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Friday morning.
Posted April 11th 2013 at 09:55 PM by i_like_black
Well, I better add in some OTHER stuff from the rest of the week that's not so depressing.
So today is Leisa's birthday. I spent most of Monday planning a drawing, and most of Tuesday completing said drawing. I wanted to give her something nice, because she does so much for me. So I drew a picture and coloured it pretty, and paper-clipped a little happy birthday note to the back. I gave it to her yesterday. (She's off work today because they get a paid day off on their birthdays.) She likes it, and she later on thanked me for the note. I was glad.
On Wednesday I went to visit GymCity, to see everybody that I haven't seen for such a long time. It's like I said to Scotty, maybe it's not my place any more, but the people I love are there. The boys squad is down to three members - Cameron, Sean, and Ethan. Which is kind of sad, but at least with Cameron and Sean now coaching there's a lot of potential to build that squad again.
It was so nice to see Rowena and Scotty. I've missed them so bad. We chatted for ages. And then I went and got my groceries and went home, and found out that I accidentally missed the med run on Wednesday night. Whoops.
Thursday morning was art group. Sam was waiting outside in the van because she was on the way to take Cheeky to the vet's for a check up, so I saw Sam, which was cool. I always like to see Sam, I guess she's one of my best friends these days. We chatted briefly, but Sam had some serious stuff to discuss with Leisa and I don't think she wanted me to hear so I didn't walk too close to them.
And today is Friday.
Wednesday morning felt really hectic. Actually, most of Wednesday felt really hectic. I feel so bad for Leisa, she said she spent the whole day trying not to vomit, as she's really not good with blood and open wounds, and initially when I showed her she felt really faint. Poor Leisa. At one point she called me "my little oddball", which was funny but kind of nice too. It's so long since someone has used a possessive term of speech like that, and I decided pretty quickly that I like it when somebody else refers to me in a way that makes it sound like I'm theirs.
At the end of the day she finally gave me the tongue-lashing I knew had been coming. I'm so glad she waited though, and I know she knew that it needed to wait until the stitches and so forth had been dealt with, but had it been any sooner I probably would have broken down. It was mostly about choices, and how instead of choosing to take the quetiapine or whatever I chose to cut, and then it got out of control. So basically what she said consisted of take the fucking quetiapine, at least for the next week, possibly longer, until the lithium kicks in, and eat properly due to the antibiotics, and if anything starts to feel funny, communicate it. But I was okay with her mild angriness (is that even a word?) because it could have been way worse, and at least she wasn't telling me I was stupid or anything like that.
Then on Thursday she asks the most unexpected question of all, which was, "How is your arm?" It's not too bad, actually, it feels stiff and achey if I bend and unbend it too fast, but it doesn't sting or anything. It felt weird to be asked though, because normally for self-harm, the people that have known about it before, they pretend it hasn't happened, and if I talk about it hurting I get the "well it was your own stupid fault" speech. Whereas with Leisa . . . I don't get that.
It's almost like having someone who will continue to care about my wellbeing and how I feel regardless of the choices I make.
It's so weird.
It's so damn nice.
Reasons why I love my community support worker.
And this morning I got my dressing changed, apparently because my skin is sensitive (I'm allergic to the sticky stuff on dressings, after a day or two it makes me itch like nobody's business) I'll need to have the dressing changed again on Monday. The nurse said it's healing well, it's nice and clean, no sign of infection. All of that is good.
I remember, when I was talking to the doctor on Wednesday, he asked what I considered a very strange question, directed at Leisa, which was, "How did she get something this sharp?". We had to explain that I live in the community. I have mental health input, but I'm not in supported accommodation or anything like that. I think the doctor was a bit surprised. I guess there aren't many adult self-harmers that come through . . . needing stitches.
I have Randal's 21st on Saturday night. I'll be continuing to take the quetiapine in the afternoons because I have really bad urges to SH at the moment, and most of me doesn't really want to have to go and get MORE stitches. The unwell part of me DOES want that. If not for the 21st, I would ask to be in respite. If the urges are still really bad come Monday, well, I'll see what Debbie and Leisa say.
