Tag Archives: agoraphobia

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.

19:28 – Lots of anxiety about these Pregabalin (Lyrica) tablets!

7 Aug

Yesterday turned out to be a good day. I finally took Mum for her belated birthday lunch and managed to travel around 25 miles and then get out once we were there and managed to go into a restaurant and eat lunch. We were in the restaurant for almost an hour before I started feeling a bit anxious and irritable so I paid the bill and we went for a little wander around the village shops. The rain had came on by then and neither of us had jackets so it was a good excuse to head back to the car and come home. As soon as we were back within a couple of miles of home the anxiety quickly began to calm down so I even managed to spend another half an hour in a coffee shop having a slice of carrot cake which was yummy. It was nice to spend a few hours with Mum and just have a proper chat about both the crappy stuff and some lighter stuff and we both agreed we should do it again soon. So I came home and had a reasonably relaxed evening in front of the TV but then a very restless night’s sleep where I just seemed to wake up constantly, it seemed as though every time I dozed off I woke straight back up. Really annoying and left me super grumpy and overtired today.

Thankfully I didn’t have much to do today. I had an appointment with lovely GP this afternoon and she wanted to have a chat with me about the Pregabalin. She’d received a letter from new psychiatrist regarding my appointment with him last week and he said he wanted to start me on 75mg twice a day and also increase my Mirtazapine dose from 30mg a day to 45mg a day. I told lovely GP about the appointment with new psychiatrist being a complete joke due to the whole 15 minutes it lasted, the fact that when I told him I’d been voice hearing again he simply shrugged and offered no opinion on why they’d came back, that he was still going on about me coming off the Diazepam and that he said I could be prescribed Pregabalin to help with anxiety long term. Lovely GP asked how I felt about it and I told her that the only information I knew about it was what I had read on the internet and that new psychiatrist didn’t even tell me what kind of drug it was, instead simply telling me to “try it, if you don’t like it then you can stop, if it helps you can stay on it”.

So lovely GP took the time to explain what type of drug it was and told me all of the common side effects but there was something different about the way she was talking to me, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on but she seemed kind of hesitant or a little concerned maybe about me taking Pregabalin. She said it was similar in make up to Gabapentin which I once tried taking as a mood stabiliser back in 2009. I only managed to take it for a couple of weeks, maybe even just days before feeling so suicidal and so on edge and a complete mental mess and was told to come off of it immediately. When she told me it was similar to Gabapentin I instantly felt my anxiety start to rise and I told her I’d taken Gabapentin and what a horrible time I’d had. She looked back on her computer to 2009 and found the notes that went along with it and said to me again that it was my choice if I wanted to try it or not but she really did seem like she wanted me to say “no I don’t think I do want to try it” and that was exactly what I felt like saying to her, but there was something niggling at the back of my head saying “what if this drug could really help you… what if it’s the one thing missing and with the combination of it and starting the talking therapy stuff, this could be the right cocktail for me at last…”

I tried to explain that to my GP and she said it was completely up to me, she would go with whatever I wanted. So I asked again what dosage new psychiatrist wanted me to start on and she said 75mg twice a day. I asked what the lowest dosage available was and she said the lowest capsule is 25mg so I said if I was going to try it I wanted to try it from the smallest dose possible and work my way up if I find it beneficial. So we agreed I would start off on 25mg three times a day and then I have an appointment to see her again next Friday and if I find I am tolerating it ok then we can increase the dose. The thing is that once I got home I sat and read the patient information leaflet and there are a LOT of potential side effects. Now I know this is the same with ANY drug even simple paracetamol has a long list of possible side effects and you would think that being on the maximum dose of a drug like Quetiapine that I wouldn’t give a second thought to potential side effects, especially when I know I have the lowest dosed capsules they make. But for some reason (more than likely because I keep having flashbacks of the Gabapentin experience) I am utterly terrified of trying the Pregabalin now. I haven’t given a single thought to increasing my Mirtazapine tonight, I know what side effects I might feel from that and none of them scare me, I know I’ll just feel foggy headed and a bit zombie like for a few days and then my body will adjust to the new dose. But I have sat here with the box of Pregabalin in front of me for a couple of hours now telling myself just to take one but something is really stopping me. Anxiety stopping me. How stupid is that – a drug that has the potential to really help my anxiety is actually causing me a hell of a lot of it?!

So I thought I had made up my mind that I would start with the increased dose of Mirtazapine tonight and let my body get used to that for a few days and then re-assess the Pregabalin situation, maybe by then I’d have built up the courage to try at least one capsule. But then I thought maybe it would be best just to start it tonight and deal with all of the side effects all at once from both meds.

Argh, I don’t know what to do I really don’t. Something is screaming inside of me to remember how horrendous those days taking Gabapentin felt and how stupid I felt when I was whizzing my way through internet article after internet article and reading how it was generally so well tolerated… how could I be in such an anxious and suicidal feeling mess when all these people were saying their side effects had been minimal?? Of course, I have since learned that all medications effect everyone differently. There have been drugs that I haven’t been able to tolerate for more than a few days/weeks/months which other people have said they experienced no side effects from and then there are other people who say to me now that they don’t understand how I can be taking 750mg of Quetiapine mixed with Mirtazapine and Diazepam and not feel like a complete zombie.

I said to lovely GP that I know the reason the psychiatrist wants me off the Diazepam is because it’s an addictive medication but I also said that sometimes the attitude of “if it’s not broke then why fix it” would make life so much easier. At the moment I am slowly but surely starting to get better with the agoraphobia. I still can’t leave my safety zone or travel on a motorway or go near any big cities or shopping centres, but my distance is slowly increasing so long as I know I will be on quiet roads to get to my destination and so long as I’m in a situation where if the panic becomes unbearable I can turn around and head for home right there and then. In other words any form of public transport is still way too much for me to even consider because I’m not in any kind of control over turning the bus/boat/train/plane around… whereas when I’m in a car a car can be turned around immediately. Anyway what I was about to say before I went off on that tangent was, I was telling lovely GP that in my opinion (and obviously I’m no professional) but in my own opinion I think the dose of Diazepam that I am currently on (16mg a day) is a relatively low dosage. And I cannot see what long term damage would come from me staying on that dose and carry on with my life how it is at the moment, some areas still very much a struggle and some areas beginning to slight improvements. Lovely GP nodded her head as if in agreement with me and just gave me one of her sympathetic smiles. I have also found out from my reading about Pregabalin online that it is a pretty expensive drug to be prescribed whereas Diazepam at the dose I’m on is pennies in comparison. It seems so stupid to me that when some bits of my life are kind of ok someone who barely knows me can come along and decide they are going to remove my safety blanket but offer to put me on an expensive drug with the potential for tonnes of unwanted side effects, that may or may not help with my anxiety all the while I’ve already been taking something for almost three years which I know helps. I admit I do have to self medicate with it sometimes and take more than my prescribed dose on particularly bad days, but then there are some better days where I don’t need my full dose so it all balances out. But as I said to lovely GP I know I’m not going to win the argument with new psychiatrist so if this Pregabalin stuff is my only option for long term anxiety management and the only thing he is willing to offer me then would I be foolish not to even try it even if the potential for a repeat of the Gabapentin experience is pretty likely to happen?

