Being that stressed out took a big toll on me and I ended up in Fairfax mental hospital for having a bad schizophrenic episode where I heard a voice tell me that if I didn’t stop being gay, my grandma wouldn’t survive her surgery and for being suicidal and cutting one of my wrists pretty badly. While in Fairfax I made some good friends, but sadly I feel that hurt me at the end of the day because when they all got discharged I was left alone and felt really isolated. I am very grateful for all that Fairfax did for me, I was a total wreck, not sleeping, barely eating, super depressed, and having small schizophrenic “bits” every once in a while. Eventually my doctors there decided I was better and sent me home. I mistook the day my grandma had to go in for tests to decide if she could have the surgery as the day she was having the surgery so the day I got out of Fairfax was the day my grandma had the tests done. Coming home was scary for me, I was having suicidal ideations a lot, but never admitted it because I wanted to be at home so I could spend as much time with my grandma as possible leading up to her surgery. Therapy was very stressful and I often times felt more stressed after getting home than I did before going. I began dropping different groups because I wanted to be home and they weren’t doing anything for me anymore.
I’m going to jump forward a bit because the time leading up to my grandma’s surgery was very stressful.
My grandma had the surgery on March 18th and I was there at the hospital the whole time. There was a small issue with one of her arteries and she had to have an emergency surgery to fix that up. I never got to see her that night, but I did see her the next day and she was doing OK. Her medical team kept assuring us that she was doing great and was recovering well. I ended up back in the hospital, this time Overlake’s mental health hospital for having suicidal ideation’s and for being so exhausted due to stress.
On March 30th, while I was still in the hospital, my grandma passed away. She had decided to come off of life support. The hospital didn’t let me go see her before she passed and I found out about her passing because I had a panic attack and called into the hospital to get an update on her condition. Immediately I was put on suicide watch at the hospital and had someone follow me nonstop and I couldn’t even use the bathroom without having the door open and someone standing right there. After a few days they took me off of suicide watch and let me have some privacy to grieve. I was released a couple days later.
Coming home was the oddest thing for me, I had never felt so alone before in my life as I did. Immediately I was thrown into my worst nightmare and was having to live the “What If’s” I had tried preparing myself for, but truthfully I wasn’t ready for it at all.
I was a pallbearer at my grandma’s funeral and began isolating myself a lot. On the one occasion that I got out of the house to go spend the night with some friends I had a bipolar episode accompanied by suicidal thoughts and I instead of cutting myself like I was planning, decided to take a couple handfuls of pills and tried overdosing. Luckily I didn’t take enough to do any serious harm and I admitted to one of the friends I stayed with what I had done and thought and shortly after he dropped me off at home the police showed up and I was given the choice of either going to the hospital voluntarily or have them take me and be involuntarily checked in. I went on my own and after spending over 24 hours in the hospital I wound up in Fairfax again.
My stay there that time was short, but very helpful. I ended up checking myself out of the hospital because I needed to get home and start planning out what I was going to do next. I could only live in the apartment that my grandma and I shared until the end of April and I needed to get all my stuff packed and also help with packing the rest of the stuff in the apartment. As far as housing went, I only had 3 options. Stay with a longtime friend from gaming and his family down in California, which would have only been a short term fix. Move up to Ontario and stay with a couple that I knew from Facebook who had offered to let me stay with them until I could get back on my feet. Or lastly live in a shelter.
I’m not going to go into detail about why I didn’t have any other options, but I didn’t. Other options would have never worked out or been healthy and I reached out to everyone I could think of that might have the space for me to stay.
After moving out of the apartment I stayed with some friends down in Portland for about a week and a half and did a lot of thinking as far as which housing plan I should go with. My grandpa loaned me some money because the money from my grandma’s inheritance was still being processed or whatever they do with those things and with the money he loaned me I bought a one way ticket to Ontario to stay with my friends up there. I have been here since the 17th and have been doing a lot of thinking and patient waiting for my inheritance and I think what I am going to do is move back down to Washington when I get my inheritance and try to get into low income housing or find a good roommate situation. I’ve been feeling really homesick. Since I won’t have an income I am going to have to get a job. Another reason for me needing to go back to the states is that I have begun running out of my meds which I tried stocking up on before coming up here to Ontario.
Anyone that has been reading this blog will know that my job history hasn’t been a joyful ride. I’ve dealt with a lot of stress when it comes to jobs and have been let go due to BS reasons. I am afraid to fail at a job again, but I really don’t have the room for failure. I have to find one I can do and do it well so I can get some stability back into my life. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, especially with all the change that is about to come, and I could really use everyone’s support and well wishes. This is easily the hardest time in my life and I am trying my best to not let my conditions control me anymore. My therapist said a couple months ago that I would need another 3-4 years of therapy before I could work to the best of my ability, but I guess I am going to have to prove him wrong.
I’ve had a lot of people doubt me in my 26 years of life and I am finally learning how to turn that into fuel for the fire. I don’t want to let anyone down again. I keep thinking about how I should have been there when my grandma passed and I let her down.