Tag Archives: bipolar

00:02 – Truth be known, I’m struggling… a lot

10 Apr

[Warning - there is a graphic description of sexual violence in this post]

Since my last post in the early hours of Friday morning I have been quite busy but also, if I’m honest, struggling. On Friday afternoon I went to see my Mum for a little while and to see best friend. We were all going out on the Saturday night for best friend’s birthday and I was trying on my outfit I was planning to wear out up at Mum’s. Seeing their eyes quickly scanning the extent of the scarring on my body felt horrible but then they both started telling me how proud of me they were that I was now being trusted with a month of medication again and how proud they were that I’d stayed out of hospital for so long. They were nice about the scars but I felt utterly hideous and very uncomfortable with them on show so quickly got covered up again.

Saturday night we all went out. All the girls had short tight dresses on – I on the other hand had my legs fully covered and my arms fully covered. I felt a bit out of place so took just a couple of diazepam whilst we were all getting ready at best friend’s house followed by at least four pretty strong vodkas. By the time we got to the first pub around 10.30pm I was feeling a little tipsy… by the time we left the last pub and began to head home at 2am I was very drunk. But it was a strange kind of drunk, I just couldn’t seem to relax properly all night. I couldn’t get hyper-alert-suspicious-paranoid-brain to shut up. I didn’t join in on the dancefloor, I didn’t let a single person buy me a drink, every guy who got within a couple of feet of me I quickly walked away from. I tried to join in with the laughs but my head was somewhere else all night and all I seemed to do was watch the clock and count down the minutes until I could get the hell out of there and back to my safe little house.

Sunday I felt absolutely awful all day. It seems I’m at that age where hangovers don’t feel too bad when you first wake up but as the hours pass you feel worse and worse, not any better. So yeah, Sunday was pretty much spent lazing around doing nothing. I know alcohol is a depressant but this weird state of mind has been on the go since Wednesday when lovely GP decided to trust me with a month’s worth of medication. Every time I open my cupboard door I hear ‘male voice’ telling me I’ve got them there for a reason and it’s not to prove how responsible I can be with them. But then I hear Mum and best friend in my head, telling me how proud they are of me and I hate myself for even giving the tiniest bit of attention to ‘male voice’.

But ‘male voice’ has been very much present over the past week mostly being insulting telling me things like I’m a dirty whore who deserves to be raped again… a stream of laughter by him every time someone said I looked nice on Saturday night… telling me it would be a good idea to take all of those Diazepam and just fucking knock myself out… telling me me I’ve not made my body ugly enough for him yet and to get a blade back to my skin. He’s angry with me that I walked past the DIY store today and didn’t go in and replace my empty box of blades and it is all I keep hearing from him tonight that I WILL go buy more tomorrow or else I’m going to make him so mad that he will have me [insert warning here to very graphic horrible instructions] “cut my tits off” or his other favourite is “someone’s gonna rape you [between the legs] with the sharpest knife I can find” . Pretty fucked up I know but that is the way he speaks, that’s his vocabulary, that’s his way of showing me he is in control, not me. He is particularly violent in his threats and comments and I am not a violent person, but he says things in ways that flash images in front of my eyes of either me mutilating my body badly or hurting someone else. I’ve never really hurt someone else, I’ve had a few bitch fights, hair pulling and that kinda shit… I’ve punched a couple of people in anger… but I’ve never really properly hurt someone to the point where I could do them permanent damage. And I can’t imagine me ever doing something like that but the things he is saying to me scare me, I can’t deny it.

So with all this going on in my head and his voice talking far too much I haven’t been able to sleep again. I stayed up all of Sunday night, all day yesterday until I finally took a handful (not an overdose) of diazepam this morning around 11am and at finally around 1pm I fell asleep until 4pm. I had promised best friend and her kids that I would go out and see them today now they are back from their dad’s, I promised Mum I would go for a walk with the dogs with her and maybe go for some lunch or coffee or something. Neither of those things happened and other than going out a few times today with the dogs I have done absolutely nothing.

