You don't know what you've got until it's gone

It's a cliché, I know, but it's a goddamn truth. I thought I didn't have anything when I was in step 8, but at least I could go to the outside. Now I'm in step 5, and I'm still in the isolation cell. Less and less, that's true, but don't you think it's paradoxical that I have to take medication to be able to handle the time in that rotten cell? I'm traumatised, nothing more or less. I wish I were a child again. Then I had so many things that I have lost now, and only now do I know what I got... but they're gone...

First and foremost, family. Older people die. That's what happens. Only when they're dead do you realise how much you loved them. I was a lucky one: I've known three of my great-grandparents and all of my grandparents. Now there are only two left: my mom's parents, and I'm really careful with them because I know that, irrevocably, that day is gonna come. The day they're going to die. And I forbid myself to think of that day. At least, I try to forbid myself this, but it's hopeless. It doesn't work. I'm hopeless at being optimistic. 

Secondly, what do you think about friends? I haven't got any friend left from high school. Yes, on Facebook, but that's something completely different. No one sends me a Christmas card anymore. And I do understand that people were in shock after what happened in the sixth grade, when I got admitted to a psychiatric hospital and never returned to school. But it's a bitter pill to swallow, it is. Also, friends who committed suicide. I'll never see them back. Maybe I only valued them after their death...

Then, the pets I've had. You don't know what you've got till it's gone. I'm especially talking here about my budgy Chico. What a sweetheart that was. Now I have another one, waiting for me at home, but unfortunately, he'll have to wait another week to see me back. I can barely wait. I love him so much. At the beginning of my admission here, I didn't miss him that much. I think I had too many problems with the demons in my head, but now I'm finally coming back to earth, and slowly but gradually, I start to miss him. My little Timo. I do realise what I've got, so I hope he won't be gone too soon.

Chico, give me a kiss, will you?

Furthermore, being a student. Oh, how I miss student life. I thought it was only hard work: going to classes, studying for exams, writing papers, you name it. But it was also nice in some way: I had things to do, I had a regular schedule, I knew what I was up to. Right now, only uncertainties... Yes, I'm doing voluntary work, but that doesn't pay the bills if you know what I mean. And now I'm back at the clinic, I don't know what I can do more to find a job. A paid job. Will I ever be able to work? Only God knows...

However, it doesn't have to be the big things in life, it can also be small things. Like this what is happening right now. Only now do I realise that I was in step 8 and how hard I fell back to step 1. I didn't value it enough, I guess. But even then, I can assure you, the demons were acting again. It's also my freedom. For many of you it's just a normal thing. For me it's a precious little thing that I have to cherish once I have it. I'll certainly have to be more careful with it. And after this admission, maybe - only maybe - I can go home for a couple of weeks/months, but still, I have to go to the CIB in the Hague, a closed ward - again - where I'll receive the treatment that I need if you ask my brilliant psychiatrist (I hope you have already spotted the cynicism here). So it's not over yet... still a long way to go. 

My take-home message of the day: cherish everything you've got, be it people or things or the intangible. You can only have it till it's gone... 

 

Back behind closed doors

It's unbelievable. It's incredible. It can't be true. It's also indescribably difficult for me to tell you this. Because I was doing so well. Because I was on the outside again. Because I was finally making some progress. But it's as true as the fact that Elvis Presley is dead (yes, my Blue friend, he is dead): I'm back behind closed doors, as in the isolation cell. 

