I’ve been having a really awful time lately. The past 6 months in general have been very hard, but I’ve declined rather rapidly over the past four weeks or so. This week I have had a lot of suicidal thoughts and urges. I’ve gotten closer to seriously hurting myself than ever before, I think. I have been cutting myself frequently. I’ve been crying a lot and not eating, which is unusual because usually I’m an emotional eater. I haven’t been able to go to work. That’s a baaaad sign because I love my job and am out of paid time off so I’m not able to miss unless it’s a crisis.
I almost went to the emergency room Tuesday morning. Monday night I’d fallen asleep fighting suicidal urges and dreamed about hurting myself. Tuesday I woke up with my heart pounding, feeling completely out of control. I couldn’t grasp on to the feeling that my suicide would hurt anyone else, that I had reasons to live, that there might be something good in the future. I was terrified. I had a razor blade next to the bed, and I cut my arm and leg several times. That helped ground me a tiny bit and I got up and went to find my boyfriend. I stood in the doorway of his home office, shaking and dripping blood on the tile and said, “I think I need to go to the hospital.”
He cleaned my cuts and told me repeatedly that it would be okay. Then he asked if I would rather go to the hospital or take a xanax and have him stay with me every second. I chose the second option, and he called out of work to take care of me.
He suggested the xanax and staying home thing because of a conversation we’d had the night before. I’d told him that I wanted to avoid the emergency room at all costs. There are several reasons for this.
One, even with insurance the emergency room is quite expensive in the United States. Two, the process of going to the emergency room for suicidal thoughts/urges is a miserable one. I’m not sure if it’s like this everywhere, but at the two hospitals I’ve been to it’s consisted of hours of waiting in a room alone. They take away any possessions you have with you, so you can’t read, use your phone, etc. No one was allowed to accompany me, even the person who brought me, and no one could visit. They asked if I wanted something to help me relax and brought it to me twelve hours later when I was being discharged. It’s not a comforting process. It keeps a person safe if they are absolutely out of control and it’s necessary sometimes. But it’s never made me feel better.
Three, if I am going to receive inpatient or intensive outpatient treatment, I know where I want to go. I’ve been there before and the insurance coverage is excellent. They can do assessments by appointment without a person going through the emergency room. So I knew if I could keep it together a little longer I could avoid the emergency room nonsense.
Also when I’m doing badly I want to be with my cats and my transitional objects and my stuff. I want to avoid inpatient hospitalization as long as possible. I don’t necessarily condone that behavior in other people because hospitalization might be completely called for. But its the choice I made for myself.
Tomorrow I have an assessment at the hospital I’ve been to before. I’d prefer to do the partial hospitalization program again but am preparing myself for the possibility of inpatient. I have been inpatient at a state hospital three times and it was so horrible each time that I’m afraid of ever experiencing inpatient again even though I know this place would be much better.