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19:57 – Just, why?

17 Dec

** Trigger warning for talk of self harm **

Today has not been a good day at all. It started off with a battle with royal mail as I have paid to have my mail redirected for 3 months to give me enough time to work my way through all the companies I have dealings with to change my address with them. For some reason when you enter my old postcode into any address checking system on a computer it lists the flats as flat 1 to flat 12. But that isn’t how they are labeled on the doors of the flats, instead it runs like flat 0/1, 0/2, 1/1, 1/2 etc. So even after taking ID into the post office last week to prove my address does exist and asking them to enter the address manually I still got a letter from royal mail this morning with the wrong address details. Argh! So I phone them and they say they can’t override it on the system nor can the guy’s supervisor. Frustrating? Very!

So in the end I went into my local sorting office and explained it all to them and they think they have sorted it out now but can’t promise I won’t miss the odd bit of mail here and there. . . Most annoying when I’ve paid for it to be done!

That was the point where I should have known it was going to be a bad day. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before but a couple of months ago my parents agreed to take out a bank loan for me and bought me a new car. It’s not brand new or anything but I have to admit I do love it, even though it’s going to take me 3 years to pay off. I haven’t even driven it that much because I’m very aware these days of not getting behind the wheel if I know I’m not in a good frame of mind but it has helped a lot with getting to a couple of new places that the agoraphobia has previously prevented me to because I trust the car to keep me safe. So today around lunchtime I decided to head out early, I had an appointment with lovely support worker at 3 so I left around 2pm so that I could get her a xmas card and some bits from the shops. But then all of a sudden I seemed to go into this weird autopilot mode and found myself standing in a paint and decorating shop. My mouth was moving and sound was coming out, I heard myself asking for a pack of the strongest stanley knife blades they had. Then I went to the pharmacy and bought some bandages yet still really didn’t know why I was doing it.

I went back to the car park and sat thinking for a little while trying to make sense of my actions. The only conclusion that I could come to was that I needed them as a safety blanket, like even though I want this new house to have all these good memories in it and to be this blank canvas, now that all of the stress of having to hold it together over the past few weeks has gone I can finally let all my crazy mixed up emotions out. I sat and smoked a cigarette and tried to get my head together, felt calmer, drove along in the direction of my appointment then realised I’d forgotten to get something at the shops. I spotted a space and slowly reversed into it but there was a stupid metal bollard in my blind spot and I reversed right into it. Heard a bit of a thud and stopped immediately, got out the car and there was glass everywhere :( My whole back light unit where the brake light and reverse light and an indicator are were smashed to pieces and a deep scratch on the bumper. As everyone stood and stared at me I fought back the tears and drove to the garage, all the way believing that this was my punishment for buying the blades to self harm with.

At the garage I was told the damage was too bad for them to allow me to drive it and I had to leave it there. They are going to try and get it back to me by the end of the week. Now I don’t know whether to make an insurance claim and have my premiums go up or somehow find the money to pay it myself. For the parts and labour it’s going to be around £200 so I think I’m just going to pay it although it’s going to take a while to save that much up :( I could really have done without this especially so close to xmas even though I think it’s xmas I’m dreading so much.

The only good part of my day was seeing lovely support worker and getting a good long chat with her as I haven’t seen her in a while. I told her about buying the blades and said I knew I would act on the urges I just didn’t know when. She tried to talk to me about how bad I always feel in the aftermath of self harming but in the end just asked me to try and be careful when I do it. I don’t know when it will happen, maybe it’ll be tonight or maybe not til next week or even longer than that…

All I know is that the urges to do it and do it bad have been very strong over these past few weeks but I couldn’t let myself give in to them when I had so much else going on and now. . . well now it feels like all that has gone and I can finally give in to them. Part of me wants to go and run a hot bath and do it there, watch all of the water turn red before pulling the plug and seeing it all disappear. Part of me wants to leave them at the back of the drawer where I’ve hidden them and try to keep plodding on until things REALLY get too much. . . cos they will, I know that much. I sit here just now looking at the mess of my arms and legs from previous self harming, so many scars I can’t even count them. One part of my head says don’t add to the mess, the other part of my head tells me “do it and do it fucking bad like you deserve”.

So yeah. . .

Shit day? Yep.

Danger to myself? Possibly.

Will it go further than cutting? Who fucking knows. . .

17:35 – Slipping, sliding, swinging moods

1 Dec

I am stressed. Extremely stressed. And my anxiety is sky high. I am taking more Diazepam each day than the amount I am prescribed meaning that I would have run out about a week early if I didn’t have my secret mental meds stash, which I’m guessing, most of us have.

I have been finding it extremely difficult to concentrate as my brain seems to jump from feeling so foggy I just can’t think… at all… about anything other than how fucking anxious I feel… to thinking about too many things in a fast and mixed up order… unable to concentrate on the task in hand… jumping from one internet page to the next… still getting absolutely nothing done.

And I feel so awful because my parents are spending their weekend off work up at my new house redecorating it for me and telling me just to stay here in my flat and get my two uni essays written as they are both due by this coming Friday. I’ve managed to get a half hearted first draft written for one of the essays but it is an absolute pile of bollocks, in fact I don’t even think it’s answering the question that is the essay title. It’s just a big long ramble that doesn’t flow properly, doesn’t really go anywhere, just rambles on about nothing. I think half the problem is that I don’t know how to answer the essay question… I don’t know what we are supposed to include… but I do know that the shit I’ve written so far doesn’t really include any of the stuff that we have covered in the module. So yeah… I think I’m way off track with it… it reads pretty much how my mood feels… no logical order… no nice flow from one point to the next… no explanation… just chopping and changing from one thing to the next.

