Friday. I didn't get much sleep during that night either. I had nightmares and I woke up in the middle of the night and threw up because I had a panic attack. I was still a wreck and spent all morning in bed, crying. I was so sad and scared. I was scared because I was going to be sent home. I just didn't feel like I would be safe at home. I was still suicidal and at the same time I realized that I had to start fighting.
My room-mate had her meeting with J and she told me that he seemed to be in a good mood. You know, I was totally convinced that he would send me home. He had said he would. I had the meeting quite late, it felt like he was avoiding me. I had already packed my bags and basically only waited for him to discharge me. But he didn't send me home! He had talked with the staff and from what he had heard, he didn't think I was ready to go back home yet. I was quite relieved. I mean, I hated being there but I knew I wasn't ready. He told me that he wouldn't let me switch units, that I'm not allowed to have a choice when it comes to these things. He also said that he had heard that I don't feel like we get along. But according to him, a patient and a doctor don't need to like each other. It is his job to help me and we should have a professional relationship, no matter if we like each other or not. I really respected that and was quite shocked that he actually brought that up. He also tried to explain what he meant with that I don't have a personality. He basically meant that I don't know who I am and where I am in my life, where I am heading. He thinks I'm lost and kind of lost touch with myself. He might be right about that. Since my mental illness had gotten worse, I questioned everything about myself. My life-long goals now seem unreachable. I have lost touch with myself in the sense that I don't know who I am right now. I knew before who I was and knew who I wanted to be. But now I don't even think who I can be, I am stuck in the now, without any real sense of identity. I have been eaten up by my mental illness, it's not like that I am my mental illness, it is more like that I am nothing anymore since I have become ill. So how do I actually find back to myself? Will I ever be able to find myself again or will I be lost in nothingness forever? Oh, and we talked about my restless legs and spasms and how much that is contributing to my current state of mind. He decided to contact a neurologist for me so I could get a proper examination and the right meds. He knows me and how sensitive I am to medication so he didn't want to just give me something. I was really grateful for that because damn it, this nerve-spasm/restlessness is really destroying my life!
My husband was really disappointed that I wasn't coming home. He had basically just waited for me to call him and tell him to fetch me. I am really not all that open to him when it comes to how I am feeling and what has been going on at the hospital. Just a few days ago he had threatened me to leave me because he couldn't take my suffering and inability to fight anymore. So I didn't want to make things worse by telling him the total truth. He came to visit me in the evening again. We even went out for a walk. But my legs gave in, they were shaking and I had to sit on a bench for 15 minutes before we could go back in again. So terrible!
I spent the night studying. I had fallen behind so bad! So I had to write a short paper on Nietzsche's perception of history and I actually managed to do that. At a freaking psych unit. Someone should give me some credit for that! I had taken all my sedatives that day so I was pretty calm when I went to bed. Well, apart from my legs, they were driving me crazy! I watched some Dexter-episodes, took my Zoplicone and actually fell asleep before three a.m.!
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