My mind was channel surfing, from one thing to another. Flicking from one image to another, one thought to three, maybe four, all at once. I was so sure they were out to get me. I would have huddled in my closet, in that darkness. But there was no safety, not there, not anywhere.
By the time I showed up for my regular appointment with V, I was a blubbering mess. I forgot my shoes. It happened to be a cold blustery day. And I think for the first time ever, I was late. She came out to the waiting room almost immediately.
Where are your shoes? she asked.
I didn't know. I hadn't noticed, except that I was cold and I couldn't keep my hands from the shakes.
I sat with V for a while in her office, sure that I was about to die. But it would have been a good place to die.
V insisted that I see the psychiatrist on duty. I didn't want to, but relented in the end. The psychiatrist wanted to admit me to the ward. I didn't want to, but relented in the end. I thought maybe it was all one big plot to get me cornered in a place I couldn't physically escape from. But V's presence helped eased a bit of that fear. She played the "trust card" (how long have you known me?). And she saw me to the ward, even made sure that they kept a meal tray for my dinner.
It wasn't a long admission, fortunately. I got out as soon as I could. I'm drugged up, almost back to sanity. My pdoc gave me a week's medical leave, but I negotiated to return to work half days for this whole week. I need the time off work, yes, but I also need to get some work done otherwise things will just be piling up throughout the week and I'd have to face it all when I return.
Half days at work is manageable. I'm coping. I'll be alright. Eventually.