Non-PG13 (Strong Language): I have had the shittiest week.

[i_like_black]

Starting last Thursday! I had been taking Citalopram 20mg, and was starting to feel good again, which was great, because being depressed sucks the root.

I decided I wanted to get away from home for a little bit so I decided to do an overnight road-trip from my home in Auckland to Taupo (and lake Taupo.). So I went for the wickedest drive - I have a 1999 Mitsubishi Legnum GDi, 1.6L (not turboed, sorry guys.) - and pushed it. Because I was out on what used to be the open road I had the chance to speed test without being busted by the police. Needless to say I comfortably got my car up to 180km/h (that's around 110m/h for you non-metric people) and may have reached speeds of up to 200km/h (125m/h). My revs peaked at 4500 and the car was nowhere near red-lining, but I can't specify speeds beyond 180km/h because that's the highest my speedometer actually measures. Anyway it was an 8 hour round trip with a 2 hour sleep in Taupo - it was nice and peaceful next to the lake.

So I get home on Friday and have me a nap then e-mail my psychologist, wondering if I should be worried about the effects of the Citalopram.

And this is where it starts to get bad.
She asked me questions about all sorts of stuff and I was honest with her, and she went to talk to one of the psychiatrists on the team then called me back. First, she said, I was to stop taking the Citalopram, and second, they recommended that I didn't drive again until I had seen my regular psychiatrist.

Obviously I was not all gravy with that idea. For a little bit on Friday night I was thinking along the same lines as the mental health team and I decided I'd leave my car at my mate Aaron's place. But the a few hours later I felt like driving. So I persuaded him to give back my keys and after a bit he did. So I drove to just outside of Tokoroa, had a nap parked just off SH1, then drove home again. On Sunday all I did was go to church then go home, I was pretty tired.

Monday morning I saw my O.T., Jaz. Was all gravy, we planned that I would work on both Tuesday and Wednesday because that would be enough work that I would feel good about it and it would give me a decent chunk of cash. On Monday I didn't feel like I was standing on solid ground but I didn't know who to tell. I wanted to tell my psychologist but she had the day off because it's school holidays at the moment and she has kids.

Monday night. Not entirely sure about this, I only remember what happened, not why, or any of my reasoning. I know I had a kitchen knife in the driver's door pocket but I don't know what I had planned to do with it and I know that I wanted to drive but I knew I was low on petrol, so I didn't really want to drive outside Auckland. Hence speeding on a motorway. The legal maximum speed on New Zealand motorways is 100km/h (62m/h) and I was probably travelling between 140 and 160km/h. I got pulled over between Papakura and Pukekohe and the cop was seriously considering impounding my car and taking my license because I didn't want to talk to her and we have laws here regarding people who race cars on public roads. Luckily for me though, she was called urgently to another job and had to let me go. She said she'd called another couple of units that would try and catch up with me regarding my speed - they never did.

I got off the motorway at the Ramarama offramp, went for a brief drive down a random country road, turned around and got back on the motorway. My car was severely lacking petrol by this point, it was doing this coughing thing that cars which are about to die do. So I pulled over onto the hard shoulder and stopped my car.

And then I had what felt like a fantastic idea at the time: instead of just stopping on the hard shoulder, I could be stopped in the fast lane! So I started my car and moved it to the fast lane.
Didn't get hit. Got honked at. About 15 minutes later the police turned up. I didn't really want to talk to them so I didn't say anything and I didn't feel like moving so I didn't move. Then they decided they needed to handcuff me to bring me into custody, and I don't like handcuffs. So I fought. And they were not very happy about that. Eventually they got me cuffed (which is balls) and then I had to sit in their car. I was taken to Manukau to be processed so on so forth etcetera. I had to talk to crisis team pyschiatrists before I was released on bail. And then finally I got to go home.

I thought it'd be all good, you know? So I rang my key worker to ask if he could help me because I needed to get the petrol can out of my car and I didn't really want my Mum asking questions about how my car ended up being parked on the side of the motorway. Turns on that was a bad idea. The crisis team fuckers had told my regular team all about Monday night. So although he was very helpful with regards to helping me get my stuff on Tuesday morning, it didn't last.

Tuesday evening I was half way through doing a partner set at weights when my phone rang. I answered it because I'm polite like that, and it was my keyworker, informing me that my appointment with my regular psychiatrist had been moved from next Tuesday morning (25th) to 11am the very next day, Wednesday. He asked if I was ok with that and I said sure, because I thought it was just going to be a regular appointment. Then he asked me to give him my word that I wouldn't drive between the phone call and seeing the doctor, and I said no. I LIKE driving. I got really frustrated so I hung up and walked home. My Mum refused to help me get my car on Tuesday night because the team had told her what was going on, so it had to spend an extra night on the hard shoulder of the motorway. I didn't want that to happen so I started walking towards my car. A friendly police officer who kindly did not fine me for pedestrian on a motorway gave me a ride to my car so I could get to it safely. It wouldn't start. So I pushed it. I probably got it about 500 metres before the road was too much uphill for me to push AND steer at the same time. If I'd had someone with me to steer my car I would have been able to push it all the way. The weather was pretty shocking, and by the time I realised I wasn't able to push my car any further I was feeling thoroughly morose. That is, until a friendly family saw me walking in the rain and took pity on me, offering to drive me home. That was so cool, it's the nicest thing a stranger has done for me in a long time. So then I went home.

