Paper or Plastic?

/

You know you’re in a psychiatric hospital when all the trash bins are lined with paper, rather than plastic bags. Just like baby-proofing a home, all potentially harmful items are replaced with less hazardous alternatives.

  • Bathroom doors don’t lock.

  • Toilet plumbing is hidden behind a custom barrier.

  • Nothing in the bedrooms is suitable for hanging off of.

  • Plastic forks and spoons are permitted, but no knives.

I got a refresher on these limitations because I spent all of last week in the hospital following an overdose of one of my medications. Before I write more, let me assure you that I am okay right now. I have a new crisis plan, my surplus of medications are at my parents’ house, and my sister and I established a code word for if I need help.

I knew that I would attempt suicide again since my last attempt in 2014. Statistically, one of the strongest predictors of future suicidality is past suicidality. The math just works against me. Knowing this, I endeavored to remove any fatal or close-to-lethal means from where I live. I thought I had succeeded until a serious panic attack led me into my bathroom, and my eyes latched onto my bottle of Seroquel.

My prescription is seventy-five milligrams per day. I swallowed approximately 250 twenty-five-milligram tablets, which equates to about six grams of the drug. Fortunately, it takes about six times that amount to be lethal. I knew this as I swallowed, but I did not care; I was in a fight or flight response and I wanted everything to stop.

While my defenses are numerous, they are not impregnable. No defense is, but a fresh plan of attack is obviously needed.

  1. Swap the 75mg of Seroquel for 12.5mg of Zyprexa (fewer repercussions if abused).

  2. Store surplus medications with my parents (eliminate could be abused).

  3. Get a creature (boost my serotonin and decrease my cortisol).

  4. Pull back from some non-essential commitments.

Finally, I am trying not to beat myself up too much for relapsing. I was failing at that until I listened to an interview with Mark Henick on a podcast called The One You Feed. Mark talked openly that he still relapses. Hearing that made it much easier to get past this latest suicidal episode in the route my permanent recovery is taking me.