My mood feels as though it is slipping and sliding all over the place but then it always does at this time of year. As soon as we hit November I seem to start struggling a lot. Once we hit December I just want to curl up in a ball and hibernate until it’s the Summer time again. I know people reading this will think I have that Seasonal Affective Disorder but I don’t… it’s because I now start seeing Christmas trees popping up everywhere, every shop window full of gift ideas, having to buy presents for friends kids and it’s like with every gift I see this big invisible boulder comes out of nowhere and knocks me to my feet… and as I try and climb back to an upright position it tries to knock me down again and again with the constant voice I hear reminding me that this is yet another Christmas to face without my little boy being here. It is immensely difficult to put on a smiling happy face for my friends kids as their little faces light up when they open all their presents and all I can think is why? Why did my little one not get the chance to experience Christmas? Why do I decorate a cold marble head stone in the cemetery instead of having my little one here helping me decorate a Christmas tree and seeing his little face light up on Christmas morning? It doesn’t get any easier even though it will be seven years in February since I lost him. Every year I go through these same emotions and they hurt so bad. It still makes no sense why he isn’t here with me. I don’t even have a Christmas tree to decorate because there is absolutely no Christmas spirit in me at all.

Then once we finally get Christmas over with for another year and enter the new year I have a six week countdown until it’s his 7th anniversary. So yeah… from now through to mid February is a very difficult time of year for me and I’m used to it pulling my mood down to super low levels. I’m used to feeling really depressed at this time of year. The majority of my hospitalisations have been this time of year. I don’t know how I avoided a hospital admission last year… perhaps it was using my uni work as a distraction or maybe I was feeling a bit stronger… I’m not sure. But right now with the stress of knowing that somehow or another I need to get these two essays written and submitted in less than a week and at the same time start getting all my possessions packed into boxes to move on Monday the 9th, I’m starting to feel like I’m not really coping very well at all. I should feel some degree of excitement about moving to the new house but I just don’t. I just don’t feel anything about anything really. Other than moving between depressed to stressed to anxious to foggy headed and then my moments of having about 100 ideas in the space of five minutes where everything suddenly speeds up inside my head… goes too fast… then like a lightbulb blowing it all goes dark again.

I better go for now, my Mum is coming to pick me up in half an hour to have a Sunday roast dinner at the parents house and I still need to have a quick shower. I might post back later as I feel like I’ve got more to say but it’s all a bit muddled up in my head right now. Maybe it will all make more sense later on…

14:03 – New beginnings?

21 Nov

Approximately 18 months ago I applied for a housing transfer through my local council. I had become absolutely miserable in this flat and when my agoraphobia is really bad I get so anxious I find it incredibly difficult to leave to walk down the communal stairs past my neighbours doors to get outside. This means that I sometimes have to rely on my parents or friends to come and walk the dogs for me or live on takeaway food delivered to me. I also get super paranoid because I have neighbours through each wall to either side of me as well as someone below me and someone above me so I feel like I’m boxed right in the middle. The professionals I was working with at the time supported my application as did my parents who all believed that if I just had my own front door it would help a great deal with me being able to leave the house easier. There are some other factors as well but if I go into them all this will turn into a super long ramble and I have to be at my appointment with lovely support worker in 45 minutes.

On Monday I received a letter from the council telling me they had a property that was vacant that they believed would be suitable for me and were giving me an official offer. It came completely out of the blue and I read the letter with a mix of excitement and then huge panic. The letter asked for me to phone them to arrange a viewing and see whether or not I wanted to accept the transfer. So on Tuesday my Mum came and picked me up and we met the housing officer at the little house. It’s about 2 miles away from where I live just now and is just a little one bedroom bungalow with a little garden and is literally 5 minutes walk to my parents house and 5 minutes walk to the hospital where the mental health team are. It’s on a quiet street which has houses with families on the one side and a row of little one bedroom bungalows on the other side which I think mainly house elderly people. This is ideal for me as my flat is right in the town area of where I live which means it’s always noisy with traffic, people in the communal stairwell coming and going, drunk people passing by after the pubs on the weekends, etc etc.

So we viewed the little house and it’s pretty dated and old fashioned looking on the inside, it badly needs redecorating but has a front door and back door with a small garden that my little dogs would love playing in. The garden is all enclosed with a fence so they would be safe. I tried to look past the dated decor and imagine how I could make it look to make it homely. But after only ten minutes the housing officer said she had to get to another appointment and that we’d need to leave so I don’t feel like I got to see the place properly and I can’t make a decision of permanently living there on ten minutes of viewing. The council then said I had to give a decision within 48 hours maximum (the form actually says 24 hours). So now I find myself in a bit of a situation. I don’t think I could be offered anything better as a transfer, the location is ideal like I say it’s really close to my parents, I don’t really have any neighbours super close to worry about, it’s quiet and peaceful, the dogs would have a garden to play in and I guess it’s a clean slate, a place to start afresh from.

But I have been in this flat for seven and a half years. It has a huge amount of memories associated with it, some good but some very very bad. Sometimes I get these little flashes in front of my eyes where I just look at a particular part of a room and all these memories flood through my head and can leave me feeling quite fucked up. I have, on a couple of occasions, self harmed just from memories around me and making me feel so trapped in here like I can never escape from them. And this new little house would be somewhere with no bad memories, no feeling trapped, somewhere to start creating memories in. My parents really want me to take it because they would feel so much better knowing I was just a few minutes walk from them and most of me wants to accept it as well. But as soon as I go to sign the acceptance form I get a massive release of anxiety completely overwhelming me. Mum says it’s just because it’s a big change and a new place that’s unfamiliar to me but that if I just go for it and get it looking homely that I will settle into it in no time. And I think she is probably right but I can’t stop thinking of all the ‘what ifs’ and the thought of having to pack all my possessions up and let removal guys into my flat and having to contact tonnes of companies and services to notify them of change of address, getting phone line and internet moved, gas and electric moved, just loads of shit like that makes me panic about it all. Like seriously bad waves of anxiety, strong enough to make me think I just can’t do this and I should just stay here no matter how much I hate it.

So the council have agreed to let me have a second viewing which is tomorrow at 2pm. I have to give them a definite decision by 4pm tomorrow. The property is currently lying empty so I assume it would be fairly quick to get the keys. I also have my two final essays for these modules I’m doing on my home based uni course due in the next two weeks so how I am supposed to study for them and write 2 x 2000 word essays as well as packing all my stuff up and moving to the new place, get it redecorated and everything all at once I just don’t know. They say one of the most stressful things is moving house and they aren’t wrong. When I moved in here I hardly had anything, just the very basics and it took a while to add in my appliances and furniture and stuff. I lived for the first couple of years with loads of second hand stuff but now over the last five years have replaced everything to new stuff. And I have a lot of stuff to move, in fact I think I have more stuff than the little bungalow can take as it didn’t seem to have much storage and the rooms are quite small. Maybe I’ll just have to throw a lot of stuff out that I don’t use/need any longer.

