⚠️ Caution: Trigger warning: self harm/suicide.
This last week has been…diabolical.
The new challenge for me since being released from the crisis facility is daily blackouts…
Never experienced this before.
I lie down each night to go to sleep, and wake up somewhere else, usually with a new self-inflicted injury.
But this is all new…
Since I was 12, my cutting has always followed a specific pattern. Always straight sideways cuts on my arms and hands, occasionally thigh wounds. Occasionally burns, scratching and picking holes in my skin. Nothing else.
This last week…
Ugh. Gonna sound crazy…but,
I’ve cut my neck, cut the words “kill me” in my arm…and cut right through one of my beloved tattoos (which I actually got there to prevent cutting my wrists.)
Each injury was done with no conscious awareness.
Some I didn’t find until latter when they started hurting.
The neck wound was deep, required stitches, but the ER didn’t keep me. I told them plainly, I self-harm for stress relief, not suicidality.
BUT cutting one’s throat sure looks dangerous, huh?
It scared me, too! I was trembling as I drove myself to the ER…I thought surely I was a goner.
Shocking, I’m sure…there’s just no other way to say it. Sorry to be so blunt here!
Since my release from the crisis facility, I get up every day, go run errands and what not…and I usually feel fine. Then I come back to the apartment.
Within an hour, I start to feel a dark oppressive feeling, and I can’t get the self-loathing thoughts out of my head. Reliving trauma. Feeling like I have no future, like I’m trapped…no hope. It’s never been this pervasive before.
When I talk to my friend on the phone, I feel better. (She says I sound very bizarre, though, while in that funk…like an automaton.)
When I leave the apartment, I feel fine (my friend notices that I sound like myself again.) Doesn’t matter where I go, as long as I’m out and about, I’m just myself.
When I spend the night at my aunt’s house, I feel no depression at all, and I sleep really good…without all the nightmares.
But just being there…in DBH housing…with my horribly frustrating roommates…and constant reminders…wears me down…in a way I can’t explain.
I feel like someone else is living in my body, taking it over, and doing this to me.
(Typical expression of those acting while under deep hypnosis, by command of the hypnotist. –the Ghostwriter)
I have NO desire to hurt myself. I do NOT want to go back to a facility. I just want OUT.
But I don’t think these people will ever let that happen.
I feel like they broke my mind in half during that last stay…
It feels completely…powerless.
I NEVER wanted to self harm again. And suddenly, I’m doing it in new and unusual ways…with no memory whatsoever.
I can’t control it.
I can’t even remember it.
My therapist is clearly making the situation much worse. I dread our visits.
She tells me for months to call her if I’m in crisis.
So, I did. She called the police.
I told them I was ok, because I was by the time they arrived.
I fell asleep that night…
And the next thing I know, I’ve cut my neck.
It was bad enough to need to medical attention…I’ve been avoiding it for other wounds that probably needed it, just to stay out of any facilities.
The ER staff contacted DBH, so my therapist (and everyone else) knew about it the day after.
Today, I saw my therapist…she ignored the incident.
Today, she told me that she doesn’t want me to call her anymore because it’s just “exacerbating” my “crisis behaviors.”
So…don’t call when I need crisis support?
She harassed me all that time to call her…and then when I finally did, she tells me not to anymore?
What do I do then?
Well, I found out.
That darkness and depression settled over me again this evening. I stayed on the phone with my friend for 2 hours and 43 minutes. I felt tired, decided to go to sleep…
Next thing I remember, I’m sitting right here in the same damn crisis facility I hate…
Yep. I’m back!
With Tom, the most hated crisis worker. (The one who harassed me before.)
What’s worse, apparently I drove myself here, walked in and told him–of all people–that I was in crisis.
As far as I know…I was asleep!
That’s the last thing I remember…just falling asleep.
It seems really strange to me that the more I see Angela, the more frequent these blackouts become.
The more I see Angela, the more wounds I have.
The longer I see her, the more my self harm morphs into something it’s never been before.
(Neck wounds! Words! Cut my tattoo??? WTH?)
And…the very day that she tells me not to call for help, I take myself to the place I hate above every other place and turn myself in…completely against my own will, and without even knowing I’m doing it.
But there’s more to this story…
I haven’t been blogging because I’ve been so preoccupied with all of this…just trying to keep myself safe!
But if they keep me here tonight, I feel certain I’ll be prey to another black out and do something much, much worse…
And maybe never wake up.
Angela said some pretty disturbing things today.
She told me that “everyone knows” how I’ve been struggling these past months.
I was doing really well for 5 months! Suddenly, that’s a faded memory, like it never happened. They’ve changed reality…again.
She also told me today that she’s done all she could to help me and doesn’t know what else to do because I’m *obviously* beyond help.
Then how did I get out of the state so fast? And how did I do so well for 5 months…without any of their interference?
And isn’t this…the same exact script they used last time...before they sent me home from the crisis facility in the middle of the night right AFTER I told them I wanted to check out so I could go home and kill myself???
Exactly what they all said last time.
Angela is repeating the whole scenario.
I’ve got a sneaking suspicion…all of this is leading back to the state hospital, if I survive long enough.
I cannot even express the rage I feel.
Davis Behavioral Health’s job is to drive me to suicide and self harm, so they can pretend I’m beyond their scope of practice…so they can send me to the state hospital…
So the state hospital can restrain and torment me until the self harm stops to avoid the torture…
So the state can send me back to DBH, who lets me alone for a little while, then starts screwing up all my meds and driving me back to self harm…
Then the whole cycle repeats itself.
And they all get paid by the state for every bit of it.
I keep thinking of that social worker in the state hospital who told me:
“Patients are like bouncy balls. We bounce them out so the system can bounce them right back in.”
He wasn’t exaggerating…
There’s no way out.
I’m court ordered and force by the law to continue receiving “treatment”…
Trapped and forced to keep bouncing in and out, until I’m dead.