I didn’t sleep a wink last night, but I’m still feeling pretty fantastic!
I got into bed at 2am, lay there for a couple of hours messing with my phone (I know, I know, poor sleep hygiene) looked at the clock and suddenly it’s 5am! No point in going to bed when you have to be up and out in three hours, so I watched the hollyoaks omnibus on e4 instead.
Caught the bus to the hospital, made it just in time for my ward round.
“What do you think we should do now?” asks my psychiatrist.
Obviously I asked him to discharge me, and he seemed happy to do so.
He said that today is the best he’s ever seen me, thanks to the haloperidol.
And I have to agree.
When I was first admitted to hospital I was a mess.
Cut and charred and scarred.
Hallucinations, delusions, a burning (heh) desire to set myself on fire.
‘Acute psychosis’ they called it.
It’s scary to think about the place I was in; The damage I could have done.
I almost set my house on fire.
I almost set myself on fire.
I was minutes away from handing myself in to the police for murders I was sure I had committed.
I believed everything my brain told me, including that.
I still have off days, or off hours, but it’s manageable now.
As long as I take my medicine.
I am so unbelievably happy that I have my life back.
I’m going to do some voluntary work on Friday. I’m going to start to live again.
Well, live between appointments that is.
Crisis team every day, Early Intervention team tomorrow and possibly thursday.
It’s okay though, at least I’m not at the clozapine clinic two days a week as well!
I waved goodbye to the hospital. I said my goodbyes and thankyous to the staff.
I even got a hug from my favourite nurse, although I’m sure he must have broken some rule or guideline somewhere.
But who cares?!
I stepped out of those doors and promised myself I would never return.
I really hope I can keep this up.
