Hi guys. I guess I’ve been missing in action for a while. That’s because my life has been going along the lines of “Orange Coloured Sky” in that “the ceiling caved in and the bottom fell out, I went into a spin…” you get the idea. I’m not even sure how to adequately catch you up but I’ll do my best.
I guess I’ll start by warning against love triangles – they suck! Especially when one side is long-standing love and devotion while the other is an intense foray of passion and obsession clouding all reason. Oh and not to mention all the above while ALREADY in crisis. Also, I now understand why forming a romantic relationship in a crisis centre isn’t advisable. Oops. Should’ve listened to that one. Should’ve listened to a lot of things, come to think of it. I should’ve been more aware at the time but I was vulnerable and so was this man I thought I deeply loved. I felt understood…like only he could see the real me and not judge. (I ended up wrong about the not judging.) As a cherry on top, his semi-sadistic tendencies were the perfect complement to my masochistic ones. What a perfect storm we made together. The storm was honestly beautiful. The two of us were in the eye of it…riding euphoria while oblivious to the destruction. I was also isolated from my family because of the distance which made it easier for him to become like a drug for me. Thankfully I finally realized who I really need and truly love and he’s been in front of me for 7 years. I’m so fortunate because even with all that happened Aaron didn’t give up on me. He still wants to be with me. So the good news that I have is that we decided on August 7th to renew our engagement! He bought me a gorgeous water droplet diamond ring and proposed at the top of a mountain with a stunning view. It means so much to me and brings some hope where there’s been pitifully little, to my mind anyway.
For over a week now I’ve also been suicidal every day. I even acted on my urges three times and here’s the ridiculous timeline:
July 29 (I think) – Opioid overdose, decided not to be found dead in my bedroom by my parents in the morning so I took the Narcan I was keeping in case my new semi-boyfriend overdosed. (He has opioids prescribed for pain and hence a Narcan kit.)
July 31 – Opioid overdose with wine, caught by my semi-boyfriend and given Narcan. (Horrible, horrible feelings after the Narcan by the way – like the worst flu ever.)
August 3 – Cut my brachial artery and took a bunch of benzodiazepines with wine. Ended up intubated and transferred to a hospital that had an ICU.
August 4 and 5 – Intubated, sedated, intubation removed, finally allowed to smoke a cigarette outside!
August 6 – Was transferred to the hospital’s psych ward but convinced them to release me so I could stay in the hospital my psychiatrist spilts his time at.
August 7 – Second proposal! Yay!
August 8 and 9 – Emergency at our local hospital until moved to the psych unit on the 3rd floor (insert dramatic music here).
So it’s been a sh*tstorm and I was writing the above from a thankfully private room in the ER. It had a locked door and prison-style toilet though… No underwear, no dignity. Thank the Universe, Mia could be with me!
Then it all went to hell. I know I already wasn’t having a jolly time but I was at least a calm and compliant patient. That was up until the much anticipated visit from my psychiatrist which went horribly. I started with an update but my biggest concern was Mia being allowed to stay with me in the psych ward. He refused in the most non-empathetic of ways and refused to read my document from the organization for Mia. He also didn’t give me a real answer as to WHY. I said I wanted to leave if I couldn’t have her with me and that I’d prefer to stay safe in a crisis centre that would accept her. He then said I have no choice but to stay because he was issuing a mandate or whatever. I lost it…I was angry, crying and refused to agree with his terms. I walked out and went to the guard to ask for my phone back which had been charging. To be clear, it’s on my chart that I’m allowed my phone. What happened? I was refused it. (By the way I missed my appointment with my therapist because of their inability to communicate amongst themselves. Very mad.)
I’m not proud of my next actions because they only served to exacerbate the situation, but it IS pretty funny and they DID deserve it (in my opinion). With my phone rudely refused right after Mia, I utterly lost my sh*t. I proceeded to walk out of the ER with a loud “f*ck this!” They threatened to call the police if I left, to which I replied “Go right ahead, I don’t give a sh*t.” (I’m not like this. It takes a lot to piss me off to that degree.)
