No Peace For The Wicked

This is a blog about depression. If you are easily offended or take offence to my very sarcastic humour, please do not read any further. Mental illness is not a joke; it is not something to point fun at and I fully understand that. BUT…when the going gets tough, sarcasm and humour is my defence and so I will be parading it around all over this blog.


If you need help, please get it. Whilst I hope this has a happy ending, I don’t know yet and given I’ve not been able to fix myself, I really don’t want others using this as a ‘How To Be Happy for Beginners v2.0’



Saturday means a lie in! It also means breakfast in bed courtesy of my M&S haul yesterday. Iced spiced bun sounds like just the thing. I know, I’m being very unhealthy but hey, right now I can’t think about this. I need to put all my energy into getting better.


I want to make the 1100 IPT session so a quick face wash and teeth brush takes place. Now, some of you may have noticed that my teeth didn’t get done yesterday. Yes, I know, I’m as disappointed as you guys. I’d had such a good streak going too. The important victory to cling on to is that I’ve done it this morning though.


1100 IPT is a small group and as mentioned before, this is a mixed group rather than with my usual Group 1 Family. I check in stating I’d like to work on accepting myself with my list of things to fix. Basically, I’d like to like myself warts and all. Me being me, I don’t put myself forward though. We run out of time. I’m ok with it, genuinely. I feel it was still a useful session. A patient mentioned they were having nightmares which was a relief to me. Several others chimed in that they too have had them. The fact everyone here not only empathises but has also experienced the things I am feeling makes me think I’m more ‘Normal’ than I’ve been willing to admit.


Lunch is burger with wedges followed by the crowning glory of the hospital restaurant. Yes, that’s right, the chocolate croissant pudding is back! No custard this time but I try not to let that dampen my mood. I sit down to tuck into this beautiful creation only to be disappointed. It’s not as good as last week’s one! I’m devastated. If there is one thing I’ve learnt from being here, chocolate croissant pudding can right even the worst of days. I’m wondering if I could leave a restaurant critique so it’s remedied before I am discharged?


Back in questionable carpet room and I’m planning to miss expressive therapy – for those not in the know, that’s therapy using puppets! – in favour of some Sudoku and time out. That is, until the ward receives a new patient. A new patient who likes screaming. A new patient that I don’t think I’m going to like very much.


To top off the lack of peace, Nurse M needs to go through my care plan again. This is meant to be done every week except this is only the second time I’ve done it. They run through how you are feeling, what’s improved, what I am still struggling with, check that my hourly obs are still sufficient. Yes, even on week 4, I have hourly obs, 24 hours a day. It’s also possible to go backwards and for the nurses to increase the obs. Thankfully the nurses’ new toy (the flashlight) seems to have lost its novelty, thank goodness! Nurse M makes a comment when she leaves. To most, this comment would be innocent, or even a compliment, but it worries me. The comment was: You are looking so much better. I’ve had this said a couple of times now. Like some of the new patients that I’ve seen, I was apparently also grey when I walked in. So, as you can see, most people won’t think twice about this comment. The reason it worries me is that I still have a battle raging inside my head. I’m still not ‘fixed’. If people think I am ‘fixed’ then maybe they won’t be so understanding? Maybe they won’t offer to help. This is probably the only time when telling someone they look better is not a compliment.


To add icing to the depression cake, I am back worrying about when I am being discharged. I think it’s Tuesday or Thursday depending on how they account for the spa leave. My doctor, who I should probably trust, thinks it’s Friday but worst case it would be Wednesday. I have no control over this. I don’t like being out of control. I’m also fearing I am not ready for the outside world. I know I am rolling onto day care on Monday 13th but that still leaves a lot of hours not at the hospital. I’m afraid. Time to focus back on the Sudoku as a calming mechanism for my worries. I wonder, is there a Sudoku championship I could enter? The rate I am getting through them, I’d back myself to do quite well.


Supper time rolls round and tonight it’s tofu and swede filo wrap and salad. As I’m eating, Patient A2 and Patient C3 walk in. They appear to have made friends, I knew they’d be a good match! This alleviates my guilt about dodging Patient A2. Also, thankfully, she’s occupying Patient C3 who I’ve just realised was absent from our Friday groups.


It’s a Saturday night and I’ve got to try to do something to liven up my evening. I decide to face up to the colouring that went wrong at the beginning of the week. Given how much I dislike things being ‘wrong’, this is going to be a challenge. I start but it stresses me out a bit. Given this is meant to be a de-stress colouring book, I decide to put it back in the place it’s just come from. Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow?


It’s another late night obsessing over Sudoku as a way of avoiding the anxiety about my career, my discharge date, how I’m going to get all this stuff home, if the world is still rotating on its axis and anything else that needs worrying about. No teeth tonight, I simply can’t do it.

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