The one place I felt sane

I have realized that the one place where I feel truly sane is inside the walls of the psych ward.

Why?

I’m not sure.

I looked around at the other patients and thought to myself, “I’m not like them.”

I remembered this thought today while I was purging and thinking, “I’m not really bulimic.” (I’ll explain that one on another post.)

I think I have a denial problem.

But seriously, sitting in the hallway yesterday waiting to be released and watching some of the other patients, I felt very, very sane. I don’t know how to describe the feeling.

I’ve also come to realize that, when I want/need to, and I don’t have evidence contradicting me, I’m very good at convincing others that I’m sane, intelligent, wise, collected, a great leader, so on and so forth.

And yet, when I’m home, I feel anything but.

I tried using a potato peeler to cut my skin off earlier in the week. I’ve considered cutting the fat from my body, I’ve tried stabbing myself. I’ve thought of jumping from buildings and bridges, walking in front of moving cars, and tried various ways to kill myself.

I thought repeatedly of putting a sharp knife down my throat last week to prevent myself from eating or binging and purging. I frequently have visions of being mutilated or killed. My mind is filled with horrible images I am afraid to tell others.

I live in chaos.

I hide it well.

I so often feel legitimately insane.

Until I went to the psych ward. Then I felt sane. Oh, so sane.

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Update: I’m home!

So, Wednesday morning I went to the ER feeling suicidal. Wednesday was terrible and long. Their response was to put a guard by my room and then ignore me for 12 hours.

Leaving a suicidal person alone for 12 hours with absolutely nothing to do is not helpful.

I got really anxious and almost tried walking out several times.

Around 7pm, they brought me dinner. I ate a small portion of it, then went to the bathroom and purged.

Still feeling very anxious, I broke the plastic fork and started cutting.

At 7:45pm, my nurse (who I hadn’t seen all day) came and saw that I had cut and took everything out of the room.

Four hours before that, I had taken my IV out because it was hurting me and I couldn’t get anyone to come and check it.

I stayed in the ER until nearly midnight, then I was transferred to a hospital with a psych ward. Oh, excuse me, I meant Behavioral Health Wing.

When I arrived, they checked all my belongings in and gave me scrubs to wear. They did a skin check, which meant standing naked in front of two nurses while they checked for injuries, rashes, etc.

After paperwork and vitals, I was shown my room. I tossed and turned for a couple hours until the night nurse offered me some ambien.

Yesterday, I woke up with a migraine. I saw the doctor, psychiatrist, occupational therapist, nutritionist, etc, etc. Between these meetings, I slept and tried to rid myself of the migraine.

The program has seven groups throughout the day, 3 meals, and 2 snacks. I didn’t participate in any of those. I tried one group yesterday afternoon, but it was stupid and triggering.

I didn’t eat at all while I was there, and it didn’t seem to be a big deal. I was offered Ensure several times, but it wasn’t forced.

The staff also seemed like they had no idea how to handle someone with an eating disorder. For example, the medication nurse said to me, after asking whether I’d eaten yet, “I wishI didn’t want to eat. I sometimes throw away food so I don’t eat it. Like ice cream and brownies and stuff. And I run 5 miles a day.”

That’s nice, lady. Please just give me my meds and stop talking.

The woman who ran the one group I tried kept talking about weight loss and how she needed/wanted to lose weight.

All the staff were like that.

I didn’t really interact with any of the other patients. I spent most of my time avoiding meals and avoiding the staff and patients. There was one lady with short, red hair. The color was gorgeous. One guy was anorexic, and he was beautiful.

One patient had bipolar, but I have no idea what most of them were there for.

Not much exiting happened while I was there, but I did determine I am too fat to recover (thank you, staff, for that) and that next time I’m suicidal, I’m not telling anyone because I am NOT doing that again.

I did get diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder by the psychiatrist. I’m still not sure how I feel about that.

Well, I think that’s all.

I have an appointment with a county behavioral health specialist on Monday. We’ll see how that goes. At the moment, I’m just not planning to continue recovery for my bulimia.