I finally was able to obtain my new medication, invega, through free samples at the pdoc's office. However, not before this depression reached a crisis point. It's all a mess. Pdoc i guess didn't hear me when I said I would run out of geodon so I've been sick from withdrawal for three days. Then the other pdoc said I couldn't take both geodon and invega so I had to buck up and deal with the withdrawal but that also took me off an antipsychotic since the invega is not in my system yet. I had a family session with my therapist and husband on Thursday, where my therapist totally backtracks on me and says that the hope was that I would stabilize in partial (I've been worse every day) but if I didn't they want me to go inpatient again. Why she waited until my husband was there to say that I have no clue. So the stress definitely caused an audible snap in my brain...I felt that I wasn't real anymore but I was ok at home, just sick from withdrawal. Then I go in Friday and I felt like half the regular group was gone and replaced by strangers and I got it in my head that they were not real people, maybe they were robots sent there to mess with me somehow, and maybe I wasn't a real person either...

But I pushed through and fact checked with a therapist and did grounding exercises so I could figure out since I was cold from the air conditioning I had to be real, and that meant the other people were probably real too (although not 100%). I bailed out of program at lunch and went home.

Today has been terrible. Just awful negative thoughts obsessing on them. Self harm and suicide. Many plans. I wanted to call the on call pdoc and see if I could get some klonopin but I don't want it in the house because I don't want something that could kill me around. Thank god my husband is in recovery because that means he has no narcotics around. I'm fairly certain none of the meds around could kill me so I think I'm ok.

Has anyone else ever felt that they use the hospital as an escape? Normally I would have been inpatient days ago. I haven't eaten more than half a meal for days, maybe even weeks at this point. I feel completely paralyzed. But in pure depression I am safe. Today I got some energy back, which is unsafe.

But I can't keep running back to inpatient. Something has to change. I've been inpatient 17 times, including adolescent stays, and I can say that only half of them were absolutely necessary. I used the hospital a lot when I was a teenager to escape my life, and I'm afraid I'm doing it again. I've been four times in the past year. The first time was necessary. I didn't know what was happening and I was afraid for my life. The second one though was just pure depression. I could have kept myself safe, I was just so tired I couldn't handle life. It did nothing. I left just as depressed. I left my family for a whole week just because I felt I couldn't face it. How awful.

The other two times were necessary because I was psychotic. So yeah.

So I refuse to go this time. I have to be safe on my own. How do I know if I'm trying to escape or I'm trying to get better? I hate that I've been inpatient so many times. It makes me feel so selfish and horrible. I can't leave my family right now. I have to get through this on my own. I'm on home watch. Telling my husband to hide his renaissance faire knives again...keeping kitchen trips to a minimum...DBT distress tolerance...etcetera. I can't go back there. It's just pathetic.