I am very very much at crunch time with regards to my part time university course. I have failed the 20% part of the module. The essay part makes up the other 80%. If I was able to spend the remainder of the week studying like crazy there’s a chance I could throw some sort of an essay together but I have an appointment with my rape crisis support worker tomorrow and then it’s best friend’s actual birthday on Thursday. And to be completely honest I have lost all motivation. I’ve lost interest. But then I’ve lost interest in everything over these past few days.

My head feels like it’s going a bit mental again and I am lacking in strength to fight back. All I seem able to do is lie on the sofa or in bed and battle back and forth with the intrusive voices and crazy thoughts. I feel like I have all this invisible pressure around me: be responsible with the medication, prove to them all I can do this, keeping mum and best friend proud of me, keeping ‘male voice’ happy, knowing I’m probably going to be kicked off the uni course and fail at yet another thing.

I am shattered right now. It’s midnight and I pray I can sleep through the night. I need a little bit of energy back, it all feels like it’s been zapped out of me. I am so scared I’m going to let everyone down… things feel slippery yet I don’t know why. I have no plans to take the medication to hurt myself but the self harm urges (cutting) seem to be getting stronger again. If only to shut him up. And not even the remembrance of the major regrets I had after doing it a few weeks ago are enough to keep me certain I won’t do it again… I think in all likeliness I will give in… because I’m weak… pathetic and weak.

Why oh why can life never just be straightforward? Why does it always have to end up mental again in the end?

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]  :)

13:03 – New Year’s Day & All Alone Again

1 Jan

So here we are, a new year has started and I wish so much that my very first ramblings in 2013 could start off sounding – positive/happy/stable – any of them would do.

But the reality is that I went to bed around 1am and left the room completely dark apart from one little candle flickering away next to my bed. Outside there were still fireworks going off and lots of drunk (but happy) sounding people all shouting happy new year to one another. I reached into my bedside drawer and got out a photograph of my little angel and using the light from the candle I gently stroked my fingers over his little face, his hand, his little mouth and I couldn’t fight the tears… then was crying so much I couldn’t see the photo any more so held it tight against my heart and cried with so many emotions going around and around inside me.

I woke up just before 7am this morning and as I opened my eyes there was the photo just lying on the pillow next to me and I couldn’t fight it or control it, the emotions overtook me again and I before I’d even had the chance to wake up properly I was sobbing my heart out again. And with every tear that rolled down my cheek there would be a horrible thought that accompanied it, the overwhelming sensation of being completely alone, knowing I was entering another day with no one around me, where I’d probably not see anyone or speak to anyone all day. It would just be silence, other than the noise in my head. And usually this is good, being left alone is what I spend so much time trying to achieve, but I just felt this completely unbearable deep sadness when I woke up this morning that this is my life… a 31 year old woman, single, mentally unstable, still unable to grieve properly for my angel despite it approaching six years, still feeling completely trapped by my own mind.

It all started getting too much, the really bad thoughts were whirling around and they were starting to scare me. So I got up and immediately got dressed and took the dogs for an early morning walk. I didn’t see one other person outside. Then again it was only around 8.30am. I came back home and put the TV on (for background noise if nothing else) and now all I feel is lots and lots of anxiety. I never want to see people, I do everything I can to shut people out the majority of the time, I ignore phonecalls and text messages and anyone who comes to my door. I want to hide away and rot in my own mess but for some reason being alone with my thoughts is really quite scary at the moment.

So yeah, 2013 isn’t exactly starting on a very happy note, but I don’t want these horrible thoughts in my head telling me to do bad things to myself. I’m really not too sure how today is going to pan out, I guess it depends on how much effort I put into fighting back.

Sorry for yet another depressed and self pitying post, I hoped my first post of 2013 could be one where I was happy and full of new year’s resolutions, but I am very much struggling to see anything positive about the year ahead at the moment. However I do hope that this will change and that I won’t have a repeat of last January where things went downhill so quickly that I had overdosed within the first week and ended up in the psych hospital by the middle of the month.

For the time being, all I can do is concentrate on getting through today, minute by minute and hour by hour trying to keep myself safe (from myself) and not let the bad thoughts win. But that is so much easier said than done. They grind me down until I believe everything they say and when you are ground right down to nothing it is so very very hard to do any kind of ‘fighting back’. So I guess I just ‘ride with it’ and try to control things to the best of my ability.

