Tag Archives: mr psychiatrist

15:15 – Last appt with Mr Psychiatrist and a trip to A&E

17 Apr

Trigger Warning – graphic talk of self harm in this post

All I have been able to think about for days now is cutting. Cutting, cutting and more cutting. The more I try to distract myself the more graphic the images in my head become. The more I try to ignore, the louder male voice gets and that triggers him to start spewing out vile evil instructions in my head. What hasn’t been helping is the lack of sleep. What also hasn’t been helping is all the pressure I feel that everyone thinks I’m doing so well and coping so well and I am shitting myself that everything is going to fall apart and I am going to let down every person I care about. I’m terrified of being back in that place where you feel so worthless and then can’t even manage to take your own life properly… got to fail at that too just to rub that extra bit of salt into the wounds.

Last night I fell asleep on the sofa around 1am. I quickly woke back up just after 2am as it was freezing. But instead of putting the heating on or getting into bed I just covered myself in a blanket and lay on the sofa thinking about things. Wondering why my life turned out this way. I had a bit of a cry for a while, they were sad tears, tears of all the times in my life where things actually looked like they were going well then ultimately they all fell apart. Why do they all fall apart? Why can’t something nice just remain consistent in my life? I don’t want this life. I wanted to try and better it by doing the part time uni course and not even a year into it and I don’t think I can do it any more. I have no belief in myself whatsoever. I want to run and hide and curl away. I don’t want to speak to anyone. I don’t want anyone to see me… but this morning I had no choice.

Around 6am I was still awake and was starting to feel very anxious and sort of like I wasn’t fully in control. My thoughts felt like they had been taken over, I was so tired I just went with it. The voices told me to cut, told me it would fix things… male voice told me to just “fucking make yourself uglier you fat slag”… again I tried distraction techniques but just got nowhere.

By 8am I was pacing, anxious, heart racing, feeling sick, tired, emotional, feeling really bonkers crazy, seeing flashes of me going outside and just attacking any random object or any random person. THAT IS NOT ME. I DO NOT DO THAT! EVER! I don’t know where all these violent urges are coming from but they are so fucking terrifying. It’s not even as though I’m angry at anyone or about anything… angry with myself that I can’t bounce back to being the fun person I once was once upon a time… but that’s more of a sad angry than a violent one. Needless to say I ended up getting out everything required for self harming – a pack of clean stanley knife blades, a towel, some dressings and sat down cross-legged on the bathroom floor. I made a deal with myself that I could cut once then I would clean it up, cover it up and go no further. But of course that didn’t happen… those little cuts looked too much like scratches… those visuals flashed in front of my eyes again wanting to see gaping wounds… I felt like I couldn’t even do that right. In the end I got a fresh blade from the packet, closed my eyes and just pressed down and dragged it through my skin. It felt like my skin was burning from the pain and I expected to see a much worse wound than what I did see… however it was pretty gaping so I decided it would be OK to stop cutting then. I got myself patched up and tried to stay distracted through til 10.30am when I had to leave to go to my last ever appointment with Mr Psychiatrist.

The reason it’s my last appointment is that he is retiring and he explained he didn’t know who would be taking over from him yet but there would be a locum in place for a while until someone permanent takes over. I swear no one with a professional mental health background seems to want to work for our NHS trust, all these permanent positions never seem to get filled for what seems like forever. I told Mr Psychiatrist about self harming this morning and told him that when I left my appointment with him that I would go along to the A&E department and have them check me over. He asked what had led to me cutting and I told him all the shit I rambled about at the start of this post – these feelings of pressure and these horrible horrendous images I keep seeing. He knows it is a coping mechanism of mine and he’s told me a million times it isn’t a helpful one but I think he’s come to realise there is no point in telling me that any more.

We didn’t talk about a lot of things in detail today, I think when he realised I was sitting there with a wound needing medical attention he tried to just whizz through everything as quickly as possible. He said that he still feels that even though male voice is male (and I am female) that the things male voice says to me are things which I actually feel about myself deep down. Almost like it’s my thoughts and beliefs but being heard in a male tone. I kinda see his point but I also know it’s not as simple as that, male voice can come out with things that have never even crossed my mind before. Plus there is a big difference between a voice and a thought (even racing horrible thoughts) and I think you can only know this and understand this if you have actually experienced it.

What else did we talk about… cutting – voices – male voice – pressure – images – violence – lack of support – and a referral which I requested to another psychiatrist, one who specialises in trauma therapy and who told me a couple of years ago that he believed the EMDR treatment could be beneficial to me but at that time I was considered too unwell and too unstable to try it out. Mr Psychiatrist said he didn’t want me working with lots of different people and lots of different approaches (he said this because psychologist is supposed to be coming back at some point over the next few weeks and she is likely to want to do the compassionate mind and mindfulness program with me). However he agreed to write to the other psychiatrist and see if he would be willing to give me an appointment to assess my suitability for EMDR.

Before I left the appointment he asked me what help I was getting through the CMHT (mental health team) at the moment and I told him pretty much none. That I had 3 CPN’s who have all left now and that I was supposed to have lovely social worker as someone to see until psychologist returns back to work but that we’ve only met up once, so that bit isn’t going so great. In fairness I haven’t tried to make a great deal of contact with her but I had hoped we would have been able to stick out the once a fortnight meetings just for a month or two until psychologist returns… but it hasn’t worked out that way. Instead I’ve just been seeing my support worker through rape crisis pretty much on a weekly basis but at least I am actually trying to deal with some of my issues with her – the childhood abuse/the assault/the self harming/the feelings of worthlessness. But she shouldn’t have to deal with all my mentalness stuff as well, that should be someone from the CMHT but it never seems to work out that way.