I really don’t know what to do and I suppose I’m not going to find out by sitting staring at the box, but I think for the next few days anyway I’ll just do the Mirtazapine increase and get adjusted to that. Hopefully in the mean time I’ll find the courage to at least try the Pregabalin… Then again I don’t even know if I want to find the courage because I’ve read so much about it and so many mixed reviews about how helpful it actually is for anxiety and there seems to be one common theme and that is that most people start on around 150mg a day but almost everyone seemed to need to increase, most people who it worked for said they didn’t get real benefit from it until they were in the 300mg+ range and another whole lot of people said it has a tendency to feel like it’s working and then just poop out on them after a month or two meaning more and more increases in dosage. Also it appears to be a bit of a bastard to come off of. Even my box of the lowest dose capsules says on the pharmacy label “do not stop this medication without speaking to your doctor”. The withdrawal process from it has been horrendous for some people, people who haven’t found any benefit at any dose and so are withdrawing from it completely and ended up with a whole new battle on their hands. I know coming off the Diazepam isn’t going to be an easy one but at least I can say it was worth taking all of this time.

OK I think I’ve rambled on quite enough now I see the word counter has gone over the 2000 mark! Argh I’m just really confused and feeling really anxious and just do not know what to do for the best. Maybe things will somehow become clearer through the next few foggy mirtazapine brain days… who knows.

Tomorrow I have an appointment with lovely support worker and then on Friday I’m starting this compassionate mind/compassion focused therapy bollocks with CPN#2. Must remember to do some reading from the workbook tomorrow night. On that note my stomach is rumbling and I think it’s time to think about dinner and try to stop thinking about all the if’s, but’s and maybe’s about these stupid tablets every two seconds!

Arghhhh!

*lets out silent scream*

Deep breath…

Focus…

Count to ten…

And…

Breatheeee

 

 

 

23:02 – Another week already…

5 Aug

And so, another week has begun. It’s Monday night and I’ve had a relatively quiet day just spent indoors mostly besides a few walks with the dogs. I’ve been feeling extremely close to self harming a lot today although I’ve stayed on top of it and haven’t acted on it (yet). There’s several reasons for this but I’m not really in the mood to talk about them at the moment (a lot of them tie in with Berry whose still bursting into fits of giggles), so I’ll talk about my weekly line up instead…

Tomorrow I’m taking my Mum for a belated birthday lunch (it was her birthday last week but this is the first day she’s had off work) and I’m feeling a little bit anxious about it. I suggested going to a nice little village I’ve been to a couple of times recently with best friend. It takes about 45 minutes to get there and the scenery is absolutely beautiful but it’s a big challenge to all of the agoraphobic symptoms. Even though the rational part of my head says that I’ve done it before so I can do it again, this will be the furthest I’ve travelled with my Mum for a long time. But she has been so good to me and I’ve been saving up for a few weeks so I could take her to a really nice (but pretty expensive) restaurant that sits right next to the water. It gets excellent reviews so I’m sure the food will be lovely but again that is another big test to me – both being far away from home AND having to sit and wait until food arrives, fight the anxiety off enough so that I can get an appetite to eat, sit and make conversation for an hour or so, take a wander around the little row of shops, then finally come back home. I’m going to leave the dogs at home so that I can use them as an excuse to get back home for. I don’t like leaving them for any longer than 3 or 4 hours by themselves so that will give us enough time to get there, have our lunch, look at the shops and get home.

On Wednesday I’m going to try and get an appointment with lovely GP. That will be almost a week since seeing new psychiatrist so I’m assuming he will have got a letter to her by Wednesday stating what medication changes have to take place. Going on Wednesday means it will be exactly two weeks before I’d be due another monthly prescription so that should work out quite well – it will give me two weeks of adjusting to the higher dose of Mirtazapine as well as seeing how I tolerate the Pregabalin. Then I can go back and see her two weeks later when I’m due my monthly prescription and we can decide if I’m happy with the new med adjustments or if I want to change anything. I have to admit I’m feeling a bit very apprehensive about adding a new medication into the mix. I know I’ve chopped and changed and increased and reduced a shit load of meds over the years but I’m always a bit phobic of them to begin with, convinced they are going to give me tonnes of side effects and leave me in such a state of panic that no med in my emergency stash will be able to calm me down from. I don’t know whether to just add on the 15mg to my Mirtazapine and take the full 45mg at bedtime – I currently take the 30mg all at bedtime, and I figure that way I can hopefully sleep off any side effects. As for the Pregabalin I don’t know if I should add that into the bedtime cocktail or take it in the morning. I pretty much take all of my meds at night to try and sleep off some of the zombieness that accompanies them. I guess lovely GP can recommend the best way to take them seeing as new psychiatrist didn’t bother his arse *rolls eyes*… So anyways, that is Wednesday’s plan.

Thursday I have an appointment with lovely support worker at rape crisis and I think that now we can maybe start getting back on track and doing the ‘work’ that I’m supposed to be doing there. Due to me not getting in touch with CPN#2 for so long, some of my appointments with support worker have turned into mental health type stuff and that’s not really what I’m there to talk to her about.

But Friday I have an appointment to go back and see CPN#2 so I’m going to dig out that compassionate mind stuff she posted out to me and make sure I read at least the first chapter before our appointment so I can at least sound as though I’m trying (even if I do think it all sounds a load of bullshit deep down).

So that’s my week ahead… exciting times eh?!

I want to try and get to sleep early tonight so meds have been taken and as soon as I finish rambling on here I’m getting straight into my pyjamas. I never know which is worse – wake up early and have time to get organised, mentally prepare myself for the anxiety I know I’ll soon be feeling, take some Diazepam, take lots of deep breaths, kinda ‘psyche’ myself up to it if you like. Or is it easier when I sleep in late, have to jump up and have a shower, get dressed, dry my hair, walk the dogs, feed the dogs, run out the door chucking some Diazepam down my throat – all of which done within 30 minutes of opening my eyes. Is it easier to take the time to mentally prepare or is it easier to just throw yourself in, very much at the deep end? I don’t know which is the best method, both have been tried and failed, both have been tried and worked. Sometimes I think the best way is just not to plan anything, that way you can never be disappointed in yourself. I try and tell myself I’m just going out for a while, just going to spend time with my mum or best friend or whomever, that I’ll be back home soon, there’s no need to panic, but sometimes the panic just laughs straight in my face then sucks me in, sends me crazy, then spits me back out as a quivering anxious wreck…

OK, on that note I’ll say goodnight. Fingers crossed that tomorrow won’t be too anxiety provoking and maybe I’ll even manage to have a nice time and enjoy spending a few hours just Mum and me. I want her to have a nice day so I really need my panic to behave itself and stay well away hidden in the background if only for a few hours.

