Trigger Warning – Suicide
Today has been one of my hardest days in hospital and on section. I have spent most of the day in bed under my blue blanket with all my lights switched off, my lunch tray still sitting on the visitor’s chair untouched. I have been unable to see most visitors.
Yesterday’s blog seems written an age ago and the exact thing that seemed to be pushing me along positively yesterday (people, friends, and visitors) have proved too much of a challenge today. It’s not them. It’s me. I have felt physically weak and have had little sense of time all day. Today’s salvation has been my bedroom door. A door that that has remained at best shut unless when staff need to administer drugs or pass the small door window each 10 minutes to mark my name on the clipboard duty.
This afternoon, I saw a doctor briefly, that authorised a hefty Quetiepine increase. Quetiapine, often marketed as Seroquel is an atypical antipsychotic used for the treatment of conditions like schizophrenia, bipolar and major depressive disorder. It seems to work well for me, although I do suffer badly from some side-effects (especially dry mouth and increased appetite.) The doctor also increased my anti-depressant (its name I cannot recall to save my life!)
Days like these feel like they last forever and I’m hopelessly unable of seeing a through line. My space in society and the world seems not only compromised, but taken, gone or snatched. It all feels a bit like a drawn-out, lengthy life sentence that’s doomed to fail – unless I take action, and change things – by ending my own life. We all have a pain threshold, we all know when it feels too much. Today has been one of those days. A day that has seen me clutch at straws and fight great urges to end my life.
Lessons taught by a pigeon
In, other news, there have been two pigeons under a bench located outside my room for the last 4 days. The male has cooed pretty much throughout the 4 days, the female closely by his side. He’s also been bobbing his head up and down. He’s been keeping watch over the female the whole time to ensure (in the opinion of pigeon experts at least) that no other males woo her. It’s almost like he’s driving her to a nest – away from other pigeons by pursuing and pecking.
The female seems hesitant or like she’s playing hard to get, but they’re surely getting closer – day-by-day. In a strange way, I have pigeon envy! Whilst I lie weak in bed I envy the vivacious un-dying spirit of the male cooing pigeon. He doesn’t have an in-house psychiatrist or councillor at Hergest that I know of! But he’s going strong, doing what life and nature taught him to do instinctively. He’s persevering, facing the challenges and insecurities that come along with the task in hand. He knows his efforts with the female could fail, but he also knows that failing is just one possibility and not a sure eventuality.
When I close my eyes at night – I really do wish I could be a bit more like him.