God this post is getting long…

I said my goodbyes to Mr Psychiatrist and muttered thank you to him for the support he’s given me over the past 4 years or so (even though he’s also been a total wanker to me in that time!) but it’s just what you do isn’t it? Say thanks, smile, make them think they have helped you get a bit better when really what they have done is remove power and control from you, detain you, make you like a human guinea pig with all the varieties of medications they insist will make you better, tell you that even voices are still a product of your own mind, try to make you believe things will get better if you just have good sleep patterns and distract yourself 24/7. But still, I was brought up to be polite and so it was only right to just say thank you to him as I left.

I walked along to the A&E department and thankfully it was two of the nice nurses on, the female charge nurse who has come to a couple of my CPA meetings and a male nurse who is very gentle and non-judgemental. Even though I knew in my head that I had met the male nurse before and knew he was always nice and knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me it still felt weird being in a room alone with him. I was in a room alone with Mr Psychiatrist but the whole appointment kept my coat on and sat in the chair pointing the door (always got to have my escape route planned out as soon as I enter a room)… so yeah it had felt safe enough with Mr Psych. And I did feel safe with male nurse but more exposed and vulnerable I guess as the coat had to come off and the shoes off and one leg out of my trousers…. like I couldn’t just jump to my feet and leg it out the door if I wanted to… so that was making me pretty anxious.

He took a look at the wound and decided it definitely needed stitches so he went to get the doctor. It was a doctor I hadn’t seen before and I didn’t like him very much, he had a bit of a patronising tone and I just wanted him to fuck off back out the room. Plus having two men at either side of me while I lay on the trolley bed was making me very very uncomfortable. I asked the doctor if he could please get me some Lorazepam and he said “we don’t keep lorazepam at this hospital” – BULLSHIT!! – I have probably been given a couple of lorazepam on at least 20 occasions from that A&E either for anxiety that’s led to self harm or to get me into the ambulance if they have been moving me to another hospital or the psych hospital. So I asked again if I could have Lorazepam because I needed to calm down and he very firmly said “you cannot have Lorazepam” – argh I hate when I know people are lying to me. Had he said something like they didn’t have any left or something then I would’ve dealt with that, but I knew fine they had it and knew fine that if it was one of the doctors who have seen me before then they would have given it to me asap to calm me down so they could put the stitches in. He said I could have a Diazepam if I wanted (despite me telling him I’ve been on daily prescription Diazepam for years and it does FUCK ALL when I feel as anxious as I did then, but he went and got me one anyway and like a good mental I shut up and took it.

I got seven stitches put in and a little glue and steri-strips on the non-gaping cuts and have to go back in 2 days, so Friday, for a wound check and dressing change. I told male nurse that usually I would be feeling regret pretty much immediately after cutting but today I don’t. I don’t regret it, I don’t care that I’ve got more scars on my body now, I don’t care that the one bit of leg that I had kept scar free is now mutilated as well. He said to me if I felt like cutting again to go up and see them and they would try and get someone to sit and talk to me which I was very grateful for, but I don’t want to talk, I just don’t fucking care about anything. I feel so low and so emotional and so tired and all I want is to have a few hours of feeling normal…whatever the hell that is… and I would much rather not do anything which may leave me having to see that doctor again as I really didn’t like him much at all. It was something about the way he spoke to me… there was an obvious power balance thing going on and he spoke to me the way I speak to best friend’s four year old.

Anyways….

My Mum phoned me as I was leaving the hospital and said my Grandma is staying with them for a couple of days and they were all going out for dinner tonight so she was phoning to ask if I wanted to go. As the restaurant they are going to is directly opposite my flat I couldn’t really say no but I am so tired and am really not in the mood at all to sit through a long meal and listen to all the chitter chatter at the table… plus it’s a kinda posh restaurant and I hate trying to get dressed up when I feel so fucking ugly and awful. However, I love my little Gran and don’t see anywhere near enough of her so I will go. The table is booked for 7pm… ugh that’s less than 3 hours away… I just realised I started writing this at 15:15 and we are now on 16:18 … an hour of ramblings… no wonder this post is going on forever.

And on that note I suppose I had better go and find something to wear tonight. Hope you’re all having a bit of a better day than me xx

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

3 Feb

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

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

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

I want to live

I want to die

I can’t go on living

I can’t end my life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy…

20:06 – Planning and plotting again

23 Jan

It’s been a few days since I last had a ramble and I can’t say I’ve done a great deal in that time. I admitted the self harming from last Thursday to best friend when I saw her this morning and then I spent the afternoon with my Mum and admitted it to her as well. I don’t like seeing them upset and I tried to just mention it then brush over it but I also had to admit the voices are back and really troubling me at the moment. I didn’t want them to know but they had probably already guessed something wasn’t quite right when I told them my Quetiapine (Seroquel) had been put back up to the max dosage again.

I have only had one appointment so far this week and that was yesterday (Tuesday) with my support worker from rape crisis. I cannot express how supportive that woman has been and with every week that passes the more and more I realise that a hell of a lot of my opinions about myself and some of the behaviours I do are all interlinked with the various types of sexual abuse I’ve experienced at different parts of my life. She really seems to understand the whole self harm thing and at the moment she is probably the person I am opening up to the most and feeling most benefit from seeing.

