Real Family

It's now the beginning of week two for my group therapy. Everyone's gelled quite well. It's nice to feel supported.

Two things struck chords with me today that I wanted to mention.

We were asked to share what supporting relationships we had. My main one was my foster carers. They're with me through thick and thin, even when I feel like I'm a burden to them, even at my worst when there's nothing they can do besides be there, feed me, and make sure I take my medication. I wouldn't be alive without them, especially during times where I have serious hallucination problems and go missing, placing myself in highly dangerous situations.

The second thing we were asked to share was one thing we felt we'd achieved. I went totally soppy and almost cried. I felt my best achievement was finding a family. A family that cared for me and supported me, who accept me for who I am, not for who they want me to be. To me, family isn't about genetics. Family is about feeling loved, supported, cared for, part of a loving group of people. My foster siblings treat me like a little sister. LG and PG, my foster parents, treat me like their own daughter. The other boy who's fostered feels like a kid brother to me.

My parents have failed me. One day, I hope the relationship with my mother will be good and healthy. For the time being, it's not and won't be for a while. I wish that when I get through this and when my illness is stable, I'll be able to build bridges with her and put things behind us. Genetics and biology don't automatically make you parents. My foster carers have earned the right for me to call them my 'parents'. Just as any other foster carers or carers that have adopted. Their families aren't based on genetics. It's built on love and support and kindness. To me, that's what family means. Genetics means nothing. You have to earn the right and prove that you can be a parent and that you can support and be there for your children no matter what the situation.

It'll be a long and hard road for me as I go through the court proceedings and as I go through the long-term psychiatric treatment. I don't think I'll ever be fully "cured". I don't need to be. All I need is to be able to get my life back on track and be "stable". A diagnosis isn't the be all and the end all. My foster family has given me the starting point to get back onto a path where I can lead a meaningful and fulfilling life; to get better and be healthy; to build up my relationship with my mother again and challenge things that have happened in the past.

It won't be easy. Nothing worthwhile ever is. What I do know, is that even though I'll need long-term treatment and medication, I will get through it. I'll get over this. I will get better. I'll be 'me' again. I hope I can do this, I'm willing to accept the support I have. This new group has given me some kind of optimism about the future. I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel yet, but I am walking along it. Maybe the time will come where I'll reach the end of it. For now, I'll keep going.

Adult Diagnosis

LH, my shrink, finally managed to ring me today, she was off yesterday. I needed answers. I don't know whether she really gave them to me, but she did specify that I was diagnosed with "Emotionally Unstable" (aka Borderline) Personality Disorder. I don't know whether I agree with this yet. I don't know whether I truly wanted to know, but I guess at least what I suffer with has a name now. Maybe I'll finally get the answers I need.

What she didn't help me with was the fact that I needed to control my 'others' in regards to my video interview and court proceedings. She said that I would need long-term psychiatric treatment, but in the short-term I had to talk to AC, my CPN. Hopefully she'll be able to help me. LG, my foster mother, will hopefully be allowed into my interview with me. The most likely 'others' to come out during these times would be either Sally (the angry, aggressive leader) or Jimmy (the sad 4-year-old boy). It will be plainly obvious to everyone if one of them comes out, but I'm hoping LG will be allowed in so she can try and get 'me' back again. It'll be a little more difficult in court if Sally or Jimmy reveal themselves as LG will most likely be put as a witness so won't be able to sit with me. Awkward.

Intense group today. I couldn't really concentrate as the voices were talking and to be quite honest I had my mind on other things. That being said, however, it was quite eye opening. We learned about 'selfish/unselfishness', 'self-esteem', 'confidence' and 'resilience'. Turns out that all the patients there are quite resilient, or have been in the past, even if they aren't now. From my own point of view, my resilience was top levels through childhood, although sometimes I do wish my brain had developed different coping methods rather than using dissociation. But now, my resilience is extremely poor. I only have to have a small knock to kick me back to the ground again. It takes an awful lot of effort to get up. I'm hoping this'll improve as the weeks go on.

Week 1 of the group over. A weekend of recuperation and hopefully I can be up and running again by Tuesday. I'm absolutely exhausted. I never realised how emotionally-draining it all was going to be. Two hours, three days a week is intense and absolutely exhausting. All I want to do is sleep. My dissociation is a bit worse at the moment but I'm hoping it'll improve as the weeks go by. The memories brought up yesterday when J visited have made things slightly more easily triggered, but hopefully it'll calm down. 

