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.
“Why was I always suffering , always browbeaten ,always accused , for ever condemned ? ” – Charlotte Bronte
In this post ide like to touch on my experience of a Scottish psychiatric hospital. I have been in hospital twice. The first time so awful I can barely write about it and the second a more pleasant ride. The first thing to note is there is not much difference from a prison. You get dished out the same food for instense some kind of mash potatoe , and lumpy custard washed down by weak diluten juice. Maybe you would get more freedom you would say ? Nope you are trapped behind locked doors with the only entertainment some badly written detective novel and some worn out game of snakes and ladders. Overall the hospitals are pretty dire and could be used as a method to increase suffering.
In the morning you line up for your medication like queing to be served in Primark. Except a lot more drained and fatigued. You get dished out some yellow anti psycotics and nausating tasting anti depressents and swallow them down heavily with luke warm water. Then you go through to the “lounge” to get your tea and cold toast and settle down to watch a nice channel four drama made Before Christ. At around ten ocklock you slump back to your bay pull the curtains and collapse into a mid morning nap. To wake two hours later feeling like your mouth is some African desert and the only thing you have to quench your thirst is some stale jug of water from the night before.
At this point you pull out your granny pants and leggings and some oversized pink t-shirt which is supposed to make you look sexy but instead just makes you look like a giant marshmallow , and brave the shower. Only to discover the hot water is not working yet make the wise decision to keep quiet convincing yourself a freezing cold shower might just be the cure to bring you out of your deep depression.
The rest of the day is a blure spent doing crosswords very badly and using up all your mobile data watching YouTube videos on pointless items people have bought out of Home Bargains. All this of course is disturbed by patients swearing and shouting in distress and doors beeping as smokers ferry in and out. Then after your evening meal. It hits you. The reason your in there. Thoughts of sucide. It seems that putting yourself in such a vulnerable uncontrollable position of being a patient in a psychiatric ward takes it’s toll on you and makes you just want to end it.. Overcourse you can’t cause your supervised twenty four seven by nurses and your probably too much of a chicken anyway. Then your mum comes in to visit and all is resolved. As you realise no matter how bad your problems are your mum’s always top them.