I Me & Myself
scared of change
- Sep 9, 2025
- 88
I got good news :] I guess this post is a little heads up that it can, in fact, get better. But that it costs a lot.
This is essentially my entire Story from the Lowest lows to right now.
So, for those who may have not seen my previous posts, I have been in a psychiatric hospital for five months now. It has not been good at all, I experienced medical abuse by nurses at several points. I was in a closed ward where the stay genuinely traumatised me and caused my body to physically detoriate from stress.
However, it was not for nothing. It could have definetly gone better tho.
I suffer from a form of ptsd due to my upbringing andnhave been in therapy since I was ten years old. Back then, it was to stabilise me and get me through school.
In 2020 I was in ninth grade. Corona devastated my social skills, but I remember the time fondly. I spent a lot of time online and came into contact with other mentally ill people and made friends online. Some of them I have to this day.
Depression began hitting hard here. I started self harming and having suicidal thoughts, which peaked in 2023 when I was a Senior. I skipped classes alltogether, but I was fortunately the "gifted kid" and graduated with a very good grade. Despite only showing up to 50% of classes and doing nothing at home. It's when the fifted kid burnout started for me. I felt stupid and incapable.
The final exams were in spring of 2024. Two years ago now. That was my first attempt. I tried poisoning myself. I quite obviously failed. I started abusing alcohol, arbeitet not commonly, and still lived with my neglectful mother.
I wanted to start studying pharmaceutics, but by fall of 2024 I had achieved exactly nothing. I spent all my time online and at home. I didn't talk to any friends.
I had another attempt then, while my mother was on a vacation. I realised I'm reaching my limit, I had no therapist at this point. I got an emergency session with a new one and all he told me was "I'm not the right person to help you" and sent me home. I was 17 at the time, and had just confessed to suicidal thoughts.
After it kept getting worse I went to my pediatrician, and she directly sent me the psychiatric ER. They told me they "don't see reason to have me stay here" but told me I could come in a few weeks. I did. It was awful. I discharged myself after 2 days because no one took me serious, and I was threatened a feeding tube along other extreme measures. They set me up with an entry for the day clinic.
It was 2025 now. I still hadn't done anything since I took my finals. The day clinic was the first sign that it was possible to get better. I made a fiend there, I re established routine, the social worker helped me get a job I enjoyed.
But I left the day clinic with no therapist. No support. Still living with my mother.
So, inevitable, I crashed. I had a very stressful appointment and just fucking Crashed. Hard.
I took diphenhydramine (PSA: do not.) and ended up having a horrible hospital stay in the ER where I experienced medical negligience. I was moved to that psych ward and experienced actual abuse there. I discharged myself after 3 days.
By then I was fed up, and the day clinic experience led me to believe I still had a shot. So I spent the entire summer looking for Apartments in another city, applied for university there and got in. My brother helped me move, we scheduled celebrating christmas together.
It was amazing. I arrived well in the university, I had an apartment with a roommate who also struggled with mental health and understood my struggles, but was also just a fun guy in general. We spent the first day walking to a local playground and eating takeout on the swings.
I was surprised how easy and comfortable university felt. And then I got worried. It *will* get harder. I'm not prepared. I never did any studying at home ever before in my life but here I would need to! I tried. While trying to find a therapist.
In the meantime I had been diagnosed with autism and adhd, meaning I was viable to try Ritalin. But I could not find a psychiatrist no matter how hard I tried.
Alcohol was becoming a comfortable escape again. I started fantasizing about starting the lab at uni, so I could get my hands on all sort of chemicals to kill myself with. It didn't help that pharmaceutics had toxicology in the first semester.
The weekend before lab started, I sat at home with a bottle of a 70% acid solution (I don't know the English name but it was HNO) and debated how I could harm myself with it and potentially kill myself. I called an emergency line and told them I wasn't doing very well. I also told them about the acid and my address. It was a call for help. And boy did they call help...
I was in the closed ward since november. Like I said. awful. Read my other posts if you're curious. I attempted many more times, mostly through strangulation and hoarding prescription meds.
Since february I have been in an open ward. Also not perfect, but better than the closed one.
There were points in my life I absolutely did not believe it would ever get managable. It still isn't managable now. I want to be dead. But I do not want to kill myself anymore. I am not okay. But I am better.
Thanks to the in patient stay I now have:
- Medications that actually help me
- A place to get medications after discharge
- A therapist for the rest of the year
- A case worker who takes HUGE burdens of my shoulder (I get along with him very well)
- A possibility to get into a group home (which I want)
- More concrete coping mechanism
- A grasp on my self harm habits
- Fitting diagnoses that open new paths in my coming therapy (Depression, Dermatillomania, Dissociative disorder, PTSD)
- A recognised disability
- An income (state support money for disabled people)
I'm getting discharged next thursday. On the weekend I'm driving to another city to go to a concert with a friend, and after that I am driving to my hometown to meet a friend who sent me books to read while I was in patient.
I don't know if I'll give university another shot. I know I have a place to stay, and am financially stable. I am away from Home. I still think about dying and death a lot. But for the first time in two years, I know what I'm gonna do tomorrow.
Like I said. I am not okay. But I am better. And I am looking forward to the concert, looking forward to seeing my friends, and potentially starting low stakes volunteer work in a direction I enjoy a lot.