So yeah, tomorrow I have to make my definite decision and I am absolutely terrified. I keep having panic attacks and barely slept last night because I felt so anxious it was keeping me awake. I don’t know whether to accept it and take the chance that new beginnings would be a good idea and trust what my parents are saying that I will settle in and it will feel like home once I’ve got it looking how I want it to… or whether to listen to the anxiety and just stay here and not have to face any changes. I have written a list of pros and cons for moving and the pros far outweigh the cons but I am just so fucking scared of change/being somewhere unfamiliar and not knowing how I will adjust to it.

I’d better go as my appointment is in 20 minutes but I will post back tomorrow once I’ve had my second viewing by which time the decision will be made. Am I really ready to say goodbye to all those memories and move on to somewhere new? I don’t know if I have the strength. I’m scared, terrified in fact, but something at the back of my head is saying to me that this could be the best decision I ever make to get away from here and start again. What to do? I just don’t know…

19:34 – Here comes a RANT

16 Nov

As the title says – here comes a rant…

So as most of you already know I don’t get on very well with CPN#2 but I have tried to attend some of my appointments with her mainly because I thought if I completely disengaged then I might end up being discharged from the community mental health team (CMHT). I have also tried to go to some of them so that it would bridge the gap whilst waiting to start seeing the psychologist again. I haven’t seen her since February 2012 when she went off on maternity leave. I did try to work with her at various points throughout 2010 but by the end of the year had become so unstable I was sectioned under the mental health act. When we got about half way through 2011 I tried to work with her again but was still in and out of the psych hospital so we never really got to do more than a few sessions here and there before I’d end up back in hospital again.

Towards the end of 2011 the psychologist came to see me during one of my many hospital admissions and told me that she was five months pregnant. The reason why I was ending up in hospital so much was because I was constantly making attempts at ending my life because all I wanted was to be in Heaven with my baby boy. So I sat that day and listened to her and then told her that I thought I would find it too hard to work with her whilst watching her bump grow bigger especially as she was due around the same time as my little boy’s anniversary. She completely understood and other than at one CPA meeting in February 2012 I had no more sessions with her.

So, the psychologist was due to return to work in February/March time of this year. In May I got a letter from her saying that I was on her waiting list and she would write to me again when she was able to restart psychology sessions with me. CPN#2 told me a month or so ago that I was very near the top of the list at last and should get an appointment to start seeing the psychologist again very soon. In a way a lot of things have been resting on these sessions starting back – new psychiatrist has run out of medications to try with me and wants me to consider ECT – but first he wants psychological input and to see if working on the Compassion Focused Therapy (Compassionate Mind and Mindfulness) would help to improve my mood and anxiety levels. Lovely GP is hanging on to see if psychology will help me. Lovely support worker has also done her best to keep me going and reminding me it won’t be long ’til I can do some proper psychological therapy again. And CPN#2 told me only a matter of weeks ago that she really thinks I’m in a better frame of mind now to do therapy.

(Note: CPN#2 also recently informed me that she thinks my persistently low moods were due to several factors but the one worth mentioning is that she deliberately said that she thought my infertility issues and so many people around me being pregnant/having babies was definitely worsening my mood)

So this morning I get up to discover a letter in the post from Clinical Psychology. It starts off to say “you are now at the top of the waiting list and I will be able to offer you sessions starting in January”… OK so a little longer than I’d expected but at last I had a start date! Then I carry on reading the letter… “I will only be able to offer you four sessions, two in January and two in February as I go on maternity leave in March 2014“.

Now here comes rant number 1.

Why… why the hell did CPN#2 not think to mention this to me whilst trying to keep me focused on staying stable “so I can work with the psychologist again”?? Why, when she herself sat and told me that she thinks having various people around me just now who are either pregnant or have small babies is having a negative impact on my mood because it keeps me thinking about my little boy all the time and about the fact that I have a variety of fertility issues of my own did she not tell me that the psychologist was pregnant again? Why let me find out on a fucking letter rather than just telling me? CPN#2 knows all to well that the reason I stopped seeing the psychologist was because in her last few months of pregnancy and with a big fucking bump it messed with my head too much and that’s why I stopped seeing her! So if psychologist is due in March then she is around a similar point in her pregnancy as my cousin who is also due in March and my cousin has just recently had her 20 week scan and has an obvious bump now. So it’s not like CPN#2 wouldn’t have known, I’m quite sure she has known for a couple of months yet has carried on telling me how important it is for me to stay stable so I can resume these psychology sessions. And also she knows fine well that my little one’s anniversary is in February so at this time of year as we go through the Winter months my head is always more messed up than usual. So she wants me to attend psychology for a whole four sessions with a huge pregnant bump staring back at me? Seriously… wtf!

The next part of the letter goes on to say: “I understand that working with me towards the end of my pregnancy may be difficult for you so if you would prefer not to have the four sessions I can offer you then you can wait until a new psychologist is appointed once I begin my maternity leave in March 2014″. Well at least she was decent enough to acknowledge and remember how hard it was for me to see her the last time she was pregnant but I have been waiting and to a certain degree hanging on for these psychology sessions since May so if I say to her that yes, I think I will find it too hard to work with her and want to wait and work with whatever new psychologist they appoint that means I’m going to have to wait until March. Maybe April by the time the new one gets his/her caseload sorted out. So that’s another four or five months to carry on waiting when I’ve already been waiting for a very long six months. Plus it means working with someone new and let’s face it I’m not particularly good at that. I’m just so frustrated that all I’ve heard for the past few months from CPN#2, from new psychiatrist, from lovely GP and lovely support worker is to “hang in there, the psychology might help, you’re nearly at the top of the list” and for what? I reach the top and am offered four sessions… even if she wasn’t pregnant what the hell do they think I’ll achieve in four sessions?!

