23:45 – Put simply, I feel like shit

It’s been almost a week since I last had anything to say for myself. Since I last posted the desperation and the urgency and unpredictability of my destructive thoughts has all quietened down somewhat. I’m not really sure why. What has replaced those thoughts is a feeling of numbness, I feel almost detached from everything and I don’t want to be around anyone and I don’t want to do anything. My brain feels sluggish. I can’t think properly so I give up trying. My ability to concentrate or focus on anything is shot to shit at the moment.

If I could, I would just lie in bed all day and all night, not bothering to get dressed or go outside. The only thing that prevents me from just doing exactly that is knowing the dogs need to go out for walks, they don’t need to suffer because of my state of misery. So I scrape back my hair and I put on the same clothes that I wore yesterday (and probably the day before that as well) and we go out. They get a walk and to do the toilet, I stay hidden with my hood pulled up and stare at the ground. And this repeats itself several times a day.

In between times I pull my pyjamas back on and lie in bed or on the sofa staring into space, not even thinking about anything really, just lying there feeling numb and empty. I found a box of stanley knife blades in the drawer yesterday and had a very brief urge to self harm but you know what? I couldn’t even be bothered. It was too much effort and too much energy to do it. The blades got thrown back in the drawer and the drawer closed.

I’ve gone from barely being able to sleep at all to just wanting to sleep all the time. I can’t sleep all the time, my body won’t allow me that privilege. My GP was off on holiday last week and I needed a repeat prescription but because my last prescription was the first month long one in years the other GP said he wasn’t comfortable to give me another monthly and so he put me back on weekly dispense until I can get an appointment to see my normal GP. Then she can decide whether she is happy for me to get monthlies or whether she wants me to remain on weeklies. I think it was probably because the other GP had seen all the A&E trips from self harming episodes over the past month and probably wasn’t sure if I was a bit of a risk. Maybe it’s for the best that I’m on weeklies at the moment as it means I tend to take my medication properly as I don’t have enough tablets to mess around and do a bit of self medicating here and there. At least I’m doing one thing properly.

This week I have an appointment on Wednesday with my support worker from Rape Crisis and an appointment with CPN#2 on Friday. Other than going to them I expect this is going to be another week of hiding from the world and living in my pyjamas. It’s not as if I haven’t got things to be doing – I have a washing machine to order and I have an essay due in at the end of the week if I want to have any chance of passing this module… but I just can’t seem to do it. I keep putting everything off and delaying everything, telling myself I’ll ‘do it tomorrow’ then tomorrow comes and again I do absolutely nothing. If I don’t meet this essay deadline and pass it with a pretty decent grade then I will have to re-sit and I just want this module over and done with. I’m going to try and take an early Summer break and try and get my head back together for the increased workload that September will bring. Hopefully by September I will have done a fair bit of work with the psychologist and be armed with some better coping tools than cutting myself to shreds.

I just feel this complete sense of misery, a big black cloud right above my head threatening to start pissing down on me at any time. Numbness and emptiness and a sense of detachment from everyone and everything. Quiet and in full hibernation mode. Self harm is too much of an effort even though I know I deserve to be covered in more cuts. Thoughts of ending my life have passed through my mind a few times, but they are just that, thoughts. I don’t have a clear enough head to do anything. I don’t have the energy either. I don’t even know if I have the energy to go to my couple of appointments this week – I’ll see how I feel at the time.

I hate myself for writing such a depressing post especially after writing about all the sad news I’d learned last week and how it had put life into perspective a bit. It made me feel like I shouldn’t take life for granted so much and that I should be doing something happy and something positive every day. And I hate that I can’t adapt into that mindset even when I try. Any time I’ve tried to laugh or smile this sense of darkness begins to loom again. So I don’t try. I just sit and be miserable and wait to see what is going to happen next.

I’m shit. I deserve to feel this way. Honestly, if you really knew me you would say the same. The people who tell me nice things about myself like my Mum or best friend just say it to try and cheer me up, they are biased… If people could hear the stuff in my head they would have no hesitation to tell me that yes, I am shit and deserve nothing more than to feel like the piece of crap I am.

01:36 – A confused and messed up girl

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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…

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

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:

17:22 – I’m ok… (I’m not ok)

I got a text message from rape crisis support worker yesterday asking me if I was ok as it wasn’t like me not to reply to her. After two hours of just sitting here looking at it I finally managed to write four letters: I’m ok.

