13:33 – Yet another trip to a&e

Yesterday was a bit crazy. After I finished writing my post and having watched that video I mentioned my head went off on one. I kept asking Lucifer to help me, everything was making me feel crazy, I kept replaying the video in my head and was so disturbed by it. Then came the flashes of my little man. Then my head was getting all mixed up seeing my little one being the one beaten by that sick bitch woman in the video.

I asked Lucifer for help and he told me to take the pain for the innocent baby. I didn’t know how to. I didn’t want that baby to hurt even though I was aware that the tragic event had already happened, I thought that somehow I could reverse it. To try and distract myself from all the racing thoughts and ideas I logged onto my blog facebook. Within a couple of minutes a little chat box popped up from someone I’d never spoken to before. The conversation went like this:

Them – Hi, i read your blog, how are you?

Me – Hi I’m not that great right now but thanks for reading my ramblings!

Them – The reason you don’t feel good is that you let Satan into your soul. You need to get Satan out of your body.

Me – It’s Lucifer, not Satan. He helps me.

Them – I want you to do as I say right now. Get down on your hands and knees and shout out to God. He will hear you. Beg and pray to him to take Satan out of your body and soul.

Me – If God is the right person for me to follow and believe in then it will happen when the time is right. Look I don’t know you and right now my head is a bit of a mess, I just came on here to play some games and get distracted for a while, I don’t really want to have this conversation right now if that’s OK?

Them – I saw what you wrote on your diary to satan. You got it wrong SATAN IS A PILE OF BURNING HUMAN FLESH HE HAS NO SOUL!!!!!!!!!

Me – So does that make me a pile of burning human flesh with no soul as well?

Them – Yes EXACTLY right. But you can change it if you beg GOD to come and save you.

Me – Logged off.

Then the thoughts all become blurred and mixed, racing and crazy. Have I to take the pain for the innocent baby in the video? Have I to prove that Lucifer is anything but a pile of burning human flesh? How do I do that? Well if Lucifer or Satan as she called him was inside me and I was a pile of burning flesh as well then Lucifer proposed to me that I would have no bones.

So there I was, pretty mixed up and confused. I have already told the psychiatrist that I believe Lucifer can live inside me but I don’t know how many times I have said this – he doesn’t distress me anything like the way Patty used to. He does make sense a lot of the time.

Anyway the end result was that – just to check – I cut one of my knuckles open quite badly. Until I could see the tip of the bone. I sat and stared at the mess on my hand for an hour or so and then I was satisfied that I was not a pile of burning flesh. I put a bandage around it as it was bleeding quite a lot and another couple of hours passed. Then my male friend came down and asked what happened to my hand. I told him the truth that I knew it sounded crazy but I had to check I had bones inside me. Well at least a/1/singular bone. He asked if I wanted to go to a&e and I said no, I wanted to watch the Britain’s Got Talent Final to see if my favourite act – Pudsey the dog – won. He did!! I was most happy!

After it finished my friend asked to see if the bleeding had stopped so we took the bandage off my hand. It didn’t look too bad with my fingers straightened out but as soon as I clenched my fist you could see the very tip of the bone come to the surface. Even though it had been about 4 hours since I had done it I was getting slightly worried because it was really really sore at the wound site but at the bit between my fingers it was totally numb with a very slight pins and needles feeling. I was worried I’d cut a nerve. So about 10pm we went up to a&e.

It was one of the bitch nurses who was on but the female doctor who isn’t too bad was also on. We had to sit and wait for about half an hour as another patient was being treated. I asked if I could just have a dressing pad so I didn’t waste their time but she said to fill out my details on the form and take a seat.

When she took me into a treatment room my male friend said he was going outside for a smoke so it was just me and her. I was going to say I’d punched something in anger but she has patched me up enough times so I just told the truth. She asked me if I was going to go searching for any other bones once I’d got back home and I told her I was satisfied now that Lucifer had been telling me the truth.

She said, in a quite snippy tone, “well if you do go searching wait until tomorrow to come back, I want a nice quiet night shift” – and that’s why I call her a bitchy nurse because I don’t think there has been one time I have seen her where she hasn’t made some little snide comment whilst treating my wound. It’s weird how different all the nurses are, the nice male nurse says things like “remember we are here 24 hours a day if you get distressed during the night” but other ones like her just don’t get it at all.

