I'm back

First, thank you for your support. At least someone cares if I live or die.

The shrinks at the General don't. They left me to rot for close to a week on a medical ward in a nice isolated room. The nurses were nice, but busy and the ward was full of sick people. I wasn't going to bother them.

They seemed more interested in poking and prodding me than how I felt about myself. I wasn't a psych patient, I was a disabled person needing care. I was a burden.
No stimulation, no one to talk to except a shrink who came down for 20 minutes every day to make sure I wasn't dead and to merely talk to me, you wouldn't know I was depressed. With me being a hermit, you need time to get to know me and that they don't have. Tried to show them my writing on here, they're only interested in face to face interaction and I hide my pain.

If I needed to talk to someone, I wrote a letter to Doug. I wrote some scary stuff in there. Never showed it to my shrink or I'd still be in there, besides, they only want face to face encounters, not the written word.

I hated every moment I spent in there. They diagnosed me as Borderline Personality Disorder and 24 hours later, threw me out on the street.

There was a program that offered intensive psychotherapy at the hospital during the day. They turned me down because of nursing/toileting issues. In other words,I'm too disabled for them to handle, even though I have a cathetar and caused no trouble and was virtually independant on the ward.

Apart from my escape, but you'd run too if you had the life I had. Everyone on that ward but another disabled person is too stupid to realize the hospital's impact on me. They never asked me why I ran, never consulted my journals. They can't add two plus two, so they diagnose me as borderline and toss me on my ear.

With Doug's help, I've turned to prayer, but I am not hopeful. The shrinks are saying I have an anger and despair that antidepressants can't fix and that I should just drop those feelings...how? Do they know how deep the agony goes? Do they?

The hospital sent me to the same counselling centre that %^&(*ed with me before. My shrink doesn't understand, few people do.

I've set up a new website (See my profile) with a poem I wrote yesterday...see how much help the "professionals" were. I spent most of the past week in bed, there was no point in inflicting pain on myself for nothing.

From now on, my pain's between me and one other person and it ain't Doug, Father Lindsay or 911. I made a real mistake in going to the hospital and I won't forgive myself for it.

There is a thing more crippling than cerebral palsy: the prison of your own mind.

I'm sorry it went so poorly for you there, wish I could help somehow. I hope and pray something changes for you. It's good to see you post again.
Someone mentioned you had an advocate, did that not work out?

The advocate was not really able to reason with the General. I have been left to my own resources in the community and especially given my new diagnosis, it sucks!

I'm getting more support from the neighbours, the church and the Internet than I did on that forsaken ward. I wish they had prescribed me something to help me sleep though, at home, like Ativan(?) It's 3 in the morning and I am still awake.

The General has thrown me to the dogs.

At least I have the advocate's name should I need him again.

There is a thing more crippling than cerebral palsy: the prison of your own mind.

I know that you have a psychiatrist, but do you have a therapist? They are probably right that antidepressants won't fix your anger and despair. Antidepressants are never the complete answer - they don't fix anything. They just help you to feel less bad and be more receptive to help. What might help would be talking through that anger and despair with someone who is trained to help you to work on it.

When you can't communicate to the professionals orally what is really going on with you, and you need them to read something you have written about it, you might get better results if you explain to them clearly that you don't have the ability to speak these things out loud, and then make sure that what you ask them to read is as short and specific as possible. As you know, these people are overworked and they don't have the time that we all wish they did for each patient. If you give them a lot to read, chances are they will decide that they just don't have enough time, unfortunately.

I am thoroughly disappointed that they wouldn't let you go to the intensive psychotherapy program. What did your advocate say about that? I can't see any reason why a hospital would not be able to make reasonable accomodation for you to participate in that, and it is not right for them to keep you from getting the same mental health care anybody else would because you also have physical disabilities. That is not right!

There are people who care about you. You have us here, as well as Doug and Father Lindsay. These people have been trying to help you the best way they know how. I hope that you will continue to talk to them and go to them for support.

{{{{{{{{{{{{{hugs}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

<font color=orange>"Never forget: 2 + 2 = 5 for extremely large values of 2."</font color=orange>

hamstergirl

Yes, we care about you. And I know you have people around you that care as well.