Today has been a fairly busy day. Best friend appeared at my door around 11am and we just sat and chatted for about an hour. She saw my appointment card for A&E sitting there with “Please attend to have your sutures/staples removed on: 24th January 2013″ so obviously I had to admit to cutting. She asked why I hadn’t told her until now and all I could tell was the truth – I hadn’t wanted anyone to find out. I wanted them to think I was doing well. I didn’t want to disappoint them. She said she wasn’t disappointed in me and we chatted a while longer then she went home whilst I got dressed.

I met up with my Mum who treated me to lunch and we were going to go a big long walk with the dogs but it was so so cold that I was shivering like mad so Mum said we’d just take the dogs up to her house and let them run around the garden while we had a cuppa and warmed up. I ended up staying at Mum’s until 5.30pm when I realised I had 30 minutes to get to the pharmacy to pick up my weekly medication. So it was a bit of a mad rush to get there before they closed but we made it!

It was nice to spend time with my Mum and even though I kinda opened up about the voices, the cutting, and my head struggling a bit, I didn’t want to depress her or worry her so I tried to balance it by telling her I’d passed my first university exam and was starting back on Monday so I would try and use it as a distraction tool again as much as possible. Unfortunately they were just words to stop her from worrying… In reality I’m wondering what the point is to spending a total of 8 years of my life doing this course… I don’t even know if I will still be here in 8 years!

Tomorrow I have to go back to A&E at some point and have my stitches removed but I kinda don’t want to go. Then I have new CPN on Friday (who still hasn’t made any contact with me since A&E left her a message last Thursday) and well… it just all feels pointless… does it really matter if I leave the stitches in another couple of days? Does it really matter if I go and see new CPN this week? Does it really matter if I cut again?

I told support worker yesterday that I’m becoming aware of the fact that I’m “planning” again. I’m thinking up plans and deciding on ways and acquiring the means. I know this isn’t good but I’m feeling very troubled with what I’m hearing and it is distressing me a fair bit. I don’t want to admit this because I’m on the max dose of Quetiapine and every other anti-psychotic I have tried have had horrible side effects. I don’t want Mr Psychiatrist to say the Quetiapine isn’t working and that I need to try something else. I feel like the Quetiapine is really trying to help but there is just something missing, it feels more like I need something else (maybe a new mood stabiliser or something) added into the mix than to have the Quetiapine taken away. I still have two weeks exactly until my next appointment with Mr Psychiatrist and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to move onto the next section of my university course whilst my head is so noisy.

Blah… I’m not sure what to do… My head is just a playground for all these people and their voices… I don’t want to hear them any more… They are slowly starting to break me and quickly turning me into a completely paranoid wreck BUT this time I have recognised all of this in advance… therefore I can make my plans (purely as a safety blanket) just in case I’m unable to outrun/escape/hide from the head crazies.

Sometimes you just need to know you have options and sometimes I just need to remind myself that the off switch is an option which is right there waiting to be pressed.

(For the moment, however, I don’t think I need to press it just yet)

13:40 – Quetiapine at max dose, praying it works

9 Jan

This morning I got up early and decided to make an appointment to see lovely GP rather than just handing in a prescription request form. Now that I no longer see lovely social worker, the only person apart from Mr Psychiatrist who has been there consistently over the past few years is lovely GP. I was feeling really anxious when I went in to see her and told her that I don’t know if it’s just because I don’t really know new CPN yet, but that I’m not finding the appointments helpful because new CPN always wants to talk about the positives and whether she likes it or not I need to talk about the negatives as well. I need to talk about them to make sense of them and I need to talk about them because they are likely to affect my mood and destabilise me.

So lovely GP sat down her pen, turned her chair round and asked me what was making me feel so anxious. I rambled about the self harm urges being very very much at the forefront of my mind and I rambled about the persistent giggle and mocking comments I hear in my head. I told her how scared I was that this may not be my thoughts that I was hearing but that I was hearing a voice again. She said that Mr Psychiatrist had written in his last letter that my Quetiapine (Seroquel) could be increased from 600mg to 750mg a day if needed. Four weeks ago I jumped from 600 to 700 and today she said she is increasing it to 750mg. So that is me back on the maximum dosage. She also arranged for me to have routine bloods done on Monday morning.

I have been on the maximum dose before but whilst I’d had fairly good results from Quetiapine at around the 500mg mark it stopped working and so we increased and increased but it would only work for a very short amount of time and then the voices would come back. The voices got stronger and 750mg still wasn’t enough to stop them so we tried three other anti-psychotics: olanzapine (zyprexa) then haloperidol (haldol) and then amisulpride. None of them worked. And all of them apart from Quetiapine gave me horrible side effects.

So here I am back on the max dose and I have to go back and see her in 4 weeks time on the 6th of Feb which also happens to be the day of my next appointment with Mr Psychiatrist so I guess that will work out quite well if any medication changes are needed. I know the mocking voice and giggle are contributing to me feeling anxious and a bit paranoid. This in turn makes me distressed. So if I go and see Mr Psychiatrist and tell him I’m still feeling anxious and distressed but am now on the maximum dosage then he is likely to say he wants to try something else. I am hoping and praying that this extra 50mg is enough to quieten my head back down to a bearable level.

Anyway, lovely GP gave me prescriptions and then made a point of telling me that things will get better, things can get better and that it’s important to be aware that I have taken on something positive – my university course – and even though it’s part time and it’s from home it’s a good start. She encouraged me to try and remember the positives when I was feel low, but then she also looked at things from the other angle and acknowledged that I have been self harming for a very long time and it’s been my coping mechanism for so long that it’s such a hard thing to stop doing. But most importantly (to me) she didn’t sit and offer me praise for going 3-4 months without doing it, instead she said she could see why the urges to do it would be strong at the moment, 3 months is a long time to go without doing something that was (at times) a daily habit.