Stay awesome, lovelies.
So today is Leisa's birthday. I spent most of Monday planning a drawing, and most of Tuesday completing said drawing. I wanted to give her something nice, because she does so much for me. So I drew a picture and coloured it pretty, and paper-clipped a little happy birthday note to the back. I gave it to her yesterday. (She's off work today because they get a paid day off on their birthdays.) She likes it, and she later on thanked me for the note. I was glad.
On Wednesday I went to visit GymCity, to see everybody that I haven't seen for such a long time. It's like I said to Scotty, maybe it's not my place any more, but the people I love are there. The boys squad is down to three members - Cameron, Sean, and Ethan. Which is kind of sad, but at least with Cameron and Sean now coaching there's a lot of potential to build that squad again.
It was so nice to see Rowena and Scotty. I've missed them so bad. We chatted for ages. And then I went and got my groceries and went home, and found out that I accidentally missed the med run on Wednesday night. Whoops.
Thursday morning was art group. Sam was waiting outside in the van because she was on the way to take Cheeky to the vet's for a check up, so I saw Sam, which was cool. I always like to see Sam, I guess she's one of my best friends these days. We chatted briefly, but Sam had some serious stuff to discuss with Leisa and I don't think she wanted me to hear so I didn't walk too close to them.
And today is Friday.
Wednesday morning felt really hectic. Actually, most of Wednesday felt really hectic. I feel so bad for Leisa, she said she spent the whole day trying not to vomit, as she's really not good with blood and open wounds, and initially when I showed her she felt really faint. Poor Leisa. At one point she called me "my little oddball", which was funny but kind of nice too. It's so long since someone has used a possessive term of speech like that, and I decided pretty quickly that I like it when somebody else refers to me in a way that makes it sound like I'm theirs.
At the end of the day she finally gave me the tongue-lashing I knew had been coming. I'm so glad she waited though, and I know she knew that it needed to wait until the stitches and so forth had been dealt with, but had it been any sooner I probably would have broken down. It was mostly about choices, and how instead of choosing to take the quetiapine or whatever I chose to cut, and then it got out of control. So basically what she said consisted of take the fucking quetiapine, at least for the next week, possibly longer, until the lithium kicks in, and eat properly due to the antibiotics, and if anything starts to feel funny, communicate it. But I was okay with her mild angriness (is that even a word?) because it could have been way worse, and at least she wasn't telling me I was stupid or anything like that.
Then on Thursday she asks the most unexpected question of all, which was, "How is your arm?" It's not too bad, actually, it feels stiff and achey if I bend and unbend it too fast, but it doesn't sting or anything. It felt weird to be asked though, because normally for self-harm, the people that have known about it before, they pretend it hasn't happened, and if I talk about it hurting I get the "well it was your own stupid fault" speech. Whereas with Leisa . . . I don't get that.
It's almost like having someone who will continue to care about my wellbeing and how I feel regardless of the choices I make.
It's so weird.
It's so damn nice.
Reasons why I love my community support worker.
And this morning I got my dressing changed, apparently because my skin is sensitive (I'm allergic to the sticky stuff on dressings, after a day or two it makes me itch like nobody's business) I'll need to have the dressing changed again on Monday. The nurse said it's healing well, it's nice and clean, no sign of infection. All of that is good.
I remember, when I was talking to the doctor on Wednesday, he asked what I considered a very strange question, directed at Leisa, which was, "How did she get something this sharp?". We had to explain that I live in the community. I have mental health input, but I'm not in supported accommodation or anything like that. I think the doctor was a bit surprised. I guess there aren't many adult self-harmers that come through . . . needing stitches.
I have Randal's 21st on Saturday night. I'll be continuing to take the quetiapine in the afternoons because I have really bad urges to SH at the moment, and most of me doesn't really want to have to go and get MORE stitches. The unwell part of me DOES want that. If not for the 21st, I would ask to be in respite. If the urges are still really bad come Monday, well, I'll see what Debbie and Leisa say.
Stay awesome, lovelies.
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