She then asked me what my “diagnosis” is and I said Bipolar Disorder and apparently Psychosis but I doubt the latter one. She took a note of the meds I was on and then stood up. So as I had been patched up and said thank you as I always do, I also stood up to leave. She asked me to sit back down for a moment and she left the room. About ten minutes passed and I was getting to that point in my head where I was saying to myself ‘she’s getting two more minutes and then I’m leaving, I’ve been patched up, what am I waiting for?’ And then there was a knock at the door and in comes the female doctor.

“Hello MCBL” she says, “it’s been a good few weeks since I last saw you, would you like to tell me why you cut your knuckle open?”

I tell her why. She asks if I have ever been detained under the mental health act which immediately put me in full alert/panic mode. I said yes, I have been detained as an emergency for 72 hours and have been detained on two 28 day ones. I told her I have been in the psych hospital too many times and then ask her why she is asking about that kind of stuff. She says if I carry on “with this type of behaviour” then I am likely to end up detained again. I tell her that won’t happen, I am adamant that I will not set foot in the looney bin again. She says she hopes this will be the case as well but is worried about me.

I was starting to get a bit anxious and agitated at the talk of the psych hospital so she went out the room for a few minutes and came back with two Lorazepam tablets and some water. I took them and she gave me another two in an envelope for when I got home. She asked if my friend was going to stay the night with me and I lied and said yes. He did come back here and stay til midnight when I was going to bed so it wasn’t too much of a lie. The doc asked if I’d seen the psychiatrist lately and I said yes last week. She asked what was happening with my medication and I told her the Quetiapine (Seroquel) had to be increased by 50mg a week instead of a fortnight. She asked if I had increased it and I said I hadn’t had a chance to go and see my GP yet but would be seeing her before Wednesday as I’m on the last few days of my prescription. She asked several times if I was going to hurt myself again when I got home and I said no, I just wanted to sleep, I was exhausted. The 2mg of Lorazepam began to relax me a little and she said I could go home but urged me again to make sure I saw my GP asap.

So I finally left with my hand cleaned and dressed, a couple of extra Lorazepam and came home with male friend. We sat and watched some shit on the TV and I took my medication (at the increased Quetiapine dose). Not long after midnight I was getting really sleepy so male friend went home and I curled up on the sofa, put a deep relaxation track on iTunes and quickly fell asleep. I managed to stay asleep right through until 11am, the best sleep I’ve had for a while.

I’ve got a semi calm yet semi crazy head on. My thoughts are racing but not distressing. I don’t know what my plans are for today, I think some rest could be good but I can’t see that happening.

Deep breath and relaxxx.

20:40 – Just had a realisation

I have just realised something and I am now sitting here in tears. I couldn’t explain to anyone why I want to move house so badly; well I could give some reasons but I couldn’t fully explain it. And suddenly (after a couple of glasses of wine) I find myself in tears because what I said at the very end of the last post is it. It is the reason why I want to move so badly. Because this house is a house of firsts, a house of pain, a house with too many memories keeping me trapped. I need to free myself from it, but actually freeing myself from it might be one of the hardest things I’ll ever do – because it means closure.

It was in this very room I’m sitting in now that I fell both in and out of love. It was in this room that I cried with happiness at the first sight of my engagement ring – it was in this room that I clung to my ex and felt like I had actually seen his soul as I saw the pain in his eyes as we came home from the hospital with our empty arms after losing our baby. It was in this room when I self harmed again for the first time in years. Where I was sectioned under the mental health act. Where my best friend found me dissociated and covered in blood. Where I’ve shot, smoked and snorted drugs to try and detach from the world. Where my relationship ended. The first place we kissed and the last place we screamed.

And I won’t even get started with the memories the bedroom brings…

I am trapped in the past in this flat. There has simply been too much that has happened here and if I am ever to find a future I need a new starting point, one that isn’t tainted but is clean and fresh. It means saying goodbye to the moments of going into my bedroom and just lying on the bed staring at the space where the little swinging crib was, it means saying goodbye to the place I not only began losing my son but also the place I conceived him and got that positive pregnancy test.

