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Deciding if I should go to ER?


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Sitting in the bathroom at work crying. Total stress.yrying to cinvince myself not to quit my job. Husband seriously ill. Not sure j am capable of managing all this.

 

how many of you regret checking yourself into a psych ward?

Edited by theforest
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18 minutes ago, theforest said:

how many of you regret checking yourself into a psych ward?

I've checked myself in once.

I didn't regret it.....The week I spent in there gave me some down time to relax, away from the stress I was experiencing at the time.

Please don't be ashamed to check yourself in, if you feel you really need to.

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The one time I checked myself in it was because I knew I couldn't keep myself safe. I was having trouble with suicidal thoughts to the point that I wasn't sure if I'd already tried to kill myself or not. I would do it again if I felt unsafe.

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I have never regretted it. If you feel things are out of control and you need to recuperate in a safe supportive environment where they can do a very thorough assessment and planning for your treatment then hospital may be just what you need. A more pleasant way of getting into hospital is to have your psychiatrist admit you. I would only go to the ER if I needed to be admitted immediately due to risk of hurting myself or others (or reputation/finances etc.) because you may need to wait hours, they may want to do a very lengthy assessment as they don't know your history and my experience with hospital access/triage teams is that they tend to be judgemental, arrogant and ignorant. On top of that, there may be a fee for using the ER. I don't know how that works where you are.

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Thank you all for responding.

I took enough Xanax so I didn't care about anything and made it through the work day. My husband goes in for surgery Monday and somehow I have to keep my sh!t together to help him through it. I see a lot more Xanax in my future the next week or so. Then I will make the decision. @mcjimjam thank you for letting me know about the different ways of being admitted. Sounds like I would be better off working with my pdoc.

You all are lifelines. Thanks.

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Just working through this sorry to ramble.

So many reasons I can't go to the hospital. Money - I am the breadwinner and also while I may lucky enough to have insurance it still leaves me with a chunk of change that I don't have right now. There are birthdays coming up and deadlines at work and I feel like I don't have time to be crazy, ever.

It's all turning inward . I am withdrawn, hiding in the bathroom at work sobbing/ panic attack today again. 

I want somebody to care how I am feeling. 

Ok, sorry, end of whining.

 

Edited by theforest
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To answer the question, no. I do not regret my hospital stay at all. 

It was an incredibly valuable lesson at a time when my life was literally at the point of finding the courage to breathe just one more breath. 

The lesson was that I wasn't alone in my suffering or madness. The people there with me were real people sorting through their own real crisis of the moment. 

They weren't random witty names on a computer screen or a jumbled voice on the phone or a face talking on a youtube video or words written in a book.. (I'm not saying people on here are a bunch of advanced robots who have mastered the internet). But..

I could sit in the same room with the other 'guests' of the facility. I could talk to them. I could see their facial expressions to analyze the facts from fiction. I could assess myself within the group to figure out who was who and what was what. I could get an idea of how other people dealt with (or withdrew) things. As cold and detached as it is to say, the hospital environment gave me the foundation of confidence that I needed to build on. Sure, my brain was a mushy bowl of overcooked spaghetti that got trampled by a herd of elephants, but.. I could look around the room and see that although having an illness wasn't a choice, I still had some control over how much the illness would impact me. If I didn't make better decisions in how I took care of myself, I now know the result.

I could listen to the doctors and nurses speak in their hushed tones as they hovered over the control desk. It was all plots and plans almost entirely based on insurance. Money. Not care. Money. Humans were merely blank checks to the hospital directors and prescribing physicians.

For as long as my insurance would buy their kindness and compassion, the staff was great. For as long as my insurance would cover the medications, I was a guinea pig for whatever the cutting edge cocktail of the moment happened to be. For 3 solid years I disappeared further into the fog as I mindlessly followed along to the beat of their drum.

Every single moment of that hospital experience redefined my perspective on my illness and how all of the puzzle pieces fit together. 

It took years after my hospital stay to digest the lesson. It took years beyond that to learn how to incorporate the knowledge gained into transforming my life into what it has become today. 

As a result, I changed everything in my life, flushed the medication, and walked away from the stress that lit the fuse of my illness.. 

It all started the day some random stranger pulled me off a ledge that I didn't even know I was standing on. I woke up the next morning in the hospital. I have been fighting to stay out of it ever since. 

I could very easily wake up tomorrow morning in the hospital. And, although my stubborn pride will be bruised, I'm fine with that. Given the choice, I'd rather learn another lesson than to not wake up ever again.

So, sure.. for those who are in an emergency situation, or for those who haven't had the experience of sitting through group therapy sessions with their crazyboards peers, I am a firm believer in encouraging people to experience what the hospital is all about. 

The mirror plaque on the inside of the therapy room door had the only thing in the hospital I needed.

It said "Recovery is a locked door that separates who YOU are now from who YOU desire to become. YOU are the key."

I had a great therapist. She dismissed us individually from class to ensure that we all had to see our reflection as we walked up to that door and opened it for ourselves. 

Every day that passes, I reach a deeper understanding of how empowering such a simple statement can be. 

 

 

 

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