Don’t get me wrong, I know I have no say over when anyone chooses to have a child and as well as being a psychologist she is just a normal woman living her life and creating her family. I have no issues with that. I am just so so pissed off that people clearly knew but didn’t tell me. I’m so pissed off that after all this waiting I finally get that letter to say I’m at the top of the list and then have to sit and battle with myself over what I should do now. Should I say yes and take the four sessions then move over to whoever takes over her post whilst she’s on maternity leave or should I wait a few months longer and spare myself the heartache of sitting watching this bump growing whilst at the very same time trying to deal with another painful anniversary? If I do go to see her will it mess with my head again? Will I start getting crazy thoughts like I did the last time? Would I be able to cope with it better now?

Rant number two…. I shouldn’t have to be asking myself all of these questions! Someone should have been decent enough to have said to me a month or two months ago – “you are getting close to the top of the list but the psychologist is actually pregnant again and will be going on maternity leave in March, would you prefer to stay on her list and have a few short sessions or wait until a new psychologist fills her post?” Why the fuck was it too hard for someone to just say that? Argh!

And sorry, but a bit more ranting… I had sort of decided that as CPN#2 is so fucking useless and close to impossible to work with, that when I did start seeing the psychologist again I would stop seeing CPN#2. I am getting nowhere with the woman and every session is structured in her way or no way. So now if I have to wait til March/April time to see whoever the new psychologist will be that means months and months of having to carry on seeing CPN#2 until then. And I can see where that will head. I will either make up excuses as to why I can’t attend appointments or just completely disengage with her. And all of this at the hardest time of year for me when I need support more than any other time of the year. I’m frustrated and angry that she got my hopes up that it was close to my psychology sessions resuming, that she sat and spoke to me about how it “might be best for me to just try and stay away from people who are pregnant or who have babies over these difficult months” and the whole time the fucking psychologist is pregnant!

I could go on and on. Maybe you will read this and think I need to “get over it” or maybe you’ll understand where I’m coming from. Maybe nobody really understands how hard it is to see pregnant ladies and babies unless you have lost one yourself. I know I can’t stop it from happening and I have no choice to see it from afar, but I don’t need it up close and in my face, I need to distance myself a bit from it, especially around the weeks leading up to little one’s anniversary… as we’ve seen in the past it can stress me out that much I can end up in full psychosis or full of delusions about my baby needing me so I must end my life to be with him. It can lead to me trying to take my own life so that I can be wherever he is. So yeah, you could say that it can have a pretty significant impact on me, my life and my mental health.

I just wish someone had told me and prepared me a little bit. Now I don’t know what the hell to do for the best. I don’t want to end up suicidal to the point of trying to make active attempts to end my life… I don’t want to end up with delusions… I don’t want to end up in the bin… why did they have to make something so hard that could have been dealt with so easily by just casually mentioning it to me a couple of months ago when I wasn’t ‘at the top of the list’ so I could have prepared myself for waiting a bit longer to see the new psychologist. Why keep me going, keep telling me I’m nearly at the top, just hang on a little bit longer and then hit me with it in a letter. Part of me thinks CPN#2 did it deliberately because I know she knows I don’t like her and she’d probably be quite happy to see me properly messed up again.

Maybe I should just get back in touch with new psychiatrist and say fuck it, let’s do this ECT shit… it can’t be any worse than how I feel when I leave my appointments with CPN#2… it certainly can’t be any less productive as the sessions with her are so unproductive already. Maybe zapping my brain is what I need to stop me reacting so strongly when I do have to be around babies and pregnant people or maybe six years on I’m still in so much pain and still grieving so badly that nothing at all will help other than hanging onto the thought that if it all gets too much I can just go and end it all and get to be with my little angel again… at least I do know that option will always be there…

OK, I think I’ve vented enough now so…

/End of rant.

00:02 – More messed up thoughts

15 Nov

Over the last week I’ve started and stopped writing a load of posts. Some I’ve kept as drafts to come back to and finish them off some other time and some I’ve thrown to the trash bin.

My head seems to be all over the place. I seem to be constantly swinging from so depressed I don’t shower for days, to painting on that fake smile when I know I have to make family etc think I’m doing OK, to feeling like maybe I am OK and getting some course work done, then back to these really low moods with intense urges to self harm or worse to then thinking about death and realising how much it scares the shit out of me. Not of myself dying, but of some time in the future when those I love and care about do and me being left completely on my own. My head then becomes completely full of intrusive thoughts about what will happen when my precious doggies go to doggy heaven, to losing my parents and I end up in an absolute anxious mess. Why can’t I just think about today or this week? Why does my head keep catapulting into the future and thinking about these horrible things?

I’m also in a daily/hourly battle with myself about self harming. I’m not sure what triggered it off… whether it was the talk of the ECT and possible memory loss that can accompany it…

Maybe I started thinking about the memory loss and knowing the only real time I have had a complete black out that I’ve never ever been able to remember was when I was spiked with PCP and assaulted in August last year…

Maybe it was the channel 4 documentary that was on last week about ending female genital mutilation acts carried out on children of an African background which broke my heart for those poor little girls having to go through that kind of cruel torture (especially the fact it was woman carrying out the act on them)…

But then there was this part of me thinking “that’s what I fucking deserve”… so something (maybe a mix of all of that) has thrown me into this place where my head is full of thoughts and urges to self harm ‘down there’. I think of my genitalia as being disgusting and all I want to do is hurt myself there.

If I didn’t have female parts maybe my cousin would never have abused me, maybe the guy who spiked me wouldn’t have assaulted me, maybe I would never have lost my precious baby… and yes I do realise I would never have conceived him in the first place had I not had female reproductive parts but still… the thought of my ‘bits’ make me feel sick to my stomach and I want to damage them so badly and I seem to be quite stuck with those urges… they won’t pass and I wonder if I will be able to keep fighting or if I’ll just give in to them and do it. I have self harmed in my genital area before when my head has been messed up with flashbacks of myself as a child and my cousin abusing me, never severe enough to need medical attention, but the urges that I think/hear in my head really want me to do severe damage this time. I emailed lovely support worker earlier and sort of told her I was having thoughts along those lines and she said I need to try and direct my anger at my cousin and those who’ve hurt me not at my own body but the urges are so so strong. I know I probably sound fucked up and I’m sorry if I do but this is my place to be honest and spill out all my innermost thoughts and feelings even if it doesn’t make for very comfortable reading.

