Tag Archives: a&e

13:17 – Progress with CPN#2 at last?

2 Oct

So this morning I got a phone call from CPN#2 who said she was calling me for two reasons. One was to find out why I didn’t attend my appointment with her last week and the other because she had the notes from my A&E visit on Sunday night in front of her.

This is unusual for her to phone me for missing an appointment and also unusual for her to phone me because she’s seen I’d attended A&E. I couldn’t help but wonder if she had read that my support worker had taken me there at 11pm on a Sunday night and maybe the A&E nurse wrote something on the notes about how unhelpful I’m finding my appointments with CPN#2. Maybe the combination of both finally made her decide she better at least phone and appear as though she gives a shit… either way… she called.

So her first question to me was about my non-attendance of appointments. I could feel my heart suddenly beating super fast and hard in my chest, a huge wave of anxiety came over me because I knew this was my opportunity: be honest with her but not know how she’ll react – or – make some excuse up and let her carry on thinking it’s ‘me’ not ‘her’. There was a lot of noise in the background and CPN#2 said she could barely hear me so was going to move to another room and call me straight back. I used those two minutes to quickly decide whether or not to be honest with her and what the hell to say.

My phone started ringing again a few minutes later and with a deep breath I said I wanted to try and explain what was going on. I wanted to be polite about it, I knew if I started going on about all the little annoying habits she has like “setting an agenda” and the stopwatch app on her phone running all the way through our appointments I would just end up getting angry, sounding silly and not achieve anything. So instead I explained (as calmly as I could) that I felt she was only willing to discuss this Compassionate Mind therapy with me and that any time I have tried to divert away from that to talk about how I’m feeling or how my mood is, she’ll stop me in my tracks and say “this isn’t on our agenda”. I was getting the feeling she was going to start being all defensive so I added in that I *did* want to try and learn the Compassionate Mind stuff because it seemed like a positive step in the right direction… i.e. something that will help me in the future whereas going back to talking about self harming, low moods, etc seemed like a step backwards. This seemed to balance things out a bit as I came across like I was willing to take some responsibility for not opening up to her or being honest with her.

I told her about the self harming and the things that had triggered me into feeling so crappy and spoke for another few minutes about how I didn’t want to “go backwards” but equally I couldn’t ignore these low moods any longer. And to my surprise she said that yes, I *should* be able to tell her when I’m feeling low and if I wanted to put the Compassionate Mind work on hold for a couple of weeks while we look at what’s causing the dips in my mood then we could do that. I explained how I’d had to turn to my support worker at rape crisis to help keep me safe over the weekend and I think this helped her to realise that this wasn’t right… it should be her as my CPN making safety plans and monitoring my mood… that’s her job not my support worker’s. So she asked if I would go in and see her on Friday and said we could get everything out in the open and that she’d give me the time to talk about what *I* wanted to talk about during our hour and I agreed that sounded like it would be helpful and that I would attend.

So I now have my fingers crossed that she will stick to everything she said on the phone and give me some space to open up on Friday, hopefully there will be no “agenda setting” and rather than running it like a business meeting, run it like a session with a CPN should be run. I feel better for finally getting all of this out in the open and if she sticks to her end of the deal then I can maybe start getting the right support from the right people again… i.e. mental health support from CPN#2 and get back to working on the issues surrounding sexual abuse with lovely support worker.

The self harm thoughts are still very much present and my mood is still low but I do feel like I’ve got something off my chest now and I just keep telling myself that it’s Wednesday today, I only need to get through today and tomorrow and then I’ll have my CPN appointment and hopefully have a productive appointment for once. It would be nice to be able to write a bloggy post to say the appointment had gone well and that after all the moaning I have done about CPN#2, maybe now a little bit of progress could be made. I don’t know about you guys but I’m sick to death of moaning about the woman!!

So yes, I have a tiny glimmer of hope that after all of this time CPN#2 might finally be ready to listen to me rather than the other way round. I shall report back on Friday on how it went and try my hardest not to self harm again before I see her, and I guess that’s all we can do, take it one day at a time and keep on trying….

(P.S. Completely off topic – this was my 800th blog post!)

15:12 – Bad weekend, A&E, self harming and more

30 Sep

**Please note this post is (a) very long and (b) contains talk of self harm so could be triggering**

 

Since I last posted things have been shit. Beyond shit in fact. The constant urges, needs, niggling voices about self harming have been grinding me down at a super fast pace.

I don’t really know where to begin so I’ll just stick to talking about the weekend. Friday I was a mess, but a manageable mess (or so I thought) but from the moment I woke up on Saturday (at 6am) I seemed to do nothing but cry all day long. The urges to self harm were crazy strong, very very intense and I fought so hard not to act on them. I had agreed a temporary safety plan with my support worker from rape crisis and even though it was a Saturday afternoon I desperately needed someone to talk to so I sent her an email, thinking that this would both get things off my chest but that she wouldn’t get it until Monday morning, therefore I wouldn’t be disturbing her at the weekend.

However, she must still check them at the weekends as I got a reply from her about an hour or so later. She was really nice in her reply and all the bits I’d written saying things like “it’s my fault, I’m bad, there’s bad blood in me, I need to bleed it out” she replied to saying “no, you’re not bad, you’re just having a really rough time at the moment and rough times mean you are more likely to use the one coping mechanism that you’ve always turned to – i.e. self harming”. She ended the email by saying that if I wanted a chat just to text her and let her know. But I didn’t want to ruin her weekend with all my crazy head crap so I tried to plod on with things by myself. The day carried on getting worse and worse, and by the time we got to about 7pm I was totally inconsolable… crying gentle sobs, quiet tears running down my face, then hysterical crying, huge heaving sobs, my whole body shaking and still with the repetitive “just fucking cut” voice going on in my head. The next few hours after that are a bit of a blur, I took more than my prescribed dose of Diazepam just to try and get some control back by calming down a little but it didn’t really do much to help. Maybe I just needed to cry like that, it has been a long time since I last really really let go and completely broke down emotionally.

Lovely support worker text me to ask if I was OK somewhere around 10pm and I replied back honestly “no, I’m a mess” so she replied saying she was going to phone me for a little chat but I replied again saying “I don’t even know what to say, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I can’t stop crying and I don’t even know if I’ll make any sense” but about ten minutes later she phoned anyway. I answered but couldn’t talk, just sat there crying my eyes out, every time I tried to say a simple word like ‘yes’ or ‘no’ more huge sobs would start up. But she just sat there and listened, she spoke for a little while until I got it together enough to talk a little bit. She was so reassuring and kept telling me everything was going to be OK, and every time I did manage to speak and something crazy came out my mouth she would listen and then repeat it back to me with the ‘crazy’ parts removed so that she could just keep putting it to me that I was just having a really hard time right now, but that I would get through it, look at all the other things I had gotten through that I never thought I would. She told me I was strong even when I sounded like a whimpering mess, she told me it was OK to feel how I was feeling, and after maybe 20 minutes the tears subsided enough that I could speak a little more rationally.

We then had a chat for a little while longer and I told her I was sitting on my bed surrounded by my little boy’s memory boxes, I had all of his scan photos and his actual photos spread out on the bed… I was cuddling his blanket of love that he is wrapped in in the photos… I’d been reading all of the sympathy cards we got at the time and in so many of them people had written how sorry they were but how they hoped the “love we had for each other” would be strong enough to get us through such a difficult time. And it hurt me to my very core because at that time I truly believed the love that me and my (ex) fiancé had for one another would be enough to get us through it. And then at the bottom of all of the sympathy cards I found two mother’s day cards and the ex had written a little poem from our baby… the last few lines of which said:

although right now we may be apart,

know that I love you from the deepest of my heart,

thank you so much for looking after my daddy for me,

mummy, a time will come when we’ll be back together as three

And my heart felt like it broke all over again as I read those words. At first I ached as I read them and felt such sadness… but then this changed to a more angry feeling, like what my ex had written was all lies… there would never be a “three of us” now, why did he claim to love me so much yet still go and have his two affairs? I was still on the phone to my support worker at this point and saying all of these thoughts aloud through the tears but again she helped to calm me down and explain that whilst going and having his affairs was very wrong of him, at the time he wrote those words on that card he probably did mean every word of them. He wrote them long before our relationship even started to show the tiniest of cracks, when we were very much in love and when I was facing my first mother’s day but without my baby. I guess that made some sort of sense as I did begin to calm down a little bit again and put the cards back in the box and closed the lid.