Goodnight folks! x

16:03 – Magical potions and much sickness

16 Jul

When I last wrote it was late on Friday night. I spoke a bit in my last post about some recent stupid and risky behaviours but didn’t want to go into any detail. I still don’t want to go into detail but I will say that on Saturday morning Berry kept giggling while I was getting dressed, giggling inside my head that I was going to be in “biggg trouble” that night when Sasha found out. She was confusing me, I’d only just got up and there she was wittering away that I was going to be in some sort of trouble when we got to the evening. I laughed back at her and told her not to try and be so smart, I wasn’t going to do anything on Saturday to get myself into any trouble, I was/had been behaving myself for the previous few days and it was going to stay that way.

I was wrong.

I tried to do good and be big and brave and with copious amounts of medications floating around inside me I braved it to go with best friend to McDonalds. It took about three hours to get there and back as it’s like 60 miles away from us. So yeah, it was around 8.30pm when we got back home. See that’s how big and brave I was being, like fuck you agoraphobia I *will* medicate myself to the eyeballs and beat you… So by the time we got back I was in no fit state to do anything but come home and laze on the sofa full of sedative and anxiety meds. My head was quiet. I felt a little bit nauseous from the mix of tablets and the food I’d eaten and I was really sleepy. I should have just let my eyes close and drifted off to sleep but I lay here flicking through TV channels for ages. I took my bedtime medication around 11pm then just as I was going through to bed my phone started ringing. I looked to see who it was. It was him. Why was he phoning me? I told him a few days ago that all of the stupid risky behaviours were stopping again, I’d just needed to dip my toes back into that pond for a few days but I’d stopped again. I was behaving and being sensible. The phone rang out to voicemail but he kept calling over and over and over again. I tried sending a text to say I couldn’t answer and asked what was wrong, he text back saying he had something that I would want. I told him I didn’t want anything bad. He replied it was the opposite of bad, it was “fucking amazing”.

So I didn’t know what to do, I was lying on top of the bed ready to go to sleep, it was around midnight, I was still all doped up on medications, everything was nice and peaceful. I told myself to be strong and just ignore his texts, put my phone on silent and closed my eyes. Then fucking *boom* Sasha is in my head telling me she’ll make me pay the price if I do the bad thing, that she doesn’t want Berry to see me doing that crazy shit. So then I get angry and am having an internal argument with Sasha – who the fuck is she anyway? who does she think she is just making herself at home inside my head… Another thirty minutes or so passed and I lay there getting more and more agitated. I text him back. I’d get dressed and go meet him.

It was dark but not cold, it was kinda nice to have a bit of breeze in the air, I could feel my heart racing with some sort of trepidation I guess. Berry was having fits of the giggles in my head but not saying any actual words. I walked past people moving between pubs and then finally saw him walking towards me. We walked together until we reached a house. He told me to stay outside and sit on a wall and he disappeared. Sasha had been getting louder and now I was sitting alone I could hear her properly, she was telling me how she would make me pay for this. Berry was completely silent – in fact I didn’t hear anything other than laughter from Berry again until this morning when she started up a conversation about wanting me to take her to a zoo – all whilst I was lying in the dentist chair having a filling put in. Anyway, back to Saturday night/early hours of Sunday morning. I sat on the wall for about ten minutes and then he re-appeared and we walked back to his place. He gave me my magic potion and I carried on walking back to mine alone.

By the time I get back home it’s just after 2am and I sit here with my magic potion inside of me, feeling warm and happy and at ease with the world. Well I felt like that for all of ten minutes before I felt my legs pulling my body upright and quickly running to the bathroom. I then spent the remainder of the night, all day Sunday and all day Monday projectile vomiting. Every so often Sasha would make little disapproving remarks and told me that she had warned me I would pay the price if I made any more mistakes and boy was she right. 48 hours or so of non-stop vomiting was definitely punishment from her and the occasional giggles from Berry just wound me up even though I knew she was only laughing because she saw me getting into trouble from Sasha. So yes, I made another mistake on Saturday night, but I paid the price for it and only today (Tuesday) have I managed to keep a little bit of food down. I’ve only been sick once today and I’ve been up for about seven hours now so I think my body is starting to heal now. Definitely no more magic potions for me no matter how nice it might feel to be completely lost in my own little magical forest in my mind… I must behave, I have behaved again since Saturday but the temptations are still there (albeit only a little bit now).

I don’t know what exactly triggered off Berry and Sasha, it could have happened as a result of the mixed varieties of magical potions I have been consuming on and off. Or it could be because I have been so sick for a few days each time that my medication didn’t work those days and my head just naturally started to slip into bonkers land. They are still both there (well I’ve only heard Berry today and that was when she was trying to make me have a conversation with her about the zoo while I was at the dentist) but they aren’t bothering me. Sasha told me I’d pay the price, I should have listened. I feel bad that Berry might have seen me consuming the magical potions because she sounds so innocent and young and I can only assume (since neither she nor Sasha will tell me) that she is still a child.

I still haven’t made contact with nor heard from CPN#2. She has probably given up on me by now. I wouldn’t blame her. I am going to try my hardest to be good again now. I’m sick of being sick. Well I’m sick of feeling both mentally and physically sick, if I can just get the vomiting to stop then I can try harder to make my head calmer. It’s weird, part of me feels like I’ve been doing these stupid and risky behaviours because I’ve been feeling a bit like I’m about to lose it mentally but then I don’t know what it is that’s making me feel so close to losing it. I can’t identify what the thing is that’s making me feel so shit. So I try and cover it up, put a magical band aid on it and hope that by covering it up for a day then it might all be OK again by tomorrow but I’m slowly learning it just doesn’t work like that.

Lovely support worker is going to be so disappointed in me when/if I tell her all of this once she is back from her holiday leave. Then again maybe by next week I’ll still be keeping myself safe and she might be proud of me for doing that. Methinks I will see some level of disappointment/disapproval in her face so maybe I will just keep all of these little crazy moments over the past couple of weeks to myself… I can’t even talk about them properly on here yet and this is my secret anonymous space, maybe it’s best just to lock it all away somewhere in my head and try to forget about it all… call it a little blip, a mistake, an experiment… something like that… it wouldn’t be a lie, it was all a mistake, unfortunately it seems to take me considerably longer to learn from my mistakes than it does most other people… but hey… c’est la vie…

14:38 – Few things ticked off the list

4 Jul

I have so much to talk about since I last posted but I should warn in advance my head is all a bit choppy today. When I was writing my last post on here I was going to see lovely GP the following day which I did. She said she had taken the time to read my letter about being unhappy with the situation with new psychiatrist and that she understood where I was coming from. I told her I really don’t have a problem with knowing eventually the Diazepam has to stop but this just doesn’t seem the right time when there’s no other coping mechanisms in place.

