I’ve not written in ages, and ain’t likely to write anytime soon. I’m supposed to host the Disability Blog Carnival this Thursday, but cannot write to the organizer. The reason is that I have no Internet access and won’t have access anytime soon. I’m namely in the psychiatric hospital, and have been since November 2. I was committed voluntarily because of suicidal thoughts, but at the moment ain’t really sure why I stay here and don’t run off. I’m on the closed ward right now, and I think the staff won’t open the door for me when they know I’m suicidal. In fact, I cannot leave the ward without someone accompanying me. I asked – well, yelled – to be let out four or five times within these two weeks, and last Wednesday, this led the nurse to report it to the doctor to discuss with me. He ended up discussing the reason behind my urge to run off: the fact that I felt unheard in a discussion with my parents in which they raved and ranted on and on about how I don’t accept my blindness because I think of being more than just blind (everyone here thinks my autism diagnosis is incorrect and they’ve pretty much convinced me of this, too), that my crisis is a mere cry for attention, and how they’ve tried for fifteen years to get me out of the care system and failed. I ended up explaining the mechanism of my suicidality – that it is really an extreme form of freaking out – and he ended up explaining that I’m really just here because I became suicidal in my home, so not to expect to have my problems treated. They realize that my suicidal thoughts are situationally predisposed, because they’re caused by the stress of the last three months, living on my own and going to college. The really bad thing is that I still have these thoughts, and I don’t feel much better on the psych ward than at home, and besides, I cannot get any better support than I have now cause of losing my autism diagnosis – the people here don’t make any official statements about that because I’m still in the diagnostic process with a psychologist, but either they or my parents (who refuse to cooperate) will get the psychologist to undiagnose me. Next week, I might move to the open ward. I’m thinking about running off once I’m there, and ain’t sure whether I’ll tell my doctor – whom I don’t like -, because then I may not be moved, and who knows when I will get out of here then? One of the nurses even warned me that I might get an order of involuntary commitment if I continue to be suicidal, so I don’t trust anyone here. I’ve told the nurses to let me out before I deteriorate further several times today, but they refuse and yet don’t know any solutions for me – and as I said, I am not in treatment here.
Gerda has lost most of her authority. She warned me of this several days before I was committed, when crisis intervention people were debating whether to commit me or not. Now, she’s called my doctor and asked for a discussion with him, to explain in more detail than she was able to last Wednesday how I fared since moving to Nijmegen. The ward social worker will also be present, who is by the way not really knowledgeable. I had a really distressing discussion with her about my living situation. She kept saying that everything was normal for a blind 21-year-old and that I should ask age peers for advice on how to handle my problems and that we should seek a temporary solution because my age means I’m going to change a lot within the next few years. When she talked about supported living facilities for psychiatric patients, I asked her how I was going to get there without a psychiatric diagnosis, and she agreed that it would mean I’d need to keep my autism diagnosis. Well, I’m pretty sure I’ll lose it, and I know the care system for blind 21-year-olds, and that is even less than what I have now. Two nurses told me to make compromises and accept the situation as it came. Well, I rationally accepted my current living situation, but that doesn’t mean I was able to handle it.