So after a long chat (and it was now getting really late at night) I thanked her lots for taking time out of her Saturday night to sit and talk to me. I apologised for all the crying I’d done and felt a bit embarrassed about it… I don’t really do the whole crying in front of people thing… but again she told me not to be silly and that crying is what we do when we’re upset, it’s completely natural, and right now I have a lot of upsetting thoughts that I’m trying to deal with. She said again that she was proud of me for not giving in to the self harm urges, re-checked I’d be OK and told me to text her any time the next day if I was struggling then we said goodnight.

I lay there for hours with my head pounding from all the crying I had done and then finally fell asleep feeling a bit better for talking to someone.

But then I woke up on Sunday morning (yesterday) and my very first thoughts upon waking were “cut yourself, just do it” and I burst into tears straight away. I got up and felt determined that I was not going to listen to those thoughts nor act upon them. I tried to busy myself by having a shower, walking the dogs, trying to do some studying, but to be honest no distraction was actually distracting me. The thoughts were constant and at the very front of my mind no matter what I tried to do to block them out. So then I tried doing things the other way and allowed all of the thoughts to flood my brain, sat and cried and listened to every single reason why I should cut myself. Needless to say this approach didn’t get me very far either. I got through ’til about 5pm before I felt like I was seriously going to lose it so I sent a text to lovely support worker and said I was struggling a lot and that I didn’t think I could stop myself from self harming for much longer. She replied asking if I’d like to have a chat but I didn’t want to take up her Sunday as well so I decided to leave it for a bit before replying to see if I could calm myself down on my own.

The next few hours were an absolute nightmare, my head hasn’t felt that crazy in a long time, I tried and tried to fight back but was running out of fight. By the time it got to around 9pm I finally started to lose it big time. Now at this point I *should* have text/emailed/phoned my support worker and talked it through but I had become so focused on needing to harm myself that I couldn’t think about anything else. So I got some towels and a clean blade and then turned the light off so I was sitting on the living room floor in the dark. [Insert warning here: self harming in the dark is not a clever idea, you could easily go too deep by accident and cause nerve damage, hit a vein or worse nick an artery, you could cut at a tendon or muscle and risk permanent damage to a limb... etc etc] But yeah, I just didn’t want to see what I was doing, I just wanted to feel the pain from it and fully intended to just cut one time, sit and feel that stinging throbbing sensation and then stop. But of course, as always with self harming, it didn’t turn out that way. I made three pretty nasty cuts which didn’t look too bad when I turned the light back on, but the sight of them and the blood on the towels made me not want to stop. So I cut deeper and deeper into the three cuts I’d made until it was at the point of them all being gaping open a fair bit. When I was finally ‘finished’ it was only then I realised that I didn’t have any essential first aid stuff in the house and there was a lot of blood soaking through the towels… so I began to panic a little bit. Even though it was about 10.30pm I sent a text to lovely support worker apologising profusely and explaining what I’d done. She replied asking if I needed to go to A&E? I text back saying ‘yes probably, but I don’t want to go’ then we spent the next half an hour texting back and forth with her saying she wasn’t going to force me to do anything I didn’t want to do but that if I did need medical attention then she would come and pick me up and take me there. After a lot of thinking I finally decided that it would probably be the best move to have the cuts cleaned and treated properly.

So around 11pm she picked me up and I said I was so sorry, sorry for using up her free weekend time and sorry for wasting the time of the NHS. I was really anxious as I had a feeling it would be the same doctor on duty who stitched me up after my ‘accidental’ injury just over a week ago but thankfully it wasn’t. Support worker was great, she let me go and sit in the waiting area while she explained to the nurse what I’d done and explained on my behalf that I was feeling really anxious. As usual, it was a nurse I’ve seen a few times before but haven’t seen this particular nurse in about a year. She let my support worker come through to the treatment room with us and said I had done really well with getting my self harming ‘under control’ as she remembered a time I was in there every few days with wounds, and other than the ‘accident’ the other week, I haven’t attended A&E for self harm wounds since April this year. So yeah, she was nice about it and told me not to feel too bad for having a bit of a relapse.

I didn’t say very much at first… I hate that moment where they take off the DIY bandage you’ve made and expose the cuts. I always look away and refuse to look at the wounds until they have been treated and covered up. One of the cuts just needed glue and steri strips but the other two were quite a bit deeper. I’ve had cuts less deep than them needing proper stitches before, but the problem was that the two cuts were so close together I don’t think it would have been possible to stitch them. So she asked if I was happy to have them glued and taped together and I said yes. It looked quite neat once she was finished but the dressing I have on my leg has quite a lot of blood on it today and I’m not sure if a bit of the glue has burst. I don’t want to take the dressing pad off because I only have one spare one and so long as no new fresh blood appears then it doesn’t really matter too much if a little glue has burst, me and medical glue don’t really get along, I always seem to burst a bit of it somewhere.

Anyways, going back to what I was saying… the A&E nurse was gentle, non judgemental and kind to me. I notice if you have someone with you, especially someone they see as a supporting professional, then all of the A&E nurses and doctors tend to be a bit nicer towards you. I asked her if I could just care for the wound myself instead of the usual routine of going back after 2 days for a wound check then returning again to have the stitches or steri strips or whatever removed. She said that would be OK as she knows I know what signs to look out for regarding infection etc. I then asked her if it would be possible for them not to send over the information to the mental health team even though it is in my care plan that if I attend A&E a copy of the notes should be sent over to them. She was a bit reluctant to do that though and asked me why I didn’t want the mental health team to know. I answered as honestly as I could:

  • Nobody from the mental health team ever contacts me even when they do receive a copy of the notes from A&E
  • This in turn makes me annoyed that I stick to my end of my care plan but they don’t stick to their end to even make a quick phone call to ask if I’m OK
  • If crappy CPN#2 doesn’t even attempt to make contact with me when I didn’t attend for 10-12 weeks in a row then there isn’t much chance of her making contact following an A&E visit
  • I end up just feeling let down and like no one really cares when I know those notes have been sent over but nobody even acknowledges them

 

Adding to this I also explained that I’m not finding my current CPN very helpful at all. I told the A&E nurse I did have an appointment to see CPN#2 last week but didn’t attend it so that would be even more reason for CPN#2 to turn round and say “well you had an appointment, you could have come to see me but you chose not too” – when in fact the reality is even if I had gone to see her my ‘current mood’ is never a topic for her little agenda so in reality I wouldn’t have been able to talk about how crap I was feeling anyway. The A&E nurse said she completely understood where I was coming from but that she would feel much better for sending over the notes anyway. She said at least this way, if nobody does make contact, then I have even more ‘evidence’ that this CPN is not the right one for me. So in the end I agreed that the notes could be sent over and lovely support worker agreed I’d done the right thing.

By the time we got back to mine it was well after midnight and we sat in support worker’s car and chatted for a little while before I actually realised how late it was and thanked her very much for coming with me and for supporting me all weekend. I have an appointment to see her again tomorrow afternoon and am going to get a little thank you card for going above and beyond in helping me these past few days.