What happened? Well, I was on the edge of reason. I was mad, mad on somebody. Won't mention who, however, but (s)he who reads this will know that I'm talking about him/her. We just had a row. On Facebook, for that matter. Welcome to the modern world where cyberfights are possible ;) 

I went to the isolation cell to calm down for just one hour. This is an inside agreement: If you don't feel well and you're afraid things are only going to get out of hand and you're going to end up there anyway, but then for a larger amount of time and involuntarily, just go there for an hour. After the hour had passed, I had a look at what (s)he had written on Facebook via my mobile phone and although it was still a bitter pill to swallow and although I was still fuming, I decided I didn't want to spend an extra hour there in that rotten cell. So I went back to the ward. Wrong decision! The doors to the ward opened, and - as one of the nurses told me afterwards, for I had a black-out and can hardly remember anything between the moment of walking in the corridor, back to the ward and being in the isolation cell for the second time - I took a dive for the entrance door, so that a nurse had to grab me away from there. Punishment: isolation cell, back to step 1. I was in step 8 at that time, goddammit. I had the freedom to go outside with company. How incredibly stupid of me! But then again, how much control did I have? It were these m*therf*cking demons... again...

Had I listened to my inner voice who told me to stay just one more hour in that cell! Had I had the power so that the demons didn't take over my body, for that was what happened: they took over my body once again and took a dive for the entrance door, with the purpose to escape. It's always them! I loathe them! I despise them!

Three nurses brought me to the isolation cell, but soon they called alarm for more. If I remember well - but my short term memory is terribly short at the moment - at a given moment there were six people on and around me, and still it took them so long to undress me and to put me into wrapping blankets. I was fighting all the time, thank you so much, memories from Belgium for what happened over there. That obviously doesn't help. I just can't cooperate then. I have to fight, to resist, to show what I'm worth. That's my way of coping with the situation, because then it feels like I'm dissociating. I'm in a completely different world. And then I'm not myself. I'm a monster, because I'm very strong. That explains probably the six people. Finally, when everyone leaves the cell and they leave me in the wrapping blankets, I lose all my power and am as powerless as a newborn kitten.   

Now we're almost two days further. I can't bear it anymore in that cell, I just can't. Luckily, the time outside is increasing and thus the time inside is decreasing, but still... I still have to spend the night there, in which I wake up at least 5 times. I'm there from 9.30 PM till at least 7.30 AM. With a bit of luck, then I can get out, if I'm in one of the higher phases. See, this brilliant psychiatrist of mine has made this brilliant plan: the first shift, I can get out 3 times a quarter of an hour, then 3 times half an hour, then 3 times an hour, 3 times an hour and a half - where I am right now - 3 times per 2 hours, and then one day in which I only have to rest there after lunch and spend the night there. Right then we're in step 6. Step 7 means deseparation. However, step 7 is divided into step 7.1, 7.2 and 7.3, another brilliant invention from my brilliant psychiatrist. So this deseparation takes 3 days for Christ's sake! And then I'll finally be back in step 8, that is, if everything goes as planned. And then, only then, can I get back to the outside. So it seems I'll be back behind closed doors for a while again... and we'll have to deal with that, want it or not...

PS: Seems like today is not my lucky day... After their conclave, the nurses decided I can't go from phase 4 to phase 5, and all because of the fact that I dissociated in one of the three mobilisations...  That sucks... :'(

 

Fresh air and Guaraná

Sometimes, life is hard and you just have to deal with whatever gets in your way. I've been in a closed ward of a psychiatric hospital for 5 weeks now, and I can tell you, it drives me crazy. Last Wednesday was the first day I could legally go outside, but we just went to the building next to the clinic, so for me it wasn't really "outside", if you know what I mean. So I wanted more, but Thursday was a nasty day and as I had to have someone who accompanies me, I had to stay inside. But then finally came yesterday, and me and my friend Luiza - such a precious young lady! Love you, girl! - really went outside to get some fresh air and some Guaraná.

You can't imagine how frustrating it is to be locked up and to be denied to go outside for such a large amount of time. Also, they checked my blood and figured out that my vitamine D level was too low. The doctor added somewhat guiltily: "This often happens with people who spend a long time on the inside". And on the inside I have been! Last night was the sixth night in 5 weeks I could spend in a normal bed. All the other nights of those 5 weeks I had to spend in the isolation cell, can you imagine? I blame them, the doctors and the nurses, for my weak health condition right now. Because that's what it is, I'm weak. I can't walk a mile, let alone run a mile. 

