well. after my mental meltdown, psychotic break, or for those who prefer the good old-fashioned term "nervous breakdown", from the night before, i went to see my therapist and told her what had happened. by then the tears started flowing nonstop and i could feel myself going into panic mode. my therapist asked me if i wanted her to call my job and tell them that i wasnt able to work for a while, and tearfully i said yes. i knew i could not go back to that place without flipping out again, so she made the call to the nurse manager of the unit. i sat still crying, didnt know why but just was. after she made the call, she let me talk and i went way back into the pain of my childhood, crying off and on, telling her about the abuse i suffered growing up from my mother, and also the stress i was feeling from my relationship because me and my significant other was supposed to be going to Las Vegas together and because of my breakdown, and being on leave from work, totally screwed up my cash flow. i couldnt draw sick time much less vacation time because i hadnt worked at the place long enough, and that upset me. so after my session, i was more depressed than ever and truth be told i didnt even want to go to Vegas, knowing that i had no money coming in, and my s/o was harping on that fact. i tried to reassure that i would probably be able to get my vacation pay, and i was counting on that. i would see my therapist every week now, still feeling uneasy about the upcoming trip.
during that time i also was seeing a psychiatrist who i describe as "the shrink from hell" because her demeanor was like that of Judge Judy's -- real blunt, and abrasive and i really didnt like her at all, but she had put me on meds for my illness -- at the time i was taking 20mg Lexapro (one of the newer anti-depressants), .05 mg Klonopin (for anxiety and aiding in sleep) and also if my memory serves me right, i'm not sure, 10mg of Wellbutrin.
i never thought i would see the day that i would have to take medication to stay sane, but , alas, there it was. anyway, in April, my s/o and i were off to Vegas, and i was feeling very antsy because i really had no money and i was faking my way thru when deep inside i should have just said when we were at the airport, "look, i dont have money to go and i'm gonna go ahead and get back on the train and go home." but i didnt. needless to say the trip was a disaster and my s/o was quite pissed with me because i didnt have no money and felt taken advantage of by me. when we got back and i tried to explain, i was cut off rudely, even when i tried to drive home the fact that she was aware of my illness and acted like it was no big thing. we argued back and forth and then she said she "felt leery of going anywhere again with me " and that she felt "taken advantage of" that only made me feel worse, and thus began the downward spiral into the dark hole of depression......sigh.
i was still seeing my therapist, but kicked the shrink to the curb because i was starting to have hallucinations from taking the Wellbutrin, aside from the tremors too. when i called that bitch to tell her about the symptoms i was having, she all but yelled at me "well then just stop taking it!" and clicked off her cell phone. Pissed beyond pissed, i called the insurance company and filed a complaint against her funky ass, and told them i wanted to find another shrink because that lady was a total bitch and i did not care for her abrasive manner towards me. unfortunately they couldnt find a shrink for me, so i just kept up my therapy sessions.
by then i began to feel worse and while at work (i had changed hospitals by then) in July 2003, i burst into tears and just couldnt seem to stop crying. i felt like i was gonna lose it and felt panicky and scared. one of the nurses came into the break room (ha, how ironic is that) and saw me crying and asked if i were alright. tearfully i said no, that i felt like i was losing my mind, and so on, and she suggested that i go down to the ER. i did, and still crying, i was given a psych eval by one of the ER docs, who passed the info on to the psych nurse on duty in the ER.
the nurse's name was Gina, a very very nice lady who asked me what happened. Tearfully i told her that i felt like i was going crazy and that i'd been depressed but didnt know why. Gina told me about a program that the hospital offered called the Partial Day Psychiatric Hospital Program, or PHP, which was located on the 4th floor of the hospital. She called up to the floor and asked to speak to a nurse named Charlotte Jackson, and told her of my plight. After Gina hung up, she gave me the information that i was to come to the 4th floor the next day and Charlotte would take care of the rest, and she also said she would call up to my unit and speak with the nurse manager and tell her that i was going home for the rest of the shift. i thanked Gina for being so kind and helping me, and i went back to my unit on the 11th floor, collected my things and went home.
the next morning i got up, bathed, dressed and got on the bus to the hospital to meet with Charlotte, because my appointment was at 10 am. i came to the 4th floor and was quite nervous, because i hadnt realized that the 4th floor was the psychiatric unit. Charlotte came in the room to do the intake on me, and said that i had nothing to be afraid of, that the program would help me and that i would get better. i started crying again, and thru my tears i told her what had happened the day before when i was at work. she reassured me that it happens to everybody at some point in their lives and that's why the program was designed to help people get thru difficult times. the only part i hated was i came dressed in my uniform and was wearing my work ID and Charlotte told me it would be better if i took it off while in session -- part of patient confidentiality. i took my ID off and stuffed it in my jacket pocket and then she told me to come with her to the group. in my teal blue scrubs, i stuck out like a sore thumb, and was scared shitless at the group of people. i had been used to one-on-one sessions with my other therapist, and was scared to open up to a roomful of strangers.
looking back, i probably should have told my therapist to fax over my records from her to the PHP folks so that they could have an accurate account of what was going on with me. but at that time my mind was not functioning right. the sessions lasted until 2pm, and then afterwards i went upstairs to my unit on the 11th floor and somehow made it thru my shift.
i came every day at 9 to PHP and the second session was with a social worker whose name was Amy , and she welcomed me to the group and asked what had brought me to PHP, and i told the group that i was depressed and that i had had a nervous breakdown at the other hospital where i had worked, and i was there to seek help. she asked what triggered the break, and i began to tell her and the other group members about all the things that had been buried inside of me for years....the pain of abuse from my mama, the molestation of my oldest daughter and how i felt guilty about not protecting her enough, and by that time, i was in tears --- body-shaking tears because of having to remember all of those painful things. everyone who was in the group was very compassionate which made me cry even harder. Amy commended me on my courage to share those painful memories and to come before a group of strangers and talk about it.
and thus began my journey in the downward spiral. stay tuned for more.
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