11.9.16

Hospitalización/the beginning of the end /// stream of consciousness

It was too much to have that much detailed information about my hospitalization floating out into the world, so I removed it. I'm trying to find the right balance between being more open and being so open that I want to shrivel up and die. Really, any sort of openness on my part makes me want to shrivel up and die. It's astounding to me that anyone would 1. Actually give me the time of day to hear me out, and 2. Even be interested in anything I say. More often than not, no one gives a shit what I have to say, they just care about how I look and that's where it ends. no one cares. no one cares. no one cares. That's been my internal motto for as long as I can remember. Alright. Here it goes. On October 1, 2010 I was hospitalized. I was fifteen. I spent about a week in the adolescent ward at the behavioral health center. It was a long process of going from hospital to hospital to get me in there. It wasnt a pleasant experience. I remember having to take some kind of test. Booklet, fill in the bubble style of test. I hate those sort, my answers aren't ever on there or I have too many questions about the answers or I can see more than one answer being correct in different scenarios. As you can imagine, I was a terrible test taker in school. I'm assuming the man who had given me the test was a therapist/psychiatrist/doctor of some sort. I only ever saw him when he gave me the test and then when he told me the results. At least I don't recall seeing him again while I was there. He told me according to my answers, it was very likely I had schizophrenia. He asked me if I knew what that was. I said not really. I might have heard the word before. That was the only mention of schizophrenia for the remainder of my stay. All the other therapists, psychiatrists, and nurses said i was experiencing psychosis. That's what they told my parents also. It's psychosis. To be honest I feel that doctors don't really want to give that heavy of a diagnosis to kids. Which is understandable. Throughout the years, I've come to sense that when doctors talk of psychosis, there's some sort of optimism that it will go away. Kind of like a cold. Oh it's just psychosis. It's a way to evade an immediate diagnosis. Being at the hospital wasn't very helpful. I have a stupidly difficult time opening up to people or even just trusting people. Also I was so paranoid that I didn't even talk about my paranoia with the doctors. If I had I probably would have been given a diagnosis straight away. And also would have been there much longer. While, I was there I was put on my first antipsychotic. I believe it was abilify. Or was it geodon? I had no idea that I was in for a long road of various medications for the next couple of years. I'll talk more about that some other time.

Now I don't want anyone to think that I was so wildly off the walls crazy that it resulted in my being hospitalized. It wasn't really like that. I was incredibly withdrawn. Spent my time alone. Never spoke.  My parents say they knew something was wrong, they just never realized how wrong things were. The reason for my hospitalization was because I had asked for help. For whatever reason, I had a small moment of clarity and I realized something wasn't right. For a brief moment I realized that no one else around me heard voices and I had told my sister about the ones I heard. I was fucking terrified and very confused.