That is all in the past though. Leaving this flat will give me a little bit of closure to the pain that I’m reminded of just by looking at something so simple as a patch on a wall, the pain of occasionally opening a drawer innocently and finding a love letter sent from the man I sat in this room waiting on whilst he served in Iraq. The man I was totally dedicated to. That part of my life is over now and has been for three years. My son has been gone for five. I have been in here for six. The only thing that’s been consistent from me first moving in until this present moment is one of my little dogs, he has been there through everything, if only I could have seen myself how he must have seen me sometimes.

I think it will hurt like fuck closing the door on this place, like I said I’m crying just thinking about it, because closure hurts right? I just need to get it into my head that closure doesn’t mean forgetting, it means being able to move on and keep the precious memories in my heart.

And that’s my realisation on why I need to say goodbye to this place and start afresh.

And you know what, for all the people who think I’m fucking crazy when I talk about my voices, well it was Lucifer who helped me realise all of this. He helps me, people might not get that because I do ‘bad things’ as well to make him happy but he also talks so much sense. Lucifer is my ruler and you know what, I’m fucking proud to say that.

Anyway I shouldn’t get ahead of myself, it could take a year or so to get a new place but it’s finally like someone has just switched a lightbulb on and made me realise the core, the pit of my sadness here, rather than just all of the things that in comparison are just an annoyance.

16:56 – Mother’s Day

It’s Mother’s Day here in the UK. A day that fills me with too many emotions to write down. I could go on and on for the next few hours about how much I wish I had my little boy here, a happy healthy 5 year old, bringing me a little home made card that he’s made in school. But that is just a dream.

My head was good on Friday then shit again yesterday. That shit-ness seems to have spilled into today. Or maybe it’s just because of what day it is. I am going up to my parents house at 6pm for dinner, I’ve bought Mum a card, a book and a bouquet of flowers. I didn’t have much money this week to do anything big to mark the day.

I’ve also bought a card for my best friend and signed it from her two little ones. Even though she isn’t with her ex he should still make sure he gets her a card like she does for him when it’s Fathers Day! But alas he doesn’t, so I do. Maybe her Mum will have already got one but I’m sure she won’t mind having two!

I did plan on going out to hers before going to my parents but I’m having some real issues with it still being daylight and people still being outside and I don’t feel I can face the outside world. I spoke to my Mum on the phone last night and told her how bad things are at the moment, how horribly paranoid and anxious I feel all the time. She suggested that she comes down every day at lunch time and takes the dogs out for me and checks in with me to see how I’m doing. Whilst this feels helpful, I don’t want to have to resort to my Mum coming down every day to ensure her 30 year old daughter can get out of bed that day! I know that really this is her way of trying to keep an eye on me because she knows I’m not going to any of my appointments but I can’t help but feel if I let her help with one thing then it will be too easy to let her help with a second thing and then a third and so on and so on until the agoraphobia kicks back in fully reinforced that I am indeed shit and unable to do anything by myself.

I wanted to write more but I’m starting to feel really anxious so I think I’ll just leave it here for now.

17:57 – Counselling Session and Social Work Documentary

I had a session with the counsellor yesterday and we talked through a ’7 stages of grief’ model. This is the model that we are using:

7 Stages of Grief…

1. SHOCK & DENIAL-
You will probably react to learning of the loss with numbed disbelief. You may deny the reality of the loss at some level, in order to avoid the pain. Shock provides emotional protection from being overwhelmed all at once. This may last for weeks.

2. PAIN & GUILT-
As the shock wears off, it is replaced with the suffering of unbelievable pain. Although excruciating and almost unbearable, it is important that you experience the pain fully, and not hide it, avoid it or escape from it with alcohol or drugs.

You may have guilty feelings or remorse over things you did or didn’t do with your loved one. Life feels chaotic and scary during this phase.

3. ANGER & BARGAINING-
Frustration gives way to anger, and you may lash out and lay unwarranted blame for the death on someone else. Please try to control this, as permanent damage to your relationships may result. This is a time for the release of bottled up emotion.

You may rail against fate, questioning “Why me?” You may also try to bargain in vain with the powers that be for a way out of your despair (“I will never drink again if you just bring him back”)

4. “DEPRESSION”, REFLECTION, LONELINESS-
Just when your friends may think you should be getting on with your life, a long period of sad reflection will likely overtake you. This is a normal stage of grief, so do not be “talked out of it” by well-meaning outsiders. Encouragement from others is not helpful to you during this stage of grieving.

