Written on April 9, 2014
A Psychiatric Patient's Prayer
My Dear Lord, how my heart aches, how I long to smile and laugh again,
My soul feels heavy, for those that I have lost, my Lord,
I want to join you, Sweet Lord, in eternal peace, but now is not the right time,
I must not die, by my own hands, for it would break your heart, Lord,
Please guide the Doctors, Nurses, & Counselors, to make the right decisions for me,
So, that I may once again rejoin the Land of the Living, and find joy once again,
My Lord, my soul is so lost, in my own private Hell,
Please, please, please, Dear Lord, let me rise above it.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
I had a bit of a temporary relapse recently, in my emotional & mental health. I spent last week in a psychiatric ward. I signed myself in, voluntarily, to try to save myself from my own self-destruction. I am far too sensitive for this world, sometimes.
It was not an easy experience. When I arrived, at the emergency room, I was asked why I was seeking medical treatment. I was scared and paranoid, and could not answer "in front of all these people, looking at me". So, I wrote "psychiatric reasons", on an index card, and gave it to the woman, working at the check-in desk.
Within a few minutes, I was called into the ER. I asked to bring my husband in, with me, but I was told to come in alone, to "get settled in". They brought me into a room, with only a stretcher, that had leather handcuffs, ankle cuffs, and lots of straps. It also had a camera, near the ceiling, and a mirror near the ceiling...no chairs, no TV, nothing else. I saw the straps on the bed and panicked. "You're not going to tie me down, are you?", I cried. The nurse said no, and said that they had no other beds available. "I want a chair", I said. They brought me a chair, and told me to remove most of my clothing, and put 2 johnnies on. They could see me changing my clothes, through the window, in the locked, heavy door, and through the camera. I was scarily, aware of this.
When they came back, they took all of my clothes and belongings away, and searched them. They took me to the bathroom, and insisted that I pee into a cup, to drug & alcohol test me. When they took me backed to the locked room, they also insisted on drawing my blood. I wouldn't let them take my blood, until my husband was allowed in the room with me.
I complained about the room, saying it was scaring me, and complained about all the people "staring" at me, and the camera "spying" on me.
A few hours later, an even more psychotic man arrived in the ER, and they needed my room, and gave me a regular room, with a regular stretcher, a chair, a TV, etc, and a bit of my fear left me.
I was asked extensive questions..."Why are you here?" "Do you want to hurt yourself, or anyone else?" "Did you have an actual plan to harm yourself?" "What type of health problems do you have?" "What medications are you on?", etc, etc.
After several hours, I was told that there were no beds on any psychiatric units available, that I would have to spend the night in the ER, until a bed was found in a hospital.
I was transported about 24 hours later, by ambulance, to a psychiatric ward, at a different hospital.
It was not an easy experience. When I arrived, at the emergency room, I was asked why I was seeking medical treatment. I was scared and paranoid, and could not answer "in front of all these people, looking at me". So, I wrote "psychiatric reasons", on an index card, and gave it to the woman, working at the check-in desk.
Within a few minutes, I was called into the ER. I asked to bring my husband in, with me, but I was told to come in alone, to "get settled in". They brought me into a room, with only a stretcher, that had leather handcuffs, ankle cuffs, and lots of straps. It also had a camera, near the ceiling, and a mirror near the ceiling...no chairs, no TV, nothing else. I saw the straps on the bed and panicked. "You're not going to tie me down, are you?", I cried. The nurse said no, and said that they had no other beds available. "I want a chair", I said. They brought me a chair, and told me to remove most of my clothing, and put 2 johnnies on. They could see me changing my clothes, through the window, in the locked, heavy door, and through the camera. I was scarily, aware of this.
When they came back, they took all of my clothes and belongings away, and searched them. They took me to the bathroom, and insisted that I pee into a cup, to drug & alcohol test me. When they took me backed to the locked room, they also insisted on drawing my blood. I wouldn't let them take my blood, until my husband was allowed in the room with me.
I complained about the room, saying it was scaring me, and complained about all the people "staring" at me, and the camera "spying" on me.
A few hours later, an even more psychotic man arrived in the ER, and they needed my room, and gave me a regular room, with a regular stretcher, a chair, a TV, etc, and a bit of my fear left me.
I was asked extensive questions..."Why are you here?" "Do you want to hurt yourself, or anyone else?" "Did you have an actual plan to harm yourself?" "What type of health problems do you have?" "What medications are you on?", etc, etc.
After several hours, I was told that there were no beds on any psychiatric units available, that I would have to spend the night in the ER, until a bed was found in a hospital.
I was transported about 24 hours later, by ambulance, to a psychiatric ward, at a different hospital.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
I am starting to feel good about myself. I am realizing that I am a great person: kind, empathetic, intelligent, artistic, always giving.
