Stripped bare

"Bridging The Gap" acrylic on wood by Kathryn van Roosendaal.
Trying to find stable ground beneath my feet.

Nothing strips you of an masks and illusions like having a total mental breakdown. There are no lies, no privacy, no humble covering left to your damaged psyche.

I had a breakdown. I let the stress build too much and was depending too much on the meds to keep me stable. It didn't work. The worms that thread their way through my brain and eat my memories and thoughts spread down my arms and I ended up on the floor of my bedroom with a pair of scissors chopping my hair off and gouging my arms in an attempt to get them out. This was how my dad found me. They were on the phone with my psychiatrist within minutes and I was in the ER withing 10 minutes.

What followed was a period of total sensory deprivation. I was in Behavioral Med (the new PC term for the mental health ward) for 5 days. The meds blocked all my voices and delusions, which for me wasn't a good thing. I imagine it's good for people new to schizophrenia, but they are so much a part of my life I felt cut off and numb. I couldn't sleep. I was jittery. And I was surrounded by other unstable people, which was putting me even more off balance.

The worst was the lack of privacy. I can understand it, but I hated it. No closed doors; even the restroom had only a partial door. If I was alone in my room they checked on me every 15 minutes. There were interviews and check-ins with the psychiatrist, three different therapists and each charge nurse each and every day.

Many of the other patients had been there multiple times. They felt safe there. I was frantic. My anxiety of doctors and hospitals was in full gear and my vitals were constantly off. At one point my heart rate was around 120. And the food was so different from what I am used to. It is heavy on protein, with makes me sick when I eat too much of it. I couldn't get it through their heads that I couldn't eat dairy so there was always milk or pudding on my tray.

Going home felt like coming out of a sensory deprivation tank. It didn't get better for a while, though. They had changed my meds and I didn't react well to them. I couldn't sleep. I stayed jittery and agitated and couldn't calm down. They gave me sleeping pills but they just made things worse. I was two weeks on the "bad meds" before my regular psychiatrist put me back on my old meds. I am still trying to detox from the hospital meds and I still feel like the ground beneath my feet could collapse at any moment.

I can tell there will be some serious recovery time from this. My regular doctor equated it to being in a car accident and I just need to be gentle with myself and let myself heal and find my balance again. In the meantime he has it set up so that I see him or my therapist every week to make sure I am doing OK.

At the same time, I keep getting calls about bills and debt - this is no doubt what set me off in the first place. My dad has taken over opening my mail and paying my bills, so here I am 42 years old and basically not able to take care of myself. At the same time I'm still getting letters from SS disability needing proof of disability. So I can't take care of myself. I can't even open my mail or answer a phone call without have a total meltdown. I can't leave the house without tranquilizing myself with Xanax and I've had to cancel several events because I'm too freaked out over talking to people and being out in public. But according to the government I should be perfectly able to hold a job. Oh, and the IRS has now put a lien on my earnings for past taxes due. Good luck with that. I would have payed that two years ago if they had granted me unemployment or disability. As it is, they have nothing to put a lien on. Talk about the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing.

And I sit there feeling like my mind has been sunburned and trying not to panic over ... everything ... and hoping I can stay on top of the cliff and not fall back into the abyss.