So yeah, it’s been a very difficult weekend, lots of emotions, lots of crying and another three scars to add to my already horrendous looking legs. But at the same time I was never left feeling alone with all these mixed up emotions, I felt supported and that in turn enabled me to feel like I could be honest and not have to hold back… I could just admit to what I was feeling and let people help me. I’m still not sure if the urges to self harm are out of my system but at least I no longer have to keep those thoughts to myself, I know now I have at least one person I can talk to when things get really rough who won’t judge me but simply reassure me that it’s OK to feel how I feel. It still really annoys me that support worker is having to take that role at the moment, I truly believe that it should be the job of CPN#2 to look after my “mental health needs” rather than my support worker who is there to help with my ongoing issues regarding the sexual assault in August last year and the issues I still have surrounding the childhood sexual abuse I suffered. Thankfully when it comes to the topic of self harm it is one that my support worker is quite knowledgeable about as sexual abuse and self harm often go hand in hand, but still, it would be nice to have a CPN who actually made me feel like she cared once in a while.

Sorry for over 3000 words of rambles… hope I didn’t bore you too much(!) I guess I just have to hope now that this new week is a better one… so yeah… will see how it goes…

01:15 – A temporary safety plan

26 Sep

Today I have tried my hardest to start being honest with people.

Best friend text me out of the blue last night asking how I was. I contemplated sending the “fine thanks” reply but decided that no, I would tell the truth, well mostly the truth. I text back and told her I was lonely, that I felt like I had no friends and that my mood was very low and I’m finding myself feeling triggered by the smallest of things. To my surprise she text back straight away and said she was going to come and see me in the morning and true to her word, at 11am this morning she phoned to say she was on her way.

The first thing she asked me was why I was bandaged up, had I been self harming? This was the only lie that I told her. I stuck to my story that I have told A&E and also told my Mum. But all the other stuff I was honest about. I told her I was feeling really low but that there was no one specific thing making me feel this way. I don’t know why I couldn’t be honest about all of the cutting I have been doing recently, usually I can be pretty straight to the point with her. I guess maybe I didn’t want to see the disappointment in her face, as she thinks I haven’t done it since April. That’s probably the reason why I have lied about it this time round, just to avoid dealing with that sad look in people’s faces. I told best friend I was finding it hard being on my own all of the time and that I missed her. I also never see the male friend that I used to spend a lot of time with but that is mainly because the last time we had a proper conversation a few weeks ago he asked me if we could be more than friends – of course I said no. I came up with some shit about just not wanting to be in a relationship with anyone – you know – the sort of thing you say to try and make them not take it personally. Blaming my mental health and saying I would be too much of a burden on someone right now. To a point that is true but I wouldn’t ever be more than friends with him anyway purely because there is absolutely no physical attraction there.

Anyways… back to today. After we’d sat and chatted for about an hour I realised best friend hadn’t just been too busy with her boyfriend and kids, she’s actually had some stuff going on as well that she’s been quite worried about. She had a heart murmur as a baby but it’s never really affected her, however she became quite unwell at the weekend and had to go to hospital where they found something quite abnormal on her ECG and the doctor suspects one of the valves in her heart isn’t letting oxygen in properly or something to that effect. So she is being referred to the cardiologist and is feeling quite worried about that. I then felt a bit stupid and selfish that I thought she was just too loved up to remember to text me but she did say she shouldn’t have left me for weeks with not even a text to say hello. We decided to go for a coffee before I had to go to my appointment at 2pm and I felt slightly better for spending a couple of hours with her and getting out of the house.

I then went to my appointment with my support worker from rape crisis. This is where I was properly honest. I told her about all of the self harming. I told her I’d even been having thoughts again about not wanting to be here any more. I told her about how lonely I feel. I told her about abuser cousin’s daughter having the baby. I told her about all the things that have been triggering me. I told her I wasn’t sure how safe I felt at the moment especially with my parents being away on holiday. I told her about not going to see CPN#2 yesterday and all my reasons why I find myself avoiding more and more appointments. Basically I got everything off my chest. I was talking slowly, every word felt like it was draining me but I got it all out in the end. She asked me what we could do to try and keep me safe. I told her I really didn’t know. I do know that I definitely do not want to even consider hospital, it is not an option. I don’t know that I feel suicidal as such however I did admit to having a cupboard absolutely full to the brim of a variety of medication. Some prescribed stuff and some stuff I’ve bought. I have no idea how many tablets are in there but it’s easily into the hundreds. So after a long chat I managed to identify that I am relatively low risk when it comes to trying to kill myself or taking an overdose even though I have the means to do so. However I could recognise that I am at a high risk of self harming to quite severe levels. This is when lovely support worker said we should think of a ‘temporary safety plan’.

I agreed that if I found myself in a situation where I was beginning to self harm and it was possible that it might spiral out of control then I would do my best to stop for a moment and phone/text or email her. I don’t know how realistic that is going to be should it happen… once I’m in that self harming ‘zone’ it’s very hard to stop and think, I’m too determined just to bleed out all of my pain. She said I should try and make contact with her when I’m at the ‘crazy-head-full-of-self-harm-urges’ stage rather than afterwards when the damage has already been done but that truly is easier said than done. But I will at least try. If she’s being good enough to make a point of being there for me then I should try and make use of that support.

After I left my appointment I decided to try and face A&E to get my stitches removed. As usual the two nurses on shift were nurses that I knew. I made a point of saying this hadn’t been a self harm wound and she gave me a bit of a strange look for a second. Whatever she had read from my notes appeared to say differently so clearly the doctor who put the stitches in didn’t believe my lie or at least expressed some sort of doubt about the story I gave him. She was nice enough though, removed the stitches, made some general chit chat, asked what I’d been doing with myself today so I decided fuck it, I’ll be honest with her. So whilst I stuck to the story of that particular wound not being a self harm one, I also told her I’m not finding my appointments with my CPN helpful at all and haven’t really been going to them. She suggested I mention this to my GP when I next see her to see if there is a way that I could maybe see a different CPN but I don’t know if that would even be possible due to the small amount of staff there are in the mental health team here. Plus it would mean CPN#2 finding out my feelings on how unhelpful I find her.

I also told the A&E nurse that I was experiencing a lot of urges to self harm at the moment. I don’t know if this was partly because I thought that if I told her then if I do end up self harming badly again it won’t come as too much of a surprise to them. Or maybe I just needed to be honest and stop lying. I think it was a mix of trying to reach out for some help and just wanting to tell the truth.

So all in all today wasn’t such a bad day. I talked about a lot of depressing stuff and from all that talking I managed to recognise that I don’t feel particularly safe at the moment and that my self harming behaviours are starting to get pretty bad again. But on the flip side I don’t feel as though I’ve just been left on my own to deal with it all. Even if I don’t make contact with my support worker before our appointment next week at least I know that she is there at the end of the phone or email should I need it. For now there is a temporary safety plan in place.

I am planning on spending some time at the cemetery tomorrow as the new bits and bobs for my little boy’s headstone arrived today. Usually I find it very peaceful to sit up there for a while and talk to him, admittedly I usually have a bit of a cry as well but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. I will post a photo next time I write a post of his stone looking all pretty again.

There was just one last thing I wanted to ask you all before I log off (well ask my female readers!) – I got the routine letter through today saying it is time for my three yearly smear test. The actual test itself isn’t the problem. The problem is that obviously you have to remove your bottom half and my legs are a horrendous mess of deep dark scars and the scars are all over them – calf area, front of legs, thighs, all completely covered. For many many years I only ever self harmed on my arms or stomach and it’s only really been in the past few years that I started on my legs. Most of it was done in times where I was really unwell but this is going to be the first time where I will need to expose the damage. There is absolutely no hiding it. I could probably be brave enough to explain to the nurse about my self harming problem or maybe I could ask lovely GP to explain it to her. But I was just wondering really if any other ladies have had this problem and how you managed to deal with it? After my first ever smear at 20/21 coming back abnormal and needing a fair bit of treatment done I never miss them now, I know how important they are. But the idea of exposing all the damage to a stranger is starting to freak me out a bit, I have to admit.

Right I think it’s bed time now. I can feel my medication cocktail kicking in and my eyes getting heavy. I haven’t self harmed today despite the urges being there, I hope I can continue in the same way tomorrow although I do know that going up to the cemetery for a while will most likely cause me some upset. Hopefully I can be strong enough to deal with the emotions in a healthier way.