I'm happy they let me out of the isolation cell, now almost a week ago, but the struggle against the demons continues and is tough, very tough. Every now and then they get their grip on me, and I can't withstand their power. Also, I get little to no support from my family. That is tough, I can guarantee you that. I won't go into details, it would be one whole list of accusations and I don't want to do that, but if they could only support me, ask me how I'm feeling, what I'm doing, what they can do to help. But no, nothing of that, only threats, accusations from their side and worries from my part. 
 

Anyway, let's not go there. Let's go back to yesterday. We went - how cliché - to McDonald's. A McFlurry. Tasty if you haven't eaten one for such a long time, I can tell you that! I was completely flabbergasted by the McFlurry Stracciatella (or how do you write that? I speak five languages, but no Italian), but they didn't have it anymore. So I chose the McFlurry M&M's. Always good and tasty, even though a little bit predictable for Debz. Never mind, I liked it. And Luiza had another one, but I can't remember which one. So far my short term memory. 

After that, we went to a shopping centre, but first, what I liked most of the entire trip we did: just sitting in the car and have a ride. Seeing things. Sitting in a comfortable position. Just sitting there while someone drives you through Leiden and its environment. Awesome, that's the word! I'd been locked up and had seen nothing but the ward's corridors for the past five weeks, remember??

In the shopping centre there were quite a few people, so it wasn't easy to not get distressed. But I think I did quite a good job. We went to Albert Heijn to buy some Guaraná. Don't know what Guaraná is? Oh, you are such an unlucky person, I must say! It's a Brazilian soda and it tastes really good. Luiza is half-Brazilian - if not more ;) - and she bought almost the entire shelf. I was lucky to get some of hers :D 

Then came the most difficult moment: getting back to the clinic, which went extremely well. It was only when Luiza and her boyfriend went away that it went wrong. I started dissociating. Seems it always happens when the emotions get too high... *sigh* 

But that still leaves us with the fresh air and the Guaraná. I've just had one - a Guaraná - and I'm doubting if I should or shouldn't take a second one. They're just delicious, just try it once and you'll have to agree with me!

Locked up inside

I'm locked up inside myself. These demons are fighting an unequal battle, and they're winning the fight. Every day, I feel worse because of them. Every day they conquer a new part of my brain. It's a struggle, yes, a struggle on life and death. 
 

A lot has happened this week, so much that it could have been the case that I wouldn't have been able to write these words. I ran away from the closed ward - I got an open  chance - and the demons gave me the boost I needed to run away so that they (the nurses) couldn't stop me this time. I succeeded, but once I was downstairs, in the parking garage, every tinge of boost was gone. So I got these images: me going to the parking garage of the academic hospital, me going to the elevators, me pushing the button of the 13th floor, me climbing over the barrier and me jumping. Dot. So, I was completely overtaken by the demons, because I felt so weak, I could barely walk, I crossed the streets without watching if any car passed by... and I went to the parking garage, to the elevators, pushed that infamous button, and there I stood. Nobody had followed me, which was good. I could think things over clearly. Or so I thougth, because my mind was troubled by the demons. So I saw that there were two barriers. I climbed over the first one, which was quite an easy task, but the second one was higher, too high, so it seemed. I could hardly lift one leg over the glass, and I saw people downstairs, staring, pointing, yelling "hey", but I was in a dissociative mood. I could hear and see everything, but it didn't really get to me, and I obviously couldn't respond. So I tried hard to put my leg over the barrier. Only thing is, I'm short, and this barrier isn't made for short people. 

