I awoke to the sounds of a patient singing the Titanic soundtrack at the top of her lungs. I sat up and swung my legs off the bed and put my feet on the floor I paused for just a few seconds. I didn’t know what the time was but I guessed from the general hustle and bustle of the ward it was around 8 or 9am. From observing for the past 3 days, Mornings seemed to be the busiest on the ward; there’s ‘handover’ that’s where night staff and day staff discuss the previous night’s events to give them a heads up. The Jolly Trolly, named so by a patient called Duncan, opens for patients to receive their morning meds. People tended to be a lot more needy in the morning too, as they wanted to get on with their day but were restricted to the ward, so there is a lot of tension and frustration in the air. Staff were constantly trying to appease all 21 patients to avoid people kicking off. I tried to keep a low profile to avoid getting caught in the whirlwind of activity, as I knew it would only irritate me. It’s hard to plan your day in here and let ideas grow organically because a lot of the activities are prescribed and planned for you. It’s a synthetic existence, but for many it’s their reality and their semi permanent lives.
The doctors have a theory about how I managed to get myself admitted to Wedgewood hospital. They believe I have never found a healthy coping mechanism to deal with the issues that have arisen in my life. When I was eleven I started cutting and I did so until I was 14 when work took over, I got my first job working on a market stall every Wednesday before and after school plus I needed to study for my GCSE’s too. Work gave me a rush that the cutting couldn’t, with cuts you could only go deeper but with work you could go higher, it was a sensible trade off. Work gave me a sense of self worth and purpose. I still didn’t feel I had a place in the world, but that didn’t matter because work became my world now. Friends didn’t matter neither did taking time off to relax. I’m in Wedgewood unit to ‘have a rest’ and try and ‘find new, healthier coping mechanisms’ The doctors feel because of the way I am programmed trying to help find new coping mechanisms outside the hospital would be counter productive. I’m still trying to search for what I am coping with All I know is that for my entire life I have been in survival mode, limping through life but recently I’ve been barely crawling by each day. I cant seem to exist in society, I’m uncomfortable with people and basic human activity, for some reason it frightens me and makes me feel ill. I normally manage to survive by using work as a distraction from everything around me, but now not even that is working properly. As I am unable to enjoy the world, or live in the present, I’m always in the future. I am hyper sensitive to everything around me and I cannot switch it off. I’m never content and have constant running commentary taking over my head and censoring everything I do and say. Trying to face up to this feels like part of me is being killed off.