Goodnight folks.

16:54 – In a pretty crappy place right now

24 Sep

So yeah, I spent the weekend getting drunk by myself. Sitting here pouring glass after glass of wine and drinking it at a ridiculous speed. I don’t know what I hoped to achieve by doing that, I guess I was trying to block shit out. However the reality was that I just got more and more depressed, my mood dropped a little further down with every gulp I took. I did a lot of crying which maybe wasn’t such a bad thing, maybe those emotions had to come out of me, but I’m still having emotional outbursts with no warning signs today.

I continued to self harm Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Despite being under the influence I seemed to manage to have some control over it as the cuts are reasonably superficial. I think I just kept reminding myself that if I just pushed down that little bit harder then it would be time to go back off to A&E again and I’m still sticking to my story with them that the stitches I’ve got were as a result of an accident and not self harming.

I am supposed to be going to get my stitches taken out today but I just feel so low and so miserable that I can’t face going out. I don’t suppose an extra day will make much difference, I’ve had times in the past where I just couldn’t face going to A&E and left stitches in a few more days than they were supposed to be in for. I was also supposed to go to an appointment with CPN#2 at 12:30 today – I got up at 9am and forced myself to go in for a shower, got dressed, sat and watched some TV, let the dogs out to do the toilet, then around 11am took my clothes back off and put my pj’s back on. Sat and watched 12:30 come and go, knowing that I should phone and least concoct some excuse for missing yet another appointment but my brain just seemed incapable of thinking so I didn’t attend and didn’t phone to apologise either.

I think I have come to the conclusion that I don’t find that I get any benefit from my appointments with CPN#2. In fact, I have worked with a number of CPN’s over the years and I’ve never really achieved much with any of them. The ones who have been good are the ones that haven’t stuck around for long. Typical really. So now I don’t know what to do – do I phone and leave a message for CPN#2 and make yet another appointment, drag myself along to it, sit there finding it no help whatsoever, make another appointment, repeat the process over and over again? Or do I somehow try to find the strength to be honest with her? I don’t know if I could do it face to face but the thought has crossed my mind that it might be an idea to write her a letter explaining why I’m not finding these sessions useful, therefore I either cancel them or just don’t attend.

My main problem with them is that CPN#2 likes to work in a very structured sort of way. I go in and she takes a sheet of paper that she calls the ‘agenda’ then asks me to pick two or three topics that I’d like to discuss during our session. If I go off at a little bit of a tangent she quickly pulls me straight back on topic by saying “this isn’t on our agenda, please stick to the agenda” which leaves me feeling like I’m being told off for trying to explain something. I don’t know if I’m explaining this very well? It’s like she wants our sessions to be like business meetings – have an agenda with a few bullet points – discuss them very specifically without really allowing any emotions to come into the conversation. Sometimes you need to go off at a little bit of a tangent to explain things better and when someone is sitting tapping their pen against their notebook it is extremely off putting. Then add to that her latest thing of propping her phone up on the middle of the table with the stopwatch app counting the minutes, constantly flashing, distracting me… yeah… it’s just not helpful.

I understand that she wants to use the sessions to get me to cover the basics of Compassion Focused Therapy until such time that I can see the psychologist again to learn it all in more detail, but surely I should be able/allowed to talk about how I’m feeling as well? Like if I had gone today there is just no way I could have told her about the self harming or about how low my mood has been/still is. We have absolutely no bond/no relationship/no therapeutic relationship/nothing. I cannot open up to her because I’m scared to mention anything that isn’t set on her little business agenda. So I end up not going to my appointments, not engaging with the mental health team, sitting and waiting for a letter to appear in my mail one day telling me she has discharged me as I don’t attend and she could be seeing someone else in my place. Part of me wishes she would just do that, but I carry on clinging to this little bit of hope that it won’t be too much longer now until I see the psychologist again and at least I know I can get along with her and work with her.

So here I am hiding indoors again. It’s now week three of my part time uni course and I haven’t even finished week one’s work. I sit and try to read, try to absorb it, try to understand it but it’s like there is an invisible mental block getting in the way and nothing sinks in. So I give up and tell myself I’ll try again tomorrow. But tomorrow comes and goes and I’m no further forward. At the moment there is still a chance I could catch up but for that to happen I need motivation. Right now I have no motivation at all. I just sit here and cry, cut myself a few more times, cry some more, never really getting anywhere. I can’t even go and sit on my (personal) facebook because I just cannot handle all these pregnancy announcements, baby announcements, baby talk in any way shape or form. Of course I know it’s something I can’t hide from forever but right now it’s all just too triggering for me. My mental state feels pretty fragile like the slightest thing will cause it to fall apart.

Although I fully intended to get drunk on Friday night I actually didn’t plan on repeating it on Saturday night. However, I popped up to see my parents to wish them a nice holiday (they left on Sunday morning and get back Monday next week) and just as I was leaving their phone started to ring. I saw on the caller display that it was my Aunt that I have nothing to do with these days (this is my Aunt who was the mother of my older cousin that abused me for years – he’s dead now for any new readers) and as soon as I saw her name flash up on the caller display I knew instantly what she was phoning for. My abuser cousin has a daughter who has been brought up by my Aunt as he couldn’t provide for her due to either being in prison or when he was out of prison he’d go straight back to his life of heroin and crack addiction. The mother of his daughter was also an addict. Despite who her parents were I still just looked at her like a little cousin and we used to be quite close until a couple of years ago when my stupid Aunt told her about the abuse. I had never wanted her to know about it but my Aunt is an alcoholic and doesn’t think about what she is saying half the time. So, the girl was about 14 at this point and of course she reacted to the news in a very angry way. She splattered messages all over my facebook and I made the decision to write her a long email explaining everything. I wrote about it on here and it was quite controversial to say the least – some people commented to say they thought I’d done the right thing – others said she was too young to have been told about it and that I shouldn’t have sent the email. But that’s all in the past now and sadly I haven’t spoken to her since.

My Mum told me several months ago that the girl is now 16 and pregnant. Firstly the fact that yet another person just accidentally got pregnant at the drop of a hat upset me. Secondly I convinced myself that she would have a little boy and name him after her father (as I think there is a bit of childhood idolising of him on her part even though he was never around as a father to her). I knew the baby was due in September and sure enough that was what my Aunt was phoning to tell my Mum. Thankfully she had a little girl. Even though I don’t see her any more or have any contact with her, I think it would have really got to me if she’d named an innocent little baby after the monster my abusing cousin was. But yeah, just hearing about yet another baby started making my head feel all bonkers so on the way back from my parents house I went and bought three bottles of wine and drank the lot over Saturday night and Sunday afternoon.

So that’s where I am at the moment. Alone, lonely, self isolating, unable to study, crying a hell of a lot, cutting myself, missing appointments and generally feeling extremely low. I have an appointment with my rape crisis support worker tomorrow which I’m going to make an effort to go to as she is pretty much the only person that I can just sit and be honest with at the moment. And if I make it to that appointment and get out of the house then maybe I’ll manage to get to A&E as well to have these stitches taken out. As for the rest of today and tonight I have absolutely no idea how they are going to pan out. If my mood stays like this then it looks like it’ll be yet another shitty night to try and get through. Truthfully I don’t feel 100% safe at the moment and I do feel a little bit worried about where this is all heading. But if I can just get through tonight in one piece then maybe tomorrow’s appointment with lovely support worker will help to calm my crazy brain down again.

23:33 – Telling lies to A&E doctor :(

18 Sep

In the past week I haven’t posted because I’ve been feeling so low and if I had written anything it would have made for some pretty depressing reading. Not that this post won’t be but it feels like time to ‘check in’ with my little blog again. One nice thing I noticed was that in the week I’ve been gone my little blog hit the 100,000 views mark, which I know isn’t a huge amount compared to some of the wonderfully written blogs out there but it did give me a little smile to see that nearly four years on people still pop over and read my rambles!