I was supposed to see CPN#2 this week on Tuesday but she is off sick which suited me fine anyway as I find the sessions with her next to useless as you all know. I did however go to see lovely GP yesterday and she had received a letter from new psychiatrist and he mentioned on it that he had suggested I try ECT as we are fast running out of medications and my mood just won’t lift for more than a few hours here and there. I told lovely GP that I am going to try a few months of therapy with the psychologist who should hopefully be sending me an appointment some time in the next few weeks and see if that helps me to deal with or lift my mood a little before I go getting my brain zapped. Lovely GP agreed that was a good idea so we’ll see where I’m at in a few months time.

Well I have to be up early tomorrow so I’m going to head to bed. Sorry for a pretty messed up ramble tonight but sometimes it helps a little to write  all the shit down and try to make sense of all the craziness in my head. I’ll probably regret posting something where I’ve talked about such intimate stuff, but no matter how messed up it might sound I can’t be the only person in the world whose had such thoughts… :/

Maybe a more positive post next time?

Goodnight folks x

 

01:04 – Going out with a bang

6 Nov

Tonight I wanted to go to a fireworks display but I couldn’t because I had nobody who could watch the dogs for me and one of my dogs is utterly terrified of them. He spent the whole evening wedged down behind me on the sofa underneath a duvet while I tried to keep him relaxed by tickling his tummy and stroking his ears… and occasionally giving him a little doggy biscuit. I kept the TV up loud to try and muffle the noise of them a bit but it didn’t really work. Thankfully they have all now stopped and he is no longer shaking and back to his normal self.

So, as I watched the fireworks from the window all I could think was… When I die I want to be cremated… I also want some of my ashes to be buried in with my little boy… But I’d like a handful of them to be put inside a firework and blasted up into the sky… burst into a huge display of colours… and go out with a proper bang. The sky lit up by me (literally) for a few seconds before plunging into darkness again. That’s the way to go… definitely.

Tonight I also self harmed. Nothing serious, treated it at home. But what was odd about it was I was having a conversation with a friend on facebook at the time telling her about some exciting news I had for this coming weekend… chatting away as if I was happy and excited and the whole time I was cutting my flesh apart.

Surely there has to be something fucked up about that.

 

19:21 – Sinking lower and lower

4 Nov

My mood is continuing to get lower and lower and much as I utterly detest my local psych hospital, I find myself feeling really frightened that the bin is the direction that I’m heading in. Life is becoming more than just a struggle, it’s currently at the point of absolutely everything feeling impossible.

The winter seems to be starting early – by 5pm it is already dark outside – and like every year when it gets like this I find myself only taking the dogs out once when it’s daylight (their lunch time walk) and the other times I walk them (breakfast, dinner and bedtime) are all in the dark. I feel more comfortable to be outside when people can’t see me properly, when I can hide myself under my thick jacket and big furry hood.

Why? Because the dark feels safer for some reason. My thoughts are starting to become really paranoid again. I don’t like people being able to see me or look at me properly, it sets my head off thinking all sorts of crazy stuff.

The depression is definitely in full swing and I feel as though I’m sinking lower and lower with every day that passes. And it shouldn’t be this way – I have good/happy things going on in my life at the moment (or at least that’s how they should feel). But the smiles I put on are so fake I’m sure everyone can tell. I just can’t seem to feel happy. I got my essay results from the essay I had to do a few weeks ago and passed with 65%. That’s a good grade B. Was I happy? No not really. Just relieved I didn’t need to resit. My parents took me for a lovely birthday lunch last Monday… again fake smiles throughout which I felt awful about.

The only person I’ve been somewhat honest with was the psychiatrist and support worker on Wednesday. That’s been the only time I’ve said the words out loud – I’m self harming again and I keep getting these waves of feeling like I just do not want to be here any more that come over me out of the blue and are so strong they drag me under them.

I have a couple of things happening this coming week that I should be happy about but instead I am miserable. I’m hell bent on hurting myself yet doing my hardest to just cling on a little bit longer… maybe when I get my first appointment with the psychologist through it will help me feel more positive. Who knows. The self destruct button feels like it’s getting closer and closer to being pressed.

I guess I’ve just got to keep going… but in what direction I just do not know.

00:10 – ECT… has it really come to that?

31 Oct

Today I had my third appointment with new psychiatrist. I have to be honest and say I was utterly dreading it because the last two appointments with him have been extremely frustrating and of no help whatsoever. But lovely support worker came with me and when she first picked me up I was very very anxious, did not want to go, but after sitting talking to me and calming me down for about 20 minutes I finally got out of the car and went into the main hospital building.

I had gone over with her what I wanted to say to new psychiatrist today and just hoped that I’d both remember it all and get the opportunity to say it all. I can’t remember if I have already mentioned this here, but basically I had decided that if this appointment went as shite as the last two with him then I was going to ask my GP to refer me to see a different psychiatrist. I may live in the middle of nowhere with very little in the way of mental health support but I do believe there is one other psychiatrist that does cover this area.

So, bang on 2.30pm his door opens and he calls me through. I hesitantly walk through with lovely support worker behind me. We sit down and he asks how I have been since I last saw him. I took a breath and told him that my mood has remained flat the vast majority of the time, that there have been a couple and I do literally mean a couple of OK/good moments but really for… well… so long now I’ve lost count my mood is flat, I rarely find enjoyment in anything, my self harming continues, I have fleeting suicidal thoughts, my sleep is crap, even the very basics like having a shower and getting dressed and taking the dogs a walk sometimes just proves to be too much for me.