I don’t think I really am ok if I’m honest. Why did I tell her I was? It was easier than to tell the truth. I kept thinking that if I didn’t reply then she might get more worried and send someone (I don’t know who but someone) to my door to see if I was ok and that would really freak me out at the moment. But I don’t think that she would actually do that to me, I think she would keep anything I said to her confidential but what if it all starts pouring out, how much I need to cut, how much time I’m spending either hiding and doing nothing or reading about and looking at images about death.

I don’t know why I lied to her, I can trust her, she is nice, she isn’t part of my mental health team. I guess I thought that if I just added that extra word in to read ‘I’m not ok’ then she would ask what was wrong and maybe I would end up telling her how bad everything is and how I’m really struggling to cope and maybe it would end up with her contacting the mental health team or something. And for some reason I don’t want to see them. I don’t want to see anyone. I think that’s actually the biggest thing stopping me from cutting, because I know it would be a bad one and I know I would end up eventually breaking down and telling someone the truth.

It was easier just to say… I’m ok…

I also got a letter from new CPN offering me another appointment for Tuesday morning but I don’t know yet if I’ll go. She wrote on it that she would encourage me to attend this appointment as it has been ‘identified that regular support is helpful to me’. I’m too consumed by negative thoughts and ‘what’s the point?’ thoughts right now. All (and I do mean all) I can think about is hurting myself. I feel that I deserve to hurt and I constantly seem to be visualising blood running down an arm or leg and thinking about how it would feel and the release that it would give me.

I’m very stressed about my uni work, I feel as though I can’t understand this particular section, it just makes absolutely no sense in my brain. It’s about epidemiology and it’s just frazzling my brain trying to make sense of it all. I need to understand it and I need it to make sense so I can move on and get that week’s work finished and keep trying to catch up to where I should be at the moment.

I managed to get to the chemist yesterday for my weekly prescription. I went in ten minutes before they closed, when it was dark outside and the chemist was pretty quiet. I was in and out in five minutes as it was all made up and waiting for me. Afterwards I managed a long-ish walk with the dogs, staying in dark areas away from street lights and houses. I took them another walk around 11pm then another around 4am then I fell asleep for a while.

Something potentially good did happen today. Someone I know phoned me to ask me if I was still awaiting a housing transfer to which I said yes. She lives in the area I want to move to (nearer my parents) and has a little one bedroom house with front and back garden in a little row of bungalows with mainly elderly neighbours. Anyway, she has decided that she would like to move closer to the little town area as her sister is moving a few miles away and where I live is on the bus route to her sister’s new house. She wants to be closer to her sister and not two bus journeys away so yeah, she phoned and asked if she could come and see my flat tomorrow and if she likes it (and is sure she really wants to move) then we will do a house exchange which would be so good and I think I would be a lot happier living where her house is.

So that should have cheered me up but again I see the negatives. I think she will come here tomorrow at 2.30pm and decide she doesn’t want to live in a flat again or realise it’s quite a bit noisier here (mainly just with passing traffic) and I think she will decide not to go through with it and just keep her little house. Not that I could blame her. So I’m not getting my hopes up, I will see what her first impressions are like tomorrow. I really need to tidy up a bit, the place has become a bit of a mess again lately as the pile of Christmas presents are starting to pile up.

But I don’t have the energy. Seriously all I can do is sit here in this spot and over-think everything and look at and read probably the most unhealthiest things ever for my current state of mind.

When is all of this ever going to end? It’s like it just won’t pass until I have acted on the urges, the same urges I spend the whole time trying not to act on. It just seems like there is no way out of this other than to just do it and get the urge/need out of my system for another little while. I’ve been in this place so many times before, I should know by now that the only way to make it stop is to listen to it and act upon it, then things would maybe begin to calm down a bit again.

00:27 – Self Isolation in Full Swing

As the title suggests, I’m very much into self isolation mode now. I go out the house for the minimum time necessary and only when it’s dark. We have had really bad weather and floods so no one has really bothered to contact me to ask me if I want to do anything with them as I think everyone has just wanted to hide indoors, warm and dry.

I went to my parents house on Sunday night for dinner. Didn’t see the point in lying to them so just told the truth that I’d got myself a bit behind with my uni work and was trying to catch up, that I’d been feeling a bit low recently and had missed some appointments. After that I tried to change the subject onto my cousin’s upcoming wedding that my stupid agoraphobia is stopping me attending. The wedding is over 250 miles away so I knew there was no chance I would be attending it as soon as it was announced a few months ago. So I kept my parents informed but not to the point where they actually have any idea how bad things really are. At least they have seen me now, that was the first time since my birthday 3 weeks ago.

