I spent a month in the hospital, very recently in fact. I have only been out for two days.
During this month, my family doctor talked via telephone to a psychiatrist who doesn’t know my story or all my symptoms and what aggravates them. He then decided to take me off a good chunk of my meds. Now I was stable when I went into the hospital and the only reason I was there, was because wait lists here are crazy and it was easier for my doctor and the psychiatrist to get in touch on the phone.
I was only supposed to be in there a week and the discharge date on the board in my room got pushed ahead to two weeks and then three and finally a month.
During this month, I had the first nervous breakdown that I can remember in a long time. Just constant panic attacks, paranoia from being taken off my meds. Hallucinations occurring again and becoming even worse this time. I mean, I was seeing cats in my hospital room, god damn cats. I realize that I haven’t spoken about stuff like this on here ever, but it took me two and a half years to tell my dad and another few months to gather up the courage to tell my doctor.
In my mind, even though I’m very open about my mental health and have no problem speaking about it, this was different. This, in my head was something that would make people perceive that I was crazy. Hell, I thought I was crazy.
The first time it happened, I was around 27 or 28 and I kept seeing these masked men and a truck in my back yard. I could see them through the little bit of curtain that wasn’t closed all the way. I was terrified and paranoid that they were going to hurt myself and my son. I was dead sure they were going and taking stuff from my basement and putting it in the truck and it would only be a matter of time before they made their way upstairs to where Chubba and I were. His bedroom was right down the hall from me but I was so frozen in fear that I couldn’t make my body go check on him.
It got to a point where i texted my neighbor, who I’m very close with and asked her to check things out for me. 5 minutes later, she replied there were no foot prints in the snow or any signs of anyone.
My brain, still seeing these people and hearing their muffled voices, had a small rational moment where I realized that something was very wrong with me.
Over the next few years, things progressively got worse. It went from hearing muffled voices outside my door, hearing my name when there was nobody there, to having these two people, who I have named Jill and Steve, being right in my room, sometimes right in my ears. They often tell me I’m fat, that my boyfriend is going to leave me because I’m fat, ugly and crazy and he deserves a normal pretty girl.
They tell me I’m not a good mother to my son and that he would be better off with a mother who wasn’t mentally ill. The worst thing they say, that cuts my heart and soul into pieces, is that it’s my fault my boy has autism. I did something while pregnant, they never tell me what, but it caused Chubba to have autism.
Other times they just talk amongst themselves about absolutely nothing and some times about me. I can see them, or rather I have seen them, the medication helps but I can still hear their muffled voices and see them occasionally. They’re in their early 20’s, Steve is tall with reddish hair, brown eyes and freckles while Jill is shorter than myself, probably 5’3, with long curly brown hair and tanned skin, like it’s always summer time where she lives in my brain.
As bad as all this sounds, the worst experience, that only happened twice, was when I seen my Nan, not like I remembered her but in a state, as terrible as it sounds, of decomposition.
I have seen her since then, but it’s always been pleasant. Both she and my great grandmother were in my hospital room one night for hours. Nan sitting on the window ledge that she couldn’t have sat on when she was alive and 4 foot nothing. And my Nanny C sitting on the end of my bed. They didn’t speak. Nan never does, even though I desperately want her to.
It takes a lot of courage to come forward to a doctor and explain to them what’s going on and a lot of strength to wake up each day and fight.
I wanted to share this so if someone is reading it, happens to be too afraid to talk about their problems, know that you won’t be judged by a doctor and taking about it is the first step in getting help