Work-Study.. No home life.
I don’t understand how people balance their lives. We’re expected to work, for money for the future. We’re expected to study so that we can work in better jobs in the future, so that we can lives without having to beg for money on the streets. Some people can do this easily – they’re care-free.
Others, like me, can not deal with stress what-so-ever.
I can hardly juggle work and studying part-time, especially with all my doctor/psychologist/psychiatrist/orthodontist appointments. It just makes me feel like I’m being pushed off the edge.
How do people work, study and balance home life whilst being happy?
If anyone knows, please let me know, I can’t live like this much longer.
The media creates distress to suicidal patients.
You may recall the blog I wrote about the hospital getting rid of the Mental Health crisis line (The Psychiatric Triage) at the Latrobe Regional Hospital. I was very distressed about them getting rid of it, as I was one of the many depressed, psychotic and suicidal mental health patients that depends on that phone lines services.
It turns out the media made up a whole lot of bullshit about it.
At my last psychiatric appointment, the case manager asked what I’d been distressed about and why I couldn’t sleep. It was then that my boyfriend asked them if they would be eradicating the psychiatric Triage.
The psychiatric nurse said that the newspaper had twisted the truth – they weren’t getting rid of it, but just combining the day service and night service so that they could operate from the same building.
It made me think, why would the media twist a story like that?
Obviously they wanted attention and for sales of their newspaper to rise, but I’m sure they could have stated the facts instead of distressing all of the mental health patients in this region.
The media need to think about what they’re doing before they decide to publicise lies.
Grammar is deteriorating.
As I’ve said in a few other blogs, todays teenagers are destroying grammar and the English language. I thought text talk was bad, but then I came across something even more ridiculous.
It seems to be the new thing (New meaning within the past few months) to say ‘Ima’ or ‘I’ma’ instead of ‘I am going to’.
I have a few things to say about this.
Firstly, to the people who write ‘Ima’, even though it’s so incorrect, could you please at least put the apostrophe after the ‘I’?
‘Im’ isn’t a word. ‘I’m’ is two words mixed together to make one.
On that point, mixing the word ‘I’ and ‘am’ together was a lazy move to begin with. Attempting (and failing miserably) at mixing ‘I’, ‘am’, ‘going’ and ‘to’ is beyond laziness. It doesn’t take that long to say ‘going to’.
Of course, the most biggest issue with the word/s ‘Ima’ is not the laziness, nor the apostrophe, but the fact that you’re trying to make ‘going to’ to ‘a’. In case you weren’t aware, the words ‘going’ and ‘to’ have no letter ‘a’ in them whatsoever.
It would make more sense to write ‘I’mgt’ than it would to write ‘Ima’.
I know they’ve shortened it from ‘gonna’, but again, ‘gonna’ is not a word.
Please, oh please, write with proper English and use proper grammar. You’re just making yourself look like a complete idiot.
Suicides will rise, because of the hospital.
So the Latrobe Regional Hospital in Traralgon is cutting funds from the Mental Health section. In fact, they’re thinmking of taking out the Psychiatric Triage who deal with the suicidal and emotionally distressed patients who are in immediate need of support.
Great! So… if that’s gone… who do we call?
They want the suicidal patients to call the hospital receptionists.
They’re receptionists, not mental health workers.
Don’t you think those kind of calls would be a bit overwhelming for them?
It’s been said that the Psychiatric Triage receive about forty calls in between the hours of 5.30pm and 10.00pm from people considering taking their lives, and people that just can’t cope.
Forty calls. That’s at least forty people that you are letting go. You’re making them lose hope. Or should I say you’re making us lose hope.
You’re deciding to take away the help of people who are in need – the people that need it the most. You make it seem as though our lives don’t mean a thing. What goes through your mind? ‘Oh they’re just mentally ill, the most they’ll do is kill themselves’.
People are going to die, and it’s going to be all your fault.
If I kill myself, I want you to know it’s all because of you, the Latrobe Regional Hospital, for making me feel like I don’t deserve to live.