The new CPN left me another voicemail yesterday but I didn’t call her back. She said in the voicemail she was going to send me out one more appointment, I don’t know what happens if I don’t go to it… maybe she will give a fuck and ask why I’m not attending or maybe she won’t and will just see it as a quick excuse to discharge me from her caseload. Who knows… Who cares…

As I didn’t attend my last appointment with rape crisis I had a new one arranged for this afternoon at 3pm. But it got to 2pm and I looked out the window and felt sickly panicky at the thought of venturing outside so I send her a text saying sorry I couldn’t make it. She sent one back asking what day I want to rearrange for but I didn’t reply… I can’t stick to anything at the moment.

Tomorrow is going to test me a bit as it’s every Wednesday that I collect my week’s medication. I will probably wait until 5pm just before closing and run in at the last minute to get it. It’s pretty much dark by 5pm now anyway. So I’m expecting to receive a letter from the new CPN in tomorrow or Thursday’s post with another appointment that I don’t know if I’ll get to. I really just want to curl up in a ball and hide from everything and everyone.

I managed to do some studying today. I’m now half way through week 9′s work when I should be about half way through week 11. If I can get week 9 finished before the weekend, then week 10 done over the weekend then I will only be one week behind. But week 12 is the last week then we go off and write our final essays for submission the following week. So I’m going to need to get a grip of things and work my arse off if I have any hope of catching up.

You would think if I’m keeping myself locked up in the house and not answering the phone or the door that it would be easy to get loads of work done in a short space of time but it’s actually really hard. Because my mind is active 100% of the time, most of the time too active, going too fast, making me irritable I can’t catch up… I keep getting left behind…

Self harm thoughts still very very bad. Probably at the worst they have been in quite a long time. I am finding the suicidal thoughts quite soothing, that there is a way to run and hide from the world permanently but then they start to panic me that they are becoming so appealing in my head that I might just lose it and act upon them.

I wish I could just close my curtains and open them to find a few months have passed and somehow things have stabilised out a bit again. Then again, do I really want this as my life year after year? Or do I just want the world to stop spinning once and for all… let me jump off and then let it carry on spinning again whilst I run as fast as I can in the opposite direction, alone and uninterrupted by everything.

“Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced”….. (James Baldwin)

I just don’t know what I’m actually capable of facing…

19:57 – What the hell is wrong with me?

I cannot stop crying. Like seriously cannot stop. I am shaking and crying and can hardly see what I’m typing because the tears are flowing so fast and hard. Every time I take a breath and try to calm myself down it just starts again. Everything is making me cry, every program I put on the TV, every time I try and play about with my essay for uni, the case study I am doing it on is such a sad story of two little kids aged 2 and 4 and the awful neglect they are experiencing. They aren’t even real kids, they are just made up for the purpose of a case study for the essay but it breaks my heart reading it.

I have X Factor on TV just now and am crying at every single song either because the lyrics have meaning to me or just pure and simply because the person is good at something (singing) and I feel like I have no talent in anything in life. I want to be good at something, I want to feel like a success for once and not a big fat failure. Earlier some program was on set in a maternity ward and watching all the babies being born (which I knew fine would upset me) – god – I was an absolute mess, breaking my heart over not having my little man, breaking my heart because all of those little babies came out screaming and all I could remember was that complete silence as my little one came out sleeping… straight off to the angels.

I feel as though I have accomplished nothing in my 30 years on this planet. All the things I thought I would have achieved by now – I have achieved none of them. I know I am doing this uni course and that is a positive thing but it’s still super early days, I have been at uni twice before in my life and both times dropped out at the end of first year… how do I know this time will be any different?

What if this is all my life is going to be… tears…self harm wounds…battling with suicidal thoughts…stuck in this flat that I hate so much…never being good at anything…remaining overweight…not able to get slim again…not able to have another baby…an earth baby…never being able to trust again therefore never having a relationship again… I know, I know, so much negativity… but that’s the only thoughts going around in my head…and then I’m back in that place again…wanting to hurt…deserving to hurt…maybe that’s the only thing I’m good at… hurting…feeling pain…trying to cry it all out and when that doesn’t work cutting it all out…

I wanted to write a positive post about how I had completed my first essay for uni a week early, how I have written up my meal plan for the next week, how I have thrown out every item of ‘bad’ food in my house in preparation of starting low carbing again. But I just feel crap and I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.

