hope to return to the hospital to get the help needed in order to survive.
I am at the point where I am not exactly sure I want to survive anymore.
I appreciate that I can say what I am feeling here and not be judged for what I say. Some times I feel like if I don’t write it down then my head will explode. But at the same time if I do write it down, then I am opening myself up more than I want too. If that makes any sense at all.