I Was Addmitted Not Committed Because I’m Not Crazy Archive

Depression and BPD Borderline Personality Disorder1. Not having to choose between scalding and freezing water when showering.  Seriously, they want you showering daily as a sign of mental competence, but the water does not recognize that warm is an option.  I even love hot showers.  Really hot showers.  This was burning.

2. Bath towels larger than a hand towel.  I get it.  I really do.  But with no real privacy from the roommate and checks to make sure you aren’t hanging yourself with said bath towels ever 15 minutes, being able to wrap myself in a towel and have it cover more than a single boob would have been nice.  Luckily I was allowed to be brought my bathrobe.  Had to leave the belt at home.  Obviously.

3. Unlimited pop, not a single tea bag in sight.  We Americans have such fucked up priorities.  I got funny looks for requesting bottles of water.  They use those for giving out meds.  I informed them I use them to stay healthy, which was supposed to be a mutual and primary goal.  If you can’t be sassy in a psych ward, you can’t be sassy anywhere.  That might be why this stay was longer than any of my others, in retrospect.

4. Not waking up every morning to the sound of the gentleman in the next room over hollering at the top of his lungs about everything he could think to holler about, or threaten over.  My favorite was when he woke the entire ward screaming about how rude it was they banged his door open on the 8AM check, waking him up from restful sleep.  Can’t make this shit up.  Earplugs were provided to any and all.  We shared a common wall though and ear plugs can only do so much.,

5. 3AM snack raids to a kitchen with unlimited snacks.  It’s a bloody shame orange sherbet only tastes that good inside a psych ward.  I mean, yes it’s good on the outside but not this is the only thing I actually enjoy about this place, good.

6. Ladies, I don’t care how annoying shaving can be, but trying going a week without it no choice.  M’kay?

7. Q-Tips.  Shut up, I use at least a half-dozen of them a day.  I have issues, we know this.  What’s your excuse?  Not you, you have issues too, the other you.  But apparently despite the fact I had some in my purse, because the package outright says they are not to be used in ears, I was not allowed to have access. Liability and all.  I seriously considered asking someone to smuggle some in to me.  And then I realized how insane that would sound.  Then I realized where I was and what great company I was in.

8. My dad may be schizophrenic but he doesn’t think he’s the messiah.  That probably sounds really mean but well… perspective.  I got some.

9. How amazing my real world shrink is.  Oh yes, we all know I adore her.  She listens to me, works with me, and consistently values my input and feedback on my treatment.  See, I’m annoyingly informed and intelligent.  A shrink can see this as an advantage, a tool to be used which I gladly offer up.  Or a shrink can decide they know best because they are the doctor no matter how intelligent my assessment is.  What do I know, it’s only my history and mind.  Let me demonstrate.  This is not, and I repeat NOT an exaggeration.

Shrink: I want to put you on Lamictal

Me: Why?  I’m allergic to Lamictal and Cymbalta has always worked amazingly for me

Shrink: Yes but the allergy might not happen (It doesn’t always, it’s hit and miss but can be deadly when it hits) and Lamictal won’t kill your sex drive

Me: … I’m going through a divorce.  I don’t need a sex drive…

Shrink: Well it won’t make you gain weight either

Me: Yeah… I’m going through a divorce, I don’t give a fuck how I look.

Shrink: …

Me: Know what, consult (my real world shrink) and get back to me. I’m not going anywhere.

That night I started a 20mg dose of Cymbalta.

10. I’m nowhere near as crazy as I think.  And neither are you.  Oh, and depression lies.

 

Look, depression really does lie.  It always gets better.  It takes work work more work, support, sometimes meds, then a little (lot) more work, but it always gets better.  Please get help if you need it!

 

 

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Collection of Thought to Round Out the Week

Posted May 11, 2012 By kmarrs

#1 best thing about moving into an actual house in a month?  When I hear random stomping, pounding, banging, etc I will know 100% for sure it’s coming from my house and not the house connected to me house.  Currently listening to what sounds like a cat running back and forward above me.  There is not a single cat inside this house.  So it’s something involving the neighbors and that shit echos bad.  Sometimes I swear this place is haunted.

For my 14th wedding anniversary, I want a year of dance lessons, with Pat, so that on our 15th anniversary, when we renew our vows (was going to be 10th, but we want Sammy older) we can do our equivalent of the following.

