A Brief Moment in Time Part Deux

So where was I? Ah yes in the clutches of the NHS mental health team in Poppy ward. Id just been told that I'll be staying of my own choice otherwise Id be sectioned! There wasnt much to do whilst I waited to see the three doctors who would decide my fate. The garden outside (complete with high fence but no guard towers) was so choked in cigarette ends that I couldnt breathe.....it was disgusting! If I wanted to watch TV I would have to watch what the most maddest person wanted to watch. How can you ask for the remote from someone who is actually chewing it? One ray of light shone through...Guy Martins autobiography found amongst the comprehensive unit library of four books!! I almost finished it but he had written it as he speaks and having Guy Martin in my head for 2 days was too much.....I was not surprised to learn he has been diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome. The rest of Saturday and up until about 10 at night I continued my scribblings, frantically trying to record everything I was feeling, everything I had felt, everything that had gone wrong. It was a very long love letter to the girl I had lost because of my illness. I havent read it since I sent it, but I have kept it. To an outsider, or to someone that doesnt know that three days previously I had been trying to choke myself to death it probably reads like the meanderings of a madman. I suppose at the time I was mad. I was in shock. I was trying to come to terms with what I had done to my children and my friends and family and to myself.

Although the ward was terrible, all of the staff were amazing. I couldnt do their job. the abuse they get on a daily basis is appalling. I was introduced to my new companion Vensir and Zopiclone. For the first time in months I slept without waking up for 10 hours straight. It was wonderful. A sleep so deep with no dreams. I went off so quick I didnt even have a chance to keep turning my mind over and over with damaging thoughts.

Sunday was a productive day. I got to see three doctors who listened quite attentively to what I had to say. Once it was clear that I wasnt going to pick up furniture and throw it at them or hold them hostage with a plastic spoon, they were in agreement that the sooner I got out of there the better. Social distancing wasnt happening at all, try telling someone who is rather mad to wear a mask! The rest of the day was spent writing my long letter again, reading Guy Martins book and I got to play badminton with one of the nurses. My wonderful friend K came to see me and bought in some welcomed chocolate and pop! I continued to write. It was almost frantic how I wrote. I needed to get these thoughts from my head, away from me and I also wanted someone else to know how I was feeling, what I had done and why. Monday was much the same, poor food, excellent staff and just getting used to the new drugs.

I finally got out on the Tuesday afternoon about 5 or so and got a taxi back home. I did it on my own. It was a very strange feeling going back to the place where I had nearly died (twice but thats another story!) The cord had been removed from the rafter, the dishes were still in the sink and the whisky glass was still on the table, pillows were still where my head had rested on the sofa. I sat and stared at a blank TV for what seemed like hours. I was getting wave after wave of panic attacks, adrenaline coursing through my body with nowhere to go. My legs were weak my stomach kept turning over and over and it wouldnt stop. It was awful. I thought if there was a hell it would feel exactly like this. That evening I drank again and counted the long hours until I could take my pills that would relieve me of the thought of what I had lost because of my depression, my girlfriend, my close friends, my physical health, my career. I thought of the enormity of what I had done not only to myself but most importantly to my dear wonderful children. Being in Poppy Ward helped stabilize me and took me out of harms way. That was the very easy bit.

Writing this blog is a continuance of that deeply personal letter although this one is for everyone. I hope it comes across to you as the thoughts of a man beginning to understand how depression can destroy everything. How it creeps up on you and the affect it has had on people who have loved me throughout the years.