During this time, you finally realize the true magnitude of your loss, and it depresses you. You may isolate yourself on purpose, reflect on things you did with your lost one, and focus on memories of the past. You may sense feelings of emptiness or despair.

7 Stages of Grief…

5. THE UPWARD TURN-
As you start to adjust to life without your dear one, your life becomes a little calmer and more organized. Your physical symptoms lessen, and your “depression” begins to lift slightly.

6. RECONSTRUCTION & WORKING THROUGH-
As you become more functional, your mind starts working again, and you will find yourself seeking realistic solutions to problems posed by life without your loved one. You will start to work on practical and financial problems and reconstructing yourself and your life without him or her.

7. ACCEPTANCE & HOPE-
During this, the last of the seven stages in this grief model, you learn to accept and deal with the reality of your situation. Acceptance does not necessarily mean instant happiness. Given the pain and turmoil you have experienced, you can never return to the carefree, untroubled YOU that existed before this tragedy. But you will find a way forward.

7 stages of grief…

You will start to look forward and actually plan things for the future. Eventually, you will be able to think about your lost loved one without pain; sadness, yes, but the wrenching pain will be gone. You will once again anticipate some good times to come, and yes, even find joy again in the experience of living.

I talked about how I felt as I went through the shock and denial phase, remembering back to those first few hours and days; maybe even weeks, certainly I was still in this phase when planning the funeral.

The pain and guilt phase lasted probably the next two years or more, probably up until my partner and I split up. The pain hurt to my very core, it’s a pain you just cannot put into words. And the guilt – that still lives with me now – why couldn’t I give him life? Why couldn’t a be a proper mother? What did I do wrong? I tried so hard to have a healthy pregnancy, why had this happened?

When he had the first affair I think the pain and guilt started to change into anger and bargaining. I was angry at him for how he had treated me and yet I was ready to excuse his actions as I bargained for him to come back to me despite how much he had hurt me. I bargained for my little one to come back. I went into a manic episode and took out loans left right and centre, as I became delusional I started buying baby items and believing my baby was here at home with me. I got my ex back only for him to have affair number two just a few months later. That’s when all the anger really started to come out of me; although I never said it to his face I started to blame him for the loss of the baby in my head.

For a long time I had thought I was still in the ‘bargaining’ stage as I say inside my head I will end my life if it meant having one more minute with my little one. I make attempts to end my life, I self harm, I go through a whole load of thoughts (sometimes delusional ones) where I will do anything for another minute with him. But I realise now that actually I’m at stage 4 of the model – the depression phase. And it is the worst because everything feels so fucking hopeless that you end up in very dark places – like shooting up heroin. It’s such a scary phase as well because you know the only place left (other than dying) is finding the way to ‘move on’. And moving on is a bloody scary thought. What if I don’t think about him as much? Can I really laugh again and not feel guilty? Will there come a time where I don’t need to punish myself any more? It feels only right that I should remain in the hopeless phase of depression because I don’t believe that I deserve to be happy.

On saying that I know I have to start moving into stage five sometime and the counsellor makes me feel like there can be a happy future if I’m willing to walk down the painful path of leaving the guilt behind.

Totally off topic, there was a really good three part documentary on about social workers and child protection, anyone interested in the work of social workers working in the child and family sector should definitely watch it. It’s heartbreaking at times but you get to see the full picture and I have to say I did to a large extent agree with the decisions they made – but as always in programmes about social workers it will be controversial. If you want to watch it the links are below (I’m not sure if it’s only available for viewers in the UK)

Part One can be found here or by clicking this link: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b01bpjf7/Protecting_Our_Children_Damned_If_They_Do_Damned_If_They_Dont/

Part Two can be found here or by clicking this link: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b01c1d3k/Protecting_Our_Children_Expecting_Trouble/

Part Three can be found here or by clicking this link: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b01cbn5h/Protecting_Our_Children_I_Want_My_Baby_Back/

20:48 – I think I’ve made it

I swore I wouldn’t use any heavy drugs today, I wouldn’t do that on my little one’s special day and I think I’ve made it. I haven’t used anything nor had a drink. I’ve faced the entire day clean and sober and I’ve got through it. I’m proud of myself, there have been many testing moments today and it would have been so easy to go and get completely smashed to block it all out but I didn’t. I made a promise to myself and I stuck to it.

