This Ward

This ward is peaceful. Sometimes some patient gets restless and upset, but nothing shocking or disturbing has ever happened. I was so scared by all the tales on psych wards, but now I know: you’ve got to understand mental illness. That’s the key. If you do, nothing can scare you.

This ward is hopeful, literally: it is full of hope. Hope to get better, hope to find the right cocktail of meds, hope to be able to live again, to function again, to have a real life again.

Perhaps this ward is an exception– in that case, I was lucky. But this ward is what saved my life, and to this ward I’ll be forever grateful.

[Inpatient, day 5]



Right now I’m feeling like a cliché bipolar and it’s not fun.

AGAIN, meds are not working. I got my quetiapine upped from 100 a day in two afternoon doses to 150 a day in one morning extended release dose, but since then it’s actually stopped working. I’ve been hypomanic since then and reached full-blown mania during the weekend, which my girlfriend had to put up with. Except today I’m not feeling really alive, just existing. A breathing and smartphone-battery-consuming plantish-like being.

I need a change. In a moment when I was feeling quite rational and lucid I contacted a new hospital which apparently has a Mood Disorders Therapy Centre that appears to be very good. I was late for phone bookings so I sent them an email and will phone them again tomorrow. I’m so sorry for my current psych but it’s obvious that she can’t help, and that’s okay, she’s a psychoncology-specialised psychiatrist, but I need someone who knows how to really treat bipolar disorder and I need that now. A year’s gone by since my diagnosis and I’ve only been stable for like 4/5 months. That’s not the life I want. That’s not the life I’m going to put up with.

I also had one of those big big talks with my parents. I tried to explain bipolar to them once again by translating Julie Fast’s books in my head while talking (I swear by the Goddess I will dedicate my life as a translator to make them available in Italian as well, because they’re too important and crucial resources for patients and their care-givers and it’s not fair that only English-speaking families can have access to them). Julie, if you ever happen to read this blog, please know that I owe my sanity to your books and that I’m honestly serious: I will propose myself to some editor as a mental health resources translator starting from your books, because we have nothing like that here in this declining country where I live. I will, one day, and it’s not my mania talking.

I should really start a mood diary. Maybe I’ll do that after posting this. I saw that some of my followers on IG are using charts by Bipolar UK. I’ll go print some of those or look for some on bpHope or somewhere. I just need to do something and get organised and be all ready in case I have to meet a new équipe or anything happens. Oh Goddess. This is mania talking. I do need to do something though. I’m so restless. Honestly I should just go to sleep given that I can’t sleep till noon tomorrow, but I know I’ll never be able to sleep now, it’s 11:18pm haha, who am I gonna lure into thinking I would?

Therapy by ATL is playing. Spotify got this shit right.