Ah fuck, here come the tears again. Where the hell did they come from??

OK, I think it’s time to stop writing now.

Before I go I just want to say Happy New Year to you all, and thank you for all the words of support and encouragement you gave me throughout 2012… I wonder what 2013 has in store for us all…

18:50 – My Crazy Bipolar Life is 3 today!

13 Dec

celebrating3years

Today the 13th of December 2012 marks my little blog’s 3rd anniversary. I can’t quite believe that what started off as me just needing somewhere to write down my thoughts one lonely day back in December 2009 has lasted this long! I have started a lot of diaries in my life but this has by far lasted the longest and it has certainly been quite a journey since that first post I wrote…

I wonder if I would actually have believed anyone if they had told me back then that over the next three years I would make attempts at ending my life, experience some of the darkest, most bleak and miserable depressive episodes, that I would permanently scar my body quite badly through self harming, that I would experience psychosis or that I would experience a number of hospital admissions both voluntary and being detained under the mental health act.

There have been some laughs along the way, although unfortunately they have been pretty few and far between. There have been a couple of hints of hypomania but the various anti-psychotics have kept full blown manic episodes away. If only they could be so effective at controlling the voices that never seem to properly go away, although they do kindly whisper from time to time.

I’ve experienced the frustrations of getting to a place where I felt like I had a good care team round me to losing one member of it who I valued enormously,  then trying to work with temporary staff, to then getting back to a place where I have someone permanent to work with again. In the last three years I have dealt with psychiatrists, psychologist, social workers, CPN’s, GP’s, hospital nurses in A&E, hospital nurses on medical wards and hospital nurses and doctors in the psych hospital.

I have caused a lot of upset to people I care about, I have scared them by being so out of control with my emotions and actions, I have occasionally broken down in front of people and shown my tears and tried to share some of the pain inside of me. I have felt guilt and shame because of my behaviours but once or twice had a ‘meaningful’ hug with someone, where for a brief moment I have felt like they understood and actually they weren’t judging me.

Have I made any progress over the three years I have been writing my ramblings and random thoughts down? I’m really not sure. In some aspects yes – for example – the part time university course I’ve been doing over the past 3 months has given me something positive to try and focus on. But it’s hard, not so much the work itself than the complete lack of concentration I experience so often which makes studying extremely frustrating at times.

The other positive is that my agoraphobia has improved very slightly. I can travel further now than what I could three years ago, although not massively, but when my head is feeling calm I can now travel for about an hour in quiet areas that I’m familiar with. Three years ago even a journey of five minutes could have me starting to really panic. I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever overcome this phobia completely, although it would be lovely to think that by the time we reach 2015 (in another 3 years) I could be in a place where I could go shopping in cities and go on holidays and attend family events and so much more.

I know having two positive things is better than having none, but in many ways I don’t feel as though I’ve made much progress at all. I still haven’t found the ‘right’ combination of medication or talking therapies and sometimes I wonder if there will ever be a day where I will be the person who is helping someone with a mental health problem rather than be the person needing the help. Will I stick at the university course over the next three years? By then I could be a good way to getting my degree. Will this little precious corner of cyberspace that I ramble in still be here in three years? I really truly couldn’t imagine not having it now. I have ‘met’ some amazing human beings through writing this blog – there are a couple of people who I have never met but would most definitely consider a friend for all the support and encouragement that they have given me even when they have been trying to deal with their own head crazies. Three years ago I had no idea that such a supportive mental health blogging community existed and I’m so glad I found it; even though I write some posts when I’m unwell that I go back to read some time later and think “oh my God I sound completely bonkers” very few people have ever judged me, the majority have been incredibly supportive and made me feel like I ‘fit in’ somewhere.

