My Journey Out of Madness, Day 1

      First a disclaimer. I use the term madness to describe my symptoms, not my illnesses. I do not see mental illness as "crazy", nor those who suffer them as "mad". I am describing, for my own self, how it felt being in the condition I was in, my own internal experiences. While words such as crazy looney psycho or madness may be okay for me, in history those terms have been used to exploit, and isolate Mental Illness sufferers from society.

      I use them to take back my power. Take back my dignity. Take the bad out of words and use it to empower. While that is my way of dealing and coping, please remember that others may find these word degrading. This blog is my journey, and I ask that you remember every person coping with illnesses of the mind are very individual. Find out what is comfortable for each person before using words like these. 

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     So, I started Partial Hospitalization Program again on Tuesday, May 22, 2017. Partial hospital is an intensive mental health treatment program that runs from 9am to 3pm (other programs nay vary, these are my program hours), and I go home at night. It is for those sick enough to need more support than outpatient treatments (weekly or monthly appointments), but not sick enough to require 24/7 round the clock care (inpatient hospitalization). Often it is a bridge between inpatient and outpatient, but can also be used for my purpose, to not deteriorate into needing full inpatient care. It incorporates med nanagement, skills training, activity therapy, group and individual therapy. 

     For me, my life has been slowly spiraling out of contol for awhile. Usually, I get this way because I do not follow through with some aspect of my care. This time I did everything right, but circumstances became more than my coping skills, and medication can only do do much, so I spiraled downward. 

     If you view my blog post called My Twin Flame is Lost , you will see that one of my biggest supports, my first love, and my best friend, passed away quite young and tragically. I haven't dealt well with it at all. Combine that with an increase in my medical issues (I suffer with two rare autoimmune diseases, Microscopic Polyangiitis and Behcet's Dise ase, as well as a fat disorder called Lipoedema. I also am recovering from an Acute Pulmonary Embolism secondary to the Behcet's.), the loss of my grandfather, the loss of my job, feeling like a burden to others, and isolation due to my illnesses, it was all bound to flare up my mental health problems. 

     Over the past few months, I found myself slowly losing interest in things I enjoyed. I made plans with friends and family, but just could not follow through. I just had no will to participate in my own life, let alone the lives of others. This avoidance turned to isolation which turned into a full fledged phobia of leaving my home. I felt artificially safe in my house, eventually that safety narrowed to my bed. I was now a prisoner in my own head. Fear, self hatered, paranoia, and extreme depression led me to neglect my appointments. I cancelled them citing various reasons. None of which were "I am losing my mind, my head is full of horror and I am being held hostage by my own brain!" 

     When I did manage to override the fear and go to an appointment, when they asked "do you feel safe at home?" I wanted to say no. That my brain was slowly beating me down, and holding me hostage in bed like some prisoner being forced into solitary confinement. I wanted to say "the only danger to me is myself ", and that I was being held hostage by thoughts of suicide and my fear of acting on them. So, do you feel safe at home? My answer? "Yes". 

     My medical health declined rapidly as I barely ate, couldn't shower, stopped or missed meds, because I couldn't go get them, and that further dragged me into darkness. My body became the warden, my mind a prison. My soul was the prisoner. Pain, both mental and physical became so perversely prominent that I debated even why I was worth saving. I felt like I would be better off dead, and others could be free of my burdensome existence. I went numb. When I lose ability to feel, the next step is suicide.  Having recently lost a person I looked up to to suicide, as well as one of my best friends in 2003, and a man like a dad to me as a child, to suicide, I eventually reached out. Funny thing is, I cancelled the assessment more than once, but that teeny speck of hope sonewhere inside propelled me to go the third time. So here I am. 

      So I have a few days in at PHP. That's three days of not isolating. Three days of support. Of course last night I ended up in the ER. My months of neglect for my health caught up to me so I couldn't go today to PHP, and programming doesn't resume until Tuesday due to the holiday. I am feeling better medically. (I was drowning in fluid, and thanks to the medication I have peed over 30 times in the last 35 hours, which is good!). I can breathe and pain is decreasing some. So is my headaches and other things. However I have four days to wait until I can go back to PHP and I am scared. 

     My goal is to go to any event on Memorial Day I can. Usually my NA groups have a picnic. If I can my goal is to try to go. At least for an hour. Or at least do something. Will I be successful? I hope so. Time will tell. I have to pee again so this is bye for now! Stay tuned for daily updates!