project_icarus
February 25th, 2012, 06:41 AM
Panic Attacks, Life in General
I don’t really know how to structure this; I’ll give it my best shot. Sorry it’s quite long. Feel free to just read the last bit, which is bold.
If you are uncomfortable reading about Self-Harm, then do not read this.
I’ll start from a few weeks ago.
A few weeks ago, I really just lost it with everything, life in general. That day didn’t go well at all. I really wanted some kind of human interaction, and I asked my mum if I could use her phone (neither mine nor our landline were working at the time) to call my sister. She sort of, knew something wasn’t right and she just blew it off with a “yeah, k”. When she picked up, I just begged her to come home ASAP (she was at a party with her boyfriend). She ended the call with “I love you”.
I hadn’t an idea what I was doing, but I just grabbed my blade and made (what seemed like) a billion cuts over my arm and stomach. I was so pissed, at everything. I passed out on the floor of my room, bleeding.
At around 11:50PM, the same night, my sister finally got home. She came into my room, to see nothing but me, shirtless and covered in dry blood. I finally came around at about midnight, with my mum who had put me on my bed, and was sitting next to me as she was about to drive me to hospital. I pulled a blanket over me. My mum said “There’s no point covering up, Matt. I’ve already seen everything.”
By the time we got to PMH, which is in the middle of the city, it was 1:20AM. They took me right into a secluded room in the ED (A&E, ER) after seeing the Triage Nurse, who was rather rude. The first person at PMH I saw was an Emergency Nurse. She was quite comforting, other than asking me a (what seemed like) thousand questions. She wanted to know why I had been cutting, and what was making me down. I told her, “People. Everything.” I don’t really know what the conversation was on, but I told the Nurse that I was uncomfortable talking to the Psychologist I was currently seeing.
I was meant to see a Psychiatric Registrar next, except he was talking to the Police, about a guy across the hall-bit in the ED. Instead, The ED Nurse went to talk to my mum, while I just laid there, until 3AM. The ED Nurse came back at around 3, and before that I was practically begging her not to keep me there (and my mum not to take me, before that). She gave me a Youth BeyondBlue fact sheet on SH, and told me “If you feel in an unsafe place, mentally, you get here. Call Kids Helpline, or Lifeline, they’re both really great. I don’t care, call an ambulance, but do something.”
I didn’t get any sleep at all. That day, an old friend of mine, who I hadn’t seen in over a year (who is the only other person that knows about my SH & hospitalisation) was coming to see me. I really wanted to get some kind of sleep that morning before he came over. I couldn’t, and I got really stressed. I am absolutely pathetic, because I just started cutting. Again.
My mum kept (and still does) asking over and over “Have you been cutting yourself again!?” Every time, it made me so damn frustrated, and I just felt like yelling at her. “IT NEVER STOPPED. IT NEVER STOPS.”
My friend stayed here for six nights. Every night my mum would offer, ask if he would like to stay another night. She thought that it was cheering me up.
He used to live in the neighbourhood, and rarely comes down here. He has quite a few friends who still live here. On the third night, he thought it was his last here, so he started posting all over Facebook that he was going to be around Suburb for the day, and anyone who wanted to catch up with him could. He got a reply. That day came. I was going to go with him, but he did everything and made up excuses to get me to stay home. After about 3 hours, he came through the door. He acted super-awesome, and he basically yelled “Hey Matt! Guess what! … I just got laid!” He ditched me to go fuck his old best-friend’s sister.
Two weeks later, I had an appointment at CAMHS. I met my current Psychologist/Psychiatrist (I’m not sure what he is) at CAMHS, while my mum spoke to my previous Psychologist. He (current guy) is quite helpful, and I’m more honest with him than anyone else. (I will refer to him as psych.)
My GP also made an appointment, which resulted in her ending up in tears and me being put on antidepressants. She is so persistent, and always asks if I have had thoughts of “harming yourself or that life isn’t worth living”. I said no. I lied. That’s pretty much the only thing I think about lately.
I couldn’t return to school after this. I just really couldn’t face it. My Psych. Said that it would be better if we kept the school out of it. Despite that, my mum decided to talk to my Dean of Year, who talked to the School Counsellor about me.
My mum had enrolled me in a program for people like me, “Optimistic Thinking Program” run by the Psychologist and Counsellor at my school. On the last day I had off of school, I still had to get into uniform, and go to school, after school, to go to that. After the session was over (which was just discussing emotions and optimism vs. pessimism) the Psychologist pulled me out. She said “I know you’ve been going through a real tough time lately, and tomorrow, if you actually come tomorrow, (Counsellor) will have a talk with you”.
My first day back, I spent the entire of PCG (homeroom), recess, lunch and period 6 with the counsellor. Right after recess, period 3, I had Vis. Arts. It was such a simple task, yet I was so overwhelmed. I had a panic attack and spent period 3 & 4 in the office, and with the counsellor.
I’m finding it hard to deal with the slightest of things at the moment. I’ve been having frequent panic attacks over the past few days. I just don’t feel like any of this is worth it, I really don’t. I don’t really know how to tell someone about this either, even though they already know what’s going on.
I’m having some serious thought, and I can’t find one reason why. Why I should continue through this shit. I don’t see the point in not killing myself, if any of this makes any sense, whatsoever.
I don’t really know why I’m writing this, I’ve spent the last hour and a half putting this into words. This is one part of everything going on right now. If I typed up everything, I would be writing a novel!