So yeah… this past week I feel as though I’ve been triggered left, right and centre. I know that it’s been over six years now since I lost my little angel but when I see people announcing pregnancies, birth announcements, even just random posts on Facebook that people make about their kids still seem to have the ability to upset me.

I went to see the gynaecologist last Wednesday and she was actually really nice, we decided on a treatment plan of Metformin and Provera (a tablet that is used for a variety of menstrual problems and given to me to induce a bleed as I don’t have periods by myself). She had actually taken the time to read some of my file and she chatted about my loss for a little while and was really gentle and empathic about it. She asked me if I was in a position at the moment to want to try and conceive again but I told her quite truthfully that I’m not even in a relationship let alone a sexual one and that the idea of ever trying again absolutely terrifies me. But she said if a time does come where I’d like to try again she would be more than happy to see me again and go through my fertility treatment options with me. In the meantime she’d like me to try and lose a bit of weight, get my body a bit healthier and see how I get on with the metformin this time round.

Even though she was really nice and helpful, I still left with thoughts of my angel, my limited fertility and my very real and very scary fears for the future. I was literally out of the appointment all of ten minutes when I got a text message from my cousin telling me she is three months pregnant with her second baby. Of course I replied saying it was wonderful news and how I was “delighted for her”… but as I typed the words tears rolled down my face. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy for people that they have happiness in their lives and I would never ever wish a loss/stillbirth upon anyone, but sometimes it just all hurts so much. It’s tiring always having to bite back tears and swallow down the lumps in my throat to put on a smile and congratulate people. Then the following day best friend innocently wrote on Facebook something like “my life is perfect, I have two beautiful little boys and the best boyfriend in the world, life just couldn’t get any better” and that set me off again… all the thoughts of why is everyone else so happy with their perfect lives and I’m so miserable with mine. I’ve practically got no confidence at all, I’m overweight, I’ve permanently scarred my body to quite extreme levels, I barely have any friends and the thought of ever being intimate with someone again absolutely terrifies me. I’m 32 next month and none of this shit was part of my life plans :(

So I spent the weekend near constantly in tears. I hid away from the world. I refused to look on Facebook (my own personal one not my blog one). My head has been full of thoughts and urges and niggling voices telling me just to cut… cutting would make things all better again. But I know what I am like with self harming these days… I find it almost impossible to stop at a ‘superficial’ level… once I start it has to go deeper and deeper until I’ve made an absolute mess of another bit of flesh. And of course this results in a trip to A&E. I haven’t had to attend A&E since April and I’ve been really determined for things to continue that way. But then other things started to trigger me… stupid things like the fact my parents are going on holiday this coming weekend and this resulted in me having to beat myself up over the fact I can barely travel anywhere. Then on Monday I was supposed to have an appointment with CPN#2 and even though I really cannot stand the woman and find her worse than useless, I dragged myself out of bed and walked in the pouring rain to where the mental health team is located. A male CPN showed me through to a room then appeared back about ten minutes later to say that CPN#2 had actually called in sick and wasn’t there so that was a wasted trip and off I went back out into the rain. Would a phonecall to have let me know really have been that hard? I know I have a cheek to talk when I miss so many of my appointments with her but she’s supposed to be the ‘professional’ after all…

I walked home with the only thoughts in my mind that no one gives a fuck about me. I can go 10 or 12 weeks not attending a single appointment and no one ever asks why… no one phones to check if I’m OK… I’m just left on my own… which to be fair is what I always say that I want.

So yeah, the thoughts about cutting just seemed to get stronger and stronger every day from last Wednesday. My part time uni course that I do from home started back last week and I have barely looked at any of the course materials yet. I don’t know if I can do it, I don’t know if I want to do it, I just have no belief in myself right now nor any motivation. I just feel completely and utterly shit.

Now that I’ve rambled on for 1000 words I should maybe get back to the title of this post: I lied to the doctor. Actually I will correct that… I lied to the nurse, to the doctor and to my Mum. Today was meant to be a good day – my new phone arrived and I had been looking forward to getting my upgrade. I decided to get the Samsung Galaxy S4 in red as I loved my S3 and before that my S2. I have to say however that the S4 really isn’t that much different from the S3 and I’ve only had it one day and so far the battery life is proving to be pretty bad, even after disabling all applications and stuff that I didn’t need. I’m not really sure if it was worth the upgrade but maybe I just feel completely blah about everything right now. I can’t seem to get excited/happy about anything. Sorry… I’ve gone all off topic again… my head is just all mixed up and everything I’m writing is all coming out all mixed up as well.

This afternoon I just couldn’t take the constant urges to self harm any longer. Everything came to a head and I was having a complete and utter meltdown. The tears wouldn’t stop, the need to feel pain wouldn’t stop, the memories and flashbacks of so many things wouldn’t stop and I felt like I was starting to seriously lose the plot. I tried taking some Diazepam to calm down a bit but it did nothing to help. I forced myself to take the dogs a walk because I was becoming scared of what I was going to do to myself if I allowed myself to sit and think for one minute longer. The walk didn’t help either though, as soon as I got outside I began to feel extremely anxious and just wanted to run back indoors and hide again. I think that was the point that I realised I couldn’t fight it any longer, I had to cut, it was the only thing that was going to bring me back to reality and ground me again. But I also knew that if I started then I really didn’t believe I’d have the control to stop.

I’m not going to say where I cut but it was somewhere that I’ve never cut before and I will be honest from the start with you guys – I did it that way because I wanted to make it look like an accident. At the back of my mind that was the lesser of two evils if you will… I had to know that if I lost control and went too deep that I could pass it off as an accident and not admit that after going five months without cutting I ended up doing it again. Trust me when I say that the scarring I have on my body… all over my body… is horrendous. I wouldn’t want to trigger anyone but sometimes I think about posting some photos of scars that are several years old – not to try and shock anyone – but to educate them that this is what your body will look like if you walk down the path of self harming. Sorry, I’m going off at a tangent again, back to the point…

I cut. I started and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t make lots of cuts I only made one. One in a place that would be one of the most unlikely places that someone would cut. I went over it and over it and over it until there was a real mess staring back at me. And then I cried. A lot. And then I panicked. This was going to need medical treatment and I had to come up with a story to tell the nurse/doctor at A&E to convince them that an accident had happened… I couldn’t tell them the truth. A couple of hours after I’d cut I decided I had a story to explain my wound that seemed plausible. So I forced myself to go to A&E around 7pm and the nurse who took me through to the treatment room was one I’ve seen a couple of times before (for self harming). The first thing she said was “have you cut yourself?” and somehow I managed to keep my voice steady and replied “yes, but it was an accident”… she replied with “an accident that you went too deep or an accident that caused the wound?” and I lied… “I haven’t self harmed… honestly… it was an accident”. She looked at the wound and said she’d need to call the doctor as it needed stitches. Where I live is a very rural area, the hospital is small, there aren’t a huge amount of staff there, and in A&E pretty much every doctor and nurse knows me. Most of them greet me by my first name and they all know I will just tell them straight out if I’ve cut myself. But tonight something was different, I just could not say those words. So I stuck to my story and when the doctor came in the room I lied to him about what happened as well. He straight out asked me if I was 100% sure I hadn’t self harmed and I looked him in the eye and said “yes, I’m 100% sure”. I felt awful, really awful and really paranoid that somehow he would just know that I was lying. And maybe he did because whilst he accepted my story of how I got the wound he continued to ask me at least another dozen times about my self harming behaviours… when had I last done it… how often am I doing it these days.., what kind of things trigger me off to make me do it… all that kinda stuff. And when he wasn’t asking then the nurse was asking. I kept thinking maybe he could tell from looking at the wound that it didn’t look like an accidental injury and he spent far more time talking about self harming than he did about ‘the accident’. At one point I started to feel like I was going to break down and just admit the truth but I excused myself to the toilet and took a couple more diazepam out my bag then returned to the treatment room and carried on with my bullshit lies.