Sorry for being so depressing… I thought maybe writing it down would stop the tears…but no, they are still here… I feel so completely and utterly miserable and there is no reason for it, there is no reason for the tears, there is no reason for any of this, none that I can identify anyway, I’m finding myself wishing I hadn’t handed over all those tablets the other week to GP, yet I know taking them would achieve nothing. If I want to feel pain or cut it out I have a pack of blades in the drawer but I’m scared to do it again when I already have a big infection in my last bad wound…not scared to cut…scared of needing treatment…scared of the questions…scared of breaking down in front of them…scared of the truth coming out my mouth again.

I really do not know what is wrong with me. I don’t know how much longer I can hang onto those “things will get better again” thoughts because even when they do it never lasts for long. Is this just the way things are destined to be for me? I know I am the only person who can change everything I dislike about myself and my life but that takes strength and I have no idea where mine has gone.

 

Maybe this is what I need…

Fixing…

How do I fix myself…

22:16 – Seeing Mr Psychiatrist and CPN

I went to my appointments yesterday, one in the morning with Mr Psychiatrist and one at lunch time with CPN.

Let’s start with the one with Mr Psychiatrist. I went in having barely slept, feeling very low, told him about the self harming last week (which he already knew about from GP) and about handing all the stockpiled tablets over. I told him that deep down I know I don’t want to die so am managing not to act on the suicidal thoughts even when I think it would be the best option for everyone. But that I was very much struggling with the self harming, I can’t seem to stop myself. I’m constantly making scratches trying to get the urges out without doing it really badly again. But I feel the next “bad” cut isn’t going to be far away even though I am genuinely battling against it.

Mr Psychiatrist said that last time he saw me I was in a more positive frame of mind and looking forward to my uni course starting. He said the only thing that had happened between then and now was the sexual assault, therefore all these feelings must be related to it. I said yes some of them are, it has certainly triggered a lot of bad feelings, but I’m not sitting thinking about it 24/7 – I just feel so fucking low all the time, thoughts racing around my head again about having bad blood and needing to release some of it. I told him I thought I was bad, that I felt like I had the devil in me, not in a psychotic sense, I don’t mean I think the devil is living inside me, not like when I truly believed Satan had taken over me…nothing like that… I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. He said that what I had to do was recognise the events that had taken place i.e. the assault (and for some reason he brought my little man up to which I angrily responded what did he have to do with anything??) and that I must work through the feelings these events have stirred up inside me with the relevant person/people.

He said I only felt like I was bad because bad things had happened to me. I told him this was not true, it wouldn’t matter if they had happened or not, I know I am bad, there is just this complete badness about me, inside me, controlling me. Again he said I needed to talk it out with the right person. I was just getting annoyed and frustrated with him, I was overtired and pretty much spent the whole appointment staring at the floor. I changed the subject and asked for my mirtazapine to be increased so I’m on 30mg a day now. He said I can increase it to 45mg after a couple of weeks if I’m still not feeling any benefit from it and if I continue to feel no benefit from it at 45mg we would need to try something else.

Then he came out with something which really pissed me off. I told him that I felt really paranoid about telling people I had self harmed and that paranoia was now worse because GP said last Friday if I didn’t hand the tablets over then she would be “looking at putting me in a place of safety”. He said to me what did I expect? Of course she couldn’t leave me with that amount of tablets in my house when I was in an unstable frame of mind. Then he said the thing that pissed me off…. “I don’t say this often MCBL, but, in a sense you are game playing”… I was like wtf?? What are you talking about?? He said he was saying that because I am saying that I don’t know if I should tell people when I self harm any more and yet I had told everyone who ‘mattered’ I guess. I tried to explain it wasn’t like that. GP only knew because a&e sent her the notes, CPN only knew because I was running late for my appointment with her when I was in a&e the day I did the self harming and had to tell her why I was going to be late. Anyway, CPN has already written to a&e and requested they send her the notes of every attendance I make there. So I tried to say to him I didn’t go off saying to everyone oh I’ve cut myself pretty bad, they all found out in their own ways. He said it’s like I am saying “OK it’s safe to tell person a, but I won’t tell person b because I’m not sure how they will react, and I will deny it if person c asks because I don’t want them knowing at all” and this is why he called it game playing because I wasn’t being straight up and honest with everyone, instead picking and choosing how much I tell to each person. Isn’t that a normal thing to do? We tell the people who we trust, we maybe don’t say so much to those we don’t?