I don’t really know how to structure this; I’ll give it my best shot. Sorry it’s quite long. Feel free to just read the last bit, which is bold.
If you are uncomfortable reading about Self-Harm, then do not read this.
I’ll start from a few weeks ago.
A few weeks ago, I really just lost it with everything, life in general. That day didn’t go well at all. I really wanted some kind of human interaction, and I asked my mum if I could use her phone (neither mine nor our landline were working at the time) to call my sister. She sort of, knew something wasn’t right and she just blew it off with a “yeah, k”. When she picked up, I just begged her to come home ASAP (she was at a party with her boyfriend). She ended the call with “I love you”.
I hadn’t an idea what I was doing, but I just grabbed my blade and made (what seemed like) a billion cuts over my arm and stomach. I was so pissed, at everything. I passed out on the floor of my room, bleeding.
At around 11:50PM, the same night, my sister finally got home. She came into my room, to see nothing but me, shirtless and covered in dry blood. I finally came around at about midnight, with my mum who had put me on my bed, and was sitting next to me as she was about to drive me to hospital. I pulled a blanket over me. My mum said “There’s no point covering up, Matt. I’ve already seen everything.”
By the time we got to PMH, which is in the middle of the city, it was 1:20AM. They took me right into a secluded room in the ED (A&E, ER) after seeing the Triage Nurse, who was rather rude. The first person at PMH I saw was an Emergency Nurse. She was quite comforting, other than asking me a (what seemed like) thousand questions. She wanted to know why I had been cutting, and what was making me down. I told her, “People. Everything.” I don’t really know what the conversation was on, but I told the Nurse that I was uncomfortable talking to the Psychologist I was currently seeing.
I was meant to see a Psychiatric Registrar next, except he was talking to the Police, about a guy across the hall-bit in the ED. Instead, The ED Nurse went to talk to my mum, while I just laid there, until 3AM. The ED Nurse came back at around 3, and before that I was practically begging her not to keep me there (and my mum not to take me, before that). She gave me a Youth BeyondBlue fact sheet on SH, and told me “If you feel in an unsafe place, mentally, you get here. Call Kids Helpline, or Lifeline, they’re both really great. I don’t care, call an ambulance, but do something.”
I didn’t get any sleep at all. That day, an old friend of mine, who I hadn’t seen in over a year (who is the only other person that knows about my SH & hospitalisation) was coming to see me. I really wanted to get some kind of sleep that morning before he came over. I couldn’t, and I got really stressed. I am absolutely pathetic, because I just started cutting. Again.
My mum kept (and still does) asking over and over “Have you been cutting yourself again!?” Every time, it made me so damn frustrated, and I just felt like yelling at her. “IT NEVER STOPPED. IT NEVER STOPS.”
My friend stayed here for six nights. Every night my mum would offer, ask if he would like to stay another night. She thought that it was cheering me up.
He used to live in the neighbourhood, and rarely comes down here. He has quite a few friends who still live here. On the third night, he thought it was his last here, so he started posting all over Facebook that he was going to be around Suburb for the day, and anyone who wanted to catch up with him could. He got a reply. That day came. I was going to go with him, but he did everything and made up excuses to get me to stay home. After about 3 hours, he came through the door. He acted super-awesome, and he basically yelled “Hey Matt! Guess what! … I just got laid!” He ditched me to go fuck his old best-friend’s sister.
Two weeks later, I had an appointment at CAMHS. I met my current Psychologist/Psychiatrist (I’m not sure what he is) at CAMHS, while my mum spoke to my previous Psychologist. He (current guy) is quite helpful, and I’m more honest with him than anyone else. (I will refer to him as psych.)
My GP also made an appointment, which resulted in her ending up in tears and me being put on antidepressants. She is so persistent, and always asks if I have had thoughts of “harming yourself or that life isn’t worth living”. I said no. I lied. That’s pretty much the only thing I think about lately.
I couldn’t return to school after this. I just really couldn’t face it. My Psych. Said that it would be better if we kept the school out of it. Despite that, my mum decided to talk to my Dean of Year, who talked to the School Counsellor about me.
My mum had enrolled me in a program for people like me, “Optimistic Thinking Program” run by the Psychologist and Counsellor at my school. On the last day I had off of school, I still had to get into uniform, and go to school, after school, to go to that. After the session was over (which was just discussing emotions and optimism vs. pessimism) the Psychologist pulled me out. She said “I know you’ve been going through a real tough time lately, and tomorrow, if you actually come tomorrow, (Counsellor) will have a talk with you”.
My first day back, I spent the entire of PCG (homeroom), recess, lunch and period 6 with the counsellor. Right after recess, period 3, I had Vis. Arts. It was such a simple task, yet I was so overwhelmed. I had a panic attack and spent period 3 & 4 in the office, and with the counsellor.
I’m finding it hard to deal with the slightest of things at the moment. I’ve been having frequent panic attacks over the past few days. I just don’t feel like any of this is worth it, I really don’t. I don’t really know how to tell someone about this either, even though they already know what’s going on.
I’m having some serious thought, and I can’t find one reason why. Why I should continue through this shit. I don’t see the point in not killing myself, if any of this makes any sense, whatsoever.
I don’t really know why I’m writing this, I’ve spent the last hour and a half putting this into words. This is one part of everything going on right now. If I typed up everything, I would be writing a novel!