I was first hospitalised in 1983, aged 23. Looking back on my life now with the benefit of hindsight, I can see I always felt different. I was very much a loner, even though I come from a large family, and I didn't have any close friends as I always had a problem communicating with people.
After leaving school I started nurse training. One night while I was on duty a child died in my ward and I took it very badly. I suffered from severe depression at the time and ended up being hospitalised for two months. When I returned to work, I went about my tasks as normal but my thoughts were no longer focused on what I was doing.
At times my mind was totally blank and at other times I had so many thoughts crowding in on each other at once that I couldn't focus on any one. These thoughts became voices for me that screamed continuously in my head. Sometimes they were so loud that I thought that everyone could hear them. I would bang my head in an effort to drown them. I thought I was going crazy, losing my mind. I could not distinguish between what was real and what was not. I had to give up work because I could no longer function there. Even though I was extremely tired all the time, I could not sleep. I became paranoid. Whenever I went out I thought people were watching me and talking about me. I became reclusive and I spent my days in my bedroom.
Eventually I ended up in hospital again. What followed was a nightmare for me. I couldn't communicate with anyone the utter chaos going on in my mind. I couldn't make sense of it myself so I became mute. It was as if "normal" people had a filter in their brain to filter their thoughts and mine was faulty. I spent my days curled up, locked in my own prison. Medication helped to sort out my thoughts but I was still very depressed. I believed I was a burden on society and that people who knew me would be better off if I had never been born. Several suicide attempts followed, with long periods of hospitalisation.
Sometimes the anti-depressants worked for a short period and during these times I would help around the ward - dressing the beds, sorting the laundry and helping with the wash-up - but these periods never lasted long. I was tried on many different types of anti-depressants and I had several courses of ECT but none really worked for me. I never had much contact with the doctors while in hospital.
The only times I saw them was when they were changing my medication. Most of the nurses were very good to me and gave me a lot of time in the beginning but it was not easy for them. When they did not get any response from me over a long period they eventually gave up on me. I do not fault them for this as I did nothing to help them. There were many days when I just wanted to stay in bed but I was never allowed to and for this I am grateful. I was always got up in the morning before breakfast and if I was lucky I would be allowed to bed for one hour after dinner.
They always made sure I got out of bed again once that hour was up. I am grateful that they cared enough to make sure I did not spend my days in bed, which is what I wanted to do. This was a particularly difficult time for my family also as they did not understand what was happening to me. There was no previous family history of psychiatric illness. They fluctuated between feelings of guilt - wondering how they had contributed to my becoming ill - and total helplessness as they couldn't reach me. They were devastated. It became increasingly difficult for them to see me like this and gradually they visited less and less often. My mother was the only one to continue visiting me and she came every day. I can only imagine the hell it was for her but she refused to give up on me.
After more than 12 years of being ill, I started attending a training centre in November, 1995. I was still an in-patient in hospital when I started there. The training centre was on the grounds of the hospital and on my first morning the doctor brought me to the centre to meet the manager. She asked him to take me on but not to worry about me as I probably wouldn't last the week there. It was as if I didn't exist, I was not included in the conversation at all, they were talking about me but neither of them spoke to me. This didn't bother me as I was well used to this by now.
Once you have a psychiatric illness most people assume that your intelligence is also sub-normal. I really wanted the training centre to work for me as I knew this was the only way I could get away from the hospital, but I was absolutely terrified. The hospital had become a safe haven for me. I did not have to do anything there, I had no decisions to make. All I had to do was to obey the rules. One of the staff in the training centre took a special interest in me. She set aside some time every day just for me. Sometimes we would go for a walk or we would just sit and she would talk to me and ask me questions. She might as well have being talking to a brick wall. It took weeks of persistence on her part before she got any response from me.
Eventually her persistence paid off and I learned to trust her and started to talk to her. I continued to isolate myself after leaving hospital. My only outing was to attend the training centre. It was while attending the centre that I first heard of Phrenz. It took weeks to build up the courage to attend my first meeting. I took that step two years ago and I can honestly say I haven't looked back since. The support and encouragement I received from the group and from the facilitator was enormous. I no longer feel isolated or different thanks to their support and total acceptance of me. I have made some very good friends in the Phrenz group and I am now a member of the National Phrenz Advisory Committee.
I have come a long way since joining Phrenz. It is more than two years since I have been hospitalised. I have left the training centre and I am now half-way through my second year on a CE Scheme. I have got great support at work and have gained a lot of confidence. I no longer feel a burden. The fact that I am here today talking to you is proof of how far I have come. I know that nurses are very busy in hospitals and that a lot of the wards are understaffed. I also know that a lot of their time is taken up writing as everything has to be written down, but I would ask nurses not to get too carried away with the writing and thereby have less time to give to the patients.
Who knows, maybe if I had got more time while in hospital I would not have had to spend so much time there. Also I would ask that, if it is at all possible, they give more time and support to families so they can understand what is happening.
The Phrenz national help-line is 1890-621-631
Edited by Kathryn Holmquist (kathryn.holmquist@weblink.ie)