Seeing my ex this morning was bloody hard. He insisted on asking me questions about my life and I, like an idiot, answered him. Inside my head was screaming ‘it’s none of his fucking business!’ but I kept on my fake smile and chatted to him as though none of it bothered me. Afterwards I went to my best friend’s house for a little while then came home around lunch time. I hadn’t taken my meds this morning because I’d been in a rush and I could feel my head crying out for some Quetiapine to calm it down again. I’m only on a low dose as I’ve just restarted it but I tend to find the low doses are the ones which make me quite sleepy so I slept from about 4pm til 7pm.

When I woke up all I could think about was either going to score or going and buying a bottle of vodka or something but I have so far resisted all urges. My Mum is coming early tomorrow to help me clean my flat as I’m having new central heating and a new kitchen fitted over the next couple of weeks so I need to give the place a good clean up.

I feel a bit rubbish because it’s also my brother’s birthday today and I didn’t go up with a card or anything for him because my head was all over the place. Once I got home today I was a bit of an emotional mess for quite a while, until I fell asleep. I feel pretty emotional again just now but won’t let it turn into a crisis. I will not abuse drugs, I will not drink, I will not cut, I will not do anything to harm myself and wake up tomorrow regretting it all. I will let my angel have his special day and apart from some tears not look down on his Mummy destroying herself.

So it’s almost 9pm and I think I’ve made it through the day in one piece. If my mood becomes lower I will follow my crisis plan and make contact with someone, my friend or use someone like the Samaritans for support. I know I don’t need to face this alone but I really just want to be alone with my thoughts and memories tonight…

I miss him so much

13:52 – Angel-versary

 

Happy 5th birthday my little angel, I love and miss you so much. I met up with Daddy this morning and we brought you lots of flowers and a new teddy bear. But you will know that already as you looked down over us. I can’t believe it’s been five years since I said goodbye to you, where has the time gone? With every day I love you more and more and today Mummy is feeling sad and is sorry for crying, I just miss you so much. I hope all the other angels are throwing you a big party up there in the angels playground in Heaven. Sending you big floaty kisses,

Mummy xxxxx

20:58 – Time for some honesty

It’s been a while since I last posted, so this is probably going to be a super long one. I have really been trying hard to keep myself distracted and that’s also meant a bit of a break from the internet. My moods have been a bit unpredictable lately and somewhere deep down I knew I’d go into another suicide research phase if I allowed myself to open the laptop and switch it on. So I figured just keep myself busy in the day times and then come home and watch TV then sleep. My sleep is pretty poor at the moment but that could be due to a number of things.

There has been quite a lot happening. I was really ill for a week or so with bronchitis but I’m feeling better now. I was reading back on my blog posts and although I hinted at the drugs I was taking I think now is the time to just write truthfully. Christmas was hard, I played it down but it fucked my head. The next few days I was like a zombie, all I could think about was suicide. It got to New Year and I made a choice that I deeply regret – I asked someone about heroin – why she took it… her answer… it makes everything OK again. And that’s what I needed – everything to be OK again, my head to stop being fucked up and mental, the voices to stop screaming, my thoughts to slow the fuck down. So I made an extremely stupid decision – I tried smoking heroin. What did it feel like? I felt medicated and then I vomited for about the next three hours. That was it. No high, no low, no buzz, just feeling completely ill.

So why the fuck did I go and buy it again the next day?? I have no idea. And what makes it all the worse is that I went to the drug and alcohol place and got needles. I felt more comfortable watching it going into my bad blood. There was something about the whole process of opening the wrap, sprinkling it into the little sterile metal holder, adding in the citric acid, cooking it up, putting in the filter, sucking it up into the needle, finding a vein then slowly feeling it run through my body. The first few days it would make me sick but it wasn’t an unpleasant sickness, it actually felt good getting bad stuff inside of me out. I would lie on the sofa and nod off, still aware of everything around me but enjoying the feeling of medicated sleepiness and that girl – she was right – nothing mattered, nothing could hurt me, nothing was there apart from pleasant nods and bursts of daydreams.