She told me to think of it a bit like quitting smoking. I’ve smoked daily for years. I smoke more when I’m stressed and less when I’m calmer. Just like self harming. When I’m not smoking I can be sure it won’t be long before the bells start ringing in my head telling me I need another cigarette. If I was quitting the first few days would be very hard. The first few weeks I would probably have the worst cravings and even though I had gone a few weeks without a cigarette I would be thinking about having one a lot of the time. I’d battle back and forth with myself and try to convince myself if I just had one cigarette then it would satisfy the cravings but it would make the battle to quit even harder for myself. However if I managed to get through it, deal with the cravings but not give in to them, then I would get to a place where six months down the line the cravings would be a lot less intense. And a year down the line they would be even less. The cravings would probably last for a very long time and may never go away completely, but I would have learned and developed the skills to cope with them and let them pass without acting on them.

So it remains to be seen whether I can carry on battling against them or whether the urges end up winning. But as new CPN continually reminds me, it is only me who can stop it from happening again… If only it were that easy…

I only had about 10 or 15 minutes with lovely GP but I felt like I had got a lot off my chest. She let me talk, calmed me down, looked for a solution and just generally made me feel like I’d been listened too. After leaving the doctors surgery I went to the pharmacy and sat for the usual half an hour that it takes them to make up my 4 weekly prescriptions (I only get a week at a time, I guess they still don’t see me as being stable enough to get a month’s worth of tablets at a time).

I also remembered I have an appointment with my support worker from Rape Crisis today. I get on with her a lot better than new CPN and although when I’m there it’s to talk about both childhood abuse and the assault back in August, topics such as self harm come up quite a lot and she is very knowledgeable about it and completely non-judgemental which is nice. Self harm and abuse seem to go hand in hand quite a lot, probably because the abuse memories make you feel so vile and disgusting and confused and messed up and then the self harm is like this magic wand that just seems to release all of those feelings and offer a temporary break from it all.

So I hope that tonight I will feel a little calmer, the mix of the increased dose of Quetiapine and having a good appointment with lovely GP and (hopefully) a proper good chat with support worker should all leave me feeling like I’ve got a lot off my chest today.

I might write another little update later if anything comes up at my appointment with support worker that I need to have a ramble about.

15:58 – Quetiapine increase and seeing lovely GP

14 Dec

On Wednesday I went to see lovely GP as I needed a new prescription and also I haven’t been feeling too great (mentally or physically) either.

As mentioned quite a lot on here I’ve been experiencing high levels of anxiety over the past 6 weeks or so. It has calmed down slightly over the past week or two, well when I say calmed down I mean it’s coming in waves at the moment as opposed to being there constantly. So it’s slightly more bearable. Anyway… *I should probably say if talk about poo offends you, then you may wish to look away now*… when I become very anxious one of my first sensations is pain and churning in my lower tummy… this is quickly followed by the need to get to my safe place (i.e. my house) and use a toilet ASAP. During the anxiety attack I will almost definitely get hot flushes (especially if I’m around other people), my heart will feel like it’s beating too fast and sometimes out of sync, my thoughts will start to race and give me the feeling like something really bad is going to happen, I can’t think rationally, I pace around trying to calm myself down… You get the picture.

So when I started to get another sort of stomach pain – this time at the very top of my stomach, just below where my ribs meet – I first thought it was something anxiety related and tried to ignore it. Then that night (I think it was Sunday night) I woke up in the early hours with this horrible pain that was making me really nauseous and I struggled to get back to sleep. After a couple of hours of tossing and turning I went to the bathroom and bent over the toilet to see if I was actually going to vomit. I didn’t but the nausea was awful and in the end I had to use my fingers to force myself to be sick just to get that feeling to stop but once I started being sick I couldn’t stop again, everything had to come out.

Eventually I tried to go back to sleep but was in general discomfort the rest of the night. When it reached late morning the nausea seemed to have passed so I went to my appointment with new CPN on Monday at 2pm and then my appetite came back a couple of hours later so I had a light dinner. Within a couple of hours of eating it the nausea was back full force and with no forcing needed I again vomited repeatedly.

So Sunday night, then off and on throughout Monday, during the night into Tuesday, all day Tuesday, during the night into Wednesday, Wednesday morning this same pattern of pain/nausea/vomiting/eating/pain/vomiting continued and I decided to mention it to lovely GP during my appointment with her on Wednesday afternoon. She got me to lie up on the bed thingy and had a prod around my stomach – until she pressed down on the tender spot and I nearly hit her hand away – it really hurt! :(

Lovely GP’s diagnosis was that she thinks I have a stomach ulcer. She said to diagnose it for definite would mean sending me to big scary hospital for what I presume would be an endoscopy but she knows such a referral is pointless because I just can’t get to big scary hospital yet. But she decided to treat me for a stomach ulcer anyway so she must have been pretty sure and I have to take a course of tablets for 4 weeks and see if the nausea and vomiting stop and if I can start to eat normally again. I’m only on my second day of them and unfortunately still quite nauseous but hopefully they will begin to work soon.

