Ten Years later... here I am again.

After reading my last post, you now know that I still didn't have medicine to take care of helping me sleep, in light of the PTSD relapse. That one I tried wasn't good for me at all. obviously.
So I was left again without sleeping properly. Or at all. Many nights in a row.

This is a problem. I tried everything... meditation courses in my  headphones, music, stories (audio-books), podcasts, even boring history podcasts to try to get myself distracted and to sleep.

Those didn't usually work. I gotta say I also turned to my box of medicines, taking some of the stronger stuff to try to put myself to sleep. That became my modus operendus. I took more than regular doses, and mixed all kinds of stuff that was probably not supposed to be mixed.

One night, Dec 12th, was a night not unlike recent others. But I lost track of what I had taken to fall asleep. Whatever I had taken, it didn't work, so I took something else. You probably can see where this is going...
At around 3am, I went to use the bathroom, and I didn't feel well at all. I stopped between our bed and the bathroom because I felt I was going to faint. I said out Robert's name (who sleeps very deeply, bless him), and then I went down.

He couldn't wake me, so he called the ambulance. They also couldn't wake me for around 25 minutes. But I did wake up myself. Confused with all the paramedics around me. It was so scary.

I chose not to go with them into the hospital. I felt OK, and hate the hospital. I had taken an accidental overdose, and I just wanted to be in my own bed.

The next day, though, I spoke to my family doctor, and she strongly encouraged me to go to the hospital. I reminded her I have a psychiatry appointment with the head of the PTSD department on Sunday, and she basically said she is worried I may not make it to Sunday at this rate. That convinced me.

I voluntarily checked myself in to the psychiatric hospital, same ward I was in in 2008 for three weeks. It's a place where they can help get my medicine issues straightened out, and help me with my PTSD. They have patience here, I can stay, and I can leave when I feel I'm ready. I can't say I'm happy about it, but I can say I need it. I don't want to need it though.

They've [obviously] changed my sleeping medicines (they weren't working for a long time already), and although the first night here I didn't sleep, the second night I did. And pretty much each night since, I've gotten a pretty good night's sleep. I'm also able to nap afternoons now, which I could never do before. I know it's the medicines, but that's what they are there for. My nervous system is being calmed down, and things are quieter. Shabbat here was very quiet; for the good, but also it made it lonely sometimes.

I think one of the main things that is at the root of all the depression is that I still feel so lost in the world without my music playing, and without my doula work. Don't just say "so start up again, do something about it"... it's not as simple as all that. I'm not in that space anymore, my body (and soul) cannot hold up to that world anymore.

My world is to take care of my children & my husband and household, but I am not doing any of that very well. I feel so empty and unable. One of my children needs direction, needs so much, it's so much pressure on me because I'm not able to give much. So I'm at the hospital, taking time for myself and healing, but the situation at home won't change. My children need me, and in all this time since I had NF, I don't think I've ever given them what they needed from me.And one of them holds it against me. I want so much to help[  him, but he's so angry at me. At the world.

Why can't I pick up and move on? Why do I sink into quicksand the minute I wake up?
I can do so much, be so strong, have so much potential.
But somehow that I don't understand, it got taken away from me. I let it get taken away from me.
I don't understand.
I'm sinking. I'm sick of asking for someone to throw me a rope.