Being transferred.

I’m being transferred back to the hospital where my psychiatrist is… at some point during the next few hours. I’m feeling exhausted right now, I went to craft class which was loud and full of manic people, then when I got back to my room they told me about the transfer. Maybe I’ll try to have a nap.

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So busted!

So i cut myself, if you can call it that (it is really more like scratches) when I get really upset. I managed a pretty wide but shallow slice in the emergency room with a broken gel nail and a plastic knife, then when I got back here I had the heavy foil that comes on top of milk and juice, that you can fold into a half-ass cutter.

I have had a migraine for 3 days now, which they are giving me some medication for at least, but most of the drugs I usually take aren’t “in the formulary” so the hospital pharmacy doesn’t have them.

Anyway, I asked for Ensure instead of supper like twice but they brought me a supper tray anyway with, yes, some milk that had my favourite foil topper. So I scratched myself with it a bit, and then was refolding it on my little bedside table with my plastic knife, and my nurse walks in. Shit! Look casual, I think. Ya, right.

Also I have a pair of wrist warmers, to cover the cuts, and had the one on the arm I was cutting pulled up. So I was like “oh hi!” and backed away from the table and sat up on the bed and he said hi and asked how I was doing, and by the way how were my feelings of self harm, had I been thinking of it? So I obviously was not at all successful in my attempts to Act Natural, which made me feel like a stupid asshole.

He said that obviously they couldn’t stop me (you could bite into your wrist with your own teeth if you were motivated enough) but that they hoped I could choose different coping strategies, etc. And I mean, I would hope so too… if deep breathing or colouring books had the instant endorphin rush I’d do them instead, but they don’t!

 

Interview with the psychiatrist.

I have been admitted into a different hospital – not the one my psychiatrist is at, because there are no beds. So the doctor who will be my psychiatrist while I am here came and talked to me for about an hour and I cried waaayyy too much.

Like she asked if I was eating and I started crying and said I’d gone to the grocery store but nothing looked good, and even if it did I would have to take it to the checkout, then to my car, then into the house, then into the fridge, and then I’d STILL have to do something to it before eating it? That is way too hard, I wept.

I want to blog more but I am sooo tired. I’ve felt exhausted since I was certified, like I was sprinting and finally stopped.

“Hope Floats” pisses me off.

I haven’t watched this one for years. I watched it tonight and I could’ve strangled Sandra Bullock, listening to her tell Harry Connick Junior ”Ah can’t dayte yewww” and “Ah can’t kiss yewwww.”  And then we’re supposed to believe that she found the magical powers of hope by the end? You don’t need magical powers of hope when a handsome piece of work like that is throwing himself at you from the first minute.  You need magical powers of hope when it’s been fucking years and there’s no one even taking an interest.

I was trying to sew on some fucking buttons tonight because I’ve got literally a box full of tops but I can’t wear because the bottom is falling off, and I lost a needle and a spool of thread.  I don’t know how the fuck I could do that. I was sitting fucking watching the movie on the couch, and sewing on buttons, and I must’ve knocked the spool off the coffee table or something. I can’t find it now, and I’m paranoid that the cat will step on the needle although I guess that’s not likely if I can’t see it. I am sure  it’s fucking depression concentration that’s at fault, that I went to get a glass of water and put the thread in the cupboard or something stupid, but now I’m too tired and sad to look for it. So I guess I’ll wait till tomorrow.

In other news, I started taking my illegal Accutane this week. I understand that they don’t want people to take it and get pregnant, but there something wrong with the system when I just find it easier to pay out of pocket on the Internet for them than to to jump through the official hoops. I found some North American sources which are tied to steroids distribution. I never would’ve thought, but maybe taking steroids for bodybuilding makes you break out.

 

 

Migraine guilt.

I missed work yesterday because of a migraine. It was really really bad. I couldn’t move because I was sure that I would throw up, and I needed to move to get a needle to give myself so that I wouldn’t throw up. I didn’t even call in sick because I couldn’t move to reach the phone or my iPad.

Today I woke up with a migraine,  and went to work like a trooper and then came home and now I have the one sided throb and frozen feet.  So I’m in bed, even though it’s only mid evening, but I’m thinking about all that I could or should be doing.  It sucks.

The Nothing.

Does anyone else remember the movie “the never-ending story”? I remember the threat of the nothingness coming into the kingdom, and the nothingness is what depression feels like.

I don’t want to do anything, or feel anything. It’s way too early to go to bed, but late enough that I don’t want to start some project either. I don’t even feel like watching TV. Just apathetic. Maybe I have a migraine coming. The weather report doesn’t say that there’s anything on the way, but it’s been wrong before…

To-do list

I put “put bra and shirt on” as a Thing I Have Accomplished Today. Yep, I’m reaching. I had bought some baskets of mushrooms because they were the cheapest, which turned out to be a mistake as when I sat down to clean them they had become moldy  from being in the damp plastic. Great.