Whilst at my appointment with GP she said she had a letter from Mr Psychiatrist and after seeing me last week he was recommending my Quetiapine (Seroquel) be increased from 600mg to 700mg a day. GP asked what I thought about this and I said it would probably be a good idea. She asked if I wasn’t feeling so good and I confided in her that I had massive urges to self harm and felt like I was sitting in a pressure cooker just waiting to blow because I’m not letting myself do it to the level I want and need to :(

With regards to the increase, I’ve been up to 750mg before so I knew I would tolerate 700mg OK, I just hate thinking how close I am to the maximum dosage again and whilst it doesn’t work 100%, it is the most effective of all the anti-psychotics we’ve tried and has the least side effects for me. So now I just hope that the extra 100mg is just enough to help keep things manageable and not let the head crazies get any worse. My hope is that once we are through the Winter months I might be able to drop back down to 600mg but we’ll see how things go.

I do still have the opportunity to increase my Mirtazapine (Remeron) dose, I can go up one last 15mg increase before hitting the max dose. And I guess there is still always the opportunity to add a ‘mood stabiliser’ back in. Sometimes I wonder if quitting the Lamotrigine was a good idea, it didn’t give me any bad side effects at all but equally after two years of taking it I didn’t think it had done anything to help so stopping it seemed like the right move. I assumed we would just start another one but I also told Mr Psychiatrist back then that I had been on the same anti-depressant for about five years and asked him if he thought it would be worth changing it as well. Unfortunately I’ve already tried just about every anti-depressant there is without success so we decided to give Mirtazapine a try. Then when I had been on it for a month or so I thought we would introduce a new mood stabiliser but instead we increased the Mirtazapine. Then when I suggested it again after another couple of months it was recommended that the Quetiapine was increased as well. So I’m still just on the three medications but at higher doses: Mirtazapine, Quetiapine and Diazepam.

I keep thinking that I want to ask lovely GP if I could maybe go back onto monthly prescriptions instead of weekly ones and I was planning to ask her on Wednesday, but then I ended up telling her about these horrible urges to self harm and I knew there would be no point in asking her then, I know they only do it to keep me safer but that must be two or three years of weekly prescriptions now and I want to be *trusted* again. The only problem I can think she might have is prescribing me a month’s worth of Diazepam at a time as, I’m currently down to 16 mg a day (4 x 4mg doses) so although the tablets I get are only 2mg in strength I take 8 of them a day which is 56 I’m prescribed every Wednesday, which would be 224 (or 8 boxes of 28) per monthly prescription and I don’t know if they would ever be happy to give me 8 boxes worth at a time when they’ve made it clear they’re not particularly happy giving me 2 boxes each week, but they do it anyway.

Who knows, maybe one day they will be able to trust me again… maybe I need to show somehow that I trust myself first… and yeah if I’m honest I don’t trust myself much at all at the moment so I guess, realistically, it’s going to take quite some time yet to be trusted again by ‘t3h professi0nalz’.

Well I suppose I better go out in the wind and rain, walk my little dogs, go to the shop and then decide what I’m going to do with myself this evening. I don’t envisage much of a fun Friday night ahead, probably a boring one on my own in front of the TV (although, to be fair, that is about all I can be bothered with at the moment). I am also going to be on a very tight budget over the next couple of weeks as I finished off my Christmas shopping yesterday and paid some bills and have left myself with next to nothing to live off for the next two weeks. Maybe it’s just as well the only thing I can stomach is plain cereal or toast at the moment, at least it’s cheap!

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

18:36 – Seeing new CPN and a visit to Mr Psychiatrist

5 Dec

Yesterday I actually went to my appointment with new CPN. This was the third time we had met but the first proper ‘session’ together. I found myself falling into a very anxious state of mind as I entered the mental health building and spent the first half of our session together pacing around the small room and apologising for it, trying to explain I was just very anxious. My stomach is always one of the first things to start going funny and is usually my first sign that I’m becoming very anxious or panicking about something. So as I pace I tend to rub my stomach to try and somehow settle it down. New CPN asks me what is wrong with my stomach – I say again it’s just the anxiety making me feel half like I’m going to be sick and half like I need to run to a toilet – it’s a horrible feeling especially when it’s combined with a very anxious mental state of just needing to escape, to run home and close the door on the world, the feeling that something awful is going to happen if I stay there. Eventually I did begin to calm down and sit for a little while.

As expected she asked about the house swap and I nervously told her that I wasn’t going ahead with it. I was trying to explain my reasons but the anxiety in me was still high enough that it was mostly irrelevant rambles that came out my mouth. Somehow we got onto the subject of weight and dieting and how I had been doing so well (lost 20lbs… then put it all back on again) and this somehow led onto me telling her about why I choose to low-carb when I diet because cutting sugar out of my body completely works best especially for people like myself who have PCOS which usually messes with your insulin levels, weight, etc. From there I remember her talking about the contraceptive pill and how there were a couple of good ones for women with PCOS and then she asked me if I wanted her to phone my GP and say I’d like to try one of them and I was like “erm, I don’t even know if I do want to try one of them, I’ll just think about it for now thanks”. I told her I’d be going to see my GP next week anyway and we left it at that.

I have total mind-blank going on at the moment and can’t remember what else we filled the hour talking about. I mentioned the stresses of studying at the moment, I mentioned the self harm urges that seem to increase in intensity with every hour that passes. She responded by simply telling me that if I cut myself then I cut myself, that it wasn’t a new behaviour and basically not something that would worry her. I sort of felt a bit like I was trying to ask for a little bit of help, like I was trying to tell her that I haven’t done it in a couple of months now and I would actually really like it to stay that way but the words just didn’t seem to come out so we left it at that. Before I left the building she gave me an appointment for next week and a copy of my latest care plan that she’d typed up. She encouraged me to attend my appointment with Mr Psychiatrist (which was today) and said bye. I don’t know if I’m going to get on with her, I still haven’t warmed to her and when I’m severely lacking in motivation and have pretty much no interest in anything, making a new ‘relationship’ is the last thing I can be bothered with doing.