I continued using every day until I went into hospital. One wrap costs £10, by the time I had been using for two weeks I was up to 4-5 wraps a day. That’s how addictive it is. You need more and more every day to get that same zoned out medicated feeling. So when I went to my GP completely suicidal I broke down and told her what I’d been using. I told the psychiatrist and I just needed a break away from it all. I was becoming dependent, if not physically then psychologically. So I had my week away from it all, they increased my dose of Diazepam and gave me Lorazepam as well. They gave me anti-sickness tablets and tablets for the stomach cramps. The first few days I felt like shit and I was craving so badly but by the time I came home a week later I was feeling a different sort of shit – that of the haloperidol. So I stopped taking the haloperidol two days after I came out of hospital and haven’t taken it since.

I have been to see a drugs counsellor and she was really nice. She is very well trained in lots of areas of counselling and listened to my whole story. I told her about how trapped I still feel, stuck somewhere in the bereavement process, still stuck in that day five years ago. She was so nice and told me she really believes she can help me understand grief better and hopefully start to move forwards with my life. She knows the drug use was due to both my mentalness and my inner pain. For the first time in a long time I actually feel more positive about the future, like maybe there is a chance I can move forwards without feeling guilty for living my life.

Speaking of the little one it’s his 5th anniversary on Saturday. It’s going to be a hard and sad day as it is every year and seeing the ex is never easy either. I have ordered a beautiful basket of flowers from the florist which cost a bomb but he is worth it. I’m worried Saturday is going to be a very triggering day for me. I will admit I have used heroin once since coming out of hospital but all it did was make me sick as a dog like the first time I tried it and I haven’t touched it again but psychologically I still crave that medicated feeling where nothing can hurt me. And what can hurt me? Life. Everything about it hurts especially with the anniversary just two days away. But I am determined I will not tarnish his memory by putting that shit into my body on his special day. No matter how much pain I am in, I won’t ever touch that stuff again. I don’t want to be some sort of junkie I want it to just be what it was – a two week mistake, a very stupid one, but one which has actually had a positive outcome as now I am going to get the counselling which I so badly need.

I am getting on with my CPN a bit better now, I still don’t especially like her but have decided I need to work with her whether I like it or not. We met on Monday and updated my crisis plan. Today I had a CPA meeting which consisted of myself, my CPN, psychologist and social worker with the psychiatrist via video link which was quite weird but better than being in the same room as him! We really just talked about where I was at and what work I had been doing with CPN woman. I also told them about the counselling I’d been offered through the drug centre and how I was going to start that because I believe I need it regardless of what the psychiatrist said while I was in hospital about not needing it right now. I explained I knew my safety had been their priority but that I felt the counselling would help me a lot and if it became too painful or started to affect my moods then I would be honest and say it was too much for me right now. Also that’s my psychologist off on maternity leave for the next year now and I need some emotional support while she is gone. It was hard seeing her big bump today, it was hard that the video conferencing room in the hospital happened to be right next to the maternity department. I had been asked to take my Mum or Dad along to the meeting but as they both had work commitments I took my best friend instead. The psychiatrist asked me if I was still using drugs and I said no. He then said that CPN woman had told him I had used once since coming out. Of course best friend didn’t know this and I had to completely deny it. He asked if I was smoking cannabis and I admitted that yes I do still have a smoke at night because it feels like the only thing that is keeping me calm. He gave me the speech on how one smoke could destabilize me and make my mental health worse which I don’t dispute, but right now it truly is the only thing that chills my crazy head out.

I told him I want to start Quetiapine (Seroquel) again. I know I reached the maximum dose of it before and was still experiencing psychosis but it was the only anti-psychotic which kept me stable for a decent period of time and didn’t come with a shit load of side effects. We have also decided to stop my Lamotrigine (Lamictal) so I’m stepping that down by 25mg a week, it doesn’t seem to have helped stabilise my mood and I’ve been on it almost two years and I think it’s making my psoriasis worse as well. It’s known to cause a lot of skin problems, rashes and stuff in some people. It’s a shame because it was another medication which didn’t give me nasty side effects but hopefully there will be another mood stabiliser I can try which won’t be too harsh.