I never thought that anyone would have been interested in reading what I had to say and even now looking at the screen and seeing “79,634 visits since December 09″ – I just think wow – of course I know there are blogs out there with hundreds of thousands and even millions of hits, but I genuinely never even expected to see 80 people read my little blog let alone almost 80 thousand. And even though a lot of posts have been full of self pity, there have been many more where all I’ve wanted to do is to have a place where I could express what was going on inside my head and it’s quite touching that so many people have followed in my little journey with me and even more so that so many of those people have said that they understood or could relate to what I was talking about. Much as that makes me sad in many ways (I wish no one else ever had to feel like this) but through writing this blog I feel a little less alone and a little more accepted for just being me.

Sometimes I really wonder about the future, sometimes I really wonder how much more of a future I will have but every so often something or someone will come along and will give me just the tiniest bit of hope or strength to fight on through another day.

The next three years… I don’t expect them to be easy and I reckon it’s going to be another long journey… I don’t know if one day things really will all get too much or if one day they will start to get easier… but maybe, just maybe, I’ll manage to come out the other side of this a stronger person. Who knows what the future has in store… I guess the only way to find out is to stick around and see where it all ends up…

Thanks for sharing the last three years of my life with me, it really does mean a lot. Every comment means a lot, just to know that someone has taken five minutes out of their day to read what I’ve rambled and then taken the time to offer advice, to say they relate, or just to give words of support… Without it I would probably have given up on ‘My Crazy Bipolar Life‘ a long time ago.

Now who’d like to blow out my birthday candles?

Don’t forget to make a wish :) xxx

3rd_ann

 

 

P.S. I’ll write a ‘proper’ post later about seeing lovely GP yesterday, medication increases and some other ramblings…

00:12 – Impossible

11 Dec

Why it’s called impossible – I can’t stop listening to the UK X Factor winner James Arthur’s song. Didn’t watch X Factor, Impossible isn’t his song, but something about it makes sense. I guess life feels pretty impossible right now.

‘Tell them I was happy,

And my heart is broken,

All my scars are open….’

Should you wish to listen to it whilst reading my ramblings of today here it is:

I woke up this morning and couldn’t remember if my appointment with new CPN was at 1pm or 2pm so thought I better phone the mental health team and find out. To my (pleasant) surprise it was my the social worker whom I was once very close to who answered the phone. We chatted for ten minutes and it was nice to hear her voice but it also made me feel a little bit sad afterwards.

I try not to think about it so much any more because I have accepted now that I am never going to get to work with her again. If I see or speak to her these days it’s more a case of bumping into her in the mental health place. I feel like I can’t ask her for anything any more, not even a chat and sometimes that feels really shit because she was still is the only professional who I’ve ever felt understood me. She totally understood why I hate Christmas so much, she came with me to my little man’s headstone up at the cemetery one time and put flowers down with me. She probably doesn’t remember that because she’s probably dealt with that many crises’ since then that little memories like that are likely to be long forgotten. But at least I can smile looking back on that, even if it also makes me a little sad to know that’s pretty unlikely to ever happen again.

If I think about it all now it just makes me angry. And sad. I still don’t properly understand why they couldn’t just leave me to work with the person I was comfortable with and trusted. I don’t understand why or when or who decided it should be a CPN I work with instead. I felt like I was making progress working with her and I don’t know who decided I’d make better progress with a CPN but I do feel that their decision was a wrong one. I’ve gone from working with someone who I felt like I could tell anything to and who I trusted enough to do graded exposure work with for my agoraphobia, to two temporary CPN’s and now a third but permanent one and I feel like I have achieved nothing by working with them. Besides starting the university course, the second temporary CPN gave me encouragement to apply for it, but mood-wise things have remained pretty unsettled.

Anyway I vowed the last time I wrote about the whole social worker situation that it would be the last time I wrote about it because reading my posts back made me feel a bit pathetic that I was getting so upset over one member of my care team being changed. But you know what, when you work with someone closely over a long period of time you build some form of relationship, you build a trust and that person feels like someone safe to you that you can confide in and be honest with, even when you’re telling them about the brain crazies you feel OK because you just know that they truly aren’t judging you. And when someone comes along one day and says ‘right you’re going to be working with person X from now onwards and not this nice social worker that you’ve built a relationship with any more’ it kinda does feel like a bit like you’re being rejected of a punch in the gut.

Hmm what was that word I started with again… oh yeah… impossible.