So I wake up this morning and think I really should shower before going to see Mr Psychiatrist. I seem to be thinking this a lot lately but not actually doing it. Rather like studying, I talk about it, I intend to do it, I think about it a lot, but it just doesn’t seem to happen in the end and another day passes by with nothing much achieved. My appointment was for 10.30am and my alarm went off at 8.30am. I hit snooze every ten minutes until 10am even though I was just lying there wide awake. I couldn’t really see the point in having a shower (I think I’m currently having 1 or 2 a week instead of one every day) so instead I lay here smoking and waiting until the last minute when I knew I only had enough time to walk the dogs then would have to go straight to the appointment. I sat in the waiting room for 15 or 20 minutes and was then called through.

To be honest, even though it was only this morning I can barely recall what we talked about. I told him my mood wasn’t great, that looking back on my blog posts it hasn’t been great for a good six weeks or so now. I told him I’m thinking about hurting myself a lot and even find myself thinking that this is how it’s always going to be and if that is the case then what is the point in trying to complete a University degree or move to a new house or attend appointments or have a fucking shower because I would rather die than continue with this as my life.

He asked me what was going on in my life or what has been going on lately to make me feel that way. I told him that it was nothing – that sometimes I just feel very very low and it has nothing to do with anything external – it’s all internal and just how I feel. He told me this wasn’t very helpful thinking and that if I always follow negative thinking patterns then inevitably I’m going to feel depressed a lot. He said that whilst medication has it’s role, that I need to engage in talking about how I feel and trying to change the ways I think about things, from negative thought processes to positive ones. But then said I should try increasing my Quetiapine (Seroquel) from 600mg to 700mg a day and see if that helps…

He asked how the Uni course was going and I told him that whilst I find the workload hard when I’m having issues with being able to concentrate, I *think* I am glad I’m doing it. Sometimes I feel like I’m doing it for other people, sometimes I think I’m doing it for me. But then that voice/thought/whatever it is tells me I’m ‘stupid’ and that I ‘won’t succeed’ and that I’d be ‘better off dead’. And then it laughs. It laughs a lot. Mr Psychiatrist again said I needed to find a talking therapy that worked for me and try to learn ways to stop thinking in such negative patterns. He says that like I have a choice, when things are dipping this low there is no other option but to think this way.

Anyway he has decided he is happy to leave me for a bit longer this time so instead of seeing him next month I will see him early February instead. The longer between appointments the better in my opinion, I don’t particularly enjoy them.

After leaving the hospital I met my best friend and the kids and we went for a wander round the shops, getting some Christmas presents and I bought little Santa ornaments and Snowmen ones and some silver and gold sprayed flowers and little tiny Christmas tree. After best friend went home I went to the cemetery and made my little angel’s headstone all nice and Christmassy. It was thick with snow up there so it took me ages to clear enough space to put his little things down. I cried a little when I was up there, I miss my little man so much especially at this time of year. And I just can’t help but want to be wherever he is, no matter what it means doing to get there.

For you little man:

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19:59 – I can’t write

3 Dec

Writing is something I do as if on auto pilot. I don’t profess to be any good at it but it’s like I come here to write down all my little brain scribbles. No matter if I’m in the pits of despair and desperation or at the other end of the scale bouncing from walls in some type of hypo/mania I can always write. Even when I didn’t have my laptop all the months then weeks that I was in hospital I physically wrote in actual diaries. It helped me make sense of what was going on in my life even if it would take me a full day to put a 200 word post together. Sometimes I have written utter nonsense and sometimes I feel like I expressed myself so much better through writing than I ever could verbally. But now? I can’t write.

I am on my final week of this university module. I must submit a long and very detailed essay by the end of this week. I managed to put a half-hearted essay plan together, made some bullet points and wrote the general shape I wanted the essay to take. But then came the blank screen and no words would come out. I have sat with this same blank screen for around 4 hours now and I still can’t find a single word to say. So I thought I would come here, I haven’t written in a couple of days and I knew if there was something going on in my head that was in effect ‘blocking’ all my essay type thoughts then they would soon spill out here.

I keep hearing the word stupid over and over in a soft young female voice with a little giggle. It is making me feel very worried that I am not going to be able to break the cycle and will end up in hospital unwell again this Winter. I sat by the window and watched the thick snow falling for a while. I tried again to write but nothing would come out. I went onto Facebook and, as is usual these days, I rolled my eyes up and down the home page, read a few statuses, liked a few photos, saw far too many decorated rooms with Christmas trees up then signed back out. I’m not putting a tree or any decorations up this Christmas. I’m trying to pretend it’s not really happening I suppose.

I got my essay plan out and sat it in front of me trying to write some words next to each bit to get something flowing but nothing would come. As it is now almost 8pm and I have spent all day getting more and more frustrated with myself I have decided to give up for the evening and try again tomorrow. There are a couple of last minute tutor drop in sessions this week so I might make use of them and see if anyone else is struggling to get going like I am. I should be able to devote all day pretty much tomorrow and Wednesday as both mornings have 10.30am appointments so will be up early and home before noon to get to work.

