It’s been nearly a month since my Love Wins? post. A month in which a lot has gone on, in the world at large, but also for me personally.
Without me realising it, my mental health had been deteriorating for some time. Since our car accident in April several things have gone on and I haven’t faced up to or dealt with any of them. As a result, after the Brexit vote, my mental health imploded.
On the Friday that the results came out we hosted an expat music night. It was a lovely evening with friends and great fun, I went to bed happy but because I believed that that evening would one of my last memories.
The following morning I edited all the photos from that night while emotionally falling apart. My mum came in and asked if I was OK, I wasn’t, and I cried. I cried because I saw so much hate in the world and I didn’t want to be in it any more. I cried because I knew I was ill and that it wasn’t ‘normal’ to think that way, but because I was thinking and feeling that way anyway.
Mum asked if I needed a doctor, or a hospital admission, while trying to console me. I knew I needed help, professional help, and I was willing to get it. So off we went to our doctors to find them closed. We went on to A&E where I was seen relatively quickly by a lovely Doctor who examined me and asked a lot of questions and eventually told me that I had to be assessed by a psychiatrist, on Monday…they don’t work weekends it seems.
So I spent Saturday & Sunday night in hospital, crying, afraid, desperate to go home, waiting for someone to help me.
Monday morning came and a psychiatrist appeared. To say I felt let down by him would be a huge understatement. When he left, after approximately 5 minutes, I felt like a fraud, a faker, an insignificant piece of…. He did discharge me, without any help. I asked what I could to to feel better, to help myself? “Talk” he said…
Once I got home I phoned my psychiatric clinic, they couldn’t see me as my psychiatrist has been promoted so I need to be re-referred by my GP. So I phoned my GP, to find he’s on holiday for 3 weeks. So I made an appointment with a different GP. She was lovely. Amazing. She listened and she tried to help; she has adjusted my medication and I’ll be going back soon to see my own GP to be assessed and hopefully referred to a psychiatrist again.
As a family, we have bought some books to help me manage my illness(es) and to help my parents learn more about them, and therefore me. I’ve also discovered a local therapist who I had my first session with today, she seems great, she seems to ‘get’ me. I believe she can help me.
So I am getting help. Even though, once again, I have had to fight for it.
But I am stable again, or stabilising. I am recuperating, recovering, trying to put back in place self-care strategies and learning to deal with a world, a life, that isn’t what I thought it was.
So that’s where I’ve been while I’ve not been blogging. But I think I’m back now.