Itchy, scratchy 2014

On December 26^th, 2013, I got these things called urticaria in Latin if I’m not mistaken. I don’t know the English name, but you can always consult a dictionary, right? Anyway, since that day, some three weeks ago, I’m scratching myself all day long because they’re so itchy. And of course, by scratching all the time, it gets even more itchy. 2014 started quite itchy…

In the meantime I’ve tried about 6 pills before the 7^th finally brought some positive results. it has a funny name: Telfast. All these pills are antihistamines, and the dermatologist gave me high hopes by saying that in 90% of the cases, it can’t be found out what the exact cause is. See, the odds are never in my favour! It’s still itchy and scratchy the entire day, but at least I can sleep at night.

I got the urticaria probably as an allergic reaction to the clothing they use in the isolation cell. You’re not allowed to wear your own clothes up there, so they give you some clothes, made of a very strong fabric. Also the blankets are made of this fabric.

Would you mind giving me a minute so I can fetch the menthol gel that helps to ease the itching?

Ah, that eases it a little bit, just for a couple of hours… Anyway, in fact it’s strange how this allergic reaction came upon me, because I’d been isolated in many previous occasions in the same way. Maybe it has to build itself up, I don’t know. In any case, it was an advantage for me last week, when I was back in the isolation cell, because when they saw that after day 1 the urticaria were all over my body again, I was allowed to wear my own pajamas and to sleep with normal sheets and blankets. However, that was the only advantage. I was isolated – again – and had to follow the schedule.

And now, I’m standing in front of this huge challenge: get out of this cursed place in 4 or 5 weeks or going to the CIB. That last one is no option at all. I’ll take precautions before that ever happens. Anyway, I had to make a plan, which I did. The only thing is that 4 weeks is very little time if you know how seriously ill I was. Thanks to the doubling of the meds, I’m practically without voices all day. Sometimes, one or the other wants to break through the metaphorical wall I’ve built around my mind, but in few occasions they get what they want. Only the images are still very vivid. They show me how to break out. However, I begin to understand that that’s not really possible, although I forced a breakout a couple of weeks ago – which I’m still quite proud of, although I know that’s in fact pretty wrong. Now, however, the nurses know my thoughts and plans, and they prevent it time and time again. There was one possibility last week, but I was so stricken that I didn’t make use of the opportunity.

Now I want to talk to the psychiatrist and ask for freedom. I want to be able to walk with a nurse outside. I’ll really try to stick to the arrangements made beforehand, and the fact that those voices are somewhere outside of the walls of my sane mind is only beneficial. I think I can handle it, although I want to be outside with people I trust, preferably male nurses so that I know I can’t run away that easily. Not that I want to run away, no, not at all. I want to give my plan a chance, and let’s be honest, I’ve been inside for almost 11 weeks now, it’s kind of logical that I get crazy on the balcony. So the itchy, scratchy thing is also metaphorical: it itches to go outside, to go home, to Timo. The only thing is that I get so little support. Only a few members of my family support me. And the friends that pass by for a visit are extremely limited.

You know, when you’re in here, it’s sometimes not even possible to know what day it is. For example, I was just thinking it’s Saturday today, but no, it’s already Sunday. I make a schedule every day, but it’s not easy. The schedule is quite stressful, and in the evenings I have to cry because I miss my family so much. Then I try to write my book. Did I tell you about the book before? I don’t think so. Should I tell you about the book? I don’t think so. Maybe in a next post… so keep following my blog, people. I’ll tell you all about the book in one of the upcoming posts. Promised.

The sword of Damocles

It’s hanging above my head, people, the one and only sword of Damocles. I don’t know whether that’s an honour or rather the opposite, but for me it’s a big threat, as is meant to be, right?

It’s been a while since I wrote my last post on this blog. That’s because I’ve been busy writing my first book. It’s in Dutch, so it won’t be available to all of you, but once it’s finished I hope to find a company willing to publish it. Anyway, I was in a good writing flow till I got isolated (yes, again) on Friday, which meant back to zero. My mood was below zero, as you can probably imagine. So I had to have patience and be glad for the fifteen minute breaks I got once every two or three hours. Tomorrow I get out of the programme, but then comes the most difficult thing. From tomorrow on, I have 4 weeks to prove that I can and will get better. The psychiatrist – yes, the same one who denied my each and every proposal – augmented the medication - F-I-N-A-L-L-Y. I even got him to double the amount of Cisordinol I’m taking right now. Today is the second day that I’m on a double dose and although there’s quite some unrest in my head, I don’t hear my voices (at the moment). And that’s been a while, you know. Normally, they were constantly there, and now…

There is another option, and that’s what the title is referring to. If I can’t prove myself in those 4 weeks time, I’m being sent to the CIB in The Hague (Centrum voor Intensieve Begeleiding, Centre for Intensive Treatment). The stories I’ve heard about the CIB are pure horror. They start with a lock-up of 24 hours. Then you have to deserve each and every freedom you can imagine. I’m asking myself if that includes food and clothes. Anyway, my point of view is clear: I’m not going! Still, I have the RM, and the judge has decided that I must be treated in a closed ward of a psychiatric hospital until the 6^th of June. However, the RM can be reversed into some RM in which you go home but will be treated by all kinds of people, but not in a clinical setting anymore. That’s what I’m trying to achieve right now. But four weeks… it’s a short time if you think that I’ve been here for nearly 10 weeks!

