What Happened Next

The Ephalant In The Room – A Real Talking Point

So.. What happened next..?

Well, it turns out I was right. A stay at Drayton Park was indeed on the horizon. A long stay. Four weeks, to be precise. It was a difficult stay, but, then again, by its very nature going to a crisis house is never going to be all that easy. I struggled hugely with life and death, or perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that I struggled with life to such a degree that death seemed a better option? Also, in the midst of a all that I developed shingles, which is of course exactly what you need when you’re at a stage where death seems a better option. Let me tell you, the pain is excruciating; I should know, this was my fourth ride on the shingles merry-go-round.. And, because things are never straight forward, the antiviral meds I was given this time to help with the shingles made me violently sick and ended in an ambulance ride to the hospital, being on a drip for 12 hours, to rehydrate me. Also, there was strong suspicion that I had suffered a mini-stroke [a TIA], as both a friend of mine and staff at Drayton Park had observed my speech being intermittently slurred in the two days prior to my becoming ill from the antivirals, something which couldn’t be attributed either to the shingles or the medication. So, you can see what I mean when I say that this was a particularly difficult stay. – There was also a racist incident which had a big effect on my stay, but I don’t really want to go over that right now, because it will only upset me, and for the time being, any upset I can spare myself is good.

 

There Is Often Much Going On Beneath That Which Seems Crazy And Fantastical On The Surface

 

The life-and-death dance aside, when I was offered a place at Drayton Park, I made a conscious decision to try to actively balance out the destructive impulses with creativity, so, as always seems to be the case when I am at Drayton, out came the paints and canvases, and I spent many many hours doing art. Particularly when I felt overwhelmed by urges to step over the edge into nothingness. The fruit of my labour is dotted throughout this text..

Child And Giraffe

 

Four weeks later I was discharged from Drayton Park, except it was a discharge back into the care of the Crisis Resolution Team, whom I have now been with for almost three weeks.

Crisis houses, even the ones that are as therapeutic as Drayton Park, aren’t magic cures for all emotional ills; some wounds are too deep, bleed too heavily to be stopped even by a four week super absorbent bandage.. But, they do a lot to help stem the flow. And the referral back to the Crisis Team was another step to try to further slow the bleeding.

IMG_3549

Three Ephalants And A Tree

Also, thankfully, P. is now back where she belongs; in her chair opposite me. [Although, owing to the High Holy Days sessions have been swapped around a fair deal. – The great thing about having a Jewish therapist is that you don’t have to cancel sessions over this period, as they will most likely already have arranged to be on leave on those days. That is if you yourself are Jewish. If you’re not, I imagine that it would seem like a series of extremely random short leaves every year as we go into autumn..].

But, I digress.. Where was I? Oh yes.. P. is back. And, man, does that feel good. As difficult as things still are [I’m not with the Crisis Team for the fun of it], it is incredibly helpful to have her to talk to. And email. And text. [I’ve come a loooong way from the days of seeing A. and only emailing in extreme emergencies]. In these last few months, P. – and also K., my social worker from shul – have been absolutely amazing. I mean, they were of course amazing even before this, but these last few months, by golly they’ve done some mammoth work with me.

 

Polar Opposites – When Olaf Met Elof

 

Things are still very very difficult, but with the amazing support of P., K. and the Crisis Team, I am doing the best I can to make it through each day. I would be a liar [and those who know me, know of my acute allergy towards being just that] if I said that I am not still sitting on the very edge of life, with one foot dangling over it.

But, whatever happens next, no one can say that I haven’t done my very best.

xx

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12 responses

  1. Trying to keep yourself alive is more than ‘trying hard’. It’s relentless and often seems intolerable, and I am sure nobody hears your struggle as complaining – just the beautifully eloquent writing of someone who is trying to do something intensely difficult x

  2. Hello Lazy Me,
    Breaks can be so difficult to deal with, can’t they? I completely understand that the upcoming break makes you nervous and anxious. Have you been able to talk to your therapist about your feelings about them going away? I’m challenging myself to do just that [and it really IS a challenge!] and it has been quite helpful to explore the feelings and where they stem from. We’ve also talked a bit about what to do to make it a little less difficult. For example P. is lending me something of hers while she is away, and I too am lending her something of mine – since one of my fears is that she might forget all about me. Also, I can write her letters while she is away and that has been a really good help in the past. Maybe something to consider..?

    Take good care of your Self,
    xx

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