There is now a possibility he is considering a divorce lawyer, but he’ll get over it. 10 years we’ve been together and not once have we danced. 28 years I’ve been alive, and I’ve never (seriously) danced. We’re going big. Suck-it, bitch!  (Yes Pat, you’re the bitch in reference.)

I was only vaguely aware he existed before today (I don’t watch tv, sorry) but suddenly I really like Jon Hamm.  He is a man who deserves respect.

I was planning to vote Libertarian, this coming election.  Because mainstream politics are starting to annoy the hell out of me, and this way no matter who won, I would have voted against them.  Granted, I like Obama. A lot, even.  But the nation refuses to give him a Congress that will work with him.  And I really like Gary Johnson and most all he stands for, though I don’t honestly expect him to win.  Then Obama pulled out this:

Do I think any Congress will let it be federally passed?  Not really.  Do I think future presidents will let it remain even if it does?  Not really.   But I think he has a better chance with this than Johnson has of winning the election, and well, this is a big one for me.  Even with Johnson supporting it, the Republicans flat out don’t, so I’m going to vote for the stronger of the 2 who do, even though he isn’t my first choice over all.   I will even go through the process of legally being able to wed others to those they love, if this gets passed, just to be one more person against a shortage of those willing to do this.  Because you know many who can, will refuse.

Today, as I was telling my best friend Stacy, the plans for when I leave this world, it really sunk in how well my husband knows me.  First off, I’ve shared I’m going to be turned into a tree, but I hadn’t picked out one yet.  Pat has told me he’d have me become a Ginkgo Biloba tree because they let loose stink bombs and it’s very fitting of me.  My next question was, where should I be planted?  He’s decided the nook right outside the sitting room window of the first mental hospital I had a stay in, where he and Willy made me snow angles while waiting for visiting hours post blizzard, would be the perfect spot.  Yes, I quit agree it is rather fitting for me to spend my next life as a tree on the grounds of a mental health facility.  Then the life insurance from my work?  It’s 10 times what’s needed to ash and plant me.  So while my main insurance plan will be for securing my family’s future, the remainders of the work policy will finance an epic D&D game, that will be my wake, where everyone has to play an awakened monkey in my honor. (Think an actual monkey, that has the brain and speech ability of a human, but the impulse control and self discipline of the monkey.  So basically, me, only hairy and with a tail.  Bells of all sorts will be standard issue.)  This plan almost makes me want to be the first to go, many many many decades from now mind you, just so all this can happen.  If that isn’t the case, well the plan will be in my will and I will haunt all 3 of my kids and any grand kids if they drop the ball.  Oh!  And the number #1 gaming snack combo for this game will be blue (and only blue, you can special order those) M&M’s and Mt Dew.  Be there or be square!

Finally, and this is a tack on oh hey, though how that happened I’m not sure: A few weeks ago I filled out the application and sent in the money to the Columbus Bar Association to become a Notary Public.  The application has been approved and a study guide has been sent.  Now I have 90 days to pass a test with the Bar.  Once that is complete, I have another wait for results and then I get a nifty official stamp.  Once I have that thumbs up from the bar, I get to go to city hall and be sworn in by a judge.  Then I’m all official!  It’s something uber useful I can do now (well, by the end of summer) for my current job, but long run it’s really nice on the resume for future positions.  Also, I’ve seen the stamp in action and it even sounds official.

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The First 9

Posted April 25, 2012 By kmarrs

I’ve had snippets of thought run through my head on what I could possibly say to really get across what I’m thinking and feeling.  But nothing seems to come close.

I’ve been married for 9 years.  That’s almost 1/3 of my entire life.  Really, mostly all of my adult life.

9 years.

There are people who can’t even make it a year.  Or a month.  Or a week.

Pat and I, as messed up as we are individually and even at times, many times, together, have outlasted couples far more stable than us.  Perhaps the glue that holds us together is the understanding that no one else would put up with the shit we put up with?

Or maybe it’s a mutual understanding that no one, NO ONE, can get me like my husband does, and I’d like to think I do a pretty damn good job of getting him too.

9 years.

9 years and he still loves me.  It isn’t just what he says.  It’s what he does.

Like doing his damnedest to make my poor, decrepit desk chair usable.  I didn’t ask.  He just figured out a way to “fix” it and did it.

The way he encourages me to start watching Dr. Who knowing full well he’ll lose his wife to the telly for a month (at least) but also knows I’ll love it and it’s worth it.  Plus, it’s something we can share.  After he loses me to the telly for a month (at least) while I catch up.

