So, I created a blog. I had many, many butterflies, but I did it. I don’t know who will be interested in what I have to say, but I need to write at the moment and my journal hasn’t been moved from where I put it when I was discharged from hospital a few months ago. It’s not that I don’t want to write in it, I do, I just honestly don’t know what to say (I’m hoping this will keep me more accountable) when I’m suffering more than when I was even impatient, and that last admission was a HUGE stuff up.

Mum said they broke me into a thousand pieces and then gave me back to her A) worse than when I was admitted and B) in those thousands of pieces that she has to put back together. I was bruised all over from getting to know security so well… anyway, I wasn’t allowed to be discharged until Mum had annual leave and could “look after me 24/7” and I was very excited at the prospect of sleeping in my own bed, showering in my own shower- the little things I could appreciate even if it felt like I was on close obs at home, which is slowly getting better in some regards because of the fact that I want to be with mum and I’m tring to catch my worst thoughts and intervene before I act on anything.  But still, even now I still have to rely on the NG to stay medically well enough to stay out of hospital, which is needed at the moment more than ever because on Mums annual leave, her holiday, she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She’s done one round of chemo to prolong life and is due for another week of it after this week, so I need to be here to help and be with her. So we’re doing everything to keep me at home, copious amounts of meds and DISTRACTION DISTRACTION DISTRACTION, trying to keep my insidious thoughts and the control the voice has over me at bay so we can spend time together.

There’s not much we can do about my dissociation (which landed me in ED last week after an overdose- as soon as I realised what had happened after going through my bank account and backpack, I actually went willingly, no ambulance, no police escort. (just a freak out in the middle of the night, but I settled, had some meds and got recannulated and hooked back up to the antidote and finally finished my infusion the following afternoon) and I was medically cleared to go home to Mum. Usually psych follows up such admissions with at least a conversation which usually leads to an admission but EVERYONE, my case manager, my community psych, the hospital staff- we all agree on one thing: an admission would make things worse and what I need right now is to be with my family. They’re there for me, but if I keep up how very very hard I’m trying, even with my little slip ups, I try to make it right again and do everything I possibly can to stay well enough to stay home. And they listen to that need and are staying in the background more. We need that right now. All of us.

I’m really unsettled tonight but I’m just going to take some extra meds if things don’t improve in the next few hours, and get back onto Parks and Rec, which in about 10 episodes I will have finished a complete rewatch of. Parks and Rec is the kind of show I need at times like these to hopefully distract. It’s been great reliving it. Such a good regular cast and the guest stars are amazing.