I asked her out of curiosity what would happen if the psychiatrist said he wanted something to happen but she didn’t agree – I always assumed in this case that because the psychiatrist is a consultant and a specialist type of doctor that his decision would overrule a GP’s decision. But apparently this is not the case; lovely GP said it doesn’t happen often as it causes friction, but if she feels strongly that another doctor is recommending some wrong type of treatment that she would prescribe what she felt was the right choice. She said something about when I’m in hospital then the psychiatrist is prescribing my medication so in that case he is in charge. But when I’m at home in the community my GP is my prescribing doctor who writes the prescriptions so the final decision would be hers. Something knew I learned.

Anyway sorry I went off onto a ramble there – the short version is I got another monthly prescription with no medication changes. I also got my fasting blood sugars done because the symptoms I’ve been having could be from either (a) my PCOS causing insulin resistance/prediabetes (b) all side effects of being on the max dose of Quetiapine. The symptoms are very similar well the ones I have are: constant and I mean constant dry mouth and needing to drink liquids. Drinking between 10 and 15 pint glasses full of cold water or orange diluting juice. Still having a dry mouth. Constipated despite drinking so much water. A few other things as well. So lovely GP did a fasting blood sugar test and the result was 5.2 a little on the high side but not high enough to worry yet. Lovely GP also said she is referring me to go and see the gynaecologist as I haven’t seen one in about six years and I am contemplating asking to go back onto Metformin to help insulin resistance stuff and help lose weight but I have never been able to tolerate it as it makes you have constant stomach pains and cramps and running to the toilet. Sorry a little bit TMI there. So it should probably take around 6-10 weeks to get an appointment through but I think a catch up chat with a gynae could be a good idea.

Moving on from the appointment with lovely GP (I can fit a LOT into 10-15 minute visits!) I also got a reply letter from new psychiatrist. It was short but polite and he thanked me for writing, said he felt he understood me a little better now and told me we can definitely discuss all of my concerns at the next appointment on August 1st. So that was good to hear that he had actually read it and thought I was being at least some amount of rational with my explanations.

I decided to be big and brave on Friday and try and go to a new place. A new scary place to challenge the agoraphobia. I didn’t tell anyone because I wanted to do it alone and also if I failed then I only I needed to know that. It was a very scary journey with lots of stops and panics and on a couple of occasions tears from the physical pain the anxiety was causing but two hours later I had made it there to my destination and I was still alive. Just. I had one aim in my head and that was to find the body piercing studio and go and have my lip pierced. I used to have my bottom lip pierced right in the middle but I took it out a few years ago. This time I have got my bottom lip done again but to the side and in a way that I can wear a little ring or a bar. It’s pretty swollen at the moment and I need to wait at least 4-6 weeks for it to be healed enough to change the ring that’s in it. So I was very happy to be walking out of the body piercing place lip stinging in pain, terrified because I was so far from home, overwhelmed at all these shops around me actual brand named shops that I haven’t been in for years. I treated myself to a McDonalds which was a big mistake as I was so sick that night but I enjoyed it at the time. After about an hour I was starting to feel quite panicky and wanting to go back home but an hour was better than nothing, maybe I’ll manage longer next time.

I was supposed to go and see CPN#2 yesterday at 1.30pm but my sleep has been so bad lately. Literally waking every hour sometimes just for five or ten minutes, other times for hours. So of course I finally manage to self medicate enough to knock myself out around 4am and didn’t wake up until 2pm realising I was supposed to be at my appointment. I think that’s about six appointments I’ve missed now. I think I’m going to receive a shitty letter in the post in the next couple of days about me not engaging or her not going to work with me any more as I don’t attend my appointments or some shit like that. I should have just phoned and apologised but after making like six weeks of excuses even the truth just sounds like an excuse now. Plus she posted me out all this stuff to do with the compassionate mind program and I read a few pages and rolled my eyes and was just like … blah … this is a load of shit.

So right now some things are going ok-ish, mostly I’m sitting about doing nothing, but a couple of times I’ve set myself some new targets and achieved them even when they’ve been really hard work. Other days have been long and slow and I’ve felt so depressed from waking up to going back to bed again. But some things are ticked off my list now:

  • Sent letter to new psychiatrist about concerns
  • Received reply that was polite and respectful
  • Arranged for support worker to come with me to next appointment with new psychiatrist on August 1st
  • Travelled to a new place and stayed there for an hour
  • Got my lip pierced
  • Saw lovely GP and medication concerns are now gone a bit
  • Being referred to gynaecology to talk more about PCOS situation
  • Had diabetes test done and got results
  • One fuck up – missing CPN#2 appointment

So that’s not too bad for a week. I think I’ve done okay. I could do with socialising a bit and seeing people rather than spending all my time doing things alone but I kinda like being alone. I’m feeling really quite agitated today and I need a distraction that will work. I noticed a shop near my flat sells these things that are like painting by numbers but for adults and I’m tempted to go and buy one of them to see if I can paint something nice.

Okay I have rambled enough now. I need to sort out an appointment with CPN#2 again as my support worker is off on holiday for the next few weeks and I have no one else for support right now. But in a way I kinda like it this way. Just me myself and I. Me and my doggies. My little routines. Keeping the world out and just doing what I need and when I need. I would like my mood to stay a little bit more consistent though, it feels like it’s yo-yo-ing a little bit again.

22:14 – Another pathetic ramble of self pity

24 Apr

Today has been a bit of a strange one. My sleeping was awful last night, I didn’t even go to bed, just grabbed a couple of hours on the sofa. My head was bouncing all over the place from one destructive idea to the next. Best friend phoned about 10am to ask if we could spend the afternoon together and I so so wanted to make up an excuse but I think I knew this afternoon could be the one where I completely lost it if I stayed in by myself all day just thinking and thinking. So I agreed to meet her at 12.

I have been kind of self medicating with some of my tablets. Not in any extreme kind of way, just adding an extra one here or taking one out at another time, but I do (99%) of the time take the prescribed dosage each day without going over it by much. It’s more like this – as an example – one of the medications I take is Quetiapine and I currently take 750mg a day. I am supposed to take it as a 250mg dose in the morning and 500mg at night. Well if I wake up and my head is fucking bonkers and there are voices present I might take it the other way around – 500mg in the morning and 250mg at bedtime. Or if I’ve had fuck all sleep and am absolutely shattered I’ll skip my morning dose so I have enough energy to keep on going throughout the day and then when it starts getting close to bedtime I’ll take the full 750mg as one dose to try and help with my sleeping.