Anyway I’m not talking about this any more, I sound like a fucking broken record!

I went to see new CPN at 2pm. I couldn’t seem to express myself very well at all today. I’d start saying something then totally lose my train of thought. Then be sitting there aware that I was talking but with complete mind-blank about what I was saying. In the end we just talked a bit about the uni course, I told her I’d submitted a final assignment but that I was far from happy with it. I think I will pass but probably just scrape a pass and to be honest I’d rather fail and get to rewrite it completely than get a D.

We also talked a little about my appointment last week with Mr Psychiatrist and I told her about his little speech about my ‘negative thought patterns’ which I guess there is some truth in… and how he is still annoying me by asking at the last few appointments I’ve had with him for reasons why I’m feeling depressed. He is a consultant psychiatrist. He has been a psychiatrist for many years. He makes diagnoses and has the power to take all control away from a person and detain them. My point is he is an experienced and I dare say very intelligent man in his field… so why the fuck does he insist on asking someone with a mood disorder (that he diagnosed) what it is that’s going on in their life to be making them depressed? I don’t have one particular reason. There is not one particular thing in my life making me feel this way. Sometimes it’s just the fucking Bipolar Disorder that makes me this way – surely to God he can understand that?!

Again… Impossible…

New CPN agreed about the negative thought patterns and started saying something about mindfulness and being compassionate and I pretty much said straight out that I just can’t even begin to think about being compassionate to myself right now. I want to cut myself, hurt myself, bleed, drain out the bad blood in me, these little scratches are not helping, it needs to be done properly. But then I look at my arms and my legs where bad wounds and stitches have been before and some of the scars really are a pretty horrendous sight. More than anything the main reason I feel I need to do it is because (a) I deserve it and (b) I need the huge rush of release I get from it. The reason I haven’t acted on it properly yet is because I am terrified that if I do it then I’m going to completely lose control and start slipping down that spiral at a ridiculously fast rate. But the racing thoughts, the whispers and giggles racing around my brain make me want to explode at times… I need things to slow down…

My brain… impossible…

I came out of the session with new CPN actually feeling really quite confused for some reason. Conveniently right across the road from the mental health team is a DIY store and even though I knew I still had half a pack of blades in the house I wanted more. I began to head in that direction when my phone started ringing. It was my Dad wanting to know if I’d like him to come and measure the rooms in my flat and go to look at flooring again. He probably called at just the right time and I agreed to head back home. He came down shortly after that and measured up then we went to the carpet shop and I got a couple of cheaper off-cuts for the hallway and bathroom, a gorgeous carpet for the bedroom, wood effect vinyl flooring for the living room and a big shaggy rug. It came to almost £550 (that includes fitting) and Mum is putting it on her credit card for me to pay off bit by bit. So it looks like it might take two days because I’ll need to move all the furniture out one room and into the other and then vice versa but they are coming to definitely fit the first carpet on the 18th and I’ve been assured it will all be done by Christmas.

(Christmas in my bed… sleeping in my bedroom again… impossible?)

They are trying so hard to make me happy and get me safely through these upcoming tough couple of months and it makes me feel a little bit mixed up. I feel like I’m constantly putting on an act when I see them and when I smile it feels so fake and pretend. I don’t want them to worry about me so I’m keeping this bout of head crazies to myself as much as possible. I also feel a bit pathetic that at 31 years old I can’t finance my own ‘home improvements’. I feel thankful that I have such loving parents who are in a position to be able to help me. I feel emotional and sad that at 31 I haven’t achieved anything that I thought I would have achieved by this age. Well I have achieved some of them… they just tore my heart to pieces didn’t turn out as planned…

I really didn’t mean for this to turn into such a self pitying post. Sorry. Anyway that’s my ramblings over with for tonight, that’s been my day, as for tomorrow I have absolutely nothing planned. There is no studying for me to at least attempt, there are no appointments to attend, maybe it will be a day for lying around in my onesie doing nothing apart from over thinking no doubt.

Writing a happy blog post, that’s what’s fucking impossible…

Goodnight folks

13:33 – Yet another trip to a&e

13 May

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.