After an hour or so I was cleaned up, stitched up, bandaged up and quickly jumped up and thanked them then went to leave. The doctor asked me to wait for a minute so he could tell me when I’ve to return to have the stitches taken out. They want me back on Friday for a wound check and dressing change then back on Tuesday for the stitches to come out. I really don’t think either of them believed my made up story but neither of them came straight out and said it, but there were far too many ‘mental health assessment’ type questions going on for an ‘accidental injury’. Hmmm. Then again, it could be possible that the doctor remembered me from the night where I really did almost die after taking a massive overdose and very nearly ending up intubated… maybe that was why he asked so many questions about my mental health and state of mind because he knows what I’ve been capable of in the past. Oh… I don’t know… maybe they did believe me or maybe they didn’t… I’ll probably never find out for sure what they really thought unless I ask to see my notes which realistically I’d never ask to do as I think it would be a total head fuck to see what some people have said about me on paper.

So there we go… after five months of only very superficial self harming I have again done it badly enough to require stitches. I’ve lied to a doctor and nurse. I lied to my Mum when I spoke to her earlier and told her the same ‘accidental injury’ story.

Do I regret cutting? No.

Do I feel better for cutting? No.

Do I think I’m going to do it again? I really don’t know.

Is my head still a fucked up mess? Unfortunately yesVery much so in fact.

:(

21:09 – CPN appointment and a ramble

30 Apr

Today has been pretty busy and it’s only 8.30pm but I’m already thinking about going to bed. My sleep last night was ridiculously bad again and I felt like a zombie when I got to my appointment with CPN#2 at 1pm. I can’t even remember what we spoke about as my brain was like mush. I do remember her filling out a sheet for the front of my file with details of allergies and stuff on it. And she said something about meeting with my psychologist before we next meet to find out from the psychologist what kind of therapy she will be planning to do with me and then use the sessions with CPN#2 to get me into the right headspace for the more structured psychological therapy. Also she mentioned arranging another CPA meeting for me as I’m well overdue one but right now half the people who should attend it are off for one reason or another so I think we’ll probably wait until June or July before the next one, which is fine by me as I don’t particularly enjoy them.

After my appointment with CPN#2 I met my Mum and we went for a look at washing machines. I’ve narrowed it down to three, they are all pretty expensive so I’m now just trying to work out what the best payment method for me would be. My Mum said she will put it on her credit card and I can pay her in instalments until the balance is cleared. The alternative is that I could buy it from my catalogue and pay it off over 52 weeks interest free or the third possibility is getting it from a local electrical store who offer the same 52 weeks interest free for payment. There are a couple of offers I saw that were quite good as they included the cost of delivery, disconnecting and removing your old appliance then connecting up your new one so it saves a lot of hassle – especially when you live two floors up. Mum said I should have a think about which one I want tonight and we can meet up at some point tomorrow to get it ordered.

Tomorrow is going to be another busy day as I have to go to a&e to have the rest of my stitches taken out (which as usual I am dreading), attempt to get a repeat prescription when my normal GP is off on holiday and as this was my first time in years getting a monthly prescription instead of a weekly one I don’t know if I’ll get put back on weeklies until my GP is back. I also have an hour of tattooing booked in the afternoon and have to buy a birthday card for my Dad then go to my parents as we’re having a little birthday dinner for him. I’m not sure how he’s going to react to his present – usually it’s a boring bottle of aftershave or something like that – but this year my brother decided it would be fun to get him a flying lesson – yes – to fly a small plane! It was pretty expensive so I hope he likes it! I wasn’t planning to get him a big present this year as next year it’s his 60th but before I could have much input into it my brother had already gone and booked it!

Anyway, I don’t really have much more to say for myself, I really am trying not to write about all the bad thoughts in my head. I told CPN#2 today that I just feel numb at the moment, I don’t feel happy or sad, I don’t feel quite as desperate about hitting the self destruct button but still want to hit it. I told her I’d pulled a couple of my stitches out myself in some sort of anger/frustration the other day – she asked what stopped me from pulling them all out and I’m not sure of the answer – probably because I knew if I pulled them all out I’d be back at a&e again and I just don’t think I could face going in there for more treatment – just going to get my stitches out tomorrow makes me feel anxious enough. Why? Because I don’t know how long I’m going to go before my next trip for more stitches. I don’t know if it will be days, weeks or months. The urge to self harm again is extremely strong but with having an hour’s tattooing done on Friday, another hour tomorrow and another hour booked for this coming Friday I’m trying my hardest to somehow trick my head into believing that the pain that comes with tattooing will be enough to stave off the urges to cut for another little while.

Well it’s now gone 9pm and I’m going to watch a little television, take the dogs a walk then medication and bed. I’m totally shattered and need some proper sleep tonight. I can’t even do a bit of self medicating as I only have one night’s medication left. So hopefully the sleep fairy will come along and be nice to me tonight.

Goodnight folks xx

 

01:36 – A confused and messed up girl

24 Apr

My head is still pretty messed up and sadly the regrets over self harming so severely on Sunday night still haven’t kicked in. Last night was pretty horrendous,  I became extremely emotional and sat with my little angel’s memory box on the bed and cried for what seemed like hours. After putting his memory box away I became really angry, angry that this is my life, that the most precious thing in my life has been lost.

My behaviour after that became ridiculous. I started pulling all the bandages off my legs and sat with a blade in my hand, shaking and desperately wanting to cut out all twenty something stitches. I shook, I cried, I threw the blade angrily on the floor then picked up the TV remote control and began smacking it off my face, whacking my cheeks with it over and over again. Then I was down on the floor and  hitting my head off the wall like an angry child. Then the blade was back in my hand again and I was going to cut but I truly could not have faced more stitches. So I repeatedly lit my lighter until the metal was red hot then pushed it down deep onto my skin all round my ankle. And then ended up in tears again.

I was really starting to get quite terrified of where this was all heading. My thoughts were so negative that I began to feel quite suicidal. Then I cried some more when I remembered yet again I can’t commit suicide because I can’t put my parents through the pain I carry about every day of having to bury your child. So whether I like it or not I have to keep on going and that made me angry and upset and frustrated that I felt in the moment like I was only alive to spare others pain. But then of course there is always that little evil laugh inside my head saying “they wouldn’t care anyway, they’d be glad you were gone” even though rationally I know that is completely untrue and that my parents love me very much. I don’t deserve their love, sometimes I wish they loved me less so it would be easier to put an end to things :(

Everything was just going bonkers. I couldn’t hold myself together any longer and ended up phoning the mental health helpline breathing space and spent the next hour on a non stop ramble about how I just want to completely self destruct, how much I deserved to be in this pain, I deserved to suffer, I was/am a bad person who doesn’t deserve good things in life. I told the call handler I wanted to rip all my stitches out, that I couldn’t stop thinking about hurting myself more and more. After about an hour I finally got so tired from everything and broke down in tears on the phone, I couldn’t keep talking and just hung up. I felt a bit bad for not even saying thank you or goodbye to the person who had sat and listened to me all that time but I was completely mentally exhausted. With a slight bit of self medicating I did finally manage to semi-sedate myself and fall asleep only to wake up every couple of hours in a state of panic. I think I was having nightmares, I’m not sure.

I sent lovely support worker from rape crisis a text message yesterday telling her I’d had a bad night on Sunday and she messaged me this morning to ask if I wanted to see her today instead of waiting until tomorrow. So I said yes and we had a long chat together. I was honest with her about everything I did over Sunday and Monday night, I was honest with her about feeling like I just want to make myself hurt and hurt and not stop hurting. I told her I was scared about where this was all heading and that I didn’t know when or how to make it stop. I don’t think it can stop until I do something really bad to myself. And that I was terrified I was going to end up in the psychiatric hospital again if I keep going like this. She asked if that might be a good place for me right now and I very firmly said no. There is no way I am ever going back to that place, it is awful, truly awful. It would make the sanest of people feel like they’d gone bonkers in just one week of being there. The thought of that place makes me feel anxious as hell and physically sick.

