Crash and Burn

So, by now you all know that I ended up back in the hospital. What happened? Where did we go wrong?

It had all been building since Christmas - many of you read my previous entry so I'm assuming you know sort of where my head was at (if that's at all possible). I felt like I was drowing in expectations - drowning in "holiday cheer". Every day that went by I slipped further and further down into the pit of my depression - not wanting to live, not wanting to fight.

My malfunctioning brain was getting upset because I didn't even have the option if killing myself; this little person who has blessed my life, but also torn it apart, was now preventing me from escaping my own personal hell. I had moments where I would resent her because I couldn't just leave - I couldn't just check out of this life and out of this pain. I truly believe that no one could ever know the pain of my depression - I physically hurt everyday that I have to deal with this.

Greg had stepped out for a little while, I told him it was okay to go, I was fine. That's part of my problem, always thinking I'm fine. He wouldn't be gone long. It wasn't too soon after that that I was sitting bawling my eyes out in our spare bedroom, Adelyn in her high chair happily playing with Sophie. I didn't even know what happened, I just had a meltdown. I thought about the knives...thought about all the things I could do with my new block of knives I got for Christmas...then I considered putting them outside just to get them out of my sight. I felt like I was losing my mind.

I got in touch with my sister who called my in-laws. My father in law showed up minutes later and took me to their place. By now we all know that my meltdowns aren't anything to be fooled around with, it can go bad pretty quickly. I had a meeting with FACS at their house (this was already scheduled) and it was determined that I needed to change my medications...and that meant I needed to go to the ER and see the on-call psychiatrist (my doctor is away until next week). I fought it...I knew if I was going there, I wasn't coming home that night. Everyone tried to reassure me that he would probably just change them and I could go, but I knew deep down that I needed to be in there.

Sure enough, once I got through the emerg the doctor told me that they had put me on a form...meaning I wasn't allowed to leave. I cried my eyes out; I couldn't do this again. My family couldn't do this again. In the midst of my tears I asked Greg to go home and grab some of my things so that I could stay over. He left and the nurses moved me to a "secure" room with a guard out front.

I just wanted to sleep. I just wanted the pain to go away...I couldn't stop crying. Then I remembered I had the ativan. All I needed to do was just take some ativan and it would all stop. First I took three, then two more...then another. After taking six I knew I needed to stop or I would be in big trouble. I opened the door to the nurse sitting there and said "please take these away, I have taken six", and went to lay down.

The nurse panicked and took all my things away. I was moved to a treatment room for observation...6 ativan isnt' all that much, but they wanted to watch me anyways, considering I'm on so many other mediactions. Luckily I was fine...didn't even get drowsy. They sent up "upstairs" - back to the Norris Wing. I felt pretty hopeless, like this was never going to end. This cycle was never going to stop.

I spend two painful nights in the hospital - luckily the doctor changed my meds and allowed me to leave on New Year's Eve. Now I'm back at home and feeling slightly better, but not by much. I am just hanging in there. My sister has agreed to move in with us, which is such a blessing; I couldn't do this without her (and of course Greg, and the rest of my family..).

So now we start another cycle...new arrangements, new medications. Not much else to say other than I'm praying with all my might that this might actually work out for me.