Yes, I know I went out for the first time in at least six months on Saturday night and ended up having quite a good time but I think that was mostly due to the amount of alcohol I’d consumed. I did not mention anything about the recent brief substance misuse because I don’t want that splashed onto my case notes again… and anyways… it’s over and done with now with no plans of any repeat episodes. I told him about the two visits to A&E for self harm wounds and stitches, I told him I am trying my hardest to plod on with my part time home based uni course but that I’m failing to concentrate and struggling with it massively. I told him that sometimes I hear a little niggling voice encouraging me to hurt myself but that I can tolerate it as it’s nowhere near as bad as when I was hearing several voices and hearing them constantly. In that respect I think the 750mg a day of Quetiapine (Seroquel) is still working.

He asked how I’d found the increased dose of 45mg a day Mirtazapine and again I told him that it was fine for the first couple of weeks but then I started having such severe physical symptoms of anxiety (when I truly thought my heart was about to pack in and ended up getting the ecg done) and how lovely GP had wondered if it was actually the Mirtazapine causing it as anti-depressants do take a while to build up in your system. So I told him my GP told me to go back down to 30mg a day and see if the anxiety improved and yes, the heart palpitations did stop and have continued to be minimal. But the ‘psychological’ anxiety, the constant worrying and fears are still very much present. Some days I’m so scared to even walk out my front door to cross the road and walk the dogs for ten minutes then other days I dope myself up on whatever anxiety med I can and force myself to face a potentially scary situation.

He then asked how I had found the Pregabalin (Lyrica) that he had prescribed last time I saw him as the plan was for me to use it on a long term basis for my anxiety and finally start to taper off the Diazepam seeing as I’ve been taking it daily for three years now. But I had to tell him that had been a disaster as well… that I didn’t realise it had the same/similar ingredient as Gabapentin which it appears I’m allergic to. So the two medication changes he made at our last appointment a few months ago were both unsuccessful.

This of course brought us onto the discussion of reducing my Diazepam and I firmly told new psychiatrist that yes I am willing to reduce but I am most definitely not doing it at the moment. I feel horrendous enough as it is without trying to taper off from that. To my surprise he did actually say that he agreed now was not the right time, especially not as we are fast approaching my two worst times of year – Christmas and then my little boy’s anniversary in February.

He asked what support I was getting from the mental health team and I quite honestly told him how utterly useless I find cpn#2. He asked why and I explained about her super structured way of working, her setting of agenda’s, her constant ‘positive goals’ and her reluctance to talk about anything that is making my moods low. However I did tell him that I am now top of the waiting list for psychology and have been given a provisional date of mid to late November for my first appointment. It’s the same psychologist I used to work with so in a way I am looking forward to going back to see her even if I don’t feel particularly convinced that this Compassion Focused Therapy bollocks is going to work for me.

So all in all it was actually quite a good session. I managed to get across to him that the two medication changes he proposed last time I saw him had failed, that I was not ready to taper off from the Diazepam yet, that my moods are low and flat, that I’m self harming again and having occasional suicidal thoughts, that I am generally struggling with life a lot, that I’m struggling trying to continue with my studies, that the only person who lets me vent is lovely support worker, that I find my sessions with cpn#2 useless, and some days I seriously do wish I just hadn’t woken up that morning.

His first response to all of this was to ask me if I thought I would benefit from going in as an inpatient in the bin for a while? I said no, that place makes me feel worse, trapped, none of the staff give a damn, the other patients are too stressful to be around, there are too many rules… just no.

His second response was the one that surprised and to be honest shocked me (no pun intended). He said that as he looked back over all my medication history for the past four years we have pretty much exhausted every med now. There really isn’t anything different we can try. We could maybe try new combinations of something but I have pretty much tried every anti-depressant, mood stabiliser and anti-psychotic and benzodiazapine there is. He asked if it’s my depression or my anxiety that is worse and I said both of them. The anxiety can be managed to a degree with medication, the depression is just constant, constantly ongoing flat crappy moods that for months and months and months if not closer to a year have just stayed shit. Every day is an effort, every week is an effort, some mornings I open my eyes and my first thought is “I think I might kill myself today” or “I wish I was dead”. But I don’t act on them because I don’t want to put my parents through all that heartache and frustration again. I carry on painting on these fake smiles and trying so hard to make everyone think I am coping. Although I did let slip to my Mum the other day that I had recently self harmed and had to go to A&E. The thing is I’m still self harming – first through cutting… then misusing substances… then drinking… now back to cutting again. I try to put on this persona of being someone in recovery but I’m so far from recovery it’s scary. All these people telling me how well I’m doing because they don’t fucking let me talk about how bad I feel, they insist on only talking about positives and therefore have a completely skewed picture of how my life really is.

So new psychiatrist says here is the plan of action: he will not make any medication changes at the moment (mainly because there isn’t really anything else we can try), he would give me a couple of months to start seeing the psychologist again and see if psychological input helped my mood in any way, he encouraged me to be honest with cpn#2 about what *I* need from our sessions (told him I’d already done that and got nowhere)… he asked lovely support worker if she would carry on seeing me and she said yes she would see me weekly for as long as I needed it, he encouraged me to try and open up to my family so they know I’m actually not coping that great right now and all these fake smiles are simply that: fake.

And then he hits me with it… “there is one other thing we can try but I’d like to wait at least six months before trying it as I only like to use it as a last resort… have you heard of ECT before?”

I sat there kinda shocked but nodded my head. A very lovely fellow blogger tried ECT some time ago and I read all her experiences with it with interest even though it didn’t seem to work for her. It is something that scares me a bit… I mean nobody really likes the idea of being knocked out, put into a seizure and having your brain zapped do they? It’s pretty hardcore stuff. Then add in the quite possible and quite likely short term memory loss. It’s not the most appealing of treatment options. But whilst he did reiterate that it would be a last resort I suppose it sort of shocked me that it was even suggested. He said it doesn’t work for everyone but a point has to come where we try and break this depressive and unproductive cycle once and for all… and maybe, just maybe ECT would be the thing that finally works for me. But like I say, he wants me to try a few months of psychology first and then review things again. He wanted to see me back in a couple of months but he is away for most of January so my next appointment is February 6th… five days before my little man’s anniversary so I’m bound to be in a super depressed state of mind next time I see him. Again, lovely support worker said she would come with me.