The worst boss.
My boss. She’s arrogant, she’s insensitive and she’s a bully.
I thought maybe she was alright, after I got admitted to the psych ward in October. My parents had talked to her about it, and she said that she had depression and she’d be supportive about stuff like that. She said if I’m ever having a really bad day, just to call up and tell her that so I wouldn’t have to work.
But I’ve told her that I felt like that once, and she groaned said fine and hung up on me. Thanks for the support!
Also, I tried to give her a months notice of me going away with my boyfriend. She listened to me say the fifth to the eighth of January, then didn’t even try to listen to me say it’d just be a five hour shift that I’d miss – Just one day of work. She told me if I wanted that week off I should’ve told her in January of this year. How could I do that if I started work in July??
Anyway, I wrote her a note asking for the one shift off, and got another coordinator to leave it on her desk.
Today when I went in, I saw she’d given me that day off. I was really happy – I’d get my holiday.
I went to leave work, and went to print off my new roster to find she’d put me back on that day, plus every other day I’d said I’d be away. She knew I was going to be away. She has a choice of one hundred other employees and she put me on. She did it on purpose.
Now I’ve lost money on the deposit, and she’s completely ruined my christmas. I wish I had any other coordinator as a boss besides her. She’s the worst boss ever.
Sinking.
I hate that sinking feeling.
You know that one you get when something bad happens?
The person I love has gone back home. I don’t know how long he will be gone.
It won’t be longer than two weeks, but everyday that passes, the sinking feeling gets worse.
I need him here. I need him to fill the hole. I need him just to live.
Proving your love.
When someone questions your feelings for them, whether it be a partner, a friend or a family member seriously asking if you don’t love them anymore, or if they’re not important, it’s the most awful feeling when you really do still love them.
I got asked this recently by someone that I do love more than anything, because I’ve been extremely depressed lately and haven’t been acting normal. When the question was asked, I had a kind of panic attack. Usually when I panic, I cry and get a lump in my throat and shake, but this time it was as though all my breath was knocked out of me within a second, I was dizzy and I couldn’t swallow because my mouth was so dry.
I wish there was some way that you could prove your love for someone.
The most common way of doing that for some people is by buying presents. But what do presents really mean?
They mean you don’t mind spending a few dollars on something they don’t need. It doesn’t prove that their is love there. You could buy a present for someone you hate.
Sometimes, when you’re going through a hard ime in your life and you don’t understand why it is so hard, people think it’s because of what they do, and I feel really guilty that people think that. I wish I could prove to them that it’s not their fault one little bit. I wish I could prove how low I feel, and how I really don’t know the cause.
There’s a lot of things I wish I could prove to people, but proof is almost impossible. I can’t really think of anything to prove that I love these people, but it’s definitely there. For my boyfriend, my friends and my family.
Escpecially my boyfriend, who is the reason I’m alive today.
The people that hurt you the most.
It’s always the people who are meant to help you that hurt you the most.
I first learnt that when I was fifteen years old. I’d been cutting myself, and my friends encouraged me to see a counsellor about it. They took me to Berry Street, and I talked with a lady there for a while. She told me I was important and that everyone at Berry Street wanted me to get better.
I started feeling a bit better, and decided to go in a talent show that Berry Street organised in my area.
I went in with my friend Tom. We were going to do a more acoustic version of ‘Teenagers’ by My Chemical Romance. Tom was singing and playing guitar, where I was on drums and percussion (despite my bad drumming skills… though I’m pretty good at auxiliary percussion). It came out turn to go on, and I was getting all excited for them to call out our names. ‘And here is Tom, playing Teenagers!’
….yeah, I was pretty upset, but I thought everybody makes a mistake.
Then the winner… Tom!
‘Come get your prize Tom, you deserved it!’
Thanks Berry Street. I can really see how important I am to you, and how you all care.
Because of Berry Street, I became wary of psychologists and such. I watched everything they were doing to make sure they couldn’t hurt me again. Eventually I started learning that they could help and it was just that one case where they hurt me.