15:05 – Currently undiagnosable

3 May

I went to see the psychiatrist yesterday and we had a good long conversation about everything that’s been going on for me lately. Mostly this consisted of me telling him about Lucifer, the debate between the other voice claiming to be Iblis, wanting me to convert more towards Islam and less towards Christianity. They are both pretty manic in my head right now, always arguing about something and adding to my paranoia. I listen to Lucifer more, not because of anything religious but because he talks directly to me, we have conversations together, he makes sense to me. He isn’t nasty or evil, he is the one who is capable of giving me additional powers that most humans just don’t have. He will make me better in so many ways.

So I told the psychiatrist all of this. I told him I had gotten the forms to apply for a housing transfer and how I never know what to write any more about my mental health ‘condition’ because he has recently seemed like he no longer thinks I have Bipolar. So I told him I wanted a diagnosis – I asked him what was wrong with me? Do I still have Bipolar? Yes he said. He told me he was confident in his diagnosis of Bipolar 3 years ago and still considers me to have it as that is what the medication I am taking is for. However he also says I keep having periods of psychosis. I told him I wasn’t in a period of psychosis just now though and he said I was. Hmm. There is no point in arguing with him. He said something about the periods of psychosis could just be that – periods of psychosis – or they could be an indicator of another mental health condition like schizophrenia but at the moment I don’t fit neatly into any little criteria of boxes and right now he doesn’t know for certain what is wrong with me. So for now I am currently undiagnosable.

Today I was supposed to have my session with the addictions nurse to do our relapse prevention work but I’ve had a horrible migraine all morning, I was sick around 9am which usually means the migraine will go away soon but it’s now after 3pm and I still have it. So I phoned late this morning and cancelled our session for today and changed it to Tuesday.

I have an appointment with my social worker tomorrow. I am going to take the housing transfer form with me and use the session to fill it out. I also need to make an appointment with my GP, I think I will try and do that tomorrow as the psychiatrist wants me to increase my Quetiapine (Seroquel) by 50mg a week now not a fortnight so I need some extra tablets as he wants me to increase as soon as possible. It’s a bit weird because on the one hand he was saying he was glad I wasn’t so distressed by the voices like the way Patty really distressed me but at the same time he wants me to go to my GP as soon as possible and increase my medication straight away. I’m a bit confused by that.

Also I need to see my GP about my knees. I spend a lot of time sitting cross-legged on the sofa with the laptop on my knee and after an hour or so they would start to feel stiff and I’d need to give them a good stretch out. But for the past few weeks now I can barely manage ten minutes of them being crossed before they really start to hurt and they still really hurt when I straighten them out. The only way to make the pain stop is to get up and start walking around. It’s like they keep seizing up and I need to get mobile to loosen them up again. I know this is due to my posture, the way I sit, crossing my legs, being overweight probably doesn’t help and so I’m pretty sure the GP will give me a prescription of exercise and healthy eating but I just want to get them checked out.

Oh and I finally answered the phone to my Mum today. I feel so bad it was my Dad’s birthday on Tuesday and it’s now Thursday and I haven’t been up with his present or card. So Mum phoned and I thought I better answer because I knew she would be getting worried so I had a quick chat with her and told her I was OK and that I was going for a shower and would go up soon. I will try and make a point of seeing them at the weekend, a week late but I’ll get it done.

So yeah, right now I’m just keeping busy in my own little world, currently undiagnosable but still being treated for Bipolar. Oh and the psychosis which I really don’t think I have. Maybe when my psychiatrist retires in September the new psych will be able to give me some more answers.

23:20 – I am shit

1 May

On Sunday my Mum text me to say she had got all these lovely foods in for a nice Sunday dinner. Then she text again telling me what time it would be ready. Then she text again to ask if I had left my flat yet, was I on my way? I didn’t reply to any of them. The first two because I was still asleep, the second two because I felt guilty because I knew that I was in one of those moods where I wouldn’t go.

Today is my Dad’s birthday. I have his card and present here. Mum text me earlier that they were getting some Chinese food for dinner, did I want to join them. Surprise surprise I didn’t text back. I haven’t even wished my Dad a happy birthday and the day is pretty much over now.