I can see that my life is not good at the moment, far from it if I’m brutally honest. Yes on the one hand I haven’t given up on the studying (yet) and yes I managed to travel to a new faraway place recently (doped up on diazepam) and yes I even managed to go for a night out on Saturday (full of alcohol). But then we look at the flip side: I’m self harming a lot although managing to keep it reasonably superficial at the moment purely to avoid having to go to A&E, I’m having lots of thoughts about ending my life, my anxiety levels are ridiculously high and out of control most of the time, other than that one night out on Saturday I have next to no social life whatsoever, no friends that I see on any kind of regular basis, a constant niggling voice giggling away in my head at how pathetic I am and fuck just a couple of weeks ago things became so desperate I put that shite back into my body for some sort of an escape. I feel unsupported apart from by lovely support worker, I feel alone, I feel miserable, I question the point of everything, I don’t cook meals or eat properly I just binge on junk food, I’m lucky if I shower a couple of times a week. Things are not good. And I can’t go on pretending that I’m OK any longer because I’m not. I didn’t want to admit it but there you go, I’ve said it. I just don’t want to worry my family so I keep it bottled up… but it’s getting really bad again.

I cancelled my appointment with cpn#2 for tomorrow because I just cannot face her “positive goal setting” bullshit… I left a message for her saying I had too much studying to do and couldn’t go and asked her to give me a call back to rearrange another appointment but to be completely honest I will probably cancel that one as well. What’s the point when I get no benefit from them? And now I know it will only be a matter of weeks until I start seeing the psychologist again maybe it’s time to just stop seeing cpn#2 because I feel like I’m getting nowhere with her and I just cannot work to her super structured approach.

Has it really come to a point where I need to give serious consideration to trying ECT? Could that be the one thing that just blasts my brain back to a state of normality so I can get on with my life in a happy and meaningful way where I actually want to be alive and enjoy my life? Could it break away from all these desperate little attempts of escapism? I don’t know… And I’m not going to give it much thought for the moment because it wouldn’t be happening for at least six months anyway. And who knows where I’ll be in six months time… Who knows if I’ll even still be here? The way I feel at the moment that is somewhat doubtful.

But if I’m totally honest with people, if I lay my cards on the table and admit to how bad I feel then I enter back into the conversations like those of today: talks of admission into the bin… talks of ECT… Do I want those conversations, or worse, for them to actually happen? No.

I just want to feel normal whatever that is. I just want to feel happy. I want to wake up and look forward to the day ahead. I want things to be easy and free and effortless.

And yet I also want to go to wherever my little boy is… wherever it is we go when our body has died and our soul has moved on… and well…. I guess I can’t really believe that I’ve ended up back in this place again. I’m scared… the feelings of things about to fall apart and hit crisis level feel imminent and I’m genuinely truly terrified of that happening to me again.

00:42 – Well that’s it over for another year

29 Oct

Thank you to all the people who sent birthday wishes through facebook and twitter. I’m not sure what I’ve done to my facebook settings as when I logged on I had 47 private messages and lots of people saying they were sending them as they couldn’t post on my wall… I must have fucked about with the settings at some point and will need to re-fuck about with them to sort it!

So there we go… another year older and another birthday over for another year. It has been a strange day… I went to a posh fancy restaurant for lunch with my parents and my brother but for some reason was feeling super anxious. The restaurant was kinda far away but on the road I’m getting more confident with… however all of the agoraphobic head crazies started up which resulted in me making us arrive half an hour late because I kept making excuses up to avoid leaving the house. In the end we had lovely food and nice conversation but as soon as we were finished eating I just wanted to get out of there, which made me feel a bit bad because it cost the parents a lot of money to take us there to eat. So I went outside for a cigarette a couple of times and tried to just breathe and tell myself I’d be home soon, everything was OK, I wasn’t that far from home… I could do this… etc etc.

My parents gave me money and chocolates… my brother and his girlfriend got me scented candles, a bottle of my favourite amaretto and a gift voucher to go and get my nails done. It doesn’t expire until January so I think I might just wait and get them done for Christmas… or maybe I’ll go before then and just keep getting them infilled for a while.

I got back home around 3.30pm and male friend who I haven’t seen in way over a month appeared at the door to wish me a happy birthday which was nice of him. He stayed for an hour or so and we had a bit of a catch up… I moaned about best friend and how let down I feel by her just now… He moaned about one of his friends who has pissed him off… We were like a little old couple sitting here moaning and gossiping about the world!

After he left I decided it was time to study and have just spent six hours engrossed in my textbooks. I have finally caught up with one of my modules but the other one – which the essay is due for at the end of the week – I’m still really far behind with that and still haven’t started the essay. I actually emailed the module leader earlier and explained I was struggling and very far behind to see if she could maybe give me any tips along the lines of which weeks to make sure I’ve studied properly and which ones aren’t so relevant to the essay that I could maybe catch up on over the next couple of weeks. Hopefully she will email me back tomorrow with some advice because I am super stressed out right now.

Tomorrow I will be studying from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to bed apart from taking the dogs out for a few walks throughout the day. I need to get as much done as possible tomorrow and at the very least make an essay plan with everything written down that I need to remember to include in it.

Wednesday is going to be a bit of a pain in the ass day as I have new psychiatrist at 2.30pm but lovely support worker is taking me and coming to pick me up at 2pm. So I’ll need to try and get up earlier than usual so I can get a couple of hours studying done before I go and then get back to it when I get home. I’m so not looking forward to this appointment with him and am super tempted to cancel it because the last two appointments have been such a complete waste of time and I feel like we are working against each other rather than with each other. I’m also tempted to cancel my appointment on Thursday with CPN#2 – again because I just have so much to do this week that I can’t really spare a couple of hours to get there, have the appointment and get home again… I must study, study, study and keep on writing and writing and writing. There is no time for sleep or appointments… just have a little cat nap and then get back to it again. It’s the only way I’m going to have any chance of getting through this week.

