About

Hi! This is my little slice of the internet! I'm not 100% sure why I decided I wanted to make an official blog- maybe it's born of my want to help people and make even the slightest change, maybe it's because my hand hurts when I'm trying to write journal entries. Who knows? Not me!

My name is Shayla and I'm 28 years old. I was diagnosed with depression when I was a young teen and as I grew older, I had anxiety, borderline personality disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder added to the roster. While my mental health has been a huge source of problems in my life, I've also experienced numerous traumatic events and hardships- and I continue to work through them to this day.

Whether you're here to understand mental health better, here to remind yourself that you're not alone in your struggles or any reason in-between: welcome.

photo.jpg
 
 
 
 
 
Search

Shayla & The Other Hospital

I haven't been doing well, ya'll. I wish I could say that being hospitalized helped and that the psychiatrists, the medication, the groups, the self-help books and the workbooks all worked together to cure me of the weight crushing me. But... that's just not true. I'm worse than ever and I don't see a light at the end of the tunnel. I'm not even sure if I'm in a linear tunnel anymore; all I see is darkness in every direction. It's dark, cold and lonely. I barely feel alive, anymore. And for a bit there, a few days ago, I almost wasn't. I left voice memos to some people to say goodbye and then I ate nearly all of the medication available to me. The worst part? I wasn't scared or regretful like I'd been during past attempts. There wasn't any sadness. All I did was shed a couple tears and lay my head down in bed ready to fall asleep and not wake up again. The only feeling I can say I recognized fully was relief. The in between is blurry the more I look back on it. Kyle and his mom wound up by my side at the Royal Alex Hospital, though I can't say confidently how I got there. During the revolving door of nurses and doctors, I know that I was given a Form 1- this is something that allows the hospitals to legally keep you there even against your own will because you're either a danger to yourself or others. Hours and hours later I was wheeled away from the ER and taken to a psychiatric unit to be monitored more and interviewed. Somewhere down the road I was told I could be discharged- I have no idea how many hours I was in the hospital. I'd been hooked up to all kinds of IV things and machines and I wasn't going to die and I would have supervision at home where I could wind down in an attempt to "feel better". 4 days later and I can't say that I feel better. I'm here. I'm alive. But better? No, I don't think so. From here I'll be completing the last of my hospitalization at Alberta Hospital and will get my discharge from there on Monday. I have a feeling it'll be extended because of my attempt, but I can't say for sure. I do know that after that, I'll be getting therapy at the University Hospital, as well as at the Sexual Assault Center of Edmonton. Along with that, I'll be moving to another program at Alberta Hospital for continued group work, and to a DBT program specifically to deal with my Borderline Personality Disorder. A lot is going on... but.. I don't know. It hasn't felt productive. I don't know what else to do but continue to try. Where do I go if it never works?

Recent Posts

See All

Where Does Guilt Go?

Before I became who I am now I was someone unrecognizable. I was cold, cruel, petty and vindictive. Sometimes I hurt people for fun. I know many people would dispute my claims, but the thing is that

Beat Quarantine Boredom

Feeling bored is a seriously unpleasant state of being. It can make time drag on, and then when this happens, your mind can start to wander. For people with Borderline Personality Disorder, such as my

©2019 by Shayla's Got Issues, A Mental Health Blog. Proudly created with Wix.com