Do I go? Do I not go? The question has been on my mind. Of course, I really want to be in the hospital. I see it as kind of a sanctuary from real life. In reality, it’s not that. It’s for acutely suicidal people, and we should keep the bed availability for those who really need it. But what if I am in crisis? What if I do really need it? It’s hard to tell these days. I so just want my life to be over with, or easier. One of the two. My mom would see it as a failure if I went. I think my brother wouldn’t judge. My therapist is trying to help keep me out of the hospital. If I wanted to be taken care of, go to a four star hotel and resort and order room service. That would be cheaper too. Cheaper than going into the hospital. The hospital is over $1,000 per night. It’s not about what people think. It’s about what I need. What I need is help.
What I need is a medication change. I’m on Latuda and Lexapro. I’ve been on the same medications for over six months, and for the last few months, I can’t get out of bed on the weekends. Try harder, they say. Why can you get up for work but not for yourself on the weekends? I spent all weekend in bed again. Friday night through Monday morning. It was miserable. I ignored all text messages and phone calls. I declined three social engagements. I could have been out enjoying the weekend. I could have gone for a hike in the wide open air. I could have had coffee at a coffee shop. But instead I stayed in bed and let all of those opportunities pass by me.
I want to spend this holiday weekend in the hospital so work won’t miss me. They won’t even know I was gone. If the hospital discharges me within a few days. I can’t afford to miss work because I don’t want to get fired. My health insurance is with them. I need to keep that. I don’t want to have to find a new job again. That was stressful. I’ll keep the one I have, thank you very much. The job isn’t that hard. Tolerating it is. I don’t like it, but it’s a job and for now it pays my bills. I need to be able to afford to live and to be independent. I don’t know how people manage to live on disability, but I’ve never been on it. My disability got denied and I have to not be working to apply anyway. If I can work, I don’t need it. But, oh, would I like to have a mental break from life and not have to work. Maybe work is part of my healing journey? Maybe through work I find a way to wellness? I feel worse on the weekends when I have nothing to do. I can’t even pick up a book to read. I started reading a book last week, the one from the little library at work, second hand books. But I couldn’t even pick up that while I was wasting away the weekend hibernating in my bed. I just layed there and waited for the hours to pass, wishing they wouldn’t. Wishing life would just stand still forever, and that time wouldn’t progress. Haven’t you ever felt that way? Well, that’s my way of wishing I weren’t alive. But I’m sure you, reader, can relate on some level.
Just writing this helps me to feel a little better. To have it written out on virtual ‘paper’. I still don’t know if I’m going to go inpatient. I’ll discuss that with my therapist tomorrow. I’m so glad to have him. It’s such a normal thing for someone in DBSA to go inpatient. It shouldn’t be normal for me, on my scale of what is ‘normal’. I stopped going to the hospital eleven months ago. Other people can go, but not me. I do need a medication change, and I haven’t gotten in to see a psychiatrist. My Dr. will take cash only, because of the bankruptcy. I could afford to pay cash, and maybe I should, but then what is the point of having health insurance if you’re paying, in addition to the $400 per month in PPO health plan, $150 per visit to the doctor? I’d rather go inpatient at $1,000 a night and not have to deal with any of this stuff. It’s too much for me. A friend is going to call my insurance for me tomorrow, and pretend to be me, and try to get me in to see a doctor. I hope it works.
These are the kinds of things that mental patients such as myself have to deal with. These are the thoughts which transgress my mind and these are the frustrations which surmount my well-being.