Wednesday. Got up in the morning to get ready for my appointment with my psychiatrist. Had to get up earlier than normal because I had to catch the bus, because obviously my car wasn't working at that stage. Got to my appointment early and was forced to have a very uncomfortable conversation with my keyworker first.

The psychiatrist had a long conversation with me, and then said something that scared me very much: she said she wanted me to go into either hospital or respite care in order to start a new medication and be monitored. There was no go home option. She said if I didn't go willingly she would invoke the mental health act 1992 and I would be forced to go. I didn't want to go. So I waited til they weren't looking and gapped it the fuck out of there. I knew they'd go looking for me at home so I went to gym and did some planning like I was supposed to, then I went home much later. The mental health team tried to call me a few times and I didn't answer. By the time I got home around 7pm I assumed I was all good and that they wouldn't come for me at night.

WRONG.
Next thing I know, there's police knocking at my door.
So I got taken into police custody and then transferred to hospital for an assessment. And unfortunately for me, the lady I spoke to feels like I do need to be treated under the act, which means I don't get a choice about treatment.
I went to court today and received 2 good behaviour bonds in relation to the altercation I had with the popo, probably the best I could hope for.

For the next 5 days, someone is going to WATCH me while I take Olanzapine, to make sure I don't cheat and not take it.
I had to hand over my car keys. They said if I didn't, they would revoke my license, and then I'd have to start right back at a learner's permit.
The Olanzapine they gave me tonight was a thing that dissolves on your tongue. It tasted like balls coated in savlon.

On the bright side, I get to be in my own home. But they've made everything else so very shit that I don't even know if it was worth fighting for the right to come home.
I feel like they're taking away all my good stuff for no reason. I feel threatened. I don't like having decisions made for me.

Please respond. Anything.

[LeapOfFayth]

It sounds like they think you have either bipolar disorder or think you're having a manic episode due to a reaction to your medication. It probably doesn't seem like something is wrong but there is and such is life.

It sucks, I know. I've been doing that over and over since I was 17.

[Thirteen]

Jess (i_like_black) has mentioned having Bipolar Disorder before, and I agree with Rick. They either felt that you were having Manic episode, or a Mixed episode (the knife in the car, possibly?).

Citalopram is an SSRI anti-depressant, which can usually trigger episodes (particular Manic) in cases of Bipolar Disorder, so Rick is probably right to assume they're switching meds and monitoring you to make sure this one works out better for you.

[i_like_black]

It's still dumb. They're treating me under the Mental Health Act 1992, which means for the next two weeks (it says 14 days on the bit of paper they gave me), I have no choice but to co-operate, because if I don't, they'll hospitalise me against my will.

Thankfully they need a court order to treat me beyond 14 days so hopefully they'll lay off by then. I'm just so over it, I feel fine, but they're taking away all my good stuff, and making me feel like I'm inadequate.

I'm sure that I have a right to refuse treatment - absolutely positive - yet they said if I did refuse they'd hospitalise me, so how massively unfair is that? This sucks the root.

[Thirteen]

It's only because of the fact that Manic episodes can be dangerous. Maybe if you were put on the anti-depressant, and a mood stabilizer? Either way, they need to keep an eye on you to make sure you're safe, for your own good.

[i_like_black]

Originally Posted by Thirteen

Either way, they need to keep an eye on you to make sure you're safe, for your own good.

I. Am. So. Over. Hearing. That.
I'm incredibly high functioning, I think that the best judge of what's best for me is myself. I don't cope when people change things suddenly without warning, and all of last week they were changing things at incredibly rapid speeds.

Apparently I'm rapid cycling at the moment. Whatever. I just wanted someone to respond and say it's ok, and the like, and the responses I got were "the doctors are doing the right thing" blah blah blah. Not to mention every time I take the Olanzapine I feel nauseous, and my flatmate knows something's going on because a) the police came to my house on Wednesday and b) there are people knocking on the door for me late each night.

Bring on November 4th.

[Thirteen]

Well, it's merely because Manic episodes can be dangerous, and it seems you were in one (and that such was suspected).

If you feel there is a problem with the medication they're treating you with now, is there any way you can convince them to figure out something different? For example, maybe if they gave you the same anti-depressant, but added a mood stabilizer too? I don't know if it'll work (I've never been on an anti-depressant, so yeah), but it's worth asking if the anti-depressant was working well up until the Mania hit.