Of course, the pills alone won’t do it. I have to make a programme to go outside, to do some sports, to go home, to take care of myself, to rest enough but not too much and so on and so forth. The key words are: trust, make arrangements (and stick to them) and timely intervention. It won’t be easy, but I hope the Cisordinol will start doing its work so that I can prove that the psychiatrist was wrong all along. Of course, I’m having trouble with the side effects. I’m a little bit groggy, that’s true. I slept in the isolation cell for three hours this afternoon. Tonight is hopefully my last night in that fucking isolation cell. After that, I only want to use it when I see that things might go wrong, to avoid things going all wrong again and me ending up in the isolation cell again.

So, that’s the situation right now: the CIB or a major improvement in my mental health situation. Please people, keep your fingers crossed, I don’t want to go to the CIB. I have no intention whatsoever to be even longer and farther away from my little Timo than is necessary. I hope he’ll still recognise me after all those weeks. I love that little birdy so much, it’s my man. I will fight, and I will try to mentalise his picture each and every time when I get into trouble or when things go awry. He’s my final objective: going home, playing with him and taking up giving English and Spanish courses again. That’s what I want! Please people, pray for me, I can use each and every prayer, for things won’t go that easily. After a lock-up of nearly 10 weeks, your perception of things change. For example, when I’m on the balcony and hear the busses, hear the trains, I almost get sick. Too much noise, and also, too many people down there. Other example: how am I supposed to take the bus? I don’t dare to think about it. This has been a life-changing experience, but I know what I want and what my objective is: Timo, my budgy! I’m coming home, boy, I’m coming home! Mama will be home soon and she loves you very much!

Bye bye 2013

Tuesday, 31th of December 2013. 12.53. Within 11 hours and a few minutes we say goodbye to a year which has been most unfortunate for me in some aspects, and fortunate in others. You’ll probably be up to date of my current situation – which is not that great – but there have been better times. I’ve made new friends. I finally graduated. I did some great extra-curricular courses during my last year as a student. I met kind-hearted people, or maintained the friendship with some other warm-hearted friends.

On the other hand, I lost my feathered friend, Chico, may he rest in peace. That was difficult. We nearly lost our grandma, who survived not one but three urgent and critical operations. The bond between me and my sister and brother-in-law became even more frozen than before. And, worst of all, I’m back in a psychiatric hospital for a longer period of time. I’m far away from my family, and tomorrow is New Year’s Day. I’ll be here, probably the day will pass by as any other day here at the ward, but it hurts, you know, it hurts, being far away from family and friends.

I think my greatest achievement by far this year was getting my Master’s degree Cum Laude. I was so proud, as were my parents. It’s a pity that not everyone I’d hoped for joined in the celebrations, but nearly all my best friends were at the drink, and that’s what counts. You know who you are :)

I also got to know some new friends and I’m glad I met them and that they support me, even in the difficult situation I’m in now. I appreciate it, I truly appreciate it, because I can’t count on my family to visit me now. Also during classes, I got to know new friends, which was awesome, especially those people I met at the Portuguese classes – teachers included. Although I don’t maintain contact with most of them anymore, there are still a few of them on my Facebook, and of course there’s my Brazilian Bro ;) Some people always stay in your heart, no matter how far or how close they are…

And then there was this difficult day: April 14^th, the day Chico died. He died on a Sunday morning, in my hands, in my bed, quite peacefully. We’d been together for 7 and a half years. I miss him so very much. I’m crying right now, because he was a truly loyal and fantastic friend. Miss you, buddy… Hope everything’s okay there up in budgy-heaven…

10 days later, however, a new budgy came into my life. That’s 8 months ago now, and although he’s still so young, he has to endure my absence due to the fact that I’m admitted to a psychiatric hospital. Now I have to cry even more… I wish we could be together tonight, then I had at least some sort of family close by. But no, it will be just me, myself and I. My mom just announced that she probably won’t be calling when the clock strikes 12. I don’t even know if I could do that myself, but I miss my family so very much. It’s been 11 weeks that I saw them for the last time. I hope Timo survives the firework, for there's always a lot of noise and animals get scared...

Furthermore, I’m grateful for all those years at Leiden University. I’ve learnt a lot, I’ve met such thorough and sympathetic professors and one of the best courses was definitely the Portuguese course I did this year. I enjoyed it so much that, if I were able to study, to concentrate, I’d be studying and improving my Portuguese right now. I definitely want to go to Brazil, if not in 2014, then later, we’ll see, preferably with my Brazilian Bro.

I’m feeling so sad right now, you can’t imagine. And there are still (too) many hours to go. I’m so afraid I’ll lose control like last week and end up in the isolation cell. Whenever these voices take over, they are so strong… My psychiatrist won’t support me when it comes to meds, which is, in my humble opinion, the reason why I’m still nowhere when it comes to getting and feeling better.

This year has kind of exhausted me. First, there was the MA thesis, which cost a lot of work, energy and perseverance. It hasn’t always been easy. Then my grandma got very ill, and at the same time my mom had to undergo a complicated back surgery. I tried to keep up with everything, I tried to do the household, to go to the hospital to see my grandma every day, to write my thesis and to concentrate on umpteen other things I had to do to finish university. I also had a relatively short period in which I wasn’t feeling too well when it comes to my mental health, and then Chico died… I think 2013 was definitely a bad year, although I can’t ignore the beautiful aspects named earlier. I do hope that 2014 will bring more peace, not only in my head where the voices are still present, but also in my family, in my life generally speaking and in the world.

Make the best of it, people, not only tonight when practically everybody is celebrating, but also for the rest of the year. Do something you’ve never done before. Finish that bloody thesis. Travel to someplace you’d never expected to go. Just enjoy. And for all those who are ill – including you, my blue friend – keep your heads up. Together we can do it. Together we can make it. Love you all…