I Don’t Think I Can Get More Honest Than This


*Sensitive and Triggering Content*

I did something the other day that I shouldn’t have.  I ingested something the other day that I shouldn’t have (a lot of something).  But let me explain myself first, you see I had a very good reason to, even if you don’t believe that could possibly be true, but you see, my illness made me do it.

Less than 24 hours earlier I found myself going through the motions yet again in another hospital emergency room, the one hospital that I had been trying to avoid as it is the one that I have spent close to 5 months in throughout my journey and I have many triggering panic attacks from my time there (but lucky for me I have lost an entire month of my memory due to having electric shock therapy during one of those stays).  The triggers can be as simple as a smell or even some type of noise but as I discovered about a week ago it can even be associated with certain elevators, the kind that is that actually vocalizes which floor you are arriving at.

The hospital was of course quite busy and we had to wait a while to register but once I did so I was accompanied to a quieter area in the emergency room.  I know the drill very well by now. Once inside the room my anxiety went from zero to a hundred within minutes (well I am never really ever entirely at zero when it comes to my anxiety).  I had agreed prior to going there that maybe it was the best option for me as I was very familiar with the hospital and I knew what to expect but in those first brief moments sitting in the room I realized I was wrong and every single one of those triggers came flooding through my body.  The smells, the noises, the recent fear of those elevators, the nurses I despise and the reality that they have been unsuccessful in helping me before.

I know, I know, it’s not about all that, it’s about my safety, but I didn’t care, it’s too anxiety provoking.  The nurse who was under my care felt the panic in my bones and made me promise to at least stay to talk with the doctor and so I did.  I spoke with him for quite a while, he listened and asked a lot of questions, none that I haven’t heard a million times before. I answered all of his questions honestly and then told him I honestly need to go home and he agreed to let me go, even after telling him I had active thoughts of harming myself.  He did do one other thing though before letting me leave, he called the outpatient crisis department to set me up with one of their psychiatrists to meet with later in the week, but you see when they called me I was told that since I am no longer on medication and will not even entertain the thought of taking one more medication again due to the 20 others I’ve tried and failed at miserably, they will not see me (which is basically the only thing the inpatient department would have tried to do as well).

So now we arrive back to Wednesday afternoon, an afternoon where I had a migraine from spending the entire night before crying and realizing that I will never get better, that I am a failure and helpless and that there is nothing else that can be done for me unless I can afford private institutions where they don’t push medication but instead help you heal your brain with other methods, most of which don’t exist in Canada.  So that was when I did something I shouldn’t have and that is when I ingested something I shouldn’t have.

The pain was just too unbearable, all my effort I’ve put into to healing, all for what?  The thing is, nothing happened, even my migraine didn’t go away and I felt like a failure yet again so I carried on as business as usual for most of the night until the pain in my stomach became excruciating and the nausea insufferable which is when my husband realized what I had done, called poison control and carted me off to the nearby emergency room where I was treated and then eventually put on a mental health hold for up to 72 hours in another room, surrounded by security guards with only a hospital gown and cold bed to lay my head on while I anxiously awaited for morning until I could see the psychiatrist and get me the fuck out of there.

They gave me something to sleep, but I only slept for an hour and a half and just kept watching for the crisis team to arrive.  They eventually did, not even quite sure what time it was because I had no phone or clock, but I was thankful when they did. This hospital, along with the one I was at the night before, have a great deal of history on me in file so at least we could skip most of the preliminary questions this time.  I spoke honestly once again (although this time was post active suicidal thoughts) and once again I said I just need to go home. They too discussed the whole medicine part of their job as that is what hospitals in Ontario do. We discussed how I am desperately trying to pursue alternative treatments and they fully supported it and told me I should find somewhere to go in the States.

So home is where I am for now, and last night I did the even more unthinkable (Not in a harmful way this time), my husband and I reached out to @Dr.Phil’s team.  Yup desperate times call for desperate measures. My husband has already picked out his suit and happy socks he wants to wear when he gets the call, and when my kids find out about this I’m pretty sure they will probably go into hiding, well maybe after a trip to L.A that is!

Author: Kim Fluxgold

Wife, mom of 3 beautiful children, dog lover, creative sole and children's book Author. Sharing my journey with depression and anxiety through blogging in hopes of educating and ending the stigma.

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