Hope you're all having a good week.

xoxo.

Liason Officer

Dreadful day.

It started off okay. I had my group again this morning. It was a lot less awkward than Tuesday because everyone knew each other and we all have mutual respect, even though this was only the second session. More conversation and less awkward silence today. Eheh.

I spoke up about, what has now been explained to me, is a severe form of dissociation. Having different people living inside me is very difficult but now the group knows about it, it might be easier to deal with. Turns out a lot of us have thoughts and feelings in common. Some also spoke about feeling as if they had another person inside them so they can relate to some degree. Although as far as I'm aware, I'm the only one who LITERALLY does. Even so, I don't feel so alone about the whole ordeal. My psychiatrist should be ringing me tomorrow, I'm going to be asking her for answers.

I came back from the group in good spirits. I'm very black and white in regards to my mood. I'm either quite depressed or close to a manic episode.

The liason officer dealing with the case regarding the sexual abuse I and my brother experienced through childhood came over today. She only left a couple of hours ago. I'm now in a depressive mode. Everything was explained to me and, theoretically, I should be doing another video interview on 20th February. This will be my third. I did one in 2009 which I withdrew by saying I made everything up (pressure from my mother, and I was sectioned at the time), and one in 2010 which the CPS didn't go ahead with because of the state of my mental health. I'm very anxious about it. Now I know that my case will definitely be going to court, it's put everything into a somewhat more real situation.

J, the liason officer, is a lovely lady on first impressions. She's going to speak to the intermediary team about support in regards to being a witness in court. It'll be a highly anxious time and that will be the most obvious time where my dissociation may kick in and my 'others' may start coming out. This may even happen when I do my video interview, which will be very awkward as I won't realise until I'm "me" again. That could be an interesting and confusing situation to be in.

All in all, I'm now in shit mode. Halfway through J being here, I started dissociating, although not as severely as usual. I was still myself, but my awareness was totally gone. I was in my 'other world' talking to someone in a courtyard. I don't know how that works but J and my foster carers knew I was switching off. I just didn't tell them where I'd gone during those times.

That's enough for me blabbing, at least for today!

Take care, readers.

xoxo.

New Therapy Group

I started my new group therapy yesterday. It was actually a lot better than I thought it was going to be. My main concern was going into a room full of new people. Obviously, to protect the confidentiality of everyone else involved in the group, I won't be naming any names.

I was greeted by the guy who runs the group, CA, and taken into the room with someone else who had been waiting to go in. On arrival there were two other people in the room already. There were going to be six patients there altogether with two members of staff.

The term "Never judge a book by it's cover" is most important when it comes to groups like these. Even though there were only six of us, we were all entirely different. Although in some ways I guess we were similar. Needing support and hoping to have at least improved some aspect of our mental health by the end of the ten weeks.

The group is three days a week, for two hours per session, for ten weeks. It's pretty intense but I think it may help me. The problem with this is, I coped with it yesterday. The voices have got worse today, I may have to bring up the topic when I go back to group tomorrow if they haven't calmed down. I don't want the other patients to feel I'm deliberately ignoring them or feel uneasy if I'm staring at them constantly while they're talking, just so I can focus on what they are saying rather than what the voices are trying to say to me.

On first impression, it seems okay. Even if I don't feel it'll improve my mental health, I've at least met new people. I got along quite well with all of them. The one link we all had was a sense of humour. It's strange that in the mental health side of things, everyone seems to have developed the same kind of humour. It's nice that the group isn't going to be serious and that there will be some fun and joking sides of things.

Overall I think it'll be okay. I'd phoned CA the day before and explained I was having a rough time taking my medication. The voices are still arguing and I'd been scared shitless earlier that morning. I'd gone to pick up my prescription and after picking it up had a black spot and found myself a fair distance away from the house. I had no recollection of getting there and it just proved to me that the voices really can control me whenever they want. I think it's some kind of severe form of dissociation but no one has really explained it to me.

CA helped and I explained that I was in a lose-lose situation. My foster mother, LG, had spoken to me and said "Keri, we can't force the medication down your throat. We can only try and persuade you, but if you don't take it then you'll end up at Callington Road and we don't want that happening." For those that don't know, Callington Road is short for Callington Road Hospital which is an adult psychiatric hospital. Of course I don't want to go there! So by not taking my medication, there is a high chance of me being admitted there whether I liked it or not. By taking my medication, it angers the voices and they may end up doing something incredibly stupid, or being so loud that I end up doing something incredibly stupid, and I'll end up locked away in there anyway. That's what I meant by the 'lose-lose situation'.