And to a certain degree I do that with my diazepam as well. At the moment my daily dose is 16mg a day. This is to be taken as 4mg four times a day. But some mornings I feel massively anxious when I wake so I will take 8mg and then later in the day or in the evening another 8mg. Sometimes (although this is very rare) I don’t feel too anxious in the morning and my Quetiapine is enough so somedays I just wait and take the 16mg as one dose at bedtime. Sometimes it’s the opposite and I’ve taken my full 16mg by lunch time. So I don’t self medicate so much as play about a bit with the doses and the times I take them, but I feel that way works for me. Whenever I’m in the psych hospital I have no choice but to take my medication properly at 8am/12.30/6/10pm – and I hate not being able to tweak the doses to suit how I’m feeling at that time. I do understand the importance of taking medication properly and I do try to… it just sometimes is easier to do it ‘my way’.

Anyway… what was I about to say? Oh yes… I agreed to meet best friend today and spend time with her and her kids (my little nephews). But I was incredibly anxious to the point where I couldn’t leave the house so I took a little extra Quetiapine and my full daily dose of Diazepam. I still felt quite anxious when we first met up but the medication did kick in and I went into this weird headspace of ‘I’m hurting so much there is nothing else that can make me feel any worse than this’ so I agreed to attempt to go to one of the places my agoraphobia considers a very scary place. I had three small panic attacks en route but we got there and I bought my first McDonald’s burger for about 7 or 8 years. I have had a McDonald’s meal in that time, I’ve had friends bring them back for me and had them reheated in the microwave but today I actually stepped foot in one and ate a burger that was freshly cooked.

Best friend was so proud of me. She was smiling and cuddling me and saying “well done, well done” but I just felt numb. I didn’t feel hugely anxious, I didn’t feel happy that I’d achieved something new, I just felt like I was in some sort of blur… my head was saying just order some food and then go home. I didn’t particularly enjoy the food, half of it is still sitting in a bag on the table.

So yeah, everything is still a bit blah really.

CPN#2 gave me a quick phone this afternoon to ask how I was as the duty CPN from Monday had left her a note telling her about Sunday night’s self harming. The phone call felt a bit pointless, she sounded pretty uninterested which made me pretty uninterested in telling her about what’s been going on. It was awkward to talk anyway in front of best friend as I still haven’t told her about the self harming.

The only other thing that happened today was that I got a phone call from my personal tutor for my part time university course. She was phoning because she had been notified by the module tutor that I hadn’t logged on to read any course work in weeks nor had I contributed to any of the online discussion postings that make up 20% of the overall module mark. I tried to explain my head was all over the place but that I was going to try and submit some sort of an essay in the next couple of weeks so even if I fail I have something to resit. We could apply for mitigating circumstances but I don’t think there’s much point. I’ll either be able to write something and move on to my next module or I’ll fail and be kicked off the course. Right now I don’t really care which one happens.

So that’s been my day. I wish I could feel happy and like I’d achieved something, I’d challenged the agoraphobia harder than ever before, but I just don’t care. I don’t feel like I care about anything. I still want to hurt/cut/die.

I don’t see CPN#2 until Tuesday. I have no support between now and then other than the duty system through the CMHT which I think I’ve used twice in about 6 years. My support worker through rape crisis is off on holiday next week.

So yeah… I guess I just plod on and see where I end up.

22:03 – Feel like my head is about to explode

11 Feb

Today has been one hard day and my head is a mess. I didn’t get to bed til gone 2am then was up again just before 8am to start off Charlie dog’s medication for the day (and to take my own). I was pretty emotional and just sat here going through my little one’s memory box, crying into his little blanket, looking at my scan photos and my photos of my baby. Really can’t quite believe that six years have passed. People say time heals but I really don’t think it does.

I went and bought some flowers and met my Mum to go to the cemetery. On the way there I asked her how my cousin’s wedding had been and could feel my eyes welling up as she told me all the emotional moments: the father of the bride speech, the wedding vows, describing my cousin’s dress… I wished I hadn’t asked because it made me feel so sad I wasn’t there to see it all for myself.

We got to the cemetery and tried to make his headstone all pretty with nice flowers. There may be more now if his Dad went up later in the afternoon. I hope he did.

My little man's headstone

My little man’s headstone

After we had put our flowers into the little pots Mum started to talk about how different life would be if little Lewis was here, how she didn’t think my mental health would ever have got so bad if things had just turned out differently. And I kind of think she might be right. I’ve been so empty and lost over the past six years. Even more so in the past four years since my relationship with his Dad ended and my Bipolar diagnosis being made. On the one hand I really hope my little boy looks over me from Heaven and on the other I hope he never sees me when I’m doing bad things to myself and feeling so depressed and traumatised all the time.

Mum took me for a hot chocolate after we left the cemetery and most of the talk was again about my cousin’s wedding. Don’t get me wrong it was nice to hear how happy my cousin was and hear how family members I haven’t seen in years are doing. It just hurt because I felt so left out from it all even though it’s all my own fault for not having the strength to fight this fucking agoraphobia. Even after it ruining my quality of life for so many years I’m still too pathetic and weak to overcome it. That’s what really felt shitty.

Once I got back home I got the dogs and headed off to the vets so Charlie could get a check up and have the cannula taken out his paw. He was jumping about with what looked like excitement as we went in and all the staff started making a fuss of him and saying how he had certainly sprung back to life. But when we went into the consultation room I asked the vet if she could just check his stomach because it had looked pretty flat on Saturday and seemed a little bit swollen again. But I wasn’t too concerned because he’d been going to the toilet normally and not passed any blood or anything so it seemed that everything inside him was working properly. But she took his temperature and I could see her face starting to look a little worried, it was sky high again after being back to normal on Saturday. So she did an ultrasound over his tummy and could see pockets of fluid everywhere. It looked like his tummy was full of bubbles.

She said she couldn’t tell on the ultrasound what the fluid was, it could be that because he just wouldn’t rest yesterday and kept running around at his usual crazy speed that he’s burst a couple of internal stitches again and something is leaking or it could be that he’s started to bleed into his gut again. As she spoke she must have seen the worry on my face as the vet nurse who was also in the room started to give me a cuddle. The vet said he would need to stay with them tonight and would be operated on first thing tomorrow morning. That’s going to be three operations in seven days, major surgery that we didn’t know if he’d survive on Tuesday then reopened to repair burst stitches and a hernia on Friday and now reopened again tomorrow to see what this fluid is. I was really fighting back the tears and they asked if I was OK. I mumbled that it was my little boy’s anniversary today and my head was feeling pretty pickled and now I was so worried about Charlie again. Is he strong enough to get through all of these operations? Are they going to be able to repair the affected gastro-intestinal organs that are so damaged? The answer is that no one knows. So of course I am terrified all over again that I’m going to lose him. It really does feel like one step forwards and two steps back.