Tomorrow my appointment is with new CPN. I’m not sure what we are going to talk about. I’m guessing the house swap will be mentioned, she was very keen for me to go ahead with it so I’m unsure of how she will react when I tell her it was all stressing me out too much and I’ve decided not to go ahead with it. I think I may have to talk a little about the intensity of the urges to self harm and how extremely hard it is not to act on them and how scared I’m becoming that I’m going to do it and it is going to be another severe and deep wound. How can I ever expect people to think of me as normal when I write my entire life across my body… every scar tells a story and all that…

On Wednesday I have an appointment with Mr Psychiatrist. I think this will probably be my last ever appointment with him and he is due to retire in January I think. So it will either be my last or second last, I’m not sure yet. I have been thinking about telling him about the voice that comes and goes but I don’t want to worry anyone unnecessarily, I mean maybe it’s just my own voice and I’m getting myself all confused.

On Friday I have another appointment with support worker from rape crisis. So I must must must get an essay written and submitted by Friday. My head just keeps turning to total mush when I try to concentrate and I lose  all my train of thought.

I realised today that I have quite a long Christmas holiday. This semester ends once I have submitted this essay. We get our results in a couple of weeks (hopefully before Christmas but possibly afterwards) and then I enrol onto two modules that I will study together from mid-January to June. The next two are Psychology of the Individual and Sociology of the Family.

See I knew if I came over here I would find words and be able to write again! I have just found 900 words out of nowhere – I haven’t even managed 9 words of my essay in all the hours of sitting in front of it! I don’t know that I’ve made any discoveries of anything lurking at the back of my mind and bothering me, not apart from the voice and that stupid girly giggle or if I needed to scribble down that these self harm urges are getting ridiculously intense and very hard to ignore. Either way, I have found some words and with them come a little hope that I’ll be able to find some more tomorrow and get some of this essay done.

17:37 – 12 days of no ramblings!

19 Oct

Hello!

I don’t know where I’ve been for the past 12 days that I haven’t thought of writing about my ramblings. What I can say is that I have now lost a total of 20 lbs (1 stone 6lbs) so I’m most happy with that. Some people who I haven’t seen in a few weeks have said they can see it in my face, but, I’m at that awkward stage when you have quite a lot of weight to lose and I’m like in between dress sizes. Haven’t quite dropped a full size yet so hovering somewhere in the middle. This Atkins lifestyle is hard going, there have been so many times where I’ve wanted to just give up on it but each time I stand on the scales and see quite large weight losses week by week (that’s me around 4 weeks in now and lost 20 lbs in that time) so yeah, that spurs me on to keep going with it. I still have about 3 stone 6 lbs to lose (just short of 50 lbs) so a long way to go yet! But hopefully by Christmas I’ll have that first dress size off and people will start to notice a little :)

What else has been happening? I’ve started the gym now and go on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 2-3pm. An hour’s work out is actually quite tough going especially when you have one of the gym instructors in your ear pushing you just to do 5 more minutes when you’re already dripping with sweat! But it’s all worth it I guess – a nicer body would make a happier me…

I’ve also seen Mr Psychiatrist this week. I’m concerned I’m hearing a voice again but I told him this voice is very much getting caught up in my own racing thoughts making it hard to distinguish at times which is which. In light of that we decided to increase my Quetiapine (Seroquel) from 500mg to 600mg and I can increase again to 700mg in a fortnight if my head is still being crazy. I also spoke to him about how bad my sleep still is and that sleeping tablets just don’t help. It’s not the getting to sleep part I have the problem with, it’s the staying asleep part. I sleep for 1-2 hours then feel like someone has just shaken me and I wake up startled and alert and wondering what’s going on, then I have to get up just to check everything is ok around me, check the door is double locked, get back onto my sofa which is STILL my bed and lie there for perhaps 45 mins maybe an hour then I go back to sleep again for another couple of hours and then the exact same thing happens again. It leaves me feeling really drained and zombified. I hoped the increase in Quetiapine might make me slightly sleepier but apparently not. All the drugs I’m on all say they cause drowsiness but none of them seem to cause it for me!

Oh… I got my first uni assignment back last Friday. We had all received emails saying that the majority had passed with grades C and D, some had F and not to sit and hope for an A or B. This wasn’t to “dishearten or demoralise” us, this was to encourage us to take on board the long page of feedback we all received and them deliberately marking in a very picky way so we could identify every little error we had made. So Friday drags by and my tutor group were the last to get their essays back. I watched the discussion forum fill up with people saying they just scraped a C or a D and a few say they had failed. So even though I had tried hard I was thinking in my head that if I got a C I would be happy. So when I got a B I was pretty over the moon!

So I think that’s everything that’s going on with me at the moment. Uni stuff, gym, sticking to the Atkins eating, went out again last weekend and got a bit drunk but it was a good laugh. I’m having a quiet night in this weekend as it’s my birthday weekend next weekend so I’m saving some pennies for that! After my last post about meeting with my ex we have continued to text one another and he was supposed to be coming down on Wednesday for lunch but I was feeling really ill so I cancelled. I’ve had bronchitis for a couple of weeks and it’s still here – really need to calm the smoking down which has increased like mad since starting dieting…. not so good….