By this point Mr Psychiatrist was really just doing my head in. He was telling me it was because of the assault I felt so low and I was game playing with whom I was telling information to. I told him I disagreed with all of that and he continued to talk over me and tell me I just needed to talk it all out with the right people who can help me feel better. By this point I had nothing else to say to him and just sat looking at the door, not responding to him, so he said “I take it you would like the session to end now?” and gave me an appointment for the 16th of October.

I had a very quick lunch with best friend and the kids then went to see CPN. I had totally forgotten that last time I saw her she said we would do a pretend interview for my upcoming interview to start voluntary work with the child befrienders charity. I totally forgot about it though so when I went in to see CPN she had set the room up like an interview with a desk between us and a glass of water each and a big notepad and she started talking to me interview style… At first I was like what the fuck is going on? (in my head) then I remembered and somehow blagged my way through the questions til she said I had done really well and asked me if I’d been preparing my answers and then I admitted I had totally forgotten about it… but she said that was kind of a good thing that I had forgotten about it yet still managed to express all the reasons why I wanted to become a volunteer with them and she said I interviewed really well, so hopefully when I have my proper interview on October 1st it will go just as smoothly!

I then told her all about appointment with Mr Psychiatrist and his shit about game playing and she was like ‘I totally disagree with him and don’t know why he is saying that and if you want I will phone him and tell him’ but I was like, no it’s OK, I was in a foul mood and don’t want to fall out with another member of my care team. Which then moved her onto the subject of the lack of contact for the past 5 months with social worker. Next Wednesday when I go to see CPN apparently social worker is going to be there as well so we can have a chance to talk and for me to get stuff off my chest and basically ask her where she has been for the last 5 months and why she hasn’t kept to the monthly contact agreement made at April’s CPA meeting. CPN says she will stay in the room in case it gets “heated” – I’m assuming she means in case *I* get heated, but I have no intention of doing that, I don’t want to argue or fall out with my social worker, I just want to ask her why she hasn’t kept her side of the agreement and hear what she has to say… that’s it really. I have a feeling that for some reason or another she won’t actually be there, something will come up, I just know it will. I think I may just have to accept that I’m never going to get an answer, but I really hope she does turn up, I want to be able to walk past her and say hello and not feel like she is avoiding me or that there is any kind of tension between us any longer, I want that all to go, I know things are never going to go back to the way they were but just to be friendly again is what I’d like to come out of next week’s meeting.

So I will wait and see what happens next Wednesday.

CPN has arranged for me to see another social worker on a weekly basis for 4 weeks whilst she leaves and does the handover to the new CPN that I will be working with. So it’s going to be a bit of a mix of new people over the coming weeks until this new CPN settles in and I start getting regular appointments with her. I really hope she is nice and easy to talk to.

Today I spent the day with best friend and the kids, we went out for the day, went for lunch and stuff. It rained all day long so was pretty miserable but was better than sitting around the house doing nothing I guess. The guys are finally finished with my bathroom and I now have a lovely new shower and shower cubicle fitted that I’m not allowed to use until tomorrow as stuff is still drying out, I can’t wait to try it out tomorrow!

I have an appointment to see lovely GP tomorrow for another catch up. I am going to ask her about taking Melatonin to help me with my sleeping as something I can take on a more long term basis. I asked Mr Psychiatrist and he said straight out it was not what he would consider to be a medication relevant to psychiatry and therefore he could only say he wouldn’t recommend it because I don’t know how it will react with the other drugs I am taking and to give the increased dose of Mirtazapine a chance as it often makes people sleepy but it didn’t do bugger all last night. I can buy melatonin from health shops or I believe you can also get it prescribed – I asked the pharmacist about it when I was picking up my prescription yesterday – she said it was definitely worth discussing with my GP and if I was to take it then it would be much better if I took it prescribed and monitored for any interactions. I don’t even know if it would do anything, but I have such a tolerance to benzodiazapines now that they really don’t do much to help at all.

Tomorrow I don’t need to set my alarm for the workmen coming in so I’m hoping that I might actually sleep through til a decent hour but it’s unlikely going by my recent sleep patterns. Don’t really know if I want to go and see lovely GP tomorrow, I don’t want to admit to her that the bad thoughts are still there and don’t want to say anything that might risk her feeling concerned about me and how I’d cope over the weekend again. Sort of considering cancelling it but she said she wanted to see me so I guess it’s best just to go.

And that big long ramble has pretty much been yesterday and today. It’s now 10.15pm and I think it’s time to take my meds and see if I can settle down for the night and with any luck get some sleep tonight.