When I left the vets I went to best friend’s house for a couple of hours. I couldn’t come home because I was having really bad thoughts going round in my head, I felt that same pressure cooker feeling that I felt a few weeks ago when I ended up self harming pretty badly. And I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want to tarnish my little one’s anniversary by cutting over and over until I needed stitches again. So even though I am now 8 days behind with my university work I tried to do the sensible thing and go somewhere I could talk, somewhere I knew the kids would distract me for a little while and somewhere where I couldn’t start hurting myself. I came home around 7pm and for the past two and a half hours I’ve just sat here staring blankly into space, my thoughts racing around too fast and to be honest it feels like my head is about to explode. I feel so stressed and worried and emotional. I keep bursting into tears and I’m not even sure exactly what I’m crying about.

I guess it’s about everything. Today has been extremely hard and I am shattered but I know I’m not going to sleep tonight. I still have two Nitrazepam left that lovely GP gave me last week and could take them and see if they help me get off to sleep. I doubt they will though, it doesn’t matter how much I try to medicate myself, everything in my head is just going way too fast and too erratically for medication to do much good. I have to try and prepare myself for another tough few days ahead but I am truly struggling to know where I’m going to get the strength from. I find it hard enough to function properly on the various medications that I take and when you throw in sleep deprivation and racing thoughts and worries (the outcome of which I have absolutely no control over) it makes it very very hard to keep on going.

I know that self harming isn’t the answer and yet I keep thinking over and over of that feeling of everything starting to release… that moment when I have finished cutting and just sit with my eyes closed for a few minutes feeling like all of the worries have rushed out of my system… it’s hard to describe it in words… I guess if you do it then you’ll know what I mean.

I can’t lie. My head is absolutely pickled tonight. I can’t slow my thoughts down so I have no choice but to let them race around until sheer exhaustion kicks in and I can get some rest. I guess it’s going to be another long night.

22:02 – Busy day, absolutely shattered

7 Feb

I started writing this post this morning but had to go and meet my Mum for lunch before I got the chance to finish it so there’s a few [updates] added in!

Firstly a Charlie dog update: his condition is still “critical” and he is still extremely unwell but yesterday late afternoon when I went into the vets to see him he tried to pull himself forwards to cuddle into me and licked a tiny bit of food from the vets finger so things were looking as good as what could be expected so soon after such massive surgery. But then when I phoned this morning the vet said he’d had a bit of a dip during the night and been sick so that wasn’t such good news that he didn’t manage to keep even that tiny little bit of food down. So today is going to be another long day of hoping and praying he hangs on in there and I’ll go and see him about 5pm again so I can give him a cuddle and see how he’s doing.

[update - saw him at 5pm today and he managed to walk about for five minutes and ate a couple of spoonfuls of food - if he's still doing well around 5pm tomorrow (72 hours post op) then I *might* be able to bring him home for a few hours on Saturday afternoon and see how he is but I told them I'd be too scared to keep him here overnight, even though I desperately want him home and even though there is a 24 hour on call service I just feel safer knowing he is being checked every few hours by the vet. But yes, for now things are going as well as we could hope for and he's being such a little fighter] :)

Now… what’s been happening with me? Well I didn’t go to bed or get a wink of sleep on Tuesday night. I was extremely upset and couldn’t stop the tears. The voices were going on and on…

“you need to bare your soul to Christ”

“declare your sins!”

“pray for his forgiveness”

“lie on the floor and give yourself to God!”

And on it went. So when I went to my appointment with Mr Psychiatrist yesterday morning I was exhausted and functioning on auto-pilot. I asked him if CPN had been in contact about increasing my Quetiapine from 750mg to 800mg (she hadn’t surprise surprise) but he point blank refused anyway and said that in his eyes 750mg is the maximum dosage he ever prescribes. When I tried to argue back that 50mg more could just be the little bit extra I need he said I had to make a choice to either stick on the 750mg dose or come off the Quetiapine and try another anti-psychotic. I listed all the anti-psychotics he’d already tried and reminded him of the reasons as to why they hadn’t worked for me but there was no changing his mind so I gave up trying, I was too tired to argue.

I filled him in on how ill Charlie dog is, told him about how shit I feel that I can’t get to my cousin’s wedding this coming Saturday and the sadness I’m feeling as it’s my little man’s anniversary on Monday. He said that it’s because of these circumstances that I’m feeling low and not a mood fluctuation as part of the Bipolar. I said I agreed with him that circumstances were making me feel very low but that these circumstances weren’t here a few weeks ago when I self harmed badly enough to require stitches. In fact this depressive mood and these horrible voices have been going on since October and none of these circumstances were there then either. To be honest I was too tired to talk to him and the whole appointment felt like a total waste of time. I did however tell him about new CPN telling me I was selfish on Monday for talking about having suicidal thoughts, he didn’t comment on it and seemed to change the subject so it was a completely unproductive appointment and thankfully I don’t need to see him again until April.

I also had an appointment with lovely GP yesterday. When I went into the waiting room I had to really fight with myself not to run back out the door. There was a baby clinic on and at least six or seven small babies and everyone fussing over them and coo-ing and saying how beautiful they all were and my head felt like it was about to explode. I was absolutely shattered, desperately worried about my fur baby and it was making me so upset being surrounded by babies and proud parents and when I was called through to see lovely GP I was fighting back the tears. I hate it, I hate that almost six years on I still get so affected by being in an environment with lots of babies, I think that was the first thing I said to lovely GP as I went in. She said I looked really tired and asked what had been happening. I went on a five minute ramble about seeing Mr Psychiatrist and it being useless, about CPN calling me selfish and feeling like my appointments with her were making me feel worse not better, about Charlie dog, about the wedding I can’t get to, about the little one’s anniversary… it all poured out and I told her I was feeling so unsupported right now. I told her that the only two ‘professionals’ that I currently work with who I feel listen to me without judging are my support worker from Rape Crisis and herself, lovely GP. I rambled that this wasn’t right, I should feel supported most from the mental health professionals, especially from my CPN but I don’t and that doesn’t feel nice at all.

Lovely GP said she was a bit worried about how I was going to deal with the weekend especially knowing that I have no family around for support and the mental health team is closed at the weekends not that they are much use anyway and she said I really had to sleep. I told her I can’t sleep for worrying so she gave me a few days worth of Nitrazepam to take at bedtime. I took 10mg with my other meds last night and did manage to get some sleep but it was quite broken and I still feel shattered this morning. Before I left my appointment she said that if I needed someone to talk to on Monday I was welcome to give her a call and she’d have a little chat to me. I think she has quite a calming effect on me as I left the appointment feeling like I’d got stuff off my chest. New CPN could do with some lessons in empathy from her!

I don’t think I mentioned this before but I got a letter from the dreaded Atos and a work capability assessment questionnaire through a week or so ago. Am I the only one who sees the word Atos on a letter and just feels their entire body sinking? I hate the waiting time after you send it off where you worry yourself sick that they are going to send you a letter saying your benefits are going to be stopped or make you have one of their dreaded medical assessment’s. With everything that’s been happening with Charlie dog this week I haven’t had a chance to get someone to help me to fill it out and there was no way I was taking it for new CPN to fill out. So I’m going to phone the mental health team and see if lovely social worker who I used to work with is around and see if I could maybe get an appointment to go in and have her help me fill it out.