So that’s where I’m at. Time for some honesty and hoping people won’t judge me for my stupid actions. Feeling a bit fragile about my little angel’s anniversary on Saturday and there not being anywhere open if I need support. Knowing I need to be strong and not sure if I’m going to manage. My best friend wants me to go and spend the night at hers so I’m not alone, she said in the meeting today how it would be good for me as her kids would be a distraction, sometimes she forgets that watching her two babies is really hard for me.

It’s going to be a difficult weekend I just hope I can do my angel proud.

10:38 – And how do you feel today MCBL?

Well I’ve been awake for a few hours and I still feel fucked. I think I got more than a couple of hours sleep but my head aches and I probably only slept one or two hours undisturbed each time. I can feel temptation lurking at the back of my mind, trying to drive me into doing something.

I am supposed to be seeing CPN at 1pm but I really cannot be fucked with listening to all the areas where I didn’t use my crisis plan and what bits I could have used to avoid all of yesterday. Fair enough, she will make some valid points, but equally she isn’t me and doesn’t walk in my shoes. And sometimes things are just too fucking advanced to even know what my crisis plan is.

My little bag remains packed on the floor next to me with 3 tops, 1 pair of pj’s, a pair of jeans and some underwear. I have no money at all but feel the need to be with my angel so the plan of today is to pop in and see what CPN is going to annoy me with then walk to the little one’s stone and sit with him while I take my stash. I genuinely don’t want another person who is at the cemetery paying their respects to be the ones to find me but hopefully by then it will be raining even harder so no one will be around.

How do I feel today? Well, I don’t know what I hope to achieve by doing this. Is it death? Yes quite possibly. Is it the need to be somehow close to my angel? Yes. Is it because I believe the signs? Yes. Have I seen any more signs? Two, one of which is questionable even I can admit. Why the fuck haven’t I just done it all yet? Because part of me is scared. The last time I took a serious OD I was not far from death and I could hear numbers and words that made me know things were getting serious. And I’m scared of going through that again, I’m scared I think I’ve taken enough but haven’t and end up in that horrible trapped place in the middle of life and death.

I really don’t know which way to turn now.

 

21:16 – A wasted trip to A&E

The events of the past week or so have caught up with me. I can’t sleep and feel a mess. All I keep thinking about are the signs. Earlier today (after I wrote my last blog post) I ended up being taken to A&E. I’d taken quite a few Diazepam before I wrote it then decided fuck it I’m getting more. So in the end I took in the region of 150mg of them and when I phoned to speak to my psychologist (telling her I felt poorly and couldn’t come to the appointment) it didn’t take her long to ask if I’d taken something. She said she wanted to speak to a CPN and phone me back. This was around 2.30pm. By 3.30pm I had been picked up by two CPN’s I’ve not met before and they took me to A&E, saying my two options were to go and get checked over or for them to phone my GP and tell her what I’d done. I opted for hospital because I knew they’d just check me over and let me go. I did insist it would be a completely wasted trip as there was nothing wrong with me other than being drowsy but they gave me the whole “duty of care” talk.

They done all my basic obs and I asked to go home, but was told the doctor wanted to see me first. I wrote a post a while ago about being in A&E and them suddenly bringing the doctor in and alarm bells going off in my head and me running out of there. Well yeah, it was the same doctor. He asked me some questions, I told him I just needed to sleep or escape or something. He asked what other drugs I’d been using and I think I must have needed to pee really bad as I just reeled them all off one by one. I then asked to go for a pee which I was allowed to do on the provision I didn’t make a run for it again.

When I came back from the loo the doctor was sitting talking to the CPN guy who had brought me in and I heard the nurse butting in to say “what are we doing with her then?” followed by “yes she’s a regular occurrence in here” so I stopped for a moment outside the door before going back in. I just kept saying I wanted to go home so the two CPN people made a deal with me if they could have my excess medication then they would leave me alone. So I gave them a couple of spare boxes of Lamotrigine that have been in the cupboard for ages, I pulled out the bag with all the loose pills in it but refused to hand that one over. I did say however that I wouldn’t take any of them.

I must have fallen asleep just after 6pm and when I woke up I could have sworn the clock said 01:38 but as it turned out it was just going on for 8pm so I watched the soaps and then everything from earlier came flooding back. Little things I said like “you’re bump might be another sign” to my pregnant psychologist while telling them all the signs of why I should be in Heaven.