{{{{{{hamstergirl}}}}}}

You have been putting a lot of effort into this. Please keep trying. I understand in large part "the system" is not giving you what you need but you have to keep trying and not believing that you are doomed before you even begin.

I'm sorry the advocate wasn't much help. Was the advocate someone who was a stranger to you, someone they appointed on your behalf? That's kind of what it sounds like from your description. I would still like to suggest you get someone like Doug or Father Lindsay to speak on your behalf. Let them know EXACTLY why these experiences have not been working out for you. Let them intervene in the hospital for those things that you are unable or unwilling to ask for.

>> The nurses were nice, but busy and the ward was full of sick people. I wasn't going to bother them.

The ward was full of people who needed the nurses help. You were one of those people. In many regards I'm sure you needed some attention much more than the other people there. They are there to help, asking something of them is not "bothering" them. If Doug or Father Lindsay could be with you, they could have called the nurses on your behalf for whatever needs you had.

>> There was a program that offered intensive psychotherapy at the hospital during the day.

That sounds like it could be a very helpful option for you. Tell Father Lindsay about it. Let him try to convince them that your medical problems won't interfere with your attendance, have them make an exception for you, or find another alternative that would suit you better.

>> If I needed to talk to someone, I wrote a letter to Doug. I wrote some scary stuff in there. Never showed it to my shrink or I'd still be in there, besides, they only want face to face encounters, not the written word.

This is your depression talking, and I believe it is a big barrier toward getting the help you need. You can't really live by both statements, because they contradict each other. If there were no hope of them reading that letter, then there would be no fear that there would be repercussions from showing to them. Instead of thinking "they won't read it anyway, and if they do they'll do something bad to me" try to convince yourself that maybe they will read it, and maybe some good will come from them reading it.

I think that is an important thing for you to work on... a large part of the difficulty is that they can never really see what you need because you hide it from them. Therefore they offer treatment contrary to your needs, and of course you end up disappointed by that. Something has got to change. I am hoping that Doug or Father Lindsay could really be the catalyst that could help... let them tell the doctors and nurses those things which you are afraid to say or that you instictively hide.

Of course this requires that you don't hide these things from Doug or the Father. They must not only hear everything you have to say (either by you telling them or by letting them read your letters and messageboard posts) and they must understand exactly what things turn you off about going to the hospital or for any sort of treatment, so that they can do their best to try to take action on your behalf.

I also understand very well, when you speak of your needs, of the simple things like needing someone to hug you and hold you. I think you need to let Father Lindsay know that as well. You said that someone in the church group gave you a hug and that it was very helpful. I think that is one of the best forms of "treatment" but people aren't always going to be able to anticipate your need. That is true in general but with your medical problems people may also be hesitant because they don't know if a hug would cause you physical pain or stress.

There is nothing wrong with putting that on your list of needs, right at the very top if need be, and letting Doug and Father Lindsay know about it, so that they can have to opportunity to provide that and encourage others to do so as well... in the church, in your home, and in the hospital.

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--http://www.idexter.com

The advocate was a friend of the neighbours. I didn't know him, but they say that he's helped them when they're in the hospital.

Doug is hundreds of miles away...too far away to be of immediate assistance, but I see him as a father figure, if I'm in trouble, I e-mail him first and then he notifies Lindsay if need be. And he's been giving me exercises to do to work on my anger and despair. Faith-based a lot of it, but that's very important to me, and he's encouraging me to keep the lines of communication open. He's encouraging me to let my emotions flow, where I would hide from them before. He's encouraging me to ask questions of God and to write things out...even if these questions express the desire for suicide...suicide which is forbidden by the church.

For example, he wanted me to thank God for everything that's happened so far; everything;my abusive parents, my confinement in the mental hospitals, all that horrible surgery and the chronic pain.

The first day I was able to do it, but the second day it became impossible. I started to ask questions of God and why he didn't let me die. I just set up a website with a poem I've written expressing my hopelessness and despair; I brought that poem/prayer to church and read it. I was basically asking to die...in a church.