I could have died a lot of times. And I was more than ready to embrace it. But I'm still here, so I might as well make it bearable. Cheers.
This is essentially my entire Story from the Lowest lows to right now.
So, for those who may have not seen my previous posts, I have been in a psychiatric hospital for five months now. It has not been good at all, I experienced medical abuse by nurses at several points. I was in a closed ward where the stay genuinely traumatised me and caused my body to physically detoriate from stress.
However, it was not for nothing. It could have definetly gone better tho.
I suffer from a form of ptsd due to my upbringing andnhave been in therapy since I was ten years old. Back then, it was to stabilise me and get me through school.
In 2020 I was in ninth grade. Corona devastated my social skills, but I remember the time fondly. I spent a lot of time online and came into contact with other mentally ill people and made friends online. Some of them I have to this day.
Depression began hitting hard here. I started self harming and having suicidal thoughts, which peaked in 2023 when I was a Senior. I skipped classes alltogether, but I was fortunately the "gifted kid" and graduated with a very good grade. Despite only showing up to 50% of classes and doing nothing at home. It's when the fifted kid burnout started for me. I felt stupid and incapable.
The final exams were in spring of 2024. Two years ago now. That was my first attempt. I tried poisoning myself. I quite obviously failed. I started abusing alcohol, arbeitet not commonly, and still lived with my neglectful mother.
I wanted to start studying pharmaceutics, but by fall of 2024 I had achieved exactly nothing. I spent all my time online and at home. I didn't talk to any friends.
I had another attempt then, while my mother was on a vacation. I realised I'm reaching my limit, I had no therapist at this point. I got an emergency session with a new one and all he told me was "I'm not the right person to help you" and sent me home. I was 17 at the time, and had just confessed to suicidal thoughts.
After it kept getting worse I went to my pediatrician, and she directly sent me the psychiatric ER. They told me they "don't see reason to have me stay here" but told me I could come in a few weeks. I did. It was awful. I discharged myself after 2 days because no one took me serious, and I was threatened a feeding tube along other extreme measures. They set me up with an entry for the day clinic.
It was 2025 now. I still hadn't done anything since I took my finals. The day clinic was the first sign that it was possible to get better. I made a fiend there, I re established routine, the social worker helped me get a job I enjoyed.
But I left the day clinic with no therapist. No support. Still living with my mother.
So, inevitable, I crashed. I had a very stressful appointment and just fucking Crashed. Hard.
I took diphenhydramine (PSA: do not.) and ended up having a horrible hospital stay in the ER where I experienced medical negligience. I was moved to that psych ward and experienced actual abuse there. I discharged myself after 3 days.
By then I was fed up, and the day clinic experience led me to believe I still had a shot. So I spent the entire summer looking for Apartments in another city, applied for university there and got in. My brother helped me move, we scheduled celebrating christmas together.
It was amazing. I arrived well in the university, I had an apartment with a roommate who also struggled with mental health and understood my struggles, but was also just a fun guy in general. We spent the first day walking to a local playground and eating takeout on the swings.
I was surprised how easy and comfortable university felt. And then I got worried. It *will* get harder. I'm not prepared. I never did any studying at home ever before in my life but here I would need to! I tried. While trying to find a therapist.
In the meantime I had been diagnosed with autism and adhd, meaning I was viable to try Ritalin. But I could not find a psychiatrist no matter how hard I tried.
Alcohol was becoming a comfortable escape again. I started fantasizing about starting the lab at uni, so I could get my hands on all sort of chemicals to kill myself with. It didn't help that pharmaceutics had toxicology in the first semester.
The weekend before lab started, I sat at home with a bottle of a 70% acid solution (I don't know the English name but it was HNO) and debated how I could harm myself with it and potentially kill myself. I called an emergency line and told them I wasn't doing very well. I also told them about the acid and my address. It was a call for help. And boy did they call help...
I was in the closed ward since november. Like I said. awful. Read my other posts if you're curious. I attempted many more times, mostly through strangulation and hoarding prescription meds.
Since february I have been in an open ward. Also not perfect, but better than the closed one.
There were points in my life I absolutely did not believe it would ever get managable. It still isn't managable now. I want to be dead. But I do not want to kill myself anymore. I am not okay. But I am better.
Thanks to the in patient stay I now have:
- Medications that actually help me
- A place to get medications after discharge
- A therapist for the rest of the year
- A case worker who takes HUGE burdens of my shoulder (I get along with him very well)
- A possibility to get into a group home (which I want)
- More concrete coping mechanism
- A grasp on my self harm habits
- Fitting diagnoses that open new paths in my coming therapy (Depression, Dermatillomania, Dissociative disorder, PTSD)
- A recognised disability
- An income (state support money for disabled people)
I'm getting discharged next thursday. On the weekend I'm driving to another city to go to a concert with a friend, and after that I am driving to my hometown to meet a friend who sent me books to read while I was in patient.
I don't know if I'll give university another shot. I know I have a place to stay, and am financially stable. I am away from Home. I still think about dying and death a lot. But for the first time in two years, I know what I'm gonna do tomorrow.
Like I said. I am not okay. But I am better. And I am looking forward to the concert, looking forward to seeing my friends, and potentially starting low stakes volunteer work in a direction I enjoy a lot.
I could have died a lot of times. And I was more than ready to embrace it. But I'm still here, so I might as well make it bearable. Cheers.