18:55 – Hand over the pills or you’re going to the psych hospital

I had an appointment with lovely GP this afternoon. She already had the notes from a&e on her screen when I went in about the self harming on Wednesday. A bit of the wound burst yesterday so she had a look at it for me and said it needed cleaned up and a new dressing on and popped next door to the nurse to see if she was free to do it. She was. So I got a quick change of dressing and back into see GP. She asked me if the Nitrazepam she gave me for last weekend helped me sleep and I told her that the first night I kept waking every hour or two feeling like something was wrong and the next couple of nights I did get some sleep but it was all broken up.

I then told her about seeing CPN on Wednesday and having it out with her about not following my crisis plan properly last Friday and how I felt she had just passed the buck to GP. I also had a moan about social worker not sticking to the monthly contact arrangement and told her I felt pretty unsupported at the moment and the only people who were being supportive were GP, rape crisis lady and the doctor at a&e.

She asked what made me self harm so bad on Wednesday and then all the fucking stupid truth had to come tumbling out my mouth. About how the suicidal thoughts were so intense but I knew I couldn’t act on them, about how I’ve been stockpiling painkillers and knew I had around 70g of paracetamol all popped out into a tub ready for the lid just to be lifted and them all to be thrown down my throat. I told her I’d like some Nitrazepam again for this weekend but at the same time I knew I cannot keep on medicating my symptoms and one day I’m just going to have to face up to them somehow.

Then she said to me that if I was telling her I had 70g of paracetamol sitting in my house she was extremely concerned about me getting through the weekend. She asked what support I had and I told her my parents go away on Sunday for a week and on the one hand I have the thought that they are away so it’s the perfect time to take all the pills but something deep down keeps saying no no NO you are NOT putting your parents through all that again. You are NOT ruining their holiday. Don’t be so bloody cruel and selfish. So instead I go back to the self harm thoughts, at least they don’t hurt anyone but me because they only know if I tell them.

So lovely GP says she thinks I’m slipping backwards and I say I feel like I am as well. She asks me what can we do to keep me safe this weekend? I shrug my shoulders and say I don’t know any more, just take it hour by hour, day by day. Try and distract myself, try and sleep, try and read some of my uni stuff, maybe go and visit my parents tonight or tomorrow as it’s their anniversary and it would be good to see them before they go off on holiday. GP said this sounded like a good idea and that she would be happy to give me another 4 days worth of Nitrazepam for this weekend but she wanted me to do a trade with her. She knows my flat is only minutes from the surgery as she has been here the first time I got sectioned, she was the one who filled out the forms. So she said to me to come home, get all of the paracetamol I had stocked up and take them to her. If I handed over the 70g of paracetamol she would give me 8 x 5mg Nitrazepam (4 nights worth @ 10mg a night).

And then she mentioned the dreaded word.

Hospital.

If I didn’t hand over the pills not only would I not get the Nitrazepam to help me get some sleep but she would “realistically have to look at putting me somewhere safe”, she said we had to have a two way trust thing. I had to make her believe that I would not act upon any suicidal thoughts over the weekend and I would also try my hardest not to self harm again over the weekend. Instead I would try and spend time with friends and family and find things to do to keep my mind distracted. I would get rid of all the excess medication and in return she would let me stay at home and give me a few tablets to help me sleep.

At this point I am still saying that there is no way I am ever going back into the psych hospital and saying to her please don’t even mention hospitals but she said she had to be realistic and I was making her very concerned that I couldn’t keep myself safe. So I knew I had no choice but to come home and put every single tablet (besides my prescribed meds) into a bag and take them to her. Otherwise I was looking at a trip to the psych hospital and devastating my parents just as they are about to go off on a nice relaxing holiday.

So I did just that. I came home and put every tablet I had into a little bag. Then I took a box back out just so I had one. Then I took a second box back out so I had two. My head was saying she will never know the difference but something else in my head said I was only cheating myself. Then I started to cry because I just didn’t know what to do. In the end I put them all back in the bag and went back to the surgery. It was actually closed but she had stayed on for an extra half hour for me to go back. I handed the bag over to her and she had a look and could see there was around 140 x 500mg tablets like I’d said I had. She said I’d done the right thing and handed me a prescription for the Nitrazepam.

I have an appointment on Wednesday morning with Mr Psychiatrist and she said it might be an idea to ask for the Mirtazapine to be increased now as that will be about 4 weeks I’ll have been on it and I’m still just on the 15mg starter dose. She said she thinks it would be quite reasonable to go up to 30mg as I’m still so low in mood. I think the maximum you can take is 45mg. During the time I was gone (coming