Then the most horrible things happened: three men came and they pulled me back, pinned me down on the floor, asked me lots of questions I couldn't answer because I was still dissociating and said I should keep calm, that help was on the way. Help? Yeah right, police officers. They cuffed me, hands behind my back, I was lying on my belly on the ground. One sympathetic police officer introduced himself as being Nico and told me to keep calm, so that he shouldn't have to hurt me. I was frustrated, angry and especially, very scared. All those police officers... Then there came a car, and I had to get in. They would bring me back to the clinic. I struggled with the police officer in the car, without any result. We got there - at the clinic - and immediately I was stripped of my clothes and put in the isolation cell. For the fifth time in four weeks. I still feel the cuffs on my wrists, it still hurts. Bastards!

So, that was... when again? Oh, my short time memory is fading away so fast. Must be the pills. Anyway, today the demons did their job again. They led me to the door, I was completely numb. One of the nurses led me back to my room. And then trouble began. I was far, far away. I could hear what the nurses - and later on the doctors - said, but I couldn't react. All because of - indeed - the demons. I couldn't say anything, nor amost move a muscle. I couldn't open my mouth to take pills. I couldn't communicate while there were so many things I needed to say. I could only squeeze the nurses's hand: once for yes, twice for no. But that didn't always work out, because sometimes I didn't know, so I didn't squeeze, but he didn't get the message.

As I'm writing this, I'm still fighting to stay into reality, the here and now. It's so difficult. The demons are trying to take over all the time, and I'm fighting, but I think the nurses think I don't fight hard enough. Still, I try to do what I can, although it's only writing. The fact that they don't want to read this, is their f*cking problem.

Where were you 13 years ago?

September, 11th, 2001. Many of you will remember that day as one of the most horrific days in American history, or rather, in worldwide history. If you don't remember that day, then you must have spent that day and the following days on another planet. The United Stateds were attacked that day by a terrorist organisation, named Al Qaeda, led by Osama Bin Laden. So, where were you that day? I was in pretty much the same situation as I am in right now, although not in the exact same spot. Still, I was also in the isolation cell and heard the news after the airplanes had hit the Twin Towers.

I think many people think back to this day with horror and anger, maybe also with sadness. A lot of people have lost friends or acquaintances in the attack, and it's still so incomprehensible. Why did Al Quaeda do this terrific deads? Why kill so many innocent people? I just don't get it...

Terrorism is an act of unacceptable violence. That's maybe why I'm so against radical Muslisms, Muslims who don't adapt to the circumstances they live in. I grew up in a rather xenophobic, conservative family, so there's always been that hatred and fear against foreigners. No, I'm not talking about white people, but about black people, and especially Muslims. My father really loathes them, exactly because they come in the news so often, in a bad way that is. It's just that these extremists are the blame for the rest of the Muslim people. However, when I'm walking here in the city of Leiden and I see a group of Muslim women, lots of children, not speaking the language nor adapting to the clothing style of the country, I also feel some kind of loathing. Sometimes even I think a headscarf isn't acceptable in some jobs. In others, it is. It's a religious symbol, they say. I rather think it's a symbol of humiliation, but who I am to judge about the headscarf, right? 

Anyway, I am a christian, and I'd like to defend my religious beliefs. Of course there are also radical christians, but they don't do - or in any case much less - war. And that what it's all about in Islam: Jihad! "Spread the word and kill anyone who doesn't want to accept the word of Mohammed!" Because we, the non-believers, are the enemies of the radical Muslims. We should be eradicated. 

When I think again of the images of people jumping of the buildings of the Twin Towers that day, I get goose bumps, just like any other time when I think back about it. It was horrible, it wasn't human, it was a disaster! So many innocent lives because Mister Osama Bin Laden wanted war with America. Well, he got what he wanted, and now the miserable bastard is dead. That's one. Now we have to end with any kind of radicalism, be it christian or islamic. There's nothing good about radicalism. So eradicate that!

