I started my mental health placement today. Its nice, the nurses are lovely, and its right down the street from my mom’s office which means I have a built in lunch buddy. What I didn’t realise is how I would handle being in an environment where mental illness is treated.
It’s very close to home. I sit in on clinics and listen to clients with depression talk about their lives and I recognise myself. I ask the psychiatrist hypothetical questions and then freak myself out by jumping to the conclusion that he just predicted my future. I read MIMS and wonder why my doctor didn’t put me on this or that drug and ponder on whether I would have recovered more quickly had he.
I hate these trains of thought because it shows that I am living in the past. I am scared (not least because of my off kilter moods and thought streams which have hung around for the last fortnight.) I wish that I was in a better place for this placement (and all of the placements because the routine change is really killing me in terms of staying stable.)
So I am going to detach a bit. Not from patients, not for one second. But from myself. This is not life. Not anymore. And I have to remember that.