Monday, February 5, 2018
They kept me 2 weeks. It honestly didn't seem like things were getting any better. I was depressed and hopeless and sleeping a lot. I met some nice people, but I also spent a lot of time in my room. Last Wednesday I was supposed to leave.. the doctor put in the order, I packed my stuff, and I filled out paperwork.. being an idiot I was honest on the paperwork. This included saying I was still having suicidal thoughts. I didn't think they would look at it before I was gone, but they did. So right at the time I was supposed to leave, the nurse told me I wouldn't be leaving. They called the doctor and decided I should stay. I might have said some not nice things about the doctor to the nurse (called him an asshole.. or a jackass.. to more than one person). I had self harmed pretty bad prior to that and again after it. I honestly didn't start to feel better until a few days ago. This past weekend the doctor working the weekend (not the jackass) added another antidepressant, and I started to feel better. I had been too tired to stay out of bed.. I had started skipping meals. I couldn't focus to read or color or do anything.
But I am home now and feeling a bit better. I am still pretty hopeless, but I am not so desperate as before. I am happy to have real food and diet soda. The options for vegetarians there were 2 frozen meals, a gardenburger, or a grilled cheese sandwich.. and a couple times I didn't order any alternative but was pressured to eat something by one of the techs. He's a nice guy, but I wanted to throw a fit when he threatened to tell my nurse (and they would tell the doctor) last night because I had skipped lunch and was trying to skip dinner. I will give him credit. He did sit down and asked why I was really skipping meals. I basically said it was because I was self destructive, which he said he noticed. I really self harmed way more than I admitted to anyone.
So in a couple days I have an appointment with a psychiatrist at the state funded services. I am a little afraid that I will be put back inpatient. Honestly, I am not that afraid of it. I really feel like at this time I would benefit from a long term program that could help me learn to do life ( pay bills, make decisions, be independent) again because at some point I ceased being able to function. Unfortunately, I doubt that exists or if it does that it is not enormously expensive. I just think I do best in the hospital. At home I anxiously sit around watching TV and thinking of everything I should be doing. I think I am a lot more broken than I was a year ago.
At least at home I have better food, and I have cats. That's something. Oh and I have vodka.
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
So I wish I could say rehab was successful. Really it was so worthless. Actually, it cost my insurance paid an awful lot to a rehab facility that cost a lot to build, but it only made me worse.
So this facility has a women's, men's, adolescent, and young adult ward. There were 3 other patients when I got there. The highest the count ever was (for the whole place) was 7. You would think they could handle that.
But the program was so disorganized. Some therapists taught the 12 steps. Some openly didn't agree with AA. The psychiatrist spent most of his time trying to convince me I have some forgotten abuse that caused my depression. Like he asked me questions about if I have ever enjoyed sex with a man and if I have ever climaxed. Then he said I have the symptoms of sexual abuse. WTF? I mean I admit I have not had much luck with men, but I don't think it is as simple as repressed abuse. And I think my current problems are more important than digging up something that I don't think happened. They were really into finding the cause of the addiction. However, a fair number of groups consisted of watching videos. Sometimes they watched football or played Uno and called that a group and acted like I was not working the program because I preferred to read my big book.
So my psychiatrist was focused on uncovering the cause and didn't want to do anything with my medications. I became more depressed and very suicidal. I developed a plan and admitted it to my therapist. I hinted at it to others. Basically, I admitted to planning to get a hotel room and vodka, but I would generally not admit I planned to OD on my meds and drink a lot and obviously not survive. I tried to leave AMA, and they threatened to send me to a psych ward and call the police if I wouldn't go. I rescinded the request. That was Friday.
They told me Friday they were trying to get more days from my insurance. I didn't hear what happened. Saturday I asked and said I was approved through Monday and that my therapist was there Sunday. My therapist said Sunday that I was approved until Monday (which I assumed meant they were still fighting insurance) and she would talk to me after group. She never talked to me. I discussed my concern with the nurse because I had no discharge plan, so she emailed the therapist.
I saw the therapist Monday morning and she said that insurance wouldn't approve more days, so I had to leave that day. She wanted me to call my parents. I wanted to get a hotel room and... But nobody questioned if I was going to kill myself like I was planning a few days prior. She asked about aftercare, and I pretty much said I didn't know because I have no income and no car. I had no idea if my parents wanted me back or were willing to drive me to an outpatient program. So she mentioned giving me a list of therapists and psychiatrists who offer sliding scale services, but I never got anything.
I was planning to get a hotel room and vodka and kill myself, but my credit card was declined when I tried to get a car (Uber) to pick me up. They wouldn't let me just leave. I finally got up and called my parents. My mom was super pissed about them making me leave on such short notice with no prescriptions, no follow up appointments, no referrals. Thankfully she was mad at them not me. But I signed a release for them to call her. The clinical director claimed I declined several attempts at discharge planning (not true), that they recommended PHP at a specific hospital (never remember that hospital being recommended in any detail), I refused to let them be contacted (I only asked I be told beforehand), and that I knew Friday that I would be discharged Monday (as previously mentioned that I was vaguely told Saturday/Sunday that I was approved through Monday but not that they weren't going to keep fighting insurance). So I was not able to be discharged Friday because I was suicidal, but a few days later and still suicidal they could send me home?