Plunging the toilet almost every time I use it even if nothing more than just pee is being flushed.  I’m fairly sure our toilet downstairs hates me, but thank god my husband loves me.  And can use a plunger.  It’s basically a requirement for being married to me, really.

The fact I’ve carried and birthed 3 babies now and things, uh, don’t exactly work the proper fashion anymore.  But he’s patient, understanding, and willing to accept the fact he’s partially to blame anyway because he is the one who knocked me up, after all.

He’s seen me through 2 mental health hospitalizations and was able to keep me laughing the one time with the Ativan that made me out-of-it.  You had to have been there.  You weren’t.  It was just me and Pat.  And the lesbian nurse who had the hots for me that Pat swears up and down wasn’t a figment of his imagination, leaving me to question just which one of us was on the Ativan.

Hell, Pat literally saved my life that one time I was carrying furniture up a flight of stairs, hit the wall at the top, got pushed back down the stairs with the furniture riding me the whole way down.  Only a few more steps and my neck would have snapped like a twig, but he caught me.

He humors my love of my final course at Mongolian BBQ being a plate of nothing but pineapple and Teriyaki sauce.  Then started to make it for me at home because it’s so much cheaper than going to BD’s for just pineapple and Teriyaki sauce.  (I always have a couple of plates of real food to get my money’s worth, but I’m not going to lie about my real reason for wanting to go.)

He laughs at my biggest fear (of being locked in the vault at work overnight) because really if he doesn’t laugh, that’s because he thinks it’s plausible and the only way I’ll be able to enter said vault is if I don’t think my fear is rational.  Even though it totally is.  Clearly.

9 years of putting up with my shit.  Literally.  And I will never stop being thankful.

9 years.

No really!  I’ve been married for 9 years!

Not that long ago I was asked on twitter how my husband copes with my destructive behavior.  My husband pointed out that he’d let me/them know when he figured out how.

And yet?  9 years.

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I remembered

Posted May 29, 2009 By kmarrs

Day one hospital:
1 orange sherbet lunch
2 orange sherbet dinner

Day two hospital:
2 orange sherbet lunch
4 orange sherbet dinner*

Day three hospital:
2 orange sherbet breakfast
2 orange sherbet lunch
2 orange sherbet dinner

I had a thing for orange sherbet.

*Bella and Rya had both ordered orange sherbet because I recommended it so highly they both took one bite and didn’t want or like it. So I ended up with theirs and mine.

There was of course other food eaten, not just orange sherbet. BUT had I had another meal there I was going to order 10 for the next breakfast and nothing else. Just to see what would happen.

That was one of our games, ordering random stuff and lots of stuff to see if we’d get it. Hey, you take whatever kicks you can in the psych ward.

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People in Places

Posted May 23, 2009 By kmarrs

I need to thank the people who came to visit me in the hospital.

Pat and mom go without saying. Both made their support known loud and clear.

Brenda I had the feeling would be there if I wanted her. As soon as I made it known I did, she made the trek up to see me. Time and time again Brenda proves why she’s my second mom.

Jen came as a surprise. I wasn’t aware she read my blog, so the fact she found out I was in the hospital from it was unexpected. But she walked into that emergency room and ended up being there when I needed someone the most. She has been my friend since I was Thomas’ age and I’m glad nothing could change that.

While I’m at it though, I need to draw attention to 2 friends I made while in the hospital; Bella and Riah.

Riah and I are a lot alike and I think we’ll have a good friendship.

Bella. Bella. Bella. Have you ever met someone and gone “Oh Shit! this person is going to change and shape my life!”? Bella is more informed on mental illness than me. I learned probably more from her in those 4 days than I did the nurses. Some of the things she said are now key phrases to explain my existence. To top it off we enjoy hanging out and talking. I realize my mind has made her pure white. I’m just praying she doesn’t come crashing into the black too hard or too soon. I just feel she was meant to be in my life and she said the same.

I just love that new friend(s) feeling.

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Day 5 – Memorial Hospital

Posted May 23, 2009 By kmarrs

I’m feeling very restless. I know I’m going home today. I’m scared something will mess it up and it won’t go smoothly.

Pat brought me coloring books and crayons last night. I tried to sooth myself by coloring some. It worked for awhile. Not long enough though. I’m leaving them here for everyone else to enjoy.

I just feel like today is going to drag on forever.

Today’s groups have been good though I can’t say I learned anything majorly new. I did come across a few interesting facts and realizations I will share.

Time to go home. My ride should be here soon, the paperwork is almost done.

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