Failure to communicate.

So I went for a walk on the motorway again last night. Whilst I wasn't doing it to harm or kill myself, it got me noticed. I'm not sure if that's what I wanted or not.

The police who picked me up said they'd never seen somebody walking in the middle before. It was new on them. They took me back home, had a conversation with Mum, rang their supervisors, and decided to detain me.

So I spent the night at Manukau Police Station, in a cell, by myself, alternately laying down with my hood over my face and being drowsy, and pacing the cell. I didn't really sleep.

Crisis team came at about 4 - 5am I guess, I didn't have a watch and forgot to ask them what the time was. I hit the jackpot though, the crisis doctor was Dr. Bart, who I've met a couple of times before, and whom I like. The other guy was called Jeremy and he wasn't really very involved in our conversation.

Dr. Bart said I looked unhappy. That I wasn't as chirpy as last time I saw him (just before my hospital admission in December), that he thought I was lying about a bunch of things.
When I said I was tired, both he and Jeremy responded with, "you're not.". I was like, "how do you know?" - their response? "We do this for a living, we can tell whether or not somebody's tired."

He asked me questions. How's things going. Am I low. What was I trying to achieve. Have I self-harmed.

I said no I hadn't. He made me show him my hands. Which were clear. And my forearms, which are not. I held them wrist-up, but he still saw the cuts on the other side. He's observant, I'll give him that. He asked. He said, "What about those cuts on your left arm?" I said, "Which?" (feigning innocence) "Those cuts there (*points that look about 4 or 5 days old."
They're only 2 or 3 days old, but I suppose that's besides the point. Busteeeeeed.

He asked if I'm suicidal. I didn't answer. Later on he asked again. I said no. He said, "I'm sure you're not telling the truth, but if you want to lie, that's your business."

He went into a statement about how by walking on the motorway I must have wanted to achieve something. About how I had the attention of the mental health services now, whether I wanted it or not, what was I going to do with it? - I couldn't answer.

He asked what I would say if he said to put me in hospital. I explained that I'd have to call my manager, let her know I couldn't coach for a bit, arrange another coach for Hamilton Comp, and let them know they were now short a MAG judge for the same. That's as far as the hospital conversation went.

Dr. Bart basically said, he thinks I'm low, he thinks I'm suicidal, and he thinks I'm lying about it. He also thinks that I'm not sleeping as well as I say I am, and a couple of other things I forget right now.

I like Dr. Bart. I've dealt with him maybe 3 or 4 times, at the most. He always picks up on what's going on for me. Even if nobody else pays much attention to his notes.

I saw Judy at the arranged time. She said she wasn't too bothered about me walking on the motorway, as I've done it before, she doesn't think it's a crisis or anything. I basically told her (well, vaguely told her) how depressed I am, and it just seemed to float over her head. She's talking about discharge at some point in the future. I have mixed feelings about that.

I saw Vicki (my workbroker) and explained that competition season is in full swing now so I have quite a lot on my plate and will not be able to go cold-calling for a while. She accepted that, nothing more said.

I saw Melodie before my appointment with Judy. I guess she was on her way to lunch or something, but she stopped for a quick chat. It was nice to talk to her and I'm glad she stopped. She said it was good to see me looking happy. I almost said something, but I didn't want to ruin her day. I miss having her as my psychologist. She would prod and probe until she got the whole story, but only once did she ever push me out of my comfort zone - I mean like, totally out of it, so badly I was shaking when I left - so yeah.

So as you see here, I have a failure to communicate. I am depressed. Oh yes, I am.
I - I take a long time to fall asleep. And then I don't want to get up.
I feel like everything is pretty pointless.
Over the last 48 hours or so, my appetite's gone walkabouts (that's usually one of the last symptoms for me.)
I feel randomly tearful.
I feel really stressed about little things.
I'm suicidal and I have a plan nearly complete and ready to put into action.
I'm exhibiting risky behaviour patterns.

And yet . . . nobody's doing anything. I guess that means I have permission to die, if I want to.