Oh I forgot to mention that for the first time since this whole arrangement was made with A&E a year ago that they would let the CMHT know when I had attended – well yesterday for the first time I actually got a phone call from the duty CPN (albeit it was just before they were closing) but yes someone did actually phone and ask if I was OK as she’d read the A&E notes. I told her I wasn’t sure how I felt and she asked if I thought I could keep myself safe. I said I’d try my best, I said the same when I was leaving my support appointment this afternoon.

I went to the A&E department this afternoon to have a wound check and dressing change done. I was supposed to be going back again tomorrow to get last Wednesday’s stitches out but I asked her if they could just come out a day early. That wound looked like it is starting to heal well so the nurse took those stitches out. Now I have to wait until a week tomorrow before I can get all these other ones out. I don’t honestly know if I can go through the next 8 days without doing it again. I don’t even know if I can go through the next 8 hours without doing it again at the moment. My head is well and truly pickled it really is.

Tomorrow I have promised to spend some time with best friend and her kids. I haven’t told her about Sunday’s self harming and don’t plan on telling her. I don’t know why, I just don’t want to talk about it with anyone close like friends or family. I haven’t mentioned it again to the friend who came with me to A&E either. It almost feels a bit like a can of worms being opened if I tell them, if I admit to those nearest and dearest to me that I’m not coping and constantly trying to hurt myself then it makes it that little bit more real that I really am falling apart. It’s easier for them not to know. For now anyway. Even with all these stitches in I still don’t feel like I’ve done enough damage and I have no idea how long that state of mind is going to continue for.

I haven’t felt this much of a mess in a long time and I can’t seem to make it stop. Maybe I don’t want it to stop. Maybe I need to feel this level of self loathing at the moment. I don’t know why… but maybe I just do. Nothing really makes a great deal of sense at the moment. I’m one very confused and messed up girl.

00:34 – Just back from A&E

22 Apr

It’s just after midnight and I’ve just got home. I text a friend and asked if they could come to A&E with me. I was hugely anxious and couldn’t stop shaking, I couldn’t even write my name on the form, my friend had to fill it out for me.

The nurse on duty was really nice and the doctor was one I hadn’t seen before. He asked me the 101 questions to determine how crazy I was then once he was satisfied I wasn’t suicidal they took a look at the damage. By this point the blood had soaked through all of the bandages and through my jeans, it was everywhere. Thankfully they kept the curtain round me so my friend didn’t see the actual damage.

It was the worst self harming I have ever done. Including Wednesday’s stitches I now have a total of 24 stitches in which is more than I ever have had in before. The A&E experience was one of the more positive ones, they were non-judgemental and friendly but also professional. I did accidentally almost hit the nurse at one point as she was trying to control the bleeding whilst the doctor was putting the stitches in but he went to put a stitch into a bit that he hadn’t injected with lidocaine and I almost shot off the bed, hands flapping. He was really apologetic though. After being stitched up and cleaned up and dressings and bandages on the doctor could see I was still really anxious and still really shaky. He checked my pulse and then asked to get the machine through that does the pulse, sats and blood pressure. My pulse was 126, BP 153/103 and o2 sats 97. So they could see I was really genuinely very anxious and the doctor went and got me 2mg of Lorazepam. [That same lorazepam that the doctor who stitched me up on Wednesday told me they didn't give out to people, despite me having had it on multiple occasions there before - so that confirmed he was talking shit].

I was treated really well, gentle and empathic. I have to go back to A&E on Tuesday for a wound check and dressing change, then back on Wednesday back for the last week’s stitches out and these new stitches have to be in for a minimum of 10 days due to the depth of the wounds.

I did tell a little lie to the doctor that my friend was going to stay with me tonight – anything to avoid being kept in hospital – and I am now home alone and the lorazepam combined with all my other nightly meds are all starting to kick in. I’m starting to feel quite drowsy so I think I’ll get a good sleep tonight.

At last I feel regret again. I do feel better for doing it but I wish I hadn’t done it so badly. I regret knowing they are going to be quite nasty scars. But it’s done now. I’ve been to hospital, it was horrible, I felt hugely anxious despite them being really nice to me, I’m ready to sleep but not looking forward to the pain I’m going to be in tomorrow. I can already feel the lidocaine local anaesthetic wearing off and the pain starting.

Do I have any more plans to do it again? No. Not at the moment anyway. Not even if it’s given to me as a command. I am bandaged from ankle to knee on each leg so I’m kind of running out of places to cut as well. I think the urge might finally be out my system.

Goodnight folks x

21:20 – 24 hours in my crazy head – What do I do now?

21 Apr

This post was started around 9pm on Saturday night (the 20th) and goes on through to tonight – it’s very long – graphic in places – so *insert trigger warning here*

I don’t understand why I feel this way I am feeling at the moment. Or maybe it’s more that I don’t understand why it’s suddenly hit me with such force. All I can think about is hurting myself and I’m trying so fucking hard to fight it but I can’t. It’s winning. I’m trying so hard to distract myself, I’ve used just about every suggestion on my ‘distractions’ tab at the top of the page. Nothing works.

Nothing.

Nada.

I am completely stuck in this horribly miserable depressing state of mind. I feel so empty yet in so much pain. And now I’ve had to go and trigger myself haven’t I… my stitches from Wednesday were itching like mad because they had put layers of some special material between the stitches and the dressings. When the pressure bandage was on I didn’t notice the itchiness so much but since it got taken off yesterday all I’ve wanted to do it scratch and scratch. So the couple of extra dressings I had are now also gone because every time that material touches my skin I end up ripping it back off. And that was me fired straight into Trigger Time.

Seeing all the cuts, seeing the stitches, looking at both legs that are in a complete mess just makes me want to do more and more damage. At the back of my mind all I keep thinking now that I’ve made this much of a mess I might as well just keep on going. The usual regrets that come in the aftermath of a self harming episode have not come… it’s almost as though I didn’t do a good enough job to release everything on Wednesday and so I need to cut again to get back into that ‘regretful’ headspace. When I’m regretting what I’ve done then I generally don’t do it again for a while.

But this is getting bad, if things continue on this way I know I am going to cut badly again, what the fuck will A&E think of me/say to me if they need to put a second lot of stitches in so soon after me last doing it? How do I know how the doctor will react? In my head I think and feel and know that it’s all just about needing to cause more pain, it’s not really about wanting to die or anything remotely suicidal no matter how disgusted in myself that I am. I just want to be able to take a deep breath and feel calm again.

One minute I feel rational and think “well, if I cut and if I do need to get medical attention well they will just patch me up as usual and send me on my way”. I’m not psychotic, I’m not suicidal, it wouldn’t be a suicide attempt. I know if I can say those things to the nurse/doctor then everything should be OK regardless of how true that really is.

But I’m becoming more and more agitated and irritated and the only one thing stopping me from cutting is the fear that this time if I have to go to A&E they will say “fuck it’s the weekend we better put her in the bin”… OK so that has never happened to me, I have never been hospitalised for self harming but that new doctor on Wednesday seemed like the type who’d take no nonsense and not help with giving any meds to calm me down which is likely to get me more and more worked up until I start behaving in a less rational manner.

I don’t know how to stop these thoughts. I don’t know how to make the voices shut up. My iPod isn’t helping. TV isn’t helping. I can’t go for the long hot shower thing as I can’t get my stitches wet, especially now they have no dressing over them. I don’t even know what I feel. Emptiness? Numb? Messed up? Confused? Depressed? Scared? Like I’m about to lose it? Very very scared of ‘losing it’.

It’s 9.40pm now and I can’t even sit still to write this. I need to walk or pace or something. This is driving me mad. I’ll save this as a draft for the moment and come back to it later.

UPDATED – 11.30pm Saturday 20th

It’s now 11.30pm. Two hours have passed since I wrote the ramble above. I have taken my medication, a few extra diazepam included. I have half had a shower (I tied a plastic bag around my leg to cover my stitches) but feel cleaner now, my hair is clean, my leg isn’t itching so much either. I have also been out for a late night walk with the dogs and got some fresh air but there were a load of drunk people staggering between pubs so I didn’t stay out for long.

