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About universempty

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    East of Interest
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    Literature, writing, fiction writing/non-fiction writing, truth, creativity, thinking, advocacy for dually diagnosed individuals, research, change, communication, music, dancing, mischief, etc.
  1. What is it you need to be heard about? I know what feeling invisible is like. Especially when you practically throw it in whoever's face that you need to be taken seriously.
  2. I hope you had a fantastic day :)

  3. I had an intense major depressive breakdown two years ago. I was catatonic. I had had some harrowing breakdowns, but none compare to the terror and hell of this one from which I am still recuperating from. I couldn't talk. I couldn't feel. I was a zombie. Somewhere inside me was a ghost that wanted to be set free, it was me: I have not been myself for many years and am still finding my way back. I was also grossly taken advantage of by a terrible person after I came out from the hospital; that is another story and I just mentioned it because it was traumatic at the time that someone could be so awful; I had, unfortunately been taken advantage of and emotionally abused while vulnerable because of my mental illness, but this was just too screwed up for me to handle at the time or to imagine someone could be so ugly or want to feign caring for me just to screw me and screw me over.....I had a part in it as well, my judgement was lacking. Anyway. I could basically just rock back and forth and stare at nothing. I have lapses in memory and between the months March-May, complete weeks, days, moments are wiped out of my memory. I found out I had 11 sessions from my father. I did not know. My Boyfriend of 6 years now was also still with me and it hurt him very much to watch me totally go from being sharp, bright, confident, ME... a junky and then an invalid stranger in a matter of a few years. He is a blessing. He also needs to heal as much as I do and the only thing I can do to make amends is to not do things to myself that are destructive or detrimental to my "getting better." -Anyway...I entered the psych unit. I do not remember. I agreed to the treatment. I vaguely recall some cognition agreeing to treatment in a total desperate plea to overcome this awful, awful hell. I would have agreed to a lobotomy, I am afraid, at this point. I recall being led into a room with several catatonic or comatose individuals, mostly older individuals. I recall being given an IV into which the anesthesia would be injected... I remember a flat tone sounding from behind a curtain out of which coma-like individuals would be returned, mouth hanging open, one of the visuals I have of an elderly woman after treatment, and the sound of the wheels of the stretcher as they rolled back into its place outside the curtain. I recall (this is in fragments, it is how I remember it) being wheeled into the curtained area. I remember them putting an EKG on me and the anesthesiologist saying "ready, count backwards from 10" and a strange taste in my mouth and then a mask of oxygen roaring over my face. By then I was out. I never remember waking or anything other than those few memories I have left. My memory is still compromised. I have just come to terms with it. Losing parts of myself forever is traumatic. I don't care what anyone says. Having Bryan or my family recount something and the awkwardness of having no recollection of somethings that should be vivid and fresh in my memory are gone and I used to feel humiliated as I told them I do not remember. I felt the aura of "well, that is screwy or that figures..." even if they did not think it, I felt it. As I became more lucid, I was terrified of the treatment: I ended it, but was aware I may need more down the line sometime. I also was able to tell the big shot Yale doctors to screw off because they tried to convince me that I had to endure their "out-patient program" for the third time in a row of it obviously having no effect...I told them they made no sense and I refuse. In return, they refused further treatment as a penalty for not doing something that was most likely beneficial to them and idiotic repetition of a dead-horse to me. Luckily, at the time, I was under care of a doctor that knew me and did not F around. I was, and have been, pretty med resistant. He knew this and always treated me to higher doses of meds right off the bat, no beating around. He also had connections at a different hospital in the same city as well, and said Yale had no right to refuse me under such conditions: he could get me the treatment if I needed it. Unfortunately, at that time, I was receiving regular treatment from a public facility running on volunteers: he was the best and only good doc there. I refused further treatment there as a result of too many doc changes and unfair/inadequate treatment. I have a doc now that is good, for once, and knows his profession, but it is $180 out of pocket. Shows how much medicare benefits....not to mention the obvious: the rich are entitled to better treatment. I have been on disability for over 3 years and I get nothing from SSI. I have yet to research my entitlements and have no worker on my case. I was awarded these benefits as a result of my research and raw honesty when under the threat of another breakdown. Life has been strange. I am starting to finally gain some ground mentally. I think the head strong and talented and bright woman is in there....and she wants out at all costs. I have thought about seeking a group of ECT patients and wonder if there is such a thing. It is something I don't really feel should be without understanding from the only ones that can-the ECT patients themselves. There is a lot more to this story, and it can be less disjointed and more carefully elaborate. I just need to get this out finally and be with what I have needed for too long now: a support group, or group of individuals that know this rather complicated bizarre and sometimes painfully isolated dimension in which identity and brain function are compromised...the communication..does anyone know what I am talking about here? And.....to make something else clear...when i mention the care of a good doc in the free public mental health facility, it is a different doc than the pretentious Barsteward's at Yale..this doc I am referring to was my regular care med doc in my town.
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