The good that came out of this is that my therapist helped fill out the disability application. I have finished that. I have called and gotten some info about mental health services for those with no insurance in my county. Otherwise, I am drunk. I figured out the combination for the lock on my meds.. thank you YouTube, so I can get anything there. I am torn between being suicidal and believing there's hope. I am more believing it's hopeless.
So I bought vodka today. I called and found out about resources. I have done good and bad. I feel hopeless. I have a lot to figure out. I don't know what will happen. My depression is worse than when I left detox. My alcoholism is obviously not cured. I am pissed about what happened and at the lies they told my parents. I don't know if they believe me or them. I guess it's all a work in progress.
Friday, December 29, 2017
So I spent like 5 days inpatient. It was a mix of emotions. I tried to get discharged with the plan to do some stupid things. Then I panicked at the thought of being discharged. I agreed to go to rehab then backed out because I had no idea about insurance. Then the social worker randomly had a guy come from a rehab facility. I had to go by the end of the month to be sure insurance would pay. I expected to go tomorrow. Then today she said I was approved and would be transferred. Now I am in the car with my parents on my way. So don't be surprised if you don't hear from me for a while. I am terrified.
Sunday, December 24, 2017
Friday, December 22, 2017
Like Wednesday... I was supposed to have a job interview and therapy. I can remember waking up barely in time for therapy. I was not sober. I went and was basically told they can't help me and think I need rehab. I tried again to explain that I can't do that and they're basically sending me home to die. I mean I am pretty sure I said I was suicidal and she let me leave. I didn't even stay the whole time.. I wandered around until it was time to go home and that's about all I remember. Hell if I know what happened that evening. I know my mom mentioned yesterday going out to eat with my dad, but I don't think I went with them.. I don't know what I said to them. The next thing I remember is waking up yesterday still pretty drunk. Nobody said anything about it.. I made candied pecans for my dad's birthday. I eventually got dressed and i went to dinner with my family. Then I got home and watched some TV with them and went to bed sober.
Today I got up exhausted. I sat at my computer and cried about how worthless I am. I had to tell my mom that I didn't have therapy today. She asked if it was because I showed up drunk wednesday, so they obviously know. Then she left to go to lunch. I went to the liquor store. Now I am home wondering how my life got to this point. I spent a lot of the night trying to figure out how to kill myself. I can't decide if it would be better to do it before Christmas because frankly nobody probably wants me there. Or do I just attempt it and get put in the hospital? I think I need to be in the hospital, but I don't know how to ask. Plus, I am supposed to have a job interview tomorrow, and since I am so close to being kicked out.. I probably should go. I haven't figure out insurance for January.. but then it doesn't really matter if I don't have therapy.
What the fuck have I done to my life? I feel like a public service announcement about alcoholism at this point. But I also feel like I wouldn't be alive without it. I kind of want to get kicked out and the plan for if that happens isn't pretty. I am just hoping that I am still alive for some reason. Maybe there is some worth for this pathetic life after all? God I hope so.
Tuesday, December 19, 2017
Saturday, December 16, 2017
I have not had a good week. Two days of being confronted by my parents about the drinking and being threatened with being kicked out didn't stop me drinking a bottle of vodka yesterday. Today I saw my new therapist and it was pointless. I basically listened to her go on about how I need to stop drinking. She also told me she thinks I can't. She asked if I was ready to go to treatment. I had to explain that I can't. I have no money, and I don't know how long I will have insurance. I am kinda hoping to lose it so I don't have to see her anymore. She also asked what feelings I have when I said I drink not to feel. She asked how the depression feels. I tried to explain my anxiety and she didn't seem to get it. I tried to explain that I have repeatedly tried rehab. So did the other people at this place who I have talked to not write anything down or did she not read my chart yet? She asked if I tried journaling and recommended I try it after I had just fucking said I already do. Like the woman has pretty much already given up on me. I mean I already know that I am alcoholic. Telling me that if I have access to alcohol that I will drink is not helpful when I live within walking distance of a liquor store. I have been to rehab. Once I got kicked out for trying out ways to kill myself. Once I attempted to kill myself within a week or so of getting home. I have attempted to find ways to kill myself in other hospitals. I don't want to go back to treatment. I wanted to tell her that I am mostly alive because my parents have my meds locked up and it's almost Christmas. But I am pretty sure that honesty would lead to being back in the hospital. So I mostly stared at the floor.
So I was in a bad mood. I left there and pretended to be normal. I had dinner with my parents. Then I went to AA. I don't think I have ever shared in this group. I have finally stopped leaving early to avoid having to hold hands and pray at the end. I have finally spoken to a couple people. I am making progress. Anyway, I sat down and a man came up to me and gave me a gift because he brought them for people he knows at the group and had an extra. It was a Christmas ornament. And somehow that made me feel better than all of the appointments at the DBT place. I thanked him and shook his hand. I thanked him again after the meeting.
The meeting was about powerlessness. Honestly, people mostly told stories of the crazy things they did while drinking. It was honestly just what I needed because my parents act like I am a pathetic, awful person. My therapist acts like I am hopeless. These people have who have done the same or worse are sober now. They don't judge each other. I am honestly not scared of being judged by them. I am scared because I don't want to hurt them, and my ex sponsor basically told me I am toxic and she doesn't want to talk to me anymore. But I can listen and at least feel like a less worthless excuse for a human being. That's something.
And I don't think I have replied to some comments recently, but I read them and appreciate them. I am just struggling to find words lately. I am struggling not to fall apart. I don't really see any hope or reason to keep going. I am just struggling.