Mum, moody, messy, manic. Retired musician and aspiring writer.
From dark, sordid, private journaling, this website became my greatest recovery asset for major depression and anxiety, and the eating disorder and self harm behaviours I used to mask them.
I imploded like a smashed egg, and from within I've found a fledgling bird, ready to spread its wings and fly.
I hope within these pages, you find a moment of connection, truth, revelation and understanding. This is my story. Perhaps it's yours too.
Today I am afraid of recovery. I've been in this place before - where I've felt the beginnings of change and then become overwhelmed with the fear of that change and what it might herald. so I rush back to the safe and familiar.
I've spent a lifetime as a highly anxious person pretending it wasn't so and secretly not coping. Nobody knew. I hid it. Very well. Now I don't want to. I want to accept and manage it instead. It won't solve all my problems but it will be a good start. I have no idea how to manage it...
Same old, same old. Neither better nor worse. I feel my depression has sunk pretty low and I spent a lot of today mapping out "exit" strategies. But I also communicated this with the registrar and have requested to have my dose of pristiq increased. She's also modified my leave to "escorted" which is fine by me.
A friend of mine has encouraged me to share my private journals of inpatient. I hope it's not triggering for anyone. It's deeply personal. And I've made every effort to remove identifying information of the clinic, staff and patients. It's a long read! But this is what life is like.
It's a wild ride as an inpatient at a psychiatric facility. I can't honestly say I'd recommend it. But then sometimes we have to do necessary things in life that aren't necessarily enjoyable. I didn't traipse all the way here for fun. I left behind all that was comfortable and familiar, to learn uncomfortable, unfamiliar ways of managing my emotional and eating behaviours. At this stage I am far from cured.