So yeah, today I have felt like I’ve had a bit of a fake smile painted on my face most of the time. Internally my brain feels like it wants to ‘crash’ but I can’t let that happen. Bad thoughts keep on fleeting through my head saying if I just cut once or twice it will ground me and get me focused again and stop my head from wandering off. Everything just feels too hard, I’m having major doubts about my ability to carry on with the uni course… even part time is just too much… but I don’t know how much of that is just me still feeling pretty depressed and when I feel low absolutely everything is a struggle… even the simplest of things… so a fairly challenging degree level course is obviously going to be tough going. Part of me just wants to drop out but I know that if I do then I will feel like I’ve failed at yet another thing in life which is only going to fuel the depressive thoughts even more. So I guess I just keep on going… keep telling myself I just need to get through this tough week then get back on track with the studies throughout November and before I know it December will be here, I’ll have another couple of super stressful weeks submitting my final essays for these two modules and then it will be Christmas break and I can relax for a few weeks.

Anyways… it’s that time of night again where the dogs need their bedtime walk and I need my medication and a few hours sleep. I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to be a longggg longggg day.

01:15 – Happy birthday to me

28 Oct

I have spent the past four hours studying so much my brain hurts. I am desperately trying to catch up especially as I have a super busy week ahead. In between appointments I also have to write a pretty intense essay about social policy and the effects these policies have on child poverty… plus for my other module we have a research task where we have been split into online groups and have to create a full wikipedia page on certain super specific topics… my job is to research the history of the topic which so far I know nothing about as I’m playing catch up. So I finally decided to take a breather and looked at the clock – it’s 1am – oh… it’s my birthday. The big 32. The day has finally arrived. As you may be able to tell I’m not particularly excited about it, in fact it just depresses me that it’s another year on and very little in my life has changed.

Anyways… onto the slightly more happy stuff… I decided to go out last night (well Saturday night) and in the end swapped my costume I’d bought that didn’t fit me with another girl so I ended up going out as a ‘sexy’ police officer. Now this was OK in the sense that it was a short black dress but I could wear black tights and hide the leg scarring… but the sleeves were pretty short and the arm scarring was super noticeable. I tried to cover it up with some fake tan but it didn’t work particularly well (nor did I do a very good job of applying it as I appear to be very orange and streaky today… thank fuck I didn’t put any on my face!) so yeah, I was a bit paranoid about that until one of the girls had a brain wave and remembered she had long black fishnet gloves so I was much much more comfortable once I had them on!

So we had quite a lot to drink whilst we were all getting ready and the girls I hadn’t met before were all really nice and a good laugh. The couple of girls who I was worried about seeing again after so many years who I didn’t get on with back in the day decided to do their own thing so everything worked out great! After consuming two bottles of rosy wine and a couple of vodka’s (yes that was just my drinks!) I went into the bathroom and discreetly took a few Diazepam. Now I do not condone nor recommend mixing benzodiazapines with alcohol, but you have to remember I have taken them every single day for three years so I do know my limits… I didn’t take an unsafe amount, just my usual prescribed dose, and I know how they effect me when mixed with alcohol. I would never ever ever say to someone who doesn’t know how they would be affected to do that as it can be a very bad combination!

Anyways… the mix of the wine, the vodka and the diazepam relaxed me… maybe a little too much! I felt like I didn’t have a care in the world as we went from pub to pub drinking more and more and more. I wasn’t all self conscious about what I was wearing… I wasn’t scared of all the people nor how busy the pubs were… even my usual paranoia was staying quiet and letting me relax and let my hair down… I even spoke to some new people that I’d never met before which I would never normally do! The girls I was out with were all in great spirits and we just seemed to laugh all night long and I tell you it was such a relief when I finally came home at 2am and flopped into bed with a big smile on my face that I’d actually done it – I’d gone out, I’d had fun, I hadn’t done anything crazy and nothing bad had happened :)

Of course when I woke up this morning I had a super sore head but then realised it was only 7.30am so got a big glass of water and a couple of paracetamol and went back to sleep. When I woke again at 11am I felt slightly more human and dragged myself out of bed to walk the dogs. Later in the afternoon I went out to my friend’s house to get my coat and some other bits I’d left there last night and we had a giggle remembering all the fun bits from the night before… I think I’m going to try and spend more time with them seeing as best friend has completely forgotten about me… plus one of the girls there also has some mental health problems and she is quite open about them when in a small group so I feel more like I fit in. The only problem is that the next night out they are planning is in a big scary city place and there is no chance whatsoever my agoraphobia will let me go there but they tend to go out once a month or something so I can go out with them the next time they go out locally.

So yeah, I’m really glad that I went now, I can’t remember the last time I had a proper night out, I think it was back in April when it was best friend’s birthday I’m not sure… I know it’s been a long long time and was well overdue though!

I need to get off to bed soon as my parents and my brother are meeting me at 12.30 and we’re going to a fancy posh restaurant for lunch. We have a table reserved for 1pm. I think that’s going to be the only highlight of my birthday as I will need to get back home for about 3/4pm and get a few hours of studying done.

Wednesday afternoon I have my 3rd appointment with the new psychiatrist which I’m dreading even though lovely support worker is coming with me… I just don’t seem to get along with him… this is a bit of a running thing for me…. don’t get on with my psychiatrist and don’t get on with cpn#2 either… thank god I have lovely support worker and lovely GP to balance things out a bit :/

Thursday afternoon I have cpn#2… enough said about that…

Friday my big essay is due (that I haven’t even started yet) and Saturday my research project is due (again, not started yet). So it’s going to be a busy week, plus my Grandma is coming to stay with my parents for the week from tomorrow til Friday so I will need to spend some time with her as well and also on Friday night me and my Mum are going to an event that I don’t really know how to describe… it’s a mix of a lights illuminations show and aerial performer (trapeze artist) and all outdoors so it’s going to be freezing but it should be fun… the tickets have sold out really fast so lots of people must be going.

So every spare minute I have this week will be studying, studying and more studying… therefore I may be quiet for a few days. I just hope I can deal with all the stresses of deadlines and stuff because unfortunately the self harm thoughts are still never far from my mind at the moment even when things are going OK and I really can’t afford to let myself have any sort of breakdown this week.

Right… it’s 1.26am… time for bed me thinks…

Goodnight folks x

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