I am starting to feel good about life. Just a few years ago, life felt like an enormous uncertainty. I wasn't too keen on this thing called Life. I didn't realize that I had to be pro-active in creating my own happiness.
In fact, it took until my early 40's, that I discovered what happiness is. In some ways, I am so delighted & thankful, to discover happiness, but in other ways, I am extremely pissed that it took 1/2 of my life to find it. I grieve for the time that I have lost to misery.
I hated myself for decades. I hate my Schizoaffective Disorder, and the games it plays with my mind: severe depression, anxiety, paranoia, delusions, hallucinations. I hate my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, because of the nightmares, flashbacks, triggers, fears....but really, I truly hate the men that caused it, in me. For decades, I was a slave to my emotions and fears.
I am now starting to like myself and I am proud of myself because suicide no longer seems like a good alternative to living. I am proud of myself because I work hard to keep my sanity strong, by taking my medications, going to therapy and support groups. I am proud of myself, because I am a writer now, and also an advocate, and I never thought this opportunity would come. I am proud of myself because I have been able to work part-time, at the same job for over 5 years. I am proud of myself for maintaining my volunteer job at my church for over 7 years. I am proud of myself because, even though we have had trials, I have been married for 20 years. I am proud of myself because I have been able to maintain long-term friendships with some wonderful people. I am proud of myself for letting go of my anger towards God, and strengthening my faith.
I just keep telling myself that I am a valuable child of God, that He created me for a purpose, and I am now fulfilling this purpose. I too, am worthy.
I am starting to feel good about life. Just a few years ago, life felt like an enormous uncertainty. I wasn't too keen on this thing called Life. I didn't realize that I had to be pro-active in creating my own happiness.
In fact, it took until my early 40's, that I discovered what happiness is. In some ways, I am so delighted & thankful, to discover happiness, but in other ways, I am extremely pissed that it took 1/2 of my life to find it. I grieve for the time that I have lost to misery.
I hated myself for decades. I hate my Schizoaffective Disorder, and the games it plays with my mind: severe depression, anxiety, paranoia, delusions, hallucinations. I hate my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, because of the nightmares, flashbacks, triggers, fears....but really, I truly hate the men that caused it, in me. For decades, I was a slave to my emotions and fears.
I am now starting to like myself and I am proud of myself because suicide no longer seems like a good alternative to living. I am proud of myself because I work hard to keep my sanity strong, by taking my medications, going to therapy and support groups. I am proud of myself, because I am a writer now, and also an advocate, and I never thought this opportunity would come. I am proud of myself because I have been able to work part-time, at the same job for over 5 years. I am proud of myself for maintaining my volunteer job at my church for over 7 years. I am proud of myself because, even though we have had trials, I have been married for 20 years. I am proud of myself because I have been able to maintain long-term friendships with some wonderful people. I am proud of myself for letting go of my anger towards God, and strengthening my faith.
I just keep telling myself that I am a valuable child of God, that He created me for a purpose, and I am now fulfilling this purpose. I too, am worthy.
Monday, March 17, 2014
This is #100. Can you believe that? I can't. Because this is my 100th blog entry, I originally felt that this would be a celebratory piece. In truth, I have something different on my mind. I am going to use this one to make a written prayer to make peace with God. You see, I have a lot of anger towards God. I felt like He failed me, when I felt I was left to face my horrible childhood and younger adult years all alone.
My Dear Lord,
I love You and long to accept You into my soul, but I feel so much anger and mistrust towards You.
Where were You, my Lord when my Violators were violating me? I was so young, didn't You hear my cries?
Why did You not answer my prayers, Lord, when I was a little child, begging to be saved from the Hell that I was experiencing?
How could You let me lose my half-siblings, Lord, whom I loved so, so much, when I tried to save them from abuse, tried to save their lives? You should have been my ally, Lord.
Why did You let that bastard beat me and kill my fetal baby, and leave me sterile? I will never get to experience the joy of motherhood, my Lord.
Why weren't You there to persuade me from attempting suicide, shortly after I lost my baby? I called out to You that lonesome night, Lord.
Why was I stricken with Schizoaffective Disorder, a serious mental illness, my Lord? Do You see my everyday struggles my Lord, to survive, in this prejudiced, ignorant world?
Why must I live with PTSD, as a result of my suffering? None of this is my fault Lord, why must I pay the price, for other's crimes against me?
After giving me this lot in life, my Lord, what it is that You want from me? What is it that You expect of me?
I shall try my best, Lord to accept You into my life more, regardless of our complicated history.
I shall work my hardest to let go of my anger, and to shed my tears, until there are no more.
Yours Eternally,
Christine
My Dear Lord,
I love You and long to accept You into my soul, but I feel so much anger and mistrust towards You.
Where were You, my Lord when my Violators were violating me? I was so young, didn't You hear my cries?
