Tag: health

Do What You Have To, Get Out That Door

At the bottom of the washing machine is a very unappetising pulp stuck onto the ankle of my jeans. It is one of those days where bailing on checking the pockets of my washing pile has come back to bite me. These sluggish remains of yellow paper have been hiding in the back pockets of my jeans. They are instructions for my brain.

It may sound bizarre but for the last few months when going out I have made myself a crib sheet to follow on how to function, like the kind you would need if you were using a very temperamental second hand computer. On some sheets are just the basics- “You need to get the number 6 bus before 5pm” or “return library books so they don’t fine you”. On others the detail is much more and without that scrap of paper I wouldn’t be able to get out of the door.

Take this weekend for example- Gay Pride. A familiar bus ride and then a one hour train journey to a familiar city. A whole day out, which I had been mentally planning for a fortnight. My yellow piece of paper is A4 and double sided. It gives a complete itinerary for the day with planned times to make sure I eat something to avoid blood sugar crashes. It even suggests what to eat and where from, avoiding foods which will trigger OCD thoughts and cause unnecessary stress on an already daunting day. There are multiple choice, step by step instructions of all the things I usually do without batting an eyelid; worst case scenarios, distraction ideas and helpful thoughts to tell myself. It all sounds odd. I know.

But actually this is a coping strategy that I have learnt and it works. It means I can get out and about and do things I want to do. Granted with limited spontaneity. It isn’t something that I have been told to do by any therapist, it’s just what I taught myself. There have been, and are, times where I need much more than my plans. Backpacks with enough water to end a hosepipe ban and enough hand sanitiser to supply a particularly hygiene conscious surgeon operating in a swamp. Sometimes just to go down to the shops I take half my sensory box and something to cuddle. I won’t use even a quarter of these things but it’s knowing I have them which allows me to go out.

My point here is do what you have to do. Survival, backpacking mode. At the end of the day nobody knows or cares what you have in your bag. No one knows how much you have planned the day or how many things you had to do things to make it happen. Do what you have to do to get out the door and have a good time. I had a pretty awesome time at pride, my plans worked fine and I didn’t use any of the listed distractions for train journeys or the second battery pack for my phone.

I repeat I am not a therapist, or qualified with anything other than experience. I just want to share what I have found to help my neuroboiler to keep ticking on. Maybe it will help someone. 

 

A Non-Definitive List of Things I Will Not Take for Granted Once I Have Left Hospital

I have now been in CAMHS inpatient care for nine months: AKA far too long. I’m now approaching my discharge and, as it edges closer, I become more and more desperate to get out. The gripes and the grudges build up until I just have to make a list. So here it is.

A Non-Definitive List of Things I Will Not Take for Granted When I Have Left Hospital

  1. Being able to get a drink whenever I am thirsty and not having to wait for staff to be free to get it for me.
  2. Sleeping in when I am tired.
  3. Going to bed when I am sleepy.
  4. Being able to say that I have a headache without a doctor pouncing on me.
  5. Not being questioned on how I care for my dog.
  6. Having the option to be with people or not be with people.
  7. Not being surrounded by distressed people constantly.
  8. Not suffering the horrible noise of the panic alarms which seems to change pitch as you move your head.
  9. Absence of people playing ‘devils advocate’ every time I just want to have a little grumble.
  10. Choosing who I spend my time with.
  11. Going out when I want
  12. Going where I want
  13. Singing at the top of my voice
  14. Going to College
  15. Being with friends
  16. Not being alone
  17. Internet access
  18. Social media support
  19. Independence
  20. Food which isn’t from a silver tray
  21. Privacy
  22. Organisation
  23. The power to change the central heating temperature
  24. Not being observed
  25. Not having an ever changing conveyor belt of staff in charge of my care
  26. Having more than one 16th of control over the television remote
  27. Watching soaps without people moaning
  28. Long dog walks to nowhere in particular
  29. Loud music
  30. Laughter
  31. Doors that aren’t locked
  32. Being able to go and see people
  33. Being stable enough to make plans with more than a 60% chance of it actually being carried out.
  34. Gyms and swims!
  35. Fresh air
  36. Not having visiting times to stick to.
  37. No ‘compulsory’ workshops to go to.
  38. Watching DVDs rated above a U
  39. Not being woken up during night observations (they turn the lights on once an hour)
  40. Not being in hospital!

I am currently camping in a coffee shop making my time off the unit last as long as I can!

If you have been in hospital, what will you never take for granted again?  

Borderline

He looked into my eyes and saw the misconnections behind them.
I know in fifteen minutes he will make his chair do an audible creek;
My queue to leave.

I knew I wouldn’t pass this MOT
Just like at eleven I didn’t pass my cycling proficiency
Because I couldn’t see traffic on my left side and the instructor said “pretend”.
He asks me about what I see and I tell him,
I tell him with a knot in my throat about people
How my mind rotates in oxymoron around my spine and he
He
He tells me I’m crazy.
But that, it’s okay, it’s textbook.

It’s a bad sign when your psychiatrist says
“Don’t worry it’s not the one serial killers have”
It’s a bad sign when your head is hitting the wall again and again
And the fuckers put you in a CT scan to check there is still a brain there.
Of course there is.
That’s the problem.

The diagnosis is accept and live with it.
After all that’s the best prognosis anyone could hope for.
I’m living on the edge.
Borderline.

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