Where is my head at now? Still in the exact same frame of mind as it was earlier unfortunately. Perhaps the restlessness and irritability have calmed a little with the medication starting to kick in, and my thoughts are going at a slightly slower pace. It’s the exact same feelings of impending doom that I had for a couple of days at the beginning of the week before I cut. Knowing it will happen, just not knowing when it will happen. It could be tonight, it could be during the night, it could be tomorrow or I might even manage to fight for a few days but the longer it goes on for the more of those feelings of being in a pressure cooker with the lid about to blow go on for. Yet because that immediate desperation has calmed slightly it is giving me the space to reflect upon what the consequences of my actions will be if I do go ahead and cut myself:

I will have another scar or two.

I will have to face A&E.

There is the possibility of them being way too busy with drunken people who’ve been fighting and what not and me having to sit for a long period of time making me more and more anxious.

There is always the fear of being judged or someone not understanding that I’m either appearing completely silent or talking non stop due to anxiety, not just because I’m a bit mental.

OK it is now 11.45pm and I’m going to go and lie in bed and just see what happens. I have no idea how tonight is going to pan out, it really could swing either way. I’m so so so confused and messed up at the moment, I just want it all to stop. Will one more cut make it stop? I don’t know. I really don’t.

I’m not going to publish this post yet as I have a feeling it’s going to be a night of having difficulty sleeping so I’m going to keep adding and updating until my mood makes a real change or until the urges win and I collect another scar.

UPDATED – 4.22am Sunday morning

4.22am I’ve been awake for about half an hour I feel horrible and very emotional. I think I woke up crying or at least it felt that way. That urgent desperation to hurt myself has calmed but with the calm it’s like that big black cloud of doom is now sitting over me instead. I sort of wish I had just cut earlier and got it out my system but will one more cut get it all out this time? I don’t know. I feel all messed up, all I deserve is to lie here and completely absorb all this misery.

UPDATED – 1.55pm Sunday afternoon

I feel calmer. I have stopped looking at triggering things online. I have put all the blades back in the drawer. I am going to take the dogs for a walk and try to clear my head. I need to get out of here and away from sharp objects that I can’t stop thinking about using. The thing is that I don’t want to see anyone at all, I have already lied twice today and send two texts saying I wasn’t well and was staying in bed to avoid them asking to meet up.

I just want to be on my own even though it’s probably the worst thing I could be doing. I don’t care. I just want to be left on my own until these urges finally go away :(

UPDATED – 7.30PM SUNDAY EVENING

Ok I have fought and fought. I can’t fight any more. The blades are back out the drawer and my spot on the bathroom floor is ready and waiting for when the moment is right. The towels are there, the blades are there, the dressings are there. Maybe I could just do lots of little cuts to get that intense stinging sensation. That way I could avoid A&E completely. I don’t even have any skin closures at home though, just some bandages.

I think that I’ve fought against the head crazies for long enough now. It’s time to just give in, let them win and hope they fuck off. There is no certainty that they will though and I’m scared that I end up being right back in this very position within another few days. I’m supposed to be going back in to A&E tomorrow for another wound check and to have the dressings changed, I can’t go in tonight and tomorrow and then again on Wednesday to get these stitches out then possibly a few days after that again to get more out. They will think I am completely bonkers. I’m just so terrified of the unknown. The unknown being – which nurse/doctor will see me and how they will assess me. In a way it would help if I took someone with me, when someone is with you then they think you have support so are a lot happier to just treat you and let you go. But where I live we don’t have crisis teams or out of hours mental health people so the judgement on whether or not you are “a risk” lies with the A&E staff. And that is fine when it’s someone who knows me a bit, but is extremely scary when it’s someone I’ve never seen before.

I have to do it. I have to get it out of me. It is tormenting the hell out of me now and I want to shout and scream at the top of my lungs – I want to throw a tantrum the way a toddler would and just scream and throw things around for no real reason other than it feeling like the right thing to do. I am ridiculous. Pathetic. Weak. Ridiculous.

UPDATE – 9.10pm Sunday night

I did it. I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t cope with the urges and thoughts and voices all joining up and making me feel so mental. I had to get it out. I just had to. Three fairly nasty cuts. Three cuts that are all probably going to need stitches. My dilemma now? I honestly don’t think I can go to A&E. I can’t face it. Regret has finally kicked in. It’s a shame it took a bunch of new scars to get there. I don’t know what to do now, I don’t know where to turn, I don’t want to tell anyone and even though the cuts are all deep and gaping, the bleeding is under control. Best friend will be at home with the kids in bed, she can’t leave them so I can’t ask her to come to the hospital with me. My other friend who has come to the hospital a couple of times with me thinks I don’t self harm any more and I’d like it to stay that way. There is the option of my Mum but she has just finished a long shift at work and will be having dinner, probably enjoying a glass of wine and I don’t want to phone and tell her what I’ve done. So that leaves two options: go myself or don’t go at all. I’m scared that when this blurry trance like feeling passes and the physical pain starts kicking in that I will have no choice but to get medical help and I’m also aware that wounds not cleaned or dressed properly which are gaping open are far more likely to become infected. I feel sick with anxiety. I’ve never felt like this after self harming. I feel really really weird. I wish I had just fought on a bit longer. I could have won. I didn’t need to let it win. Why did I let it win? I’m so stupid.

I don’t have a fucking clue what to do.

00:50 – Feeling seriously low tonight

20 Apr

I went to my appointment this afternoon with CPN#2 (maybe I should think of a better name for her – but there has been 3 cpn’s I’ve worked with over the past year and she was number 2 so cpn#2 seems like the best suited name for her). It was actually nice to see her again and I managed to tell her most of the things I wanted to including not finding having a CPN helpful, the frustration about the lack of consistent appointments through the CMHT and the frustration of people coming and going and coming and going and never being able to move forwards with anyone. She told me she is there on a temporary basis but will be there for a minimum of three months and that she would like to work with me on a weekly basis alongside psychology when it re-starts.

I basically brought her up to date with where I’m at with everything in my life at the moment and told her about the self harming and how much I’ve fucked up my uni course. I told her I’ve been feeling pretty unsupported again lately apart from lovely support worker at rape crisis. She did tell me that lovely social worker who I was supposed to be seeing until psychologist returns is actually off on long term sick leave – it would have been nice if someone from the CMHT had decided to tell me that rather than me just sitting here thinking I’d been forgotten about. I hope she gets better soon.

After my appointment I went along to the A&E department to have my wound checked and a dressing change, everything looks like it’s healing well and the stitches are nice and neat. I almost felt OK for a little while when I got home – maybe because it had been lovely and sunny all afternoon and maybe because I’d got some of my frustrations out… but yeah I felt OK for a little while but as the afternoon went into evening my mood has taken a serious dip. I’m sitting here with a clean blade and really badly want to do some damage to myself. I don’t want to go to A&E though, so this time I really do need to be in control of it and keep it reasonably superficial, but sometimes that really is easier said than done.

My head feels really fuzzy like I can’t think straight, I don’t know what I want, I’m irritable and restless, I took my medication about an hour ago and my thoughts seem to be getting worse and worse. Lots of images in my head of what I’d like to do to myself but genuinely fighting back simply because I’m too tired for one, and for two I *know* I won’t be able to keep the cutting under control. Yet I can’t put the blade away. I keep it sitting next to me and occasionally pick it up and do some scratches on my skin then put it back down again. I hate this, I hate this frame of mind when you so badly want to do something really bad… something worse than self harming but you don’t even know what’s making you feel that way. The voices are a constant source of negativity and keep the stream of negative thoughts flowing.

Head just feels a total mess. Need to take slightly more than normal amounts of medication to try and sedate myself. Really scared I’m going to do something stupid tonight if I can’t get myself off to sleep soon. This favourite quote of mine does a pretty good job of summing up how I feel right now…

The Girl Who Seemed Unbreakable, Broke

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