Why did You not answer my prayers, Lord, when I was a little child, begging to be saved from the Hell that I was experiencing?
How could You let me lose my half-siblings, Lord, whom I loved so, so much, when I tried to save them from abuse, tried to save their lives? You should have been my ally, Lord.
Why did You let that bastard beat me and kill my fetal baby, and leave me sterile? I will never get to experience the joy of motherhood, my Lord.
Why weren't You there to persuade me from attempting suicide, shortly after I lost my baby? I called out to You that lonesome night, Lord.
Why was I stricken with Schizoaffective Disorder, a serious mental illness, my Lord? Do You see my everyday struggles my Lord, to survive, in this prejudiced, ignorant world?
Why must I live with PTSD, as a result of my suffering? None of this is my fault Lord, why must I pay the price, for other's crimes against me?
After giving me this lot in life, my Lord, what it is that You want from me? What is it that You expect of me?
I shall try my best, Lord to accept You into my life more, regardless of our complicated history.
I shall work my hardest to let go of my anger, and to shed my tears, until there are no more.
Yours Eternally,
Christine
Sunday, March 16, 2014
It has been a rough couple of days for me. I am dealing with some work problems, that are leaving me feeling disheartened about my job. It's true, I am starting to long for more, job-wise, but I have been at my job for 5 1/2 years, and I have felt very comfortable there. I am great at my job, and up until recently, I loved working there. I don't want to be forced into making a move. I don't handle changes well.
Frankie and I went to church this morning. It is Lent, and the parishioners were asked if they would like to light a candle and say a prayer. I had several prayers in my mind, but I did not want to go light a candle.
I realized that I was angry at God, for letting me feel that my emotions were spiraling, once again. I felt that too many sad, bad things were happening in the world and in my life.
The tears started falling down my cheeks and I could not stop them. And then I found myself praying, asking God to make my tears stop, and then telling Him everything that I wanted to pray about.
Frankie and I went to church this morning. It is Lent, and the parishioners were asked if they would like to light a candle and say a prayer. I had several prayers in my mind, but I did not want to go light a candle.
I realized that I was angry at God, for letting me feel that my emotions were spiraling, once again. I felt that too many sad, bad things were happening in the world and in my life.
The tears started falling down my cheeks and I could not stop them. And then I found myself praying, asking God to make my tears stop, and then telling Him everything that I wanted to pray about.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
My Dear Lord, it is 4 AM, and I cannot sleep. My nights are filled with horrendous nightmares, when I do sleep.
Please grant me a night's peaceful sleep, so I may feel a bit of peace in my restless soul.
Please let me sleep like a newborn baby. Let me be your little child, my Lord.
I surrender my soul to You.
Thank You Lord, for all that you have given me. I shall spread Your love to others.
Please grant me a night's peaceful sleep, so I may feel a bit of peace in my restless soul.
Please let me sleep like a newborn baby. Let me be your little child, my Lord.
I surrender my soul to You.
Thank You Lord, for all that you have given me. I shall spread Your love to others.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
My husband, Frankie & I had an interesting conversation, this morning. I wondered aloud, about what it would be like, if I didn't take the medications that I am on. At present time, I take Effexor, Abilify, BusPar, Trillifon, & Neurontin. It seems like a lot of medications, and honestly, it really is. But it all seems to create a balance in me, that I had not felt, until this point in my life.
I am a firm believer, in medication, when it is needed. But on days, where I feel really good, I tend to wonder, if I can make it, without psychiatric medication. I wonder just what the REAL Christine would be like. Would I be very different? Do my medications mute or accentuate my personality?
Upon thought, I realize that medication, is a necessity for me, at this point in my life, and maybe for all of my life. How else do you fight off demons like deep depression, paranoia leading to fears of being slaughtered alive, feelings of wanting to die, suffocating anxiety, etc.? I have been in therapy for over 25 years, but it takes medication to treat these ailments.
There may never be a cure for me, I know. But I will continue to strive to reach sanity. I will continue to take my medication. I will continue to attend all the therapy that I need. I will continue to write about my life, as it is therapy for me, too. I will continue to seek happiness.....
I am a firm believer, in medication, when it is needed. But on days, where I feel really good, I tend to wonder, if I can make it, without psychiatric medication. I wonder just what the REAL Christine would be like. Would I be very different? Do my medications mute or accentuate my personality?
Upon thought, I realize that medication, is a necessity for me, at this point in my life, and maybe for all of my life. How else do you fight off demons like deep depression, paranoia leading to fears of being slaughtered alive, feelings of wanting to die, suffocating anxiety, etc.? I have been in therapy for over 25 years, but it takes medication to treat these ailments.
There may never be a cure for me, I know. But I will continue to strive to reach sanity. I will continue to take my medication. I will continue to attend all the therapy that I need. I will continue to write about my life, as it is therapy for me, too. I will continue to seek happiness.....
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