[update - spoke to lovely social worker and she is going to help me with the form] :)

I’ve got to go and meet my Mum shortly for lunch and then we’re going for a wander round the shops as I want to buy a wedding present for my cousin and my parents are driving down to England tomorrow so they will take it down for me. I have no idea what to buy for them, I’ve not got a lot of money and they didn’t want to have a wedding present list, they wrote on the invites that as most people would be travelling quite far and having to pay for hotels that all they wanted was their family and friends there and not to bother with gifts.

[update - couldn't concentrate properly whilst wandering round the shops, was experiencing a lot of head noise and was just getting frustrated so Mum suggested I just buy some nice crystal champagne glasses and a bottle of champagne (a bit boring I know, but at least they'll use them) and I also got a lovely card and wrote a little message apologising for not being there and wishing her a day as special as she is... aww that made me tear up a little bit there!] :(

I also did something this morning which I guess you could call empowering. I decided to write my ex an email and tell him I wanted to do my own thing this year for the little one’s anniversary on Monday. Towards the end of our relationship I felt like I had absolutely no control over things due to him having two affairs within the last six months of being together. And despite splitting up almost four years ago now I have always met with him on the little man’s anniversary because I had this belief that our little boy would be looking down over us and happy to see Mummy and Daddy both by his stone together. But you know what? I realise now that all my little one would want is for us both to remember him but for us to be happy. And meeting my ex doesn’t make me happy, it usually ends up fucking with my head and I now feel like I don’t need that headfuck any more. It was time to cut the final thread and I did it. Me. I took control and I feel like something has lifted, I don’t have the feeling of dread about Monday any more because I know I’m going to try my best to celebrate his anniversary, to remember him with the people I love – my Mum and my best friend. And whilst I know there will be tears I’m sure there will be some smiles as well.

Anyway I better go now as I have five minutes before I need to meet my Mum. I’m tired and my head is a little bit noisy and to be honest I could do with going back to bed for a few hours but I’ve got a busy afternoon – lunch, finding a wedding present, going to visit Charlie dog at the vets, hoping lovely social worker phones back and says she can help with the work capability questionnaire, facing the supermarket as I have absolutely no food in the house and ugh I really am not in the mood right now for being awake today… maybe some fresh air will do me good.

[update - It's now almost 10pm and I have just realised I forgot to post this earlier, oops! So I've added a few updates in for the things that have happened since this morning. It's been a long day and I am ready to take a couple of Nitrazepam and try and get a better sleep tonight. Even the vet gave me a telling off today for not sleeping - but then admitted she hadn't been doing much herself because she's been so worried about my Charlie dog. She really is an amazing vet she looks after all the animals in her care with such genuine love for them all which makes going in there and seeing your pet really poorly that little bit easier :) So I'm going to take my other little dog for his bedtime walk and get myself off to bed. Goodnight]  :)

00:41 – “I never thought you could be so selfish”

5 Feb

I’m just going to briefly mention how my poorly dog is doing. I took him to the vet first thing this morning and he was kept in until 5pm on IV fluids and some other medicines. She didn’t think he was ill enough to need to stay overnight but also wasn’t happy to just let him go so I’ve to take him back in at 10am tomorrow morning to be checked over and if needed, another day on the IV fluids and maybe start some proper tests. He is very lethargic and didn’t even want to come out for his bedtime walk (then again it’s like a snow blizzard outside just now). So he is still a poorly doggy and still hasn’t eaten, so I’m still a bit worried about him. It’s at times like this I really wish they could talk to you and let you know what was wrong :(

Whilst the vet tried to make him feel a little better I spent my day with a couple of appointments. The first was with new CPN which was a fucking joy as always (yes I am being sarcastic). I went in there not knowing what to say and she didn’t even mention the self harming or me missing my last appointment. We talked a bit about the voices and I told her that I do think the Quetiapine is trying to help a bit but it just doesn’t feel like I’m taking quite enough. Now my psychiatrist classes the maximum dose of Quetiapine as 750mg a day, but from the reading I’ve done 800mg seems to be prescribed quite often so I told her I’d like to try another increase but wasn’t too sure if Mr Psychiatrist would agree to it when I see him on Wednesday. She asked me if I wanted her to phone and mention to him so he’ll already know what I want to talk about before I go in.

So all that bit was fine. Until I started talking about my cousin’s wedding next weekend and talked about how many things I have missed out on for 7 years, SEVEN fucking years all due to this fucking stupid phobia about travelling away from my ‘safe place’. And this is where the appointment fell apart. Whilst she was rambling on about anxiety and phobias and all that scary stuff my head was bouncing the same thought round and round: to tell her about my plotting and planning or not to tell her?

Well… I figured I’m not going to gain anything by lying to her or by keeping things bottled up. So I told her. I started to tell her that I’ve been having thoughts racing round and round my head of what a perfect opportunity it would be next weekend to put an end to everything. Now, I wanted to continue to say that of course I wouldn’t actually do anything because:

  1. I’ve realised that I’m actually pretty scared about dying (as well as living)
  2. It’s my little man’s anniversary next Monday and I definitely would be here for that.

But I got interrupted as she cut in and said “I never ever would have thought that you could be so selfish. This is your cousin’s wedding day and just think how much you would ruin it when all the family returned home to find out what you’d done. Every single wedding anniversary your cousin would have would just be all about when you killed yourself. That is incredibly selfish. I can’t believe you could say something like that”.

(Not an exact quote but close enough)

Now I don’t dispute for one second that it would be an incredibly selfish thing for me to do and I’m not even that bothered that she went on a little rant about me being a selfish person. Well she could have picked slightly less harsh words but what really annoyed me was the way she just cut in when it was clear I was still in the middle of speaking to start calling me selfish… she didn’t even hear me out and I had to wait til she was finished her little rant before I could tell her the reasons why I wouldn’t act on the thoughts.

To be honest I think what I found hardest about the conversation was that it was the first time of really talking about suicidal feelings with her and I guess I hoped that even though I moan about her all the time I still hoped that when the time came to talk about serious and difficult things that she would actually display some empathy. Not sit and criticise me and call me selfish. By doing that all she has done is made me feel even less like I can open up to her and I can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen if I ever experience a real crisis and really need her help.

When the appointment was over and she told me she was taking a couple of weeks holiday so wouldn’t be able to see me again until the 20th of Feb I was quite relieved. I did get to say to her in the end that I had no intentions of doing anything to myself this coming weekend and mentioned the little one’s anniversary was next Monday and she didn’t even comment on it. I had to ask her if it would be OK for me to phone and speak to whatever member of staff was on duty that day if things got too hard (I probably wouldn’t phone but it’s nice to know there is that option if needed) and she was just like yes you can call if you really need it.

