Tough meeting with Dr T today at The H Clinic. I was asked whether I would do the right thing by handing over my medications for my mother to dole out each morning when I am discharged. I sat silently as a response. Something must have shown in my facial expression, as she said, “You don’t seem very happy with that.” I shrugged. “BtF, you have to tell me, I can’t guess, I’m not a mind reader,” she said. “Well…I guess I feel like I should be able to look after my own medications,” I mutterred. Some point soon after I started crying, and she speculated I was upset because she doesn’t trust me. “No, because I feel like I need to know I have a way out if things get too much,” I told her. “Maybe that’s why you’re not getting anything out of groups then,” she said. “Instead of using those skills, you think, Oh that’s okay, I’ll just take a heap of pills.” Umm no, maybe because this CBT Thought Diary crap I have done before, brainstorming ‘What lifts my mood?’ does not aid in lifting my mood and being told to use techniques to ‘distract myself’ does not make my sorrow and pain disappear.
Dr T also asked me whether I have pills stored in my room. I hesitated for a few seconds before going with the truth. “Yes,” I admitted. So as well as my mother keeping and doling out my medication daily, she also wants my mother and I to go through my room together to find any medication I have stocked and have it disposed of. No way around it either, as she’s already rang my mother to inform her of these intentions.
I was told I have to ‘cooperate to keep me alive’ otherwise ‘she’s doing all the work’ if I’m not cooperating and asked ‘why are we doing all this [treatment] otherwise?’ Why indeed. Beats me. Did I say I even want treatment? Don’t know why people are so intent on me staying alive…
It was agreed during the meeting that I’d be discharged this coming Saturday. Because of what was said though, she suggested, “Maybe it is too soon to go home then.” I shook my head no. And so after three weeks spent here in H Clinic, I will be discharged in a couple of days.
The pills I have stocked acts as a safety net for me to fall back on. Even though I haven’t and probably won’t take an overdose of what I know would have the best chance of killing me, it’s reassuring to know I have that there. Without it, I feel all the more anxious and desperate. Like I have to seize any chance I have to kill myself before all options are taken away from me.