Life After Hospital

If you’ve been following my blog for a while you’ll know that Ive spent a lot of time in my young adulthood in and out of psychiatric hospitals. The thing that bothers me the most isn’t the dire experience of these institutions but more the aftermath of life outside of them. Depression , anxiety and PTSD makes life difficult.

I worry about my chances of getting a job as i’ve been unemployed for five years and my ability to have a normal healthy relationship , or raise a family.

I’m not gonna say I’ve tried my best because I haven’t. My recent admission was partly my fault I thought going into hospital was the right thing. It wasn’t. Although I still believe that going into hospital at 17 as horrible as it was , was necessary to combat my psychosis. I’m still very codependent on my parents. The most frustrating thing is not being able to get away or live without people your not happy with. I cant drive and although I appreciate my family trips to McDonalds its not enough to fix the damage that being in these places has had on me. I feel lethargic a lot I fall asleep during the day and go to bed early at night I struggle to concentrate on TV as most dramas trigger my psychosis. I’ve gained weight , I vomit probably just because of the state I’m in. My parents answer to this is move on. Yet I cant everywhere I go I’m still in that ward.

I struggle to look after myself although I set alarms on my phone , I still struggle to take my tablets or keep my flat clean without my parents help. I want my children to have a better life than me. However currently the only money I get is PIP and universal credit (Im getting a donate button soon folks)

Probably the worst thing is i’m too depressed to write , the best piece Ive ever written, reading it back gives me nausea as it reminds me of a period in my life I don’t want to go back to. Even poetry I feel I can never get right.

I try to go out for walks alone , to smoke instead of eat , to stay up late , to get a job but the comments people have said still come back to me , but what can I do besides stuff my face with jammy dodgers and fall back asleep two hours after ive woken up? I feel inadequate. One of the rare people my age in Scotland that doesn’t have highers and has borderline dementia. Reading a book feels like a mockery.

perhaps it is !