I don’t actually know why some people keep persisting on trying to help me, believing I will improve. In my perspective it’s an exercise in futility. My relatives make it sound so easy. “Don’t do this type of thing [overdosing] again. Instead call us and there will be someone who will help.” Dr T tells me today her concern is that overdosing will become habitual for me as a way to cope, and the aim is that I don’t end up turning to overdosing again. According to her, every time an overdose occurs people forget all they have learnt and it becomes a big setback in recovery. It sounds an unrealistic goal, to not keep overdosing, and I tell her so. She then says that maybe I shouldn’t be going to Uni then, as that’s another pressure on top of trying to recover. I point out that my overdosing occurs irrespective of whether I’m attending Uni or not. She acknowledges this, then asks whether it’s fair on the Uni and on the other students. She uses an employer as an analogy. If I were an employer, would I be wanting an employee to overdose, come back to work, overdose, come back to work, repeatedly? Or would I tell them to take time off to sort things out before coming back when they’re ready?
I can kind of see where she’s coming from. The way I see it though, my overdosing is just going to keep happening. And so the way to go about this is to continue attending Uni, if it happens that I overdose, well, it happens, I take a couple of days to recover from it physically, whatever, and then continue chugging along with working towards my degree. An ideal way to progress through Uni? Admittedly no, but recovery seems so, so unattainable. Might as well be overdosing and attempting Uni rather than overdosing as well as doing bugger-all with my life.
My dose of Pristiq was increased again to 150mg. Dr T tells me she will see me again on Wednesday before setting a discharge date. Third week in hospital? Shoot me now. It’s not a good sign either when I barely recognise faces around the ward anymore, many of the people who were here when I arrived have been discharged it seems. Maybe I should have just gone to the public psych ward. As unpleasant as they are I’m almost certain they wouldn’t keep me this long; pressure on beds, others are sicker who need an admission and all that.
I remember scoffing at my aunt upon my discharge from the Emergency Department, prior to arriving at H Clinic, when she warned me of being stuck in a psych ward for a month, as her husband was ten years ago when he attempted suicide. At the time I thought the idea ludicrous given my last admission was only for three days. I’m not that sick, so as if they would keep me that long. I originally thought about a week, tops. Fml for being so wrong.