CA said that considering the situation I was in, he thought the group was really going to help me. To get to the group though, and be calm enough to be able to get there, I was going to have to take my medication. He said not to think about it and to make my main aim to be able to walk through the door into the group. I managed that aim and got into the group, taking my medication also. Go me!

I hope the group helps. From hearing what the other patients have said, they all seem to have varying symptoms which fit with many of mine. I have varied symptoms but no one has given me a diagnosis so all I can go by is what they talk about. All I know is that I almost cried at one of the patients yesterday as she explained about what she was going through. I related to some of it, although I didn't say so. I didn't feel comfortable to say anything about it at the time. Hopefully that'll change once I'm more used to the other patients.

Pointless Shrink Appt.

I met my new psychiatrist, LH, from the adult services today. Bearing in mind I was 18 in October, I've only just met her. I wasn't even supposed to be seeing her until February but somehow she managed to suddenly come up with an appointment as I'm in crisis mode. WHAT A FUCKING WASTE OF MY TIME.

I don't like her. I can hardly speak properly as I can't concentrate as Sally etc (the voices I hear) were being a right pain in the ass. I got no diagnosis, no change in medication, nothing. There was actually no point in me even going. The only thing I got out of it was meeting this woman who was now in charge of my care.

What annoyed me most? She asked how my sleeping was. I said it was terrible. It had been alright when I was on the diazepam but I'm off of that now and my zolpidem doesn't work in the slightest so I had about an hour last night. I keep my music on so that I can try and fend away the voices so I'm not focused on them while I'm trying to sleep. It's never on overly loud, it's just for background noise. Laying in silence in a semi-dark room (I have a night light as I tend to have nightmares or hallucinations) is never the best idea when trying to ignore persistent voices that try to keep you awake. Her answer to sleeping better? "Try sleeping with your music off". THAT WON'T HELP ME IN THE SLIGHTEST. The topic of me hearing voices never even came up. I couldn't bring it up myself as I'm having great difficulty in speaking. The brain is whirring. I can see the sentences in my head but when it comes to saying them out loud.. well.. it's difficult.

Because of hardly being able to vocalise what I needed to, I couldn't ask about my diagnosis, I couldn't ask for a medication change, I couldn't ask her to help me stop Sally etc from talking, I couldn't ask her to help with my agitation. SHE DID FUCK ALL. Her conclusion was to wait it out and carry on taking the medication I'm currently on.

She did nothing to help try and keep me calm and gave me no advice on how I can try and calm myself down. I found this unbelievable. I was pacing up and down the waiting room when my psychiatrist and CPN came to get me for my appointment, and while I was sat in that room my leg was twitching like a pneumatic drill, I was writhing my hands together and rocking. Most of the time I wasn't aware I was doing this but sometimes I noticed and realised how much I was actually moving. She even commented on the fact I was quite agitated. Why comment if you can do nothing to help?

Total waste of my time. I didn't even want to leave the house this morning. My CPN, AC, sat there and said nothing. I at least thought she'd try and cut in with some comments to help me along considering how difficult I'm finding it to talk even in simple sentences. But nothing. Total silence. The only comment she made was that I'd "been like this for a couple of weeks". Is that helpful to me? NO IT FUCKING ISN'T.

I'm on my own again. Fuck mental health services. I want my old psychiatrist back. I want my old care co-ordinator back. They knew me well. I know I can't go back to them as they work in the child and adolescent services. I want to discharge myself from the adult mental health services. I still feel like I'm in "no name = no cure" land and I'm still living in a nightmare. I still don't know when it's going to end. My psychiatrist SUCKS. My old psychiatrist was brilliant in regards to trying to sort out medication and help me through things. Once she'd started me on medication again she made sure she saw me every week or so. This is the first time I've met my adult services psychiatrist, and probably will be the last.

I'm so angry and upset right now. I thought I'd get the support. It's obvious I need it right now, and it's not my fault that I can't ask properly. It's not my fault my head is whirring at such a speed that I can't keep up. It's not my fault that Sally etc are totally cutting down my concentration levels. I can't function.

