I don't really know how to begin this post. Well, I do: with uncertainty. Sometimes I wonder if I learnt anything from inpatient as a teen, but in true retrospect and through meeting some wonderful people, I know I learnt a lot - patience, tolerance, skills for recovery and more. This is a personal account of my seven hospital admissions: four different units, adult and adolescent, off island placements and unfortunately, one six month treatment order (more commonly known as section three). I know that despite the upset and turmoil that taints these experiences, they have in part made me the person I am today: strong, reasonably balanced and (I like to think) kind. As they say, out of struggle comes strength.
*Disclaimer: I'm going to make this post as un-triggering as I can but there will be some mention (not graphic in any way) of self-injurious behaviours, psychosis and eating issues, so be warned). All names of people and places have been changed to preserve privacy, and I will not be mentioning specific units, just the type of unit and brand (?)/group of unit it belonged to (e.g. Priory, Alpha, etc).*
The Priory: the most memorable people in unfortunate circumstances
My first admission was, as mentioned above, to the Priory. I was fourteen and had only been in CAMHS for a few months, before my psychiatrist deemed me to be such a risk to myself (never to others) that I required inpatient care. At this time I was diagnosed with psychotic depression, as they were yet to see the manic aspect of my illness) and had been self-harming for two and a half years. The reason for admission was, I believe, suicidal ideation and psychotic symptoms, which included hearing voices to the degree where I often became unresponsive.
It was, safe to say, a difficult time and not just for me, but for family and friends too. Being pulled out of school for a few months was not ideal and as I'd managed to mostly keep my act together around peers, my absence came as a bit of a shock to most.
As it was my first time in a unit of any description, let alone an HDU (high dependency unit, which indicates a higher level of care than for open units, which I will get onto later), I was bemused and bewildered by the things we couldn't take onto the unit: shoelaces, belts, etc; and I couldn't quite believe the world I'd entered into. It was a world where self-injury was normal, not eating was something to be expected and where being IMed (injected with sedative) and restrained was relatively common practice. It was a shock to the system but writing this now, I am unaffected by these memories. I have become numb to them, which is, in different ways, both good and bad.
I remember very little of what happened in this unit as general day-to-day life goes (except that there were no clocks, so I begged my parents to bring me a watch!), but I do remember some exceptional people who too were living out their own personal struggles.
I remember one lovely person who was entirely, irrevocably obsessed with goats and who could not speak, as she was selective mute, but loved to sing. There was a boy who incidentally had already been to a unit I was to go to a year or so later, who held such interesting conversations and fell, slowly, in love with a girl who, delicate as she was, loved Norwegian death metal and The Killers.
In this unit, a whole new realm of what mental illness entailed opened up to me. I picked up behaviours I shouldn't have and saw things I will never forget. But, it came me an appreciation for the diversity of what different diagnoses could mean and how everyone struggles differently but can come together to support each other. It was a learning curve and I struggled with homesickness to no end, but it gave me an independence I never abandoned and a strength of character of which I am so proud. It was a bad experience which had its benefits: a running theme of this post.
The Open Unit: the NHS do things right!
I was admitted to the next unit, an NHS adolescent open unit for eating disorders and other psychiatric illnesses (it was around half and half), in September 2011, just after my GCSEs. Unfortunately, due to the untimely necessity of admission to this unit, it meant I had to repeat year twelve. Thankfully, it all turned out well, I managed to get through school and well, you know the rest.
The reason for admission at this time was a lot more complex and not something I mention often. I was suffering from a very rare, and completely horrible, aspect of psychosis called a Capgras Delusion (in which you believe someone/some people close to you have been replaced by identical-looking imposters), I'll link some information here so you can read if you're interested. (I actually recently saw it named in an internet article as one of the most terrifying mental illnesses, to which I agree vehemently).
In short, I believed my parents had been replaced by identical-looking imposters that were trying to kill me. I wouldn't eat anything they gave me, drive in a car with them and I kept running away in delusional escape. It must have been horrendous for my parents but to me, they weren't them. They were dangerous and no one could convince me otherwise. I was self-harming regularly, but the primary issue was this delusion. I was transferred to the unit in hope of finding a medication that would help me shed off this delusion. Thankfully, a medication did help and the delusion relented towards the end of my admission.
In this unit, I met some absolutely wonderful people, a few of which I am still in semi-regular contact with. One particular person from this unit is one of the best, funniest and most random people I've ever met and although we don't talk as much as we should, I love her very much and always hope she's doing well (I hope she reads this! I've been rubbish with messages of late). But it wasn't all getting-better and conquering-delusions, I picked up some more habits too: eating issues which I still struggle with now.
Teenage years are difficult for anyone, but being a young girl, worried about her appearance (I gained two stone in the previous unit, which I'd mostly lost by my second admission but was still conscious of) in a partial ED unit, can unlock concerns that lay almost dormant. Shortly after leaving the open unit, I developed EDNOS (eating disorder not otherwise specified), which was obviously not any of the young people at the unit's fault, but a product of my vulnerability, circumstances and the environment of the unit.
I met so many wonderful people and learnt how to navigate a unit in which we got a lot more freedom. I participated in a DBT course which taught me skills I still use today. The staff were exceptional and I want to truly thank that NHS unit for helping me take daily steps towards recovery. It was my most helpful inpatient experience by far.
Section 3: Alpha and a shock to the system
In July 2013, I was out of control. I'd been in A&E multiple times in a week, had recently been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, was running away frequently and was deemed unable to be kept in the community. A locum psychiatrist, two doctors and a social worker decided I was to be sectioned for six months and sent a secure unit in the UK for treatment. It was an absolute living Hell and I had no idea what I was about to experience. Again, I learnt a lot, met wonderful people and took steps towards recovery, but it was a very eye-opening experience to just how ill I was and what a secure unit was really like. I was there seven weeks and was on community section for a further four months before being cut loose and left to live a free life again.
In Alpha, I saw some unusual and shocking things, the majority of which I don't think are appropriate to discuss. People swallowed batteries, I was hit twice by a patient deep in psychosis and I was told by one of the nurses there that I'd be in and out of hospital for all of my life (I'm three years admission-free now!). There was a lot of negativity but also a lot of support. The morale among the patients was unforgettable and I met some wonderful girls that remained, often, so positive in spite of their struggles. They are so frequently in my thoughts.
I made a lot of progress in this unit with the help of the staff and young people and learnt that recovery comes from within. No one can make recovery happen for you and it is a choice that is entirely your own. I learnt that if I wanted to get better, I had to focus on the little steps towards that big decision. It was my choice and at the end of the day, it was the best way forward.
I talk a lot about recovery and how it's a journey, and I believe that I wouldn't be where I am today without having had these often upsetting, but life-changing, experiences. I have been shaped by the people I've met and have ultimately proved wrong what some staff though would happen to me. I am so much better off than a few years ago. Things aren't perfect, but the only way is up!
Inpatient admissions should not be taboo, they're way more common than you'd think. I'm very lucky to have received such good help and I know some people haven't been so lucky. But, I do wish everyone reading this the best of luck in recovery and I'm sending love and positive vibes. You can get there, if I can, you can!
(I've decided just to discuss my three off island placements in this post because it's so long already, but I did have four admissions to the adult unit in Guernsey.)
Anyway, gold star if you got to the end and if you have any questions, feel free to comment or message me on instagram @jumper.dweller
Stay fab!
louise x
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