So I left that appointment wondering what the point to it had been, as is becoming the norm for when I leave appointments with her. Thankfully I had an appointment straight after it with my support worker through Rape Crisis and managed to get it off my chest. Support worker agreed that she thought new CPN had been a bit harsh the way she had spoken to me so once I had spoke about that for a few minutes I stopped feeling so annoyed and managed to have a good chat with her about some other shit that’s been on my mind, just stuff about my feelings towards men and how completely convinced I now am that I won’t ever have another relationship with a guy – partly because of how they’ve treated me and partly because I couldn’t ever imagine exposing my scarred body to someone again.

Right, before I go off into another ramble about all of that stuff I think I’d better take myself off to bed seeing as it’s nearly 1am. Keeping my fingers crossed that my poorly dog is a bit better in the morning.

Goodnight.

21:22 – Scared to live. Scared to die.

3 Feb

I don’t know where my head’s at. I have been trying to distract myself from the head crazies and unfortunately my poorly dog who I had to rush to the vet on Friday still doesn’t seem to be much better. He isn’t throwing up so much, but then he hasn’t eaten more than a few bites in the past week and for the last 24 hours has completely refused all food and drink so I’ve had to resort to syringe feeding him water every 2-3 hours. That meant setting my alarm every few hours during the night but to be honest I couldn’t really sleep anyway.

It seems like when I’m doing something like syringe feeding, going out walks, attempting to start my new university modules – we’re just about to go onto week 2 and I’ve only just started looking at week 1 so I’m already behind. But yeah, when I’m doing something then the head crazies are bearable but the second I stop it feels like this huge big black cloud just sinks over me and all I can think is ‘what’s the point?’. I sit here trying to study but the words just won’t sink in and I think why the fuck am I doing this? And then the head noise starts up and I start being pulled into conversations or hear my name being talked about and then the only thing I can do is give the head noise my full attention because I want to know what the fuck is being said about me!

I have been thinking a lot about death recently (well, I’m always thinking about it but recently it’s been a lot more prominent) and I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m scared to live but also scared to die. But this only fuels the head crazies because it gives cause for more debating back and forth like a bloody ping pong ball…

I want to live

I want to die

I can’t go on living

I can’t end my life

Back and forth, back and forth, the thoughts go quieter then louder, faster then slower and on and on it goes. Yet if I sit here and say to myself that I am not going to die then I become more anxious and if I say to myself that I don’t need to live I become equally as anxious. What the fuck is that all about? It makes no sense. Nothing makes sense. It’s all so contradictory. The thought of living for the foreseeable scares the crap out of me but when I really start thinking deeply about death it scares the crap out of me as well. It never did until the last serious suicide attempt I made and now I get the flashbacks of that one particular moment where my blood pressure crashed and they were all panicking around me and I knew those figures were seriously low and I was trying so so hard to keep my eyes open, terrified of what was happening to me and those words just slipped out my mouth “am I going to die? I don’t want to die” and every time I think of that and how I felt both physically and mentally in that moment is enough to make me pretty much guarantee I will never take another overdose (well not the cocktail I used that time) in my life. Of course there’s plenty other ways.

This coming week I have to see new CPN tomorrow which I’ve not decided if I’m going to or not. I missed the last appointment but to be honest I just don’t want to see her. But I also have an appointment with my support worker from Rape Crisis and I haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks either so maybe I should just go to both of them. At least I know if I leave the appointment with new CPN with any bad thoughts going round my head that I can talk to my support worker who I seem to get on with a lot better.

I also have to see lovely GP this week on Wednesday and also Mr Psychiatrist on Wednesday, as usual I’m not particularly looking forward to that one. But then again I’m seeing him first then lovely GP later in the afternoon so if he pisses me off at least I know she’ll be more understanding. I just don’t know what he’s going to say/do about the voices still being very much present despite being up on the max dose of Quetiapine again. I really really don’t want to switch to yet another anti-psychotic but at the same time I really don’t want the voices either, they are making me do all this planning and plotting, telling me how to do things, putting ideas in my head.

Next weekend my entire family all make the 200 mile trip down to England for my cousin’s wedding. The one I was supposed to be a bridesmaid for. The one the fucking agoraphobia is making me too terrified to attend. Every single member of my family is going to be there apart from me. Seeing the wedding photos is going to hurt really bad. But the voices start up and tell me what a perfect opportunity it will be, everyone gone for the whole weekend, it would be ideal. I could get all my plans in place then go to see best friend with a fake smile painted on, ask her to watch the dogs for a little while and come home. Perfect opportunity.

But… I can’t do anything then can I… because a couple of days later is my little man’s angel anniversary and I will be here for that. I will do the same as I do every year and spend a lot of time by his headstone, talking to my baby and crying lots of tears. Making his headstone look all pretty. A certain someone who I have a massive amount of respect for once told me that if I was no longer here then no one would keep my little man’s memory alive… well not the way that I do or the way I’d want them to. I am the only person who can do that and I can only do it if I’m here.

So basically I feel completely stuck. Scared to live. Scared to die. Yet this depression just carries on getting worse and worse. I continue to hear voices and end up quite distressed by them at times. I want to blank it all out. I want to escape from it all. I just don’t see how I can continue to live this way. It just feels like existing. The days just all seem to blur into one and every day it gets harder and harder to stay strong.

Tonight what will keep me strong is my poorly dog, making sure he gets fluids every few hours then first thing in the morning I will be phoning the vet, he needs to be seen again. I think he’s going to need to spend the day in there on a drip and get properly rehydrated. God only knows how much that’s going to cost me but I don’t think I’m going to have any other choice. He’s one of my fur babies and I have to make sure he gets better.

So, with a mixed up and tired head I’m going to try and get him to come for a little walk then get to bed reasonably early as it’s going to be another long night of getting up and down every couple of hours and then a long day with vets and two appointments tomorrow. My head feels totally pickled, I have too many thoughts and ideas and plans running through it and I’m too exhausted with them all that I can’t give them the attention that is needed. Things just feel like they are spinning a little bit out of control, the only button I seem to want to press is the self destruct one, to at least hurt and hurt by cutting. I need a way to release all of this frustration, I thought when I self harmed badly a couple of weeks ago that I had got it all out of me but clearly I haven’t. But just like not wanting to attend appointments I don’t want another trip to A&E, more stitches, more questions, more fear of being judged or control being removed.

Argh. I need to go find a quiet spot in the middle of nowhere and scream as loud as I can until I’m screaming louder than them and I can try to drown it all out. I’ve been listening to the new Rihanna album on my iPod (turned up full) whilst I’ve been writing this, very loud music through earphones is about the only way I can tolerate loud head noise and I still hear the voices over the music, they are just blurred out a bit. Anyway, this has been a bit of a depressing post so I’ll say goodnight and leave you with what I’ve been listening to… there’s something quite lovely about this song… it reminds me of a certain time in my life… there’s something quite poignant about it… and yes, as usual I prefer reading the lyrics than watching the actual music video…

Enjoy…

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 3,816 other followers