So, where were you? Were you at work? Maybe at the bus stop, reading a newspaper? Were any of you in New York that day? I was in the isolation cell, as I am today, with every now and then a short break to write this blog post for example. I'll never ever forget that day, especially the images. It still tears my heart apart. RIP to all those who died that day and to all those firefighters, policemen and other people who helped to save other people, but who died in the attempt. You are true heroes!

 

The Hippocratic oath... or what you don't find in it...

I've been at the closed high care ward for more than a week now, and if everything goes well, tonight I can sleep in a normal bed and not in the isolation cell anymore. That is, if I can keep control and if the psychiatrist who is in charge with my case agrees to the ending of the separation programme. 

Now you have to know that I'm not very keen on living anymore. I know, there will be times when it will be better again. I know this because I've been there where I am right now and eventually I ended up happier than before. I've been that depressed, I've had these periods in which I've heard voices, but usually not depression and psychosis together. And although I've been there and although every time I didn't drown but could bring my head back above the water, it's getting tiresome. I just can't anymore. I don't want to anymore. I've had enough of it. After a period of hell, a better period rises up. But that's not enough for me anymore. I want the guarantee that this was the last time. And since no one can give me that guarantee, I want to quit, I want to stop, I've had enough of it. 

I've read the Hippocratic oath, just to know what's in it. And I cant guarantee you, there's nothing in it about keeping people against their will in a hospital when they want to kill themselves. There is something in it that you cannot help them to die, but they don't have to push me off the 13th floor or put those pills in my mouth. So what the f*ck? It's all nonsense! I will confront my psychiatrist with it the next time I see him.

Let me ask you, people, have you ever thought about what will happen when you die? Because it can happen at any given moment. A bus could override you. A plan could crash. You could get cancer or have a heart attack. So now let me think about what I want after my death. First of all, I want to have a service both in Leiden and in Beveren-Leie, so that friends as well as family have the opportunity to say goodbye. I want pastor Micha van Vliet to do the services in both places. I want to be cremated and be put in a special grave for urns at Beveren-Leie's cemetry. I absolutely don't want to have a catholic service, no way! That would be absolutely disgraceful. I'm not a catholic anymore, I'm a member of the evangelist church and as such I want to be buried. 

I want Timo to have a bright future at my aunt Mieke's place. There he'll have the time of his life with his cousin Tweety. I want that my books, CDs and DVDs are divided between my friends Gi, Lars, Alain, Femke, Marlies, Marcela, my cousin Vicky, my English teacher Randy and maybe some others I forget to mention here. I want that my parents decide what will happen with the furniture. The study books should all go to my students: Wil, Alice, Iolanda and maybe some others. 

I want to be buried - and thus burned to ashes - with Lotje, my teddybear. She has been the most loyal and truthful teddybear I've ever had, she has accompanied me in isolation cells and she has comforted me in very difficult circumstances.

I only have one wish, namely that my book be published. Even though it's not that good, it's my legacy. I want to write a second book, a sequel, so maybe when I'll be dead, that one will also be ready. Because, dear people, it's not said that I'll kill myself immediately. Hell, I can also be overridden by a bus tomorrow. But then it's clear at least. These are questions we have to think about, no matter how young you are, from your 16th birthday on. At least, that is my humble opinion. Now people will know what to do when I die. Yes, I'm suicidal, but that doesn't mean I'll do it right here, right now. I'm usually a woman who thinks things through, as you may know. It's just... I feel so lonely in my battle. There really are people who help me, people who seem to care about me, but I can't estimate if that's enough, if you know what I mean... 

Things are devastating me. As I had a small relapse this afternoon, I had to spend an hour in the isolation cell and I'll have to spend the night there once again. If this tiny problem hadn't ocurred, I could have slept in my own bed, well, in my room at the closed ward, I mean... The same counts for the days yet to come. If something goes wrong and I go voluntarily, then I'll have to spend the nights there, but if I don't go voluntarily, things are even worse. Then we're back to zero. I don't know how or when this will end...