A cry for help (jan 2010)

This is a letter i wrote to my psychologist in the end period of my misdiagnosis. Where id removed all bipolar meds from my daily meds and the symtoms of ptsd where very vivid and acute. I kept being told just go to bed.....in this letter i try to exsplain why "just going to bed" wasnt that easy. Its very frank, somethings i have never openly discussed...my technique of coping was denial and avoidance. Since the acurate diagnosis and initial treatments for ptsd i have had no nightmares, panick attacks or day time flashbacks! Peace for the first time in 27 years.

hey i wouldnt be making such a show of myself by probing for you attention like
this.......not ever actualy.......i find it degrading that ive shared and
shared and shared...........my deepest thoughts in some desperate attempt for
someone to help me.........this willingness to be so vulnerable all i have left.

If it was as easy as just going to bed...when i lay down i straight away go
into a flashback of just as they lay you down with the anethtist standing over
me......then i fall asleep .......then i go into the dreams wish are actually
replaying memories of actual events..........im on the vent...i cant breath and
feel the machine forcing life through me......i can hear the noise of the
machine.....i count the seconds between the breaths so i can try to relax with
the knowledge i am breathing enough to keep my brain oxygenated....i feel pain
in my foot as they do an open cut down and feel the stitches.....i feel them
slit my right rist and place a arterial line in.........at my neck i feel the
central lines....im naked.....i can hear them talking....about me....im
paralysed....but awake.......i cant move, cant open my eyes, cant even shed a
tear to indicate.........every now and then soneone speaks to me....i know this
cos they say, now sophie what were gonna do is....turn you...sucction you
tracheal tube.....check you vitals.....draw blood...they open my eyes and put
drops in them....they put vasolene in my mouth........i feel the sheet being
pulled back......im thinking oh my god my body.....they wash me and i die with
each stroke of the sponge......they talk about there home lives as they do
it.......the tube in my throat hurts.....iwant to swallow but i cant....i think
i hear them saying how much of an attention seeker i am....and i probibly
deserve it but i dont think this is real.......but the rest is.....then my body
starts to tingle....my feet first......my fingers....it goes on and on and i
cant wake up......i slowly keep comming roung....i can now open my eyes but
cant keep my pupils in a single direction or focus....so hard to do....then i
make a lunge with my right arm for the thing thats cusing the pain in my
throat......its a tube.......see now i know its a ventilator but when it
happends i had no idead.....i remember being so cold cos my tmepriture was so
high....they had fans on me and i thought what kinda hell am i in im freezing
and there trying to kill me with a fan.......so i lunge for the tube and start
thrashing at it as i cant actualy control my hand or arm much....the alarms
keep going off and i get scoalded.....eventualy they get pissed and they agree
to pull out the tube....and this is when i wake up......normaly 30-45 mins into
sleep.........i wake up panicking and i get up dress and run around to dads and
am so wired i cant sleep....dont wanna sleep...tell myself no one died from not
sleeping......tell myself i gonna get ill if i dont......i know i need help
asap...........i been holding all this in for 27 years....each time i go into
hospital its got more vivid the time ive slept gets less......the only thing
with the mental meds was i didnt get this dream as often....id get one about
not being able to find my car in the car park and wake panicking........or my
teeth falling out.......

I dont think anyone understands.......think everyone thinks im a drama
queen.......actually its everyone else underplaying whats going on......even
jules doesnt have the capacity to imagine the horror i find myself in.......ive
had a psychotic break before in ICU and i see all the signs going on right now,
today..........i am so scared......so very scared.....and ive not even
mentioned when i was raped by 2 men at Uni when i was 28...or the year before
when i got a can and was driven into the middle of knowhere and molested..or
the horrific car accident i was in.......or the violence i saw as a
child.......those dreams ive managed to cope with cos i dont have the stimules
in basicaly most weeks of my life.........

ive so had enough.......i dont know how im going on.....its miraculous....

so there......ive taken a chance and shared with you my normal nights
sleep....and a few other things ive tried to avoid........no wonder, its so
obvious to me.........i get so cross when friends give me trite simplistic
advice like ive not tried everything in my power.......so i hope to god my
dealer calls today.........i hate breaking the law......but i will do what it
takes to survive.......

deary me........ive contacted a well know hypnotist off tv...paul
mckenna.........its just instinct mixed with desperation........his teams
replied.......its being passed on to his management and they will tell me what
there thoughts are.............i dont really hold out much hope but its a light
at the end of the tunnel but it could be a train again.....

Jules isnt gona come on monday.......shes gotta sore ankle.....fucking sore
ankle jesus christ........god must be testing me.......whats teh next obsticle is there gonna be?

so thats me........on my knees......i believe your stuff can help me with great
practise dilligence and effot but i would eat soil if you told me too cos youve
never hurt me.........never.....

i just hope i can remain strong and now have the blanket of delerium envelope
me cos then im screwed....

sorry to be so graphic......this is no way to live....lord knows ive tried....i
just wish someone would proritise this.....if my sats were low there quick
enough to knock me out and shove a tube down my throat........feel like ive had
a broken leg for 27 years .......