Return Of The Blade

I’ve started cutting again. I had gone nearly 4 months without picking up a razor. I’ve cut a few times and am not getting the release I need. It’s like nothing happened. I’ve been super depressed and nothing is helping. New meds are making it worse. So bad I had to go to the hospital a couple weeks ago. The didn’t admit me but probably would have if they had a bed available. Sometimes I feel like I have made no progress at all since my inpatient experience. 

I have however started seeing a new shrink. Not sure if she is a good fit yet. She did give me yet another diagnosis … bipolar disorder with psychotic features. Every time I see a new provider I get a new diagnosis. Apparently I defy categorization. 


Nearly 2 weeks at the new apartment and I am loving it so far. I’m feeling better than I have in a couple of years. I’ve showered every day, I’ve washed dishes, and have taken the trash out every day, which is a huge accomplishment versus before the hospital stay. It still feels weird to be out. After two months in the homeless shelter and a month in the hospital being able to freely move around feels almost foreign. The other big change is I’m eating three meals a day. The hospital has programmed me to be hungry at specific times every day. That’s a huge change, I was eating once a day for the last couple of years. If this keeps up I will have to get better at meal planning and grocery shopping. Health wise I have been voice free for over a week and have gone more than three months without cutting. I have 40 days clean and really no desire to drink. 

29 Days on a Pysch Unit 

On Tuesday March 17, suffering from horrible auditory hallucinations and suicidal thoughts, I voluntarily admitted myself to a psychiatric unit at Binghamton General Hospital, where I spent the next 29 days. While hospitalized I was also given a new diagnosis; Schizoaffective Disorder, Bipolar Subtype; which is all the fun of Schizophrenia plus all the fun of Bipolar Disorder. They changed me from antidepressants to mood stabilizers, and gave me a different antipsychotic medication. To ensure I was safe they kept me under close watch to be sure that I was able to do well with the new ones. 
In addition to this, the staff at the hospital worked with me to find me a new home. They placed me in a two bedroom apartment, which I will have to myself, just a couple of blocks from my old apartment. Electric, heat, cable and phone are all covered. I will have access to support staff 24 hours a day. This level of care is considered a step in between living in a group home and living independently. They will stop by every day for the first month to make sure I am doing well and am taking my medication properly. They also bought me two weeks of groceries. 
The downside of the apartment is that it is 75 feet away from Friendly’s, which will not be good for the waistline.
While I was in the hospital for far longer than I had anticipated, I have a new diagnosis, a new treatment plan, new medications, a new home, and most of all, new hope for my immediate future and beyond.
My cell phone has been shut off and I won’t be able to pay the bill anytime soon. I will be able to go online if I am near wifi, so I will check in when possible. 


My only niece graduated from college yesterday, and I wasn’t there to see it. 


No one bothered to invite or even tell me that she was graduating. I found out when my brother posted pictures on Facebook. 

I live 72 miles away from my mother, yet I was excluded. I don’t know which hurts more, the thought that I was purposely left out, or the thought that they didn’t even think of me. I don’t have the words to describe how bad I feel right now.