24th March I went for voluntary psychiatric evaluation. Since then I have been weaned off Lithium and Trepalan was the replacement. It needed to be a slow, monitored process. I spent Easter away from my family, which was tough. Suicidal ideation increased and a few nights I couldn’t sleep, even on 3 mg Ativan and 20mg Seroquel. That’s called a knock out punch in medical terms. I swear I two had out of body or psychosis experiences, but with weak nursing staff on duty- you are left to feel belittled.
The next part of the blog has a trigger warning:
Through curiosity, a few days ago I took my razor and placed it on my pulse.
It raced a little.
Almost a pity it was so blunt, I couldn’t get a grip: side to side, up and down, gently- I didn’t want to make a mess.
“What are you doing, my love?” My roommate took the razor and basically saved my life. She kept the weapon with her as I sadly replied “I just wanted to see how it works”
At “Pill” time I confessed to the nurse about my weak attempts at my baby cuts. She went into a panic and demanded the razor. A few hours later, they confiscated the razor (my roommate was great at disappearin when needed).
Two days of healing left me with the urge to write a sad poem and the urge to cut again. This time I had an even more blunt tools: a set of tweezers and a black pen. After taking my nightly tablets from the night staff who annoy me, I decided to cut again.
This time I wanted to see blood or something.
I held the tweezers in position and stab, stab. Nothing!
I tried again. This time I’d stab and drag it really hard.
What the hell is wrong with me?
No blood, just pain. This ‘killing-yourself’ thing is really difficult.
After a few jabs, I gave up . It was too sore. So I took my black pen and drew some cuts
There you go, now you have some cuts, Yvette.
My psych obviously asked me about why I did it.
I told him I didn’t want to die, I was just looking for life in my veins.
——-Depressed Bipolar patient in psychiatric care.