I meet with CPN and new permanent CPN on Monday so I’m hoping to get on well with her and as she is permanent actually have a stable routine of once a week appointments again. A social worker I have been temporarily working with over the past couple of weeks has got a copy of my housing transfer request form and is looking over it for me to see if she can add any further evidence to my application. At the moment I think I am realistically going to be sleeping on my sofa (8 months now) and living in this one room terrified of the rest of my flat, of the flashbacks I get in that bedroom and I think I’m still going to be sitting here in a year’s time no further forward. Then the voice mixes in telling me nothing will ever change, it was just luck I did well on that uni assessment I will fail in the future, why am I trying to lose weight, I’ll never be slim and pretty again, why am I almost 31 and single… I will never fall in love again… and so on and so on… until I’m at the self harming point or the suicidal thoughts point. Well I guess if I acted on the latter then I wouldn’t need to worry about being re-housed nor them re-housing me would I…

So I think that’s me caught up with my 12 days of absence from my little rambling blog – oh there was one more thing I did this week that was pretty stupid, met some guy online and slept with him just to try and get the images of the assault out of my head, told myself that I wanted to, that I wanted to view sex ‘normally’ again but instead, within minutes of it being over I said I had to go… then I just felt dirty, disgusting and stupid ever since it happened. But this weekend is going to be a quiet one…. I’m not sure what to do with myself as yet… we shall see what happens…

 

18:13 – Seen GP and completed almost all of my little list!

21 Sep

Well I went to see GP, she was in one of her lovely moods which is always nice. She asked how things had gone with Mr Psychiatrist and CPN this week. I told her the meeting with Mr Psychiatrist was completely unproductive and everything he said about me ‘game playing’ by not telling the full truth to everyone and even she pulled a face and said “MCBL, I pick and choose how much information to tell my friends and family about things in my life, everyone does, you certainly aren’t game playing at all, I have no idea why he said that” so that made me feel a bit better that both she and CPN think he’s talking a lot of nonsense.

I asked her to look at the wound on my leg – and sorry this is totally gross – but when she took the dressing off it was covered in horrible pus at one end, gaping open, smelt disgusting and she said it was well and truly infected. This is the first time in 17 years of self harming I have ever got a proper bad infection in a wound and I don’t know how it’s happened because I’ve been having it checked, cleaned, clean dressings put on etc. So I’m now on antibiotics for the next week and she got the practice nurse to clean it and put another dressing on for me after I had finished my appointment with her.

I took the box of Soy Isoflavones with me and asked her what she thought about them. She said she didn’t think they would do me any harm but not to take them every day, to take the Provera which gives me a bleed then to take the Soy on days 3-7 of my period and then see if I get a period naturally after about a month. If I don’t then she has given me 3 months worth of Provera to take to bring on a period and then take the Soy. If I want to, on month 3 I can go and have bloods taken on day 21 of my cycle and they will show if I have ovulated by myself and if the Soy is doing anything to help. She said to give it 3 months, I told her about starting the gym and my plans to low carb again, she said low carb was OK but not no carb i.e. Atkins… and instead to try and follow a low GI diet as it would still be effective but healthier.

I mentioned the Melatonin and she told me that it could be an option if my sleeping continues to be crappy but that she would be hesitant to prescribe it as it has been known to cause delusions in people with mental health problems. Anyway, she said for just now I was on quite enough medication – my normal 3 meds – quetiapine, mirtazapine and diazepam – plus a week of antibiotics for the next week – plus the Provera for 10 days each month plus the Soy for 5 days each month!

So she said to have the wound checked again in 7 days either at a&e or by the practice nurse, to go back and see her in 2 weeks time to let her know how I’m getting on with the Mirtazapine and see if I want it increased or not. I explained all the staff changes and things at the mental health team and she said if I needed any support during it all to remember she is always there. That’s why I like her, she never makes me feel like I’m being a pest! She asked what was happening with regards to the staff changes and I told her I had one more appointment with CPN next week (and also told her that social worker is supposed to be at it and why I’d like her to be there and how awkward everything feels with her at the moment – GP said it was a shame things had turned out like this because when GP became my new GP 3 years ago social worker regularly came to appointments with me and GP said she had always seemed so supportive of my care)… anyway as I was saying… so I told her we have that appointment next week then I’m seeing a different social worker for a few weeks then I meet permanent new CPN and from there will probably just work with her.

So GP said everything sounded good, I seemed more positive than last week, she was happy I hadn’t bought any more pills to stockpile and hoped I could keep the self harm urges under control. The appointment went well, the only thing I got a little bit of a ticking off for was when GP commented that my psoriasis was looking a lot better and I admitted I’ve been using  the sunbeds for 2 minutes twice a week…oops… but it is working and I’m being very careful to stick to only 2 minutes at a time, the last thing I want is skin cancer and being fair skinned I burn really easily as well so she said just be very careful but she would much rather I got proper UV light treatment through the dermatologist at big scary hospital.

After my appointment I went to the gym and handed in my referral letter, unfortunately there was no receptionist there and the only member of staff around was foreign so she didn’t really understand what I was talking about when I told her about the free gym membership through your GP, so I left the letter with her and wrote my phone number on it and she said she would get someone to phone me on Monday.

I then collected my antibiotics and decided I couldn’t be bothered with the supermarket today so just grabbed a tub of that cold pasta stuff (and a chocolate bar – my bad) while I was in the garage topping up my electricity.

The dogs got a short walk but it’s still early and still dry so I have time to take them a big one later and I still have a bit of uni work to do but other than that I have managed to do almost everything on my list for today. Oh and my new shower is ace! It was so so nice and warm and feels so good to be nice and clean again!

I’m not sure what to do with myself tonight besides walk the dogs. Watch the soaps from 7-9pm then there isn’t much on after that, Friday nights and Sunday nights are always pretty boring. I’ve actually got quite a sore head and could do with just having a little lie down for an hour… I think I may do that…

Have a nice night everyone :)

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