The trauma of 2017, Part 4 (My discharge)

The five nights (or six days) that I spent in the locked facility seemed like an eternity for me. During my time in there, my mind was constantly flooded with a mix of thoughts including intense anxiety and frustration; feelings of isolation, paranoia, and claustrophobia; fear of the unknown and of never leaving the facility, among others. 

I was grateful that the last night, my doctor told my husband that if I slept at least six hours, then I could be released.     Before my husband left the hospital that night, we prayed that the Lord would give me sweet sleep and, He answered our prayer. I slept a little over six hours. Even though I wasn’t certain of how I would react once I was discharged, I knew that I needed to leave that place.

A week or so after I was discharged, my psychiatrist recommended that I get into a day treatment program. So, for the next few months, I spent six or seven hours a day at a behavioral health facility. This facility had both inpatient and outpatient care; however, I was in the outpatient program.

The next few months would continue to be challenging, as my life would take an unexpected downward turn...

Each week, my husband would take me to my appointment with the psychiatrist and without exception, he would modify my meds. With each change, came different, harmful side effects.

With the constant changes to my daytime and nighttime meds, came additional struggles within me. I felt like I was amped up a lot during the day, but also extremely exhausted at times. Given this, I just wanted to retreat to a peaceful night’s rest. I also seemed to have some challenges at night. There were times that I would go to bed, after having taken my meds, and experience weird hallucinations. I remember one instance in particular. I saw smoke rising all around me and then I felt like I was getting sucked into it and that I couldn’t escape. I remember telling my husband about it and it was him that said that it must have been a hallucination.

The difficulties with the meds got so bad that I started to become even more codependent on them in the hopes of finding some kind of relief. My husband and I went back home to WI to see our family hoping that a change in the environment would help me. However, it actually got a little worse, as, not only was I taking my meds, but I “dipped into” my dad’s nighttime meds as well. I think I did that because I wanted to escape the dark reality that I was in and just sleep. Thank God that it did not last long. Two days before we were to return back to CA, I was in the bedroom praying and overcome with guilt, remorse, and sadness for what I had been doing while we were at my dad’s as well what occurred in CA. I told my husband what I had been doing and then we talked with my dad about it as well. Once I asked them both for their forgiveness for what I had done, I felt like an enormous weight was lifted off my shoulders. My husband and I talked privately after, and he was insistent that as soon as we got back to CA, that we were going to find out the best way to wean me off of all of the medication. And that’s exactly what we did.

Everything we were going through during this time weighed heavily on my husband, although I didn’t know the extent of his unrest until a few years later.

It was this extreme distress that led him to spend endless hours researching my condition and trying to understand what was happening to me. He ended up finding a British doctor that had been conducting studies of women who had gone through similar experiences, and the one thing that many of these women had in common were hormonal deficiencies. He also found out that the anti-anxiety and anti-depression medications had the opposite effect on these same women who had hormonal deficiencies. He spoke with my psychiatrist about this, and the doctor completely ignored his findings.

My husband ended up taking me to my OB/GYN, and they tested me and found out that I had a very high testosterone level, but I had extremely low levels of estrogen and progesterone. I was immediately started on hormone replacement therapy. Even after the blood results came through, my psychiatrist continued to insist that it was a mental health issue and not hormonal. 

Through this experience, I’ve learned the importance of being your own advocate for your health and wellbeing. I am thankful that my husband didn’t accept the psychiatrist’s diagnosis and was diligent in conducting his own research.  

Freedom!