My life changed completely in the last
five years. I remember it. I wrote this blog today to record everything that has happened to me. Oh I know, most people don't remember everything, or don't write about everything. I don't and I haven't, but this is still a long blog. You're welcome to read on.
My grandchildren had been living in Brisbane since 2010. In early 2012 they were taken
back to New Zealand without me being told. I stressed over
that. I felt my life starting to go downhill. The government's Heath Direct page says that “[e]xperiencing
stress is part of being alive.” Later
that year my husband chose to go to NZ for Christmas with his family.
I had a severe depression breakdown. According to Beyond Blue,
depression “is more than just a low mood – it's a
serious condition that affects your physical and mental health.”
I went to a psychologist, a very good person. At the start of 2013 my
husband left me. No reason, he just chose to. More depression
breakdown. I was heading into a mental problem.
In July 2013 I'd already been with my
employer for seven years and had got a deserved large pay increase (I had got my GradDip OHS). Two days later I got my brain aneurysm diagnosis. According to the government
Health Direct website, anxiety “is the most common mental
health disorder that can affect ability to concentrate, sleep and
carry out ordinary tasks.” The diagnosis of my brain aneurysm
lead to anxiety and stress. In August I went to an
angiogram where the neurosurgeon found a second brain aneurysm, and
at the beginning of September I was fired. Why did my employer fire
me? Very obvious, for me: I was severely depressed. I fought
them until I went into hospital in April 2014 for the brain aneurysm
surgery.
That day, under anaesthetic,
my heart stopped. When they got it starting again, I had a stroke.
Stroke Foundation says that a stroke “happens when blood
supply to the brain is interrupted.” I was placed for 6.5 weeks
in BIRU (Brain Injury Rehabilitation Unit). I had aphasia. There is a
USA site, Aphasia Org, an Australian website, the Australian Aphasia Rehabilitation Pathway, and a couple of others which include
information, such as the Stroke Foundation. I still couldn't talk
when I got out, but I had a person from ABIOS (Acquired Brain Injury
Outreach Service), a government health department, who came with me
to Centrelink and spoke on behalf of me. I ended up on DSP (Disabled
Support Pension), half from Australia and half from NZ.
Later that year I moved up to Woody
Point to be closer to my daughter. I had help from CBRT (Community-based Rehabilitation Team) team, and went to another
psychologist. The house where I lived, unfortunately, was bad. An old
house, which could have been lovely, but had never been done up. I
had anxiety, so I left that six months later and found a
lovely house in Scarborough.
Sometime around November 2014 I was
placed with a mentor. She and I spoke about PTSD
(Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). I knew I suffered. Her
husband was a veteran from the Army, and he was also suffering from
PTSD. Beyond Blue says there are four main types of
difficulties. I am affected by the fourth one: “The person loses
interest in day-to-day activities, feels cut off and detached from
friends and family, or feels emotionally flat and numb.” My
suffering is from an event a very long time ago, but it has taken
over my brain since my 2012 breakdown.
In May 2015 I went to the QIRC
(Queensland Industrial Relations Commission) case against Q-Comp and
my ex-employer. I hadn't counted on handled that under my aphasia
from my stroke, but the solicitor who had accepted in before I
went into hospital walked away from me while I was in BIRU. I had to
work this myself, with immense help from a wonderful friend. It was
exactly 2 years after my surgery, 22 April 2016, when I finally got
the decision. Even though the judge wrote a lot in my favour, he gave
the decision to Q-Comp. The current law cut me out. If I had been in
court in NSW – or anywhere else in this country - I would have won.
I fell into another deep depression, and felt I had to move
because I was paying too much rent. I went up to Noosa for 3 months,
and then moved down to a retirement village in Bethania in June 2016.
It was cheaper in rent than I had paid in Scarborough, but they also
charged me $100 weekly for food and made me eat in their dining room.
My dog, Jordie, was definitely with me.
I had spoken to the site manager, “T”, before I moved down there,
and she knew about it, she had agreed to it, and Jordie was included
in my lease and signed off by the property manager, “L”. Four and
a half months later I chose to stop paying the $100 week on top of my
rent, which was – I thought – for food. No contract for it, so I
could just give it up and prepare my own. “T” turned extremely
vicious against me, and “L” kicked Jordie out because she was
“too big”, stressing me far too much. So why did she even
sign Jordie onto the lease??
Within a month, that went downhill to
depression severely for me, until I spent my days shut inside
my unit, not talking to anyone who lived there who seemed to support
what “T” had done. I went to look at other properties – not
retirement villages by now – and had signed up for one not far from
Bethania. That same day “T” came to issue me the notice that I
was being kicked out. She had police with her, but I – much later –
didn't find out that what she was doing was illegal. I went to the
bottom of my depression; I could no longer deal with it.
