Breakfast this morning I sat with two other woman here as patients. One spoke of how she went and saw a doctor after self harming to the point of needing stitches. “What did you use?” the other patient asked. She replied with “an electric knife.” “Well if you’re going to harm yourself may as well do a good job of it and use an electric knife hey?!” the woman replied. Humour that only mentalists would understand, love it.
Today, day five in H Clinic (has it really been five days already?!), was the first in which I participated in groups. Nobody caught up with me yesterday about the program, which meant another day of pure and absolute boredom, and finally today the group coordinator did.
Beforehand however, I participated in the morning walk around the area. I contemplated running off…but considering how unfit I really am, I’d never be able to outrun the fit looking exercise physiologist conducting the morning exercise. Ha.
The first group of the day was called ‘Think, act, feel,’ which was really just a fancy way of naming group CBT. Gosh do I love CBT. Brainstorming ideas to the question posed to us, ‘What activities lift my mood?’, fun stuff! Had to restrain myself from throwing down my notebook in a fit of frustration. My favourite part was when a group member said he ‘didn’t want to monopolise the group’ but talked of how he finds it difficult to get his head around how unmotivated and difficult it is to engage in activities he used to do with ease. The therapist then said, ‘But J, you’re concerned about monopolising the group, and I think you should be,’ and with that statement, moved on to what she wanted to talk about next. J then gave a few of us a look, and I had to stifle the laughter I felt coming on.
We then had fifteen minutes of mindful relaxation, in which I nearly fell asleep.
After lunch I went to the art therapy group. It was…interesting. I’d never done something like that before. We were asked to pick out three photos from travel magazines which stood out for us. Some of us shared why we picked the ones that we did. I did not. From there, we created pieces of artwork. I’m not quite sure how to express myself through art mediums. And so I just transferred the images I had onto a blank piece of paper using crayons and charcoal. When that was done, we again gathered around a circle and were invited to share. I wasn’t quite sure what to say, there was no meaning behind my piece really.
My nurse then came to chat to me for a bit. She talked of finding aspects of my life which give me hope for the future such as being an OT student, having friends and future relationships, thinking about what I want from my stay and that I’m ‘here for a reason’. I don’t know what happened, I guess it just got too overwhelming for me and I became upset. It reinforces in my mind that nobody *gets it* when they talk of things getting better when I just feel no hope. The childish part of me thought, ‘Fine, you think I have a reason for being here and that I have a goal for being here? I’ll show you I don’t.’ And so I walked out of the hospital. I received the first voicemail from my nurse at about 4:15pm, telling me she was looking for me. I wasn’t quite ready to return yet, I just wanted to run away. From everything and from myself. Eventually I realised I should probably head back as it was getting dark and I didn’t really have a place I could run off to. I hadn’t walked far, but I have a terrible sense of direction. I made it back to the hospital at a bit past 5pm, and met my nurse walking down the corridor towards the mental health unit. She told me she’d been worried and had even called security on me. I was led back to my room and she had a chat with me in which I became quite teary. She revealed that she developed depression when she was fifteen through her father passing away, she’s twenty five now and is still on antidepressants. She has however found hope through nursing, through her relationships with friends and her partner. Unsurprisingly, I was told, ‘No more running away.’
Dr T came to see me later on in the evening. I was questioned on the groups I attended and unavoidably my ‘going on a walk’. Apparently she will write me a medical certificate for the human biology test I am meant to be sitting this Friday as it’s ‘not fair’ for me to sit it. It’s a far cry from what she told me the first time I met her and it just feels, well…odd. It leaves me feeling a bit guilty too for obtaining extensions and the such. A family meeting with her and my parents is scheduled for 6:30pm on Thursday night. So not keen. Dr T has also swtiched me to Pristiq. Goodness, I went from bringing in the Zoloft I was on, to needing to have temazepam being ordered in for me, as well as needing Lexapro ordered in for the for the four days I’ve been in hospital, and now Pristiq. She tried to tell me Pristiq comes in capsules, I disagreed and told her it doesn’t. I’m sure my being a pharmacy assistant must be a real pain to those professionals sometimes, for example that nurse a few days ago and now my psychiatrist.
My family came to visit later on, which involved more tears. This crying is getting a bit old, with yesterday being the only day which didn’t involve tears. Sighs.
I’m glad today though to finally get my laptop connected to the internet. Yay for being allowed laptops here in this private psychiatric clinic.