This is a weird one: the first time I’ve written a blog post knowing full well that multiple professionals involved in my care are now/have been reading my blog! So, to you folks: please make sure that you know that what I write here are all unfiltered thoughts, intended to be put out there with anonymity, so please try not to worry too much about what you read/judge/take things personally – this is my place to ‘brain dump’ all that stuff that whirrs inside non-stop.
Now, to resume normal service.
Today was the day, the day I’d find out the results of THE assessment.
And it’s fair to say that I didn’t cope with the wait: since the last assessment session, I have been in general hospital following some serious self harm and desperate/impulsive acts that could have ended my life. The safety nets that were supposed to be there over those days failed (but this has now been acknowledged and will be investigated), the monster in my brain gained full control, and things spiralled in an awful way.
However, what is also fair to say is that the local team – since I ended up in hospital – have put in a decent plan to support me in coming home and in getting through this weekend: the crisis team manager gave me 3 hours of her time whilst I was in hospital yesterday and has decided to do a long piece of work with me on safety management, she brought along another CPN from her team who has worked well with me to help us with this piece of work, my care coordinators attended part of the meeting to agree these plans, and the crisis team manager has put visits in place with suitable members of their team from me being discharged from general hospital last night until Monday, to support me with the inevitable emotional/mental fallout from whatever answer we were to discover today.
So what was the answer? It was a ‘yes’! Now, having not allowed myself to dare hope that the outcome of the assessment would be positive, I have spent the 3 and a half hours since finding out the news trying to dig some thoughts or feelings from the nothingness. There should be so many thoughts and so many emotions, but all I have is great big blankness; I’m not sure it would be exaggerating to say that, especially within the context of this week, I’m in a bit of shock. There will be thoughts, feelings, fears, hopes, concerns and emotions of all kinds but right now: nothing. Which is scary. Because I know it’s going to hit me like a tonne of bricks when my systems start firing again – and I know that, even though it’s good news, my brain will do its usual sabotaging catastrophising: I just have to remember that the professionals knew this would happen, that they put the specific support in place to help me because I need it, that whatever thoughts/feelings come are ok, that I’m not in this alone any more, and that there is finally hope that I can make progress in the many ways that I need to, with the support and challenges that I need to make it happen.
In the meantime, in the absence of my own thoughts and feelings, I’m touched by the reactions of the professionals involved:
- My care coordinator/support worker gave me a big, much needed hug as we left the meeting
- The crisis team manager sent me a heartfelt text on her day off
- My consultant psychiatrist hugged my care coordinator/support worker when she told her the news
- The CMHT office was apparently full of sharing the news, being happy, and giving my care coordinator/support worker well-deserved praise and congratulations for getting me through this process
(although we both acknowledge that my previous care coordinator, who initiated and fought for this tooth and nail, even since I’ve not been on her caseload, is also in need of massive thanks – without her we wouldn’t be here – so if you’re reading this, S, please know that I am more grateful to you than I could ever begin to express and I wish that I could thank you directly)
Now, to find and cope with my own thoughts and feelings……………..
………………………to be continued.