It's really weird, but after that happened, people started rallying around me. Father Lindsay walked me partway home. Doug phoned me long distance to give me a psychological hug. (Just hearing his voice is like being tenderly rocked in someone's arms, like a small, wounded, scared animal;He just talked to me gently and "rocked me", back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. It nearly brought tears to my eyes, my heart is becoming softer and softer. I am slowly waking up to my emotions, even as I struggle in vain to push people away, I am drawn close, by six people in real life today.) Try to close your prison door when your being overpowered by six people, four of them giants in your life. I was curled up in my prison cell, shivering. And they just came in and performed an extraction. If you're weak and helpless in prison and six people come in and slap the cuffs on you, you're pretty much going where they're taking you.

And they were taking me into the sunlight, into the prison yard. Kicking and screaming at first, but then the giants came in, after I read that poem in church and I happily and peacefully went into the sunlight. Nobody knew I had the poem and was asking the questions but my Maker and then the giants came to lovingly wrestle me to the ground. Father Lindsay, Doug, another woman who embraced me, Rick...

Rick was the one who first told me that something might be wrong with the way my parents were treating me. I grew up in a household with a lot of yelling. People with borderline personality disorder fear rejection. As a disabled person,you deal with it all the time. I first learned rejection from my parents...and they said everyone else would reject me too.

When your own family rejects you, who does that leave?

Rick and I met at university. It was he who largely convinced me that something was wrong and I had to move out.

I was 22. My father's psychological grip on me was so powerful, I needed Rick in the room to make the break. I would have gone running home otherwise...to my father.

The break took place in a public restaurant, the day after I turned 22. I remember little of the day except snippets and what Rick's told me.

I was scared that day. My parents wanted me to make Rick go away, so I would become putty in their hands. When that didn't work, they tried to turn Rick into my caregiver. When that failed, along with humiliation, they used scare tactics...on me. (Your back's going to collapse by the time you're 30)

To Rick, my father saw himself as a perfect man in denial of his problems, choosing to blame his daughter, who Rick saw as having a wonderful head and heart and would give of herself in a minute. And she had a wonderful imagination. But she didn't see these gifts within herself and her father didn't either.

Rick was unimpressed by my father and found the whole incident of my father defending the family honor quite amusing, especially when my father threatened to take him on physically. They stood nose to nose and Rick decided to spare me the sight of my father rolling around on the floor with a bloody nose.

When it became clear I wouldn't come home,my parents stormed out, leaving Rick to nurse a shocked, sobbing woman.

Rick found my first suicide note and stayed to ensure I got help. I Withdrew from him later,not wanting to scare him with my problems, but he understood, having gone thru h%Ll himself.

He paged me via MSN Messenger today and we talked for three hours on the phone. He jokingly threatened to be waiting for me to talk to me if I committed suicide. That Almost made me sob. He said I sounded lost. (A telling moment for someone who fights to maintain control at all times) He's coming to visit tomorrow.

Doug is glad I'm finding it hard to do some of the things he's asked me to do. He says it means he's struck a chord and he's on the right track and that we should keep going.

I prayed to die in the church openly and everyone I love rallies round me. See my PROFILE website to understand the significance of today's events.

Reply pertaining to this event in PRIVATE MESSAGE ONLY

There is a thing more crippling than cerebral palsy: the prison of your own mind.

Hi, I posted once to you before you went into the hospital. You have certainly had a going of it. I am not the greatest fan of hospitals unless it is absolutely needed to contain someone who is actively suicidal. The biggest changes are with outpatient day treatment. I am glad that you are feeling well supported in your church with these special friends. I am also glad you had an advocate for that hospital situation. I do not have anything that can be, at this time, called a physcical disability and yet I bring an advocate with me to scarey new docs and to the hospital when I need to go. I have a loud mouth , aftraid to ask nothing friend who came with me to the e.r. last time my back was giving me the horrors. I knew she would tke care of me and she did. If I were admitted she knows she'd be crawling in next to me cause I wouldn't stay alone. It sounds like sharing your pain is getting you the help you need to start changing it and seeing it move into a more positive expereince. So glad you are feeling rocked and loved. I call it cozy. Peaceful baby steps.