You’ve gotta picture this to get the humour: There I am in literally nothing but a hospital gown…not even underwear…with loose running shoes because the laces were removed…AND a Yorkie in my arms. I’m not sure how many people I flashed on the way out and I don’t want to know. I walked past the nurses calmly until I got to the corridor at which point I started sprinting, ran past the cafeteria out the back door and through the parking lot to the side of the hopsital. That’s where the CHLSD is and I saw 2 men smoking by a picnic table. One was kind enough to give me a cigarette and so I sat with Mia while she did her business. I realized I’d have to return because 1. I was only wearing a hospital gown and 2. All my stuff was locked up inside.
That’s when a nurse saw me and came by, followed by a préposé and security guard who were sent to find me. Funny enough, they didn’t rush me or anything. We had a lovely conversation in fact and I walked back with them willingly. We were commiserating about the system. I was in a much better mood until the people at my bed opened their mouths. First of all everything was removed and the bed was replaced by one with restraints. An officer was stationed by my door and I was told that if I did anything else they’d have to restrain and sedate me “for my own good”. Then came the worst: Since I was going to be moved to the psych ward and Mia couldn’t come, my Dad had to pick her up within 20 minutes of they’d have to call the SPCA. Can you f*cking imagine? As my Dad said, over my dead body!
Things got better after my Dad arrived and we thankfully got to smoke outside a few times with coffee. I was moved at 6 and we were told it was ok for Mia to come up with us if she was going to leave with my Dad. We agreed. Later, my nurse got in a tizzy that we disobeyed the psychiatrist’s orders. I explained and she finally realized it was a miscommunication. I learned something though that infuriated me again…the coordinator of the hospital was there for some reason so I took the opportunity to ask why Mia wasn’t allowed. She said only certified service/assistance dogs could stay. I told her Mia is and I have the proof, my doctor just refused to look at the documents even though I needed his referral to start training. How ironic?! Apparently his decision supersedes policy and because I have borderline personality disorder, I would be too attached to Mia and not help myself here. I’d be too dependent. Oh but it’s ok to be dependent on 7 medications per day. That’s perfectly fine. I’m sorry…I’m still highly pissed.
So last night was my first sleep here and today is a new day but I have no outings which means I can’t smoke. I’m dying. I can’t wait for my Dad to visit but even then I won’t be allowed out yet. I also have to be evaluated by law by a second psychiatrist to see if the legally mandated hold will remain. I want to be here on my own terms! I’m super frustrated and it’s incredibly hard without Mia!
Anyway, the point of being here is still to stabilize and figure things out. I’ll probably be writing more throughout this process but I’ll leave it off here for now.
One last thing…I was about to publish when I was seen by the other psychiatrist. The hold was maintained and that means I have no outside privileges until it’s removed which is only possible the next time I see MY psychiatrist. So…this is fantastically discouraging. I kept my cool despite how much I dislike this psychiatrist (I’ve seen her before), and there was no reasoning with her rationally. I’m somehow more depressed than I was originally and things like this make me regret receiving treatment on time for the overdoses. Anyway…
Take care you guys! Life is hard but we can make it better. I think. I hope. I’m so grateful for the support of my family; I couldn’t survive any of this without them. It’s times like these where relationships are deeply tested and I’ve been extremely fortunate!
Do you really think that accepting a marriage proposal at a time of crisis was the best idea? Shouldn’t you have waited until you’ve healed? It sounds like you’re still making bad decisions. Perhaps it is a symptom of your BPD.
I appreciate the brutal honesty. Perhaps it was a rapid decision; goodness knows how many poorly-timed choices I’ve made of late. At least I’ve been with this person for 7 years rather than 5 minutes. Time will tell.
As a clinical psychologist, I have to disagree. The amount of time you spent with the person is not always a good indicator. You’re going through some difficult times. All you’ve seen in the last while is the inside of a hospital. All if a sudden, you get a magical marriage proposal from someone you’ve already broken off an engagement with. I don’t think you were in a state to receive and accept a proposal. The timing seems odd and opportunistic. A marriage proposal should be given and accepted when both people are in a good place together. You have to find your happiness first. You should not be pressured and be handed a happy moment when you’re in crisis. And what happened to your boyfriend? Did he abandon you during this crisis?