Oh my goodness, I just realised that I received a DD while I was in hospital!
Suicides Learning To SpeakIt’s 6 a.m. A girl is beginning the journey back from Oz, anchored to life by the whirr and beep of machines and tubes. Above her emaciated body, nurses pace, write on clipboards, click their heels and purse their lips. She is oblivious. Her mind drifts in freefall, stuck in an eggshell skull wrapped in nasal gastric tubing and an oxygen pipe forced down her throat like a synthetic umbilical cord. Somewhere, neurotransmitters are sewing themselves back into conscious awareness. There is a person lost somewhere in that body. There is a mind overboard in a black sea, sending up a flare. The nurses are afraid that she will stay in there forever. A family jostles at the side of the bed in the cramped, generic hospital room. All the King’s horses and all the King’s men… I don’t need ruby shoes to find my way home. My name is Ruby, the nurses click their heels and my family makes the wish.
I’m finding my way back to consciousness through the sound
Thank you so much, I wish that I had seen and known it then. Wow. This means a lot.
I'm out of hospital! I was finally discharged on Friday, and I'm back home. Uni starts again next week. I feel a bit shaky thinking about it, but I know it'll be fine. I have to be. I have to finish my thesis.
My time for data collection for my thesis is almost over. I still need as many participants as possible! I would love you to complete the survey! It's very brief, and will contribute to a very under researched area, where data is much needed. All participants are welcome www.surveymonkey.com/s/bodyima…
Just an update: I'm still in hopsital, and doing much better. There are so many beautiful people here. I have day leave again today, and I'm meeting up with my supervisor at uni! I'm nervous and excited. I had the most beautiful day yesterday. I went out with my father, and did a recording with him on two of his new children's songs (he's a children's musician). It was a day filled with music. Then we went and had lunch, and stumbled across an antique shop. I saw the most beautiful little glass bottle (I used to collect antique bottles) with a clear glass heart surrounded by frosted glass roses. I loved it so much, so my Dad bought it for me
I adore it, and it's sitting in my hospital room. Everytime I look at it I want to cry. It makes me think of childhood and innocence and it was the loveliest day with my Dad. And the day before, my Mum spent hours with me and had really hard conversations with me; trying really hard to ask me what my illness is like and to understand, and it was so so good of her, and I was thankful
Then, yesterday in group therapy, we had a really lovely meeting that was beyond moving. The theme was gratefulness. The other group members made it a very hopeful session. I had a really bad night for some reason, and felt really suicidal (bipolar/schizoaffective pendulum swing I guess; I'd been manic the day before, so here comes the following low). I asked for my favourite psychiatric nurse who's incredibly intuitive. His name's Andrew. In all of my hospitalisations, I've never come across anyone as special as he is in terms of empathy and intuition. All of the nurses and other patients/consumers acknowledge how amazing he is. But he wasn't on shift. But another nurse who I hadn't had before (whose name I can't for the life of me remember because I was so out of it) came and talked to me for hours and made things easier too.
So I'll be meeting up with my supervisor in an hour and a half, and he's awesome, and I'm hoping to be out of hospital in another week and a half if they'll let me. I've met so many amazingly inspiring people as I usually do whichever hospital I'm in. I hope I'll make it through honours year.
I've been writing a little bit of poetry too, which has been helping a lot. Feeling better. I wish I had more internet access to look at art and read dA! I miss you all
I've been admitted to hospital again. I don't really have internet here - the nurse just let me borrow the computer today. They want to change my diagnosis from Bipolar I with psychotic features to schizoaffective disorder or bipolar and schizophrenia. It's really just arguing semantics in my opinion, but there's a lot of pressure from the psychiatrists to put me back on previous medications I've been on with heavy side effects like clozapine and lithium, and I keep refusing. Everything's chaotic and scary and strange and I hate the pressure. I feel like I'm ruining my thesis by being here and a failure because I've been unravelling for weeks by not coping for the stress of uni and my illness just getting progressively worse until I ended up in crisis again and got pushed into hospital.
It's so hard to think of her and the girls. I can't do this.
My supervisor emailed me today telling me not to worry about deadlines and exams and to just get better and rest in hospital. I feel so many things. I feel like a failure.
I'm not very active
these days, due to overwhelming uni work. But I do still stop by and check out everyone's beautiful artwork. I'm not writing as much, except for my thesis. But I'm taking a lot of photos. I'll upload some when I have the time.
Two days ago I received some absolutely heartbreaking news. One of my beautiful friends has passed away. Those of us who knew her; a group of friends from all over, were like a little family, and we have lost a sister. We're stuggling to work through our feelings and grieve together, and support one another. We'll love and remember her always. This is just so, so hard. Especially for one of my dear friends who was the closest person to her in the world, who is suffering beyond belief.
I hope everyone is well. Life is precious. Never stop to appreciate the beautiful people you have in your life. You never know when something could take them from you
So much love. Thank you for sharing
your beautiful thoughts and art; personal and naked and reminding us all that we're not alone, we're all human, all full of creativity, and potential, and can inspire.
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