The only bit that was reassuring about that whole time I was in that god forsaken place (I was there for 50 minutes of hell..) was when the guy that is running the group I'm starting next week, CA, came up to me and said that he knew I was having a very difficult time and that if I needed him at all then just to get my foster carer to ring up and give him a call. THAT WAS THE ONLY REASSURING PART. And he's not even one of my workers. I mean what the actual fuck? I get more help from someone who doesn't work directly with me than I do from the people that are supposed to be looking after me.

I HATE THIS. FUCK YOU SHRINK.

-endrant.

Nightmare World

It's been over two weeks of hell and things still don't seem to be getting any easier. I find it hard to string a sentence together when I'm talking to people. Even now, as I write this, it's taking an awfully long time to even get the words into place.

I wish I could wake up from this nightmare. I don't even know what it's called. I wouldn't call it a psychotic episode as I don't have a psychotic disorder. I haven't been diagnosed even though I've had intensive support from mental health services for 3 years and been in various institutions and hospitals.. which in my eyes makes it seem like "no name = no cure". When will this end?

My memory of the past couple of weeks is blurred. But I do remember the fear, in the past and in the present.  Right now. It's constantly there. You're terribly alone as no one else is inside the world you're living in. The mind plays tricks on you and logic means nothing. You don't know what to believe any more, you don't even know whether you even really exist. Time means nothing, it passes by and is meaningless. Night and day just turns into nothing. Food and drink turns into nothing. You want to sit in a corner and cry, talking to the voices, not eat or drink, not take any medication, just not communicate with anyone.

I know I have to take my medication. At the moment I'm still taking my diazepam, antipsychotics and antidepressants but it's still a battle. Twice a day every day I'm sat at that table staring at the pills that the voices are demanding me not to take. It takes every bit of mental energy to fight them and my energy is lowering, even with the outstanding support my foster carers and foster family are giving me. I don't think I've got the fight left in me any more, but yet here I am. I'm not thinking about tomorrow or next week. I'm taking it hour by hour. I can barely function. I need answers, I need support, I need help, I need to vent. Maybe that's why I reopened this blog, I don't quite know why I'm writing it. I'm not sure who will read it or if it'll ever be found, but what I do know is that it helps to get things written down. It's frustrating when your mind is clouded; when it takes forever to think of the words, put them together in a sentence without jumbling them up.

Only two days left to get through before seeing my psychiatrist. Can I do this? I have no idea. I'm not going to think that far ahead. The voices are strong, I am weak. It's taken me nearly 4 hours to write this and now I'm going to stop. I'm exhausted, I'm frustrated, I want to go to sleep and never wake up. I'm on my own in my own nightmare world and no one seems to be able to get inside it with me to help me get out.

Disconnected

It's hard to be in a house full of people when you'd rather spend time on your own. Isolating yourself always seems the nicer option in the short-term, but in the long term not so much.

Hearing voices and seeing things that other people can't see is like living in a nightmare. The problem is, in a nightmare you can wake up. In reality, once the voices take hold of you there's no turning back. It's a constant battle that's never easy.

I didn't think I needed my antipsychotics. I didn't think I needed my antidepressants either. Six days go by and I've ended up in hell. I've been living like this for five days. The worst of it being needing nearly 20 stitches to sort out some major self-harm that turned out to be only the beginning, of what seems to be some kind of horrible scene of a horror movie that seems like it'll never end. With my agitated state their idea is to keep me drugged up with diazepam. It's nice to feel relaxed but it doesn't make the world of hell you are stuck in go away. If anything it makes it worse. You are in a stupor and have very little energy to fight back and get your life back on track again. Yes, it relaxes you. Yes, I can sleep away my hell. But in the long-term, it won't make it any easier to deal with my voices or the things I see. I'm weaning off of the diazepam now. Two more days and I won't be having it anymore and back in full blown hell I'll be; unable to sleep away this unreal existence.

The voices want control of me. I want control of me. We're in a full on battle. My foster carers, LG & PG, are incredibly supportive and have managed to help me take my antipsychotics and antidepressants along with my diazepam; even if it takes an hour to calm me down or my tablets end up being thrown across the room.

The voices are still fighting for control. I don't know who will win. I don't know who I am. All I hope is that I beat this. I have an appointment with my CPN and psychiatrist on Friday. I can hold out until then. I hope I'll be given answers.