Dealing with Psychosis.

Here's my story in dealing with Psychosis.
It'll be pretty lengthy, but i'll keep it as short as possible to help you follow.

At around 10/11 years old I used to run up to my room from school, close the door and played.
I used to pretend I was one of the X-Men and it was awesome.
Playing alone was always fun, as these character I thought I had created seemed to act and respond without my prior consent.
I never had to think 'right okay, Wolverine says this to me and then I want this to happen, so he'll kill Magneto and blah blah blah'. Things just happened and I was along for the ride.
I didn't think anything of it at the time. It was just fun.

At about 13 I had outgrown this playtime and these 'pretend characters' were sticking around for longer and weren't characters I had made up. They were with me about 30% of the time, I had put it down to me day dreaming, which was a lot of the time anyway. But there was this one recurring 'character' that seemed to be more prominent than others. Around this time I was constantly hearing voices too. At almost every moment of the day.

Around 15/16 year old I had this prominent character with me almost all the time. Other characters came and went but this prominent one, he was the main one, the one that's been with me from the beginning and is still with me now. With the voices getting worse, distracting me at every moment my grades dropped.
Not much, but they weren't what I could have gotten.

At 17 the voices were so bad, along with my depression I wasted my college year by skipping classes, drinking, and generally just having fun to distract myself from such a bad time I felt I was having.

It was around this age when I had gotten with my boyfriend Lee. He helped a lot, things were pretty steady in my head for about 2 years. We broke up in March 2012, on my birthday no less, because I was so depressed, I wasn't 'fun to be around'.

Then things got really bad, I was majorly depressed, and at around April time, my breakdown began.
I was so depressed I couldn't leave the house, I had just moved out of my parents place, which was a good thing, but I felt more alone than ever.

I started having black-outs, lapses in my memory, in those lapses i'd wake up in strange places, or in the middle of a conversation or with deep cuts up and down my arms.

It was at this point I told my GP about the psychosis (not just the depression)
I was referred to the mental health services and after 2 weeks of waiting, I had an appointment with the 'Early intervention in Psychosis' team to see exactly what my situation was.

Around Late May/ Early June I was hospitalised due to massive overdose on Amitryptilene.
It started with me realising I was in my bedroom, when seconds before I was watching The Black Swan.
I turn the lights on, see blood on the walls and my arms and then noticed the empty tablet boxes.

I told my friend who was sleeping over that night and said it's probably nothing, but if I get heartburn then I had taken them. 5 minutes later my heart was practically lava.
We debated a while about whether or not to go to the hospital, not knowing how serious it was, but eventually got a taxi to my local hospital.

I can't recall hardly anything after stumbling over a chair, I remember feeling high as a fucking kite, but that's it.
I remember voices shouting me, floral patterns (my friends dress apparently).
I remember me screaming at the top of my lungs 'Fuck off! Leave me alone1! I'll fucking kill you'
When I eventually woke up (I think 16 hours and some breathing apparatus later) I saw my dad there, who had previously not known ANYTHING about what I was going through.
I was furious at my friends for telling. I was literally so angry I just had to sit there for a while and wait for the voices to calm down.

I remember trying to pee in this weird 'bottle' that actually resembles a cardboard shoe, apparently I missed and ended up soaking myself with piss, not one of my finest moments, but I don't remember that part so I don't care.

I vaguely remember arguing with my brother, I think he asked why I did it and I lashed out with all my hatred for myself and the world. Apparently the entire ward was looking but I just unleashed a fury at him until he walked off.

I asked if I was shouting at the staff and stuff back when I was out of it, they said no which I thought was strange because the clearest thing I could remember was screaming at everyone. Apparently every time they tried to stick a needle in me, i'd rip it out even pulled the IV stand down onto a nurse.

I remember having cuts on my wrist that looked fresh which apparently came from my ripping my hospital band off but it was made of plastic so it just dug in and broke the skin.

I remember the night time more clearly, my friends and family had left and I was being moved into a different ward. Apparently the first ward I was in was for all the suicide attempters and mental people but I was being moved as I was stable.

I remember not being able to walk.
I can't describe the fear that came with me not being able to stand.
I was literally trapped. It was horrifying.

In the new ward I spent about an hour trying to stand and walk a little.
I managed enough to close my bed's curtain only to be literally shouted at by the nurses.

The staff there were the worst people i have ever encountered.
Not one ward, nurse or doctor actually spoke to me.
They spoke around me as if I was deaf.

The next day
Having an ECG done was basically a bunch of gay male nurses and bitchy nursing assistants complain and shout at me because the sticker kept falling off my chest.

At the end of the 3 failed ECG i ripped off the remaining stickers, told the staff to fuck off and to go ring my dad. They said something like 'no need for that language' at which point i believe i had threatened to rip the needle from my arm to jab it in her eye unless she left my vicinity and notified ANYONE else of my needs. She walked away, 4 big male wards and a nurse came back.
2 men each side of the bed, ready to pin me down i assume.

This nurse, was an absolute darling. She asked me how I was doing, actually listened and replied with more than just 'okay'.

She said the doctors needs to sign me off and i'm free to go.

I tried to get out of bed again and fell.
I couldn't walk again.
Waiting for my dad, I spent the time practicing to walk.

We left hospital, my friends didn't talk to me for weeks.
My dad didn't understand what i was going through but he insisted on sleeping over until he was certain I was safe.

When he was sure i was safe alone, he left and i was alone.

A week or two later my ex (we're still friends) came over and it was only then that i realised that he didn't know what had happened.

Ever since i've been struggling with it all.
I thought I was getting better around November time, i was back at work and still am right now.

But i'm starting to get down again.
It's EXACTLY how i felt this time last year when it all went to shit.
I'm waking up with more and more scars.

I genuinely don't think i'll survive it this time, and i'm glad for it.

The only thing I'm positively terrified off is going back into that fucking hospital with all those useless cunts who couldn't give 3 fucks about you or your dignity.

Anyway....
Don't know why I posted this.

I'm still carrying on with my life as normally as I can.

Meh.