Or so it feels... I know I've been out of sight for quite a long time, but here I am, back again, rising up out of the ashes like a phoenix. I'm still admitted to the psychiatric clinic in the Hague, but the time will come that I'll be able to tell you that I'll be dismissed between now and a couple of weeks/months, give or take a few. I'm doing the best I can, working hard in the different therapies. I even convinced the team of nurses to go running with me three times a week! Ha, who is het one enjoying this kind of therapy the most: me, the lousy patient, or them, the well-paid nurses who can go for a run during their working hours?
This clinic is called (in English) the "Centre for Intensive Treatment". However, the treatment wasn't so "intensive" and people got themselves complaining. Complaining about nearly everything: the food, the nurses, the therapies that were not intensive enough... you name it. So the staff took this quite literally when it came to the therapies and decided to make the programme more intensive. It wasn't me! The result is a folder with all kinds of schemes and pages to fill in about different aspects of our therapies. I already get tired by only looking at the pages in the folder! I mean, there seems to be no time left for leisure activities or to receive visitors, nor for taking some time to rest during the day.
It feels like yesterday that I started university. Why? Well, tomorrow we get this new therapy programme. Intensive, yes it is, oh yes sir! On the verge of going to university for the first day, I felt nearly as nervous as I'm feeling right now. See, it's not just some programme, no. We can receive points for good behaviour and something that we're not allowed to call punishment for bad behaviour. Maybe this sounds somehow as kindergarten, but as I can't remember anything from kindergarten and as this feeling I'm experiencing right now is leaning against a wall of emotions of fear and incertainty, I'm completely into this feeling of going to university for the first time.
Folder: check. Pencils: check. To do list: check. I think I'm ready to go. Only thing is that the entire ward will be woken at 7.15 AM, while at first that was 8.15. Auch, that will hurt for most of us, myself included. That's exactly the reason why I'll finish this post and head to bed. Sleep tight, my blogger friends!
My dear blogger- and other friends, if you didn't already know, words can hurt you till you are completely beaten up,
they can even kill you metaphorically, especially when they come from people
you never expected it from. Last Monday, the court visited the psychiatric
hospital I'm still admitted to. What happened said there, which words the so-called
experts spoke there, they hurt me right in the spot, in the middle of my heart.
The judge was kind of sympathetic. I recognized him from one of the
earlier court hearings, and back then he was quite sympathetic. However, the head
therapist and her collleageus kind of had prepared this hearing very well,
while I only referred to my lawyer. The people from the clinic were inceredibly while I couldn;t even find the words to defend myself, so I rest my case. I couldn't find the words to overrule the
case, so the verdict was exremely negative for me: a prolongation for a year to
begin with. Are these guys nuts? I just barely survived an RM that lasted
"only" four monts, the majority of which I spent on the outside of
the hospital. However, this time the judge was'n't so lenient... Apart from this, he listened nearly only to the words of the head therapist and took all my hope away: she - the head terapist supposed that the entire treatment would take 5 or 6 years, but - fortunately - I would'nt have to spend all those years on the inside. It's possible to stay at horme with an RM, as long as you behave. If you don't, you'll be back behind bars, a.s.a.p., so to say.
Back to the topic. Words can stab you in the back. Not only in this kind
of situations, but also in daily, casual topics. For example, when I graduated
cum laude in 2013, my sister, my own blood, only had one word for me:
"Finally" No congratuations, nothing like that, just that one bloody
mess of a word. Not even a post card or a text message, no, just a faceback message. I was disappointed, and that's the least I can say. If you're a loyal reader of this blog, you'll already know that my sister don't have a good or nice relationschip, but that doesn't mean that she should take on this attitude, does it? Anyway, I don't belong to her circle of people, which means that I'm not wealthy, or an owner of a proper enterprise nor am I having lots of money. So I don't fit in the pattern...
However, I know that all these words out of hate have their origin in jealousy. Still, it hurts, especially when it comes from peope close The funny thing is, what does I have that other people don't have? I live in a student house. I don't have lots of money. I don't have a job, nor a house, nor a car. Only at university did I get a Cum Laude degree. And... not to forget: I've been in an d out of psychiatric hospitals for the last 14 and a half years. Now, if that isn't something to be proud of - didn't she say cynically. By the way, often, people utter this kind of expressions in an easy way, without thinking about the consequences. Here at the psychiatric clinic, a nures hurt me with such an utterance: "Get away, you retarded fool!" Those aren't words you expect from a psychiatric nurse, and they hurt me so much.Over and over again...
I can't deal with these kinds of situations as you might have spotted. However, I get confronted with them day by dayl I'm depressed. I don''t know what to do. I feel lonley, I don't know what to do. I think I'm going to take some meds (prescribed, don't worry) and get back to bed. What else should I do?
I'm hearing this sentence over and over again, every single day of every single week. It all started a couple of weeks ago, a little bit over a month ago I guess, that I noticed I could hardly speak normally. A lot of saliva came free while speaking and I couldn't articulate well anymore. Right now, when I speak, it is as if I'm drunk, which, of course, I'm not, with the amount of pills I'm taking. And look what I'm talking about, the meds. There lies the origin of the problem. It are the meds that make me talk as if I'm drunk and that make me stammer.
It's almost three months since I've been here, at this closed ward of a psychiatric hospital and one thing is for sure: when I came here, I didn't have these speaking and articulating issues. Sometimes, the saliva leaves my mouth even while I'm awake and without speaking, because it's mostly during the night that I have these problems or when I take a nap during the day. When I wake up, my pillow is almost entirely wet where my head has laid all night. However, during the day, in plain sight, I feel really embarassed and ashamed. As if I were a toddler learning how to speak properly concerning the way of speaking or an old drunk in the way of articulating. It hurts my feelings and my self-esteem. When I'm in a shop, they don't understand me and have to ask at least two times what it is I want. I see the impatience in their eyes, I see their boredom. They don't know how to handle someone who speaks like this. They've probably condemned me to the ranks of scum anyway.
It's just, I can't do anything that I can help to diminish the side-effects. Sometimes, it's just as if the side-effects are more prominent than the positive effects. So what should I do: keep taking the freaking meds or quit with it all?
Anyway, I'm still here against my will. The finishing date of my RM (judicial authorization) is approaching, but the psychiatrist has asked for a re-evaluation. The second opinion of an objective psychiatrist obtained the same result: affirmative. However, it's the judge who decides. If I can convince him/her that it's not necessary for me to be in this hospital, then I can go home. However, it will be tough, because I'm not so strong verbally and not in the least because a lot has happened. Maybe I can write him/her a letter, just like I did the last time which gave me a better verdict than I'd ever'd hoped for: only 4 months instead of 6.
Still, we don't know when the judge will come, only one day before the meeting will we know. I'm nervous already, although it can be tomorrow so to speak, but it can also be between now and three weeks. Also, the length of the RM can vary between 6 months and a year, but the fact that I've been in and out of psychiatric hospitals and because they - psychiatrist, psychologists and the rest of the staff - see some progress, seem to turn out negative for me. I'm afraid I'll get that extra time on the inside.
It hurts to be so lonely, so far away from friens and - especially - family. The problem with an RM is that you're in principle not allowed to travel abroad. And if they're very severe, travelling from the Netherlands to Belgium would be a crime. Just hoping not to get caught when I'm on the train, because on top of all that, my ID has expired. Still a lot to do before I'm able to go to Belgium alone by train, though... wish me luck!
