A return?
I haven't updated in here forever, but I think I should update some people about what's been going on with me. I copied this mostly from a post I made on a forum shortly after I got out of the hospital. Warning, it gets a bit on the long side.
I've had clinical depression (it comes in waves/cycles, I can be fine for awhile and then BOOM back into a depression) since I was about 12 years old, and really hardcore anxiety problems probably starting in HS. Like panic attacks severely.
About a year ago I got really cocky and decided I was going to take myself off of all medication and counseling. I was alright for awhile actually but over the past couple weeks I relapsed BADLY into depression and the panic attacks started again. It was awful. I'd get them in the car, at school, at work, everywhere multiple times a day. I really think I was depressed because my anxiety problem was so bad that I literally couldn't relax, ever. I stopped eating, doing school work, sleeping, etc. because I was just so strung out.
Finally my parents found out how bad it was getting and took me to speak to a counselor, who immediately recommended I go to the hospital, probably because I was borderline suicidal at this point and hadn't eaten more than crackers in about 3 days. I was really hesitant so I refused initially to be admitted and said I'd just come for a psych evaluation so I could at least get meds again. Went to North Shore LIJ for that, and then after talking to me for a bit they were like "alright we're admitting you." I stopped resisting and allowed myself to be admitted because I really did need help.
The psych ward wasn't really that bad at all. It wasn't straitjackets and padded cells or anything crazy like that. You just can't have sharp objects or things like belts (if you wanna shave a nurse has to watch you). It was built more like a college residence hall than anything - corridor of rooms (I had a roommate even) and a big common area. I saw a psychiatrist daily to help get my problem evaluated and have my medications started/adjusted. Nurses monitored your vitals and stuff like twice a day and kept track of side effects etc. There was also daily group therapy sessions - twice daily for me, three times for the people who also needed to go to Alcoholics Anonymous/Narcotics Anonymous, and then something special in the evening.
I really don't regret the experience. It sucked being kept there 9 days but they managed to do in 9 days what 5+ years of psychiatrists didn't - actually observe me and realize that, yes, my anxiety problem is serious and no it's not just from normal stress, and treat it accordingly. And not to sound cheesy, but I learned a lot about acceptance. There were several drug addicts there on the ward trying to get help detoxifying and going on to rehab programs. In the past I let myself be really judgmental of users and addicts and was generally really holier-than-thou with them. But I really connected with a lot of these people because we had a lot of the same issues, just different ways of coping. It did kinda reinforce my lack of desire to fool around with drugs because there's nothing sadder than seeing an otherwise really nice person go through total misery because of the awful withdrawl from their addiction. I don't care what you fool with, but avoid the addiction...it's brutal and will really ruin anyone, no matter what it is.
Anyway, getting off the soapbox now, that was pretty much how I ended up there. And I hope no one thinks I'm nuts now. I must say though I'm doing a lot better. It's a slow process sometimes and frustrating in many ways, especially with med side effects, but I'm getting there slowly.
I've had clinical depression (it comes in waves/cycles, I can be fine for awhile and then BOOM back into a depression) since I was about 12 years old, and really hardcore anxiety problems probably starting in HS. Like panic attacks severely.
About a year ago I got really cocky and decided I was going to take myself off of all medication and counseling. I was alright for awhile actually but over the past couple weeks I relapsed BADLY into depression and the panic attacks started again. It was awful. I'd get them in the car, at school, at work, everywhere multiple times a day. I really think I was depressed because my anxiety problem was so bad that I literally couldn't relax, ever. I stopped eating, doing school work, sleeping, etc. because I was just so strung out.
Finally my parents found out how bad it was getting and took me to speak to a counselor, who immediately recommended I go to the hospital, probably because I was borderline suicidal at this point and hadn't eaten more than crackers in about 3 days. I was really hesitant so I refused initially to be admitted and said I'd just come for a psych evaluation so I could at least get meds again. Went to North Shore LIJ for that, and then after talking to me for a bit they were like "alright we're admitting you." I stopped resisting and allowed myself to be admitted because I really did need help.
The psych ward wasn't really that bad at all. It wasn't straitjackets and padded cells or anything crazy like that. You just can't have sharp objects or things like belts (if you wanna shave a nurse has to watch you). It was built more like a college residence hall than anything - corridor of rooms (I had a roommate even) and a big common area. I saw a psychiatrist daily to help get my problem evaluated and have my medications started/adjusted. Nurses monitored your vitals and stuff like twice a day and kept track of side effects etc. There was also daily group therapy sessions - twice daily for me, three times for the people who also needed to go to Alcoholics Anonymous/Narcotics Anonymous, and then something special in the evening.
I really don't regret the experience. It sucked being kept there 9 days but they managed to do in 9 days what 5+ years of psychiatrists didn't - actually observe me and realize that, yes, my anxiety problem is serious and no it's not just from normal stress, and treat it accordingly. And not to sound cheesy, but I learned a lot about acceptance. There were several drug addicts there on the ward trying to get help detoxifying and going on to rehab programs. In the past I let myself be really judgmental of users and addicts and was generally really holier-than-thou with them. But I really connected with a lot of these people because we had a lot of the same issues, just different ways of coping. It did kinda reinforce my lack of desire to fool around with drugs because there's nothing sadder than seeing an otherwise really nice person go through total misery because of the awful withdrawl from their addiction. I don't care what you fool with, but avoid the addiction...it's brutal and will really ruin anyone, no matter what it is.
Anyway, getting off the soapbox now, that was pretty much how I ended up there. And I hope no one thinks I'm nuts now. I must say though I'm doing a lot better. It's a slow process sometimes and frustrating in many ways, especially with med side effects, but I'm getting there slowly.