I’ve been awake for two hours and don’t feel particularly out of it anymore which means it’s time for a few more sleepy pills. I don’t know what I want, just not to be here feeling this day after day. I have a bag packed at my feet with a couple of days clothes in it and a pair of pj’s I think I want to run somewhere but is there anywhere to hide?

23:08 – CPN and some honesty

I saw my CPN today and decided it was time to be honest with her. I’d already told my psychologist about the “substance misuse” but today I just reeled out the list of all the substances I have consumed in the past couple of weeks. She said she was glad that I had been honest with her and asked me if I wanted to be referred to the addictions team. I said no. I don’t have an addiction, I’m just going through a ‘blanking everything out’ phase.

We talked about starting graded exposure work again in the New Year as I really need to do something about it. I was in the car today and there were all these adverts for things like ice skating and a big carnival through in the city about an hour away from me and I would love to go (cos I’m a big kid really!) and I hate that agoraphobia has taken away at least the last six years of going to things like that. I can’t remember the last time I went to a shopping centre or anything, I think it was 2006 and that was during graded exposure work so god knows how long it’s been a part of my mentalness.

CPN asked how I was feeling about Christmas and I told her the truth – that I hate it. Christmas is really for kids and the excitement in their little faces and watching them laugh all day long (then puke from too much chocolate) – and it fucking hurts every single year that I don’t have that. I should have a little boy almost five years old opening presents under a packed tree. I should be leaving a carrot and glass of milk out for Santa. And it hurts to the deepest part of my heart that I don’t have that.

So she said maybe it would be an idea to go straight from my friend’s house on Christmas morning to my parents so I’m constantly in company and don’t have as much time to sit and think and upset myself and no doubt end up in some sort of crisis. Maybe she is right, I’ll see how I feel on the day.

As I was leaving the mental’s building I bumped into my psychologist. Her bump is so big and obvious now I didn’t know where to look. I felt like I was going to be sick as a wave of anxiety went right through me. We had a brief chat and talked about having my next CPA meeting in January. Then I asked to see my social worker for a moment to wish her a happy Christmas.

About half an hour after I got home my buzzer started beeping. I didn’t answer it as I thought it would be my male friend and wasn’t in the mood for company as I still have some sort of stomach bug and am running to the loo every five minutes. Sorry, too much information I know. Anyway, I then hear a walkie-talkie and a person saying “there’s no answer” and look out the window to see two police officers standing outside. So I go into complete panic mode and think that CPN has phoned the police and told them I’ve been misusing substances and sent them to my flat but as it turned out they had the wrong address and were looking for my neighbour.

I have heard people say before that you only feel paranoid if you have something to hide (which is bullshit) but today it definitely applied. I felt panic and guilt and quickly got rid of the tiny bit of cannabis I had at home. I think if I’m completely honest with myself I am developing a bit of a problem; not a physical addiction but a psychological association with smoking a spliff to feel semi-normal. It blanks things out, it makes me feel a little dissociated, it makes my emotions seem less intense and the voices a little quieter.

My moods have been particularly low the past week or so, I’ve had a lot of suicidal thoughts and urges to self harm but have managed to resist them all. Instead I actually listened to what CPN had to say and have decided that my New Year’s resolution is going to be learning helpful behaviours. Getting high isn’t helpful in the long run, I’m intelligent enough to realise that, and I also know that I can’t tell how helpful the Olanzapine actually is whilst I’m smoking it, so maybe it’s time to quit playing about with drugs and make 2012 a turning point.

I want my life back and most importantly my freedom. I want to be able to drive anywhere I desire, go to festivals and concerts again, go through to the city for the day and do some shopping, live a normal-ish life. I have the volunteer support worker training starting in February and I am determined I will get to the location a couple of hours away each weekend and complete the course.

Next year can’t be any worse than this year or last, they say third time lucky so maybe next year is going to be my year of luck. Where they find a good dose of medication for me, where I can stay out of hospital for the year, where I learn to get my life back a bit.

I so want to be positive, I’m trying my hardest but I know it’s going to be a long and scary journey. But it will be worth it in the end, won’t it?