That night I attempted suicide.
There are a few websites which cover people who reach this end. These
include Health Direct, Beyond Blue, Reach Out, Black Dog, LifeLine
and others. I didn't look at their websites before I attempted
suicide. I overdosed on a chemist-issued drug. I took somewhere
between 40 and 60 of them. I just wanted to die. I felt sleepy. I
wrote a message to my daughter and asked her to come and get Jordie. She
contacted my friend (who had been to QIRC with me) who rang me and
kept me awake, and one of them rang the ambulance. I was taken to
Loganlea hospital and monitored that night and the next morning. I
was spoken to by teams from the Acute team (they came, a few days
later, to visit me when I was staying at a friend's home to find out how I was doing). I was released
around 1pm on the Wednesday.
The night before that, when my daughter
had gone to pick up Jordie, she had spoken to “T” who showed she
was completely uninterested in me, or in what I had done or where I
was. On the Wednesday, when I got back to my unit, I found out I had
been locked out. “T” had arranged for the locks be changed. She
dropped my car keys onto the outside table and said I couldn't get
inside. I lost my language (aphasia from my stroke), I
couldn't talk, I couldn't think. I just sat there for a while, no
person around, slipping back into my depression. Eventually I
got into my car and drove up to my daughter's home, where I saw
Jordie again. My daughter that day bought me some undies and bras and
gave me some of her old clothes so I had something else to wear. I
took Jordie down to the home of the other friend who had babysat both
of my dogs while I was in BIRU. I was now homeless, but she had
offered us a short-term home while I spent much time in the next few
days talking to RTA, Tenants Qld, YFS and the government department
in Logan. I know I spoke to many others, but I can't remember them.
One person at one of those places told
me that she had previously had other complaints against “T” and
“L”, and that what they had done was illegal. I was given the
tenants law where she had highlighted everything that affected me. My
daughter wrote a long email to them telling them what parts of the
law they had broken. I went into the Beenleigh court and lodged a
QCAT matter against them. Because of my depression, I ended up
back at a psychologist, this one in Waterford, a good one.
We've talked a lot about my past and my
present. I told him about what I had suffered from – stroke,
anxiety, stress, depression, PTSD and
attempted suicide. I don't know too many other people who have
suffered as much as I have, but I do know other people, other
friends, who committed suicide. They didn't inspire me to try,
but what they were going through was similar to what I was going
through. Suicide is like the last stage when you suffer. When
you try it, when you succeed, you leave everything which caused your
turmoil and led to your anxiety, stress, depression
and PTSD. One of those friends had a stroke which
had led to depression. Another one had a long illness
which was leading to asbestosis; that had caused him severe
depression. I didn't succeed at my suicide attempt.
Now, I am often thinking about it. Would I try again? I just don't
know.
My QCAT case has now been heard 3
times, very stressful. Three times that “L” couldn't
present whatever she is arguing. I can fight whatever she is arguing,
yet I have so far had 3 different judges. The case now ends up on the
day that “L” was given, two months later this year. I know I will
win it, but I now have to acknowledge the fact that my depression
comes very quickly to me, because I don't end up with a decent –
real - future. RTA have
investigated my complaints and many other complaints from other
people against the same person, “L”. That is not involved with my
QCAT case: why not?
After the QCAT case, I met up with my
ex-husband who had brought the divorce papers over. I read through
them and found mistakes. I was written as “unemployed”. Really??
I am “disabled”. He has to change that. I reminded him about the
separation agreement that we both signed back in February 2013, which
he'd “forgotten” about. I want him to pay me. Anxiety? Oh
yes, that I don't think he can... or will.
What can I blame? What do I blame?
Losing my grandchildren? Losing my ex-husband? Losing my job from the
brain aneurysm diagnosis? Losing myself from the stroke?
Losing “old” friends? Anxiety? Stress? Depression?
PTSD? What do I blame???
I am involved now with Stroke
Foundation, Suicide
Prevention Australia, Synapse, Brain Research, Brain Aneurysm
Research (USA) and others, yet they're not my “real” supporters.
Most people who have depression,
or had brain aneurysms, or had a stroke,
or attempted or committed suicide
may have felt the same way that I felt, although from a different
reason.
This
blog post is about me.
My five years of hell. If you care for your family, your partner,
your friend, your workmate, but if you don't understand
whatever the reason is for what they are suffering, you must
find out about whatever they are feeling and help
them. Because if you can't help them, they might commit their last
stage.
Then
there won't be any more effects on them... they'll be dead.
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