I started seeing a psychiatrist at the Latrobe Valley Community Mental Health (Yes, unfortunately I’m currently residing in the Latrobe Valley… no wonder I’m depressed!). They gave me new hope.
Six months with them, and things hadn’t quite changed. I was seeing my case manager regularly after my first case manager left me (I don’t even know why she left – but it didn’t faze me that much).
Then one day I just got worse. Everything was worse than ever. As I should, I relied on my case managers to help me. I asked to go to hospital.
They said I wasn’t sick enough.
That’s when my faith in them started to fall.
Luckily, a week later I had an appointment and my regular psychiatrist wasn’t able to make it. The replacement psychiatrist said it was necessary for me to go to the psychiatric ward for at least a week.
My case managers were angry at that decision. They were angry that I was getting the help I needed.
A week after I left the hospital, I got a call saying one of my case managers was going on holiday. That was fine, I only really needed one.
But than two days later I got a call from my case manager saying it was the last time I’d talk to her because she was leaving. It was only then she told me that my other case manager was leaving too, and they were handing me to someone else. Thanks, I love being handed around. Fourth case manager.
She made an appointment to see me, then she cancelled it. She made another appointment to see me, cancelled it. She made a third one, then rang me saying she was leaving.
Great, I feel really good when four case managers leave me after leaving hospital then don’t leave me with anyone else. Not even a psychiatrist appointment. Thanks for helping me get over my suicidal feelings.
Eventually my mum rang them telling them how depressed they’ve made me. They organised for another case manager to see me, and an appointment with the psychiatrist. I really needed to see him as well, because if I didn’t, my learners permit was going to be suspended.
I waited a week for my appointment with the nurse. The day came, and I rang LVCMH to ask them what time the appointment was again, because I’d forgotten. It was only then they told me that the nurse wasn’t able to see me. Another case manager abandoning me when I am at my worst.
I decided I would try not to get too upset over that. I waited another week for my psychiatrist appointment. I got a call the night before I had it written down to go, just for the case manager who I had been told had left to tell me I missed it.
I missed it. They all left me. My learners permit got suspended.
They were meant to help me. They were the only ones that could help, and they made it worse. I hate you irony.
Please speak English.
LEARN TO SPEAK ENGLISH!
I have a few things to say about that kind of talk. For one, stop saying fml. It’s over used, and it’s used stupidly. I dropped my phone fml. I have to walk to the bus stop fml. I have an earache fml. My cat had fleas fml.
Just stop it. It’s ridiculous.
Your life isn’t fucked up because of these little things. It just means something didn’t go your way, or you’re lazy. If you’ve lost something or someone you love, you can’t deal with life or something like that, fair enough. Saying fuck my life would actually make sense then. But saying fml, it just pisses me off. Think about it before you write it.
Secondly, how hard is it to say ‘In my opinion’, ‘I can’t be fucked’ or ‘To be honest’? Really, it’s not difficult. I hate how people these days abbreviate everything.
I understand that some people do it jokingly, and that’s okay, but so many people constantly abbreviate everything, and it’s so stupid. It’s so lazy, plus you’re ruining the English language.
I hope you have to get examined on your English one day to get into something you want. You’ll probably fail.
Thirdly, I want to point out there is a difference between ‘you’re’ and ‘your’, and between ‘there’, ‘they’re’ and ‘their’. Don’t say ‘your cute’. That person doesn’t own cute.
Don’t say ‘is that you’re cat?’. Is that you are cat? Think about it.
They’re taking their dog for a walk over there.
There: Look over there. It means a place, a spot. It can also be used like ‘There are too many of these things’.
Their: Something that belongs to someone. It’s their property.
They’re: Short for they are. They’re going somewhere.
Fourthly, the word lol annoys me. Laugh out loud. Some people say ‘Hey lol’. Who walks up to someone and says ‘Hey laugh out loud’. They don’t.
Please, oh please, try to learn English. It’s the language your country uses.