Instead I am shit. I am so selfish because my focus is completely elsewhere. I have managed to get to very deep levels of conversation with Lucifer and listen as he explains to me why it is so very important that he is in my life. I float along in that world, not the so called real one.

Tomorrow I have an appointment with my psychiatrist at 2pm. I want to ask him about diagnoses. I want him to tell me what it is he thinks is wrong with me. He has been hesitant for a little while now about the bipolar disorder, and then that new CPN woman saying last week that I wasn’t considered to have agoraphobia when he was the very psychiatrist who diagnosed it. So yeah I want to ask them what the fuck is going on with all that and what he thinks is wrong with me. Personally I think I might have Schizoid Personality Disorder and/or Avoidant Personality Disorder but he has never once mentioned a personality disorder to me, it’s always very firmly been a ‘mood’ disorder that he is certain I have.

Also I will tell him about my relationship with Lucifer and how well that is going, I will request a medication increase just for when the bad voices start up, but I don’t want to take too much that it takes Lucifer away. I’m really starting to like having him around. I like being called a fallen angel. I like making him happy with me.

That’s about all I have to say. I have just remembered I have no dry clothes for tomorrow so I better go hang my washing up. I had a nice weekend babysitting, it’s cute how clingy he is with me, but it makes me sad sometimes as well. I slept like a baby all weekend because I was so tired, how is it physically possible to get so worn out by a 1 year old in two days?! Having him to look after made me focus less on the desires of Lucifer so now I have a bit of making up to do.

11:08 – Shattered

16 Jan

I think I fell asleep for half an hour til 5am. From them onwards I tossed and turned before finally giving up and getting up at 7am. I am completely exhausted, mentally and physically. I phoned at 8.30am to get an appointment with my GP today but she was already fully booked. I even asked if I could see one of the other doctors (which is something I never do because I always feel judged by the other two). I know I need some form of help I just don’t know which kind. I guess I thought the GP could both listen to me and maybe help me physically as well.

I’ve got CPN woman in a few hours and I don’t want to go today. I don’t see how it’s going to help in any way shape or form. It hasn’t done so far. I’ve also got the drug and alcohol place to go to after the CPN but right now I’m just so exhausted that I want to cancel them both and get some sleep. My body seems to be enjoying these games just now – turning my body clock back to front.

It’s now 11.25am how have I written so little in such many minutes? Blah, my head is fucked. So much more to say but absolutely no energy to say it.

20:13 – Mr Psych today

18 Oct

I went to see Mr Psychiatrist today. The short version is that he is thinking I have schizophrenia as opposed to bipolar. First he wants to eliminate any possible physical problems with both a scan of my brain and checking my cortisol levels. Then he will make the definite diagnosis. I don’t know how I feel about it yet but when I read any pages on schizo-affective disorder I’m convinced that’s actually what I have.

We dropped the Amisulpride back down, it had just been moved up to 400mg and is now back down to 200mg because I have been so restless and he thinks it could be a side effect so he wants to see if it will go away if we drop back to 200mg again. Hopefully that means as I haven’t had any since this morning that I might actually be able to sleep tonight.

It felt like Mr Psychiatrist just didn’t seem to stop talking today. My head was full of other chitter chatter and trying to listen to Mr Psych as well as them conversing in my fucking brain was making me agitated. I really wanted to just get up and pace up and down the room while I spoke to him, I’m finding pacing helps when I’m restless, it calms me down a bit.

So he is going to speak to nice GP about sorting out a scan of my brain – this will be interesting because I’m convinced there truly is something in my brain that’s wired up wrong – and about sorting out a cortisol test. It is minging, you have to collect all your pee for 24 hours in something that looks like a petrol tank. Gross!!

I am battling a lot with desires and needs and urges and wants to self harm right now. I feel all itchy all down my arms and like the only thing that will take it away is if I scratch and scratch at myself until all the cuts that are starting to heal are all open again. There has to be something seriously fucked up with my brain. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to go to the appointment for it because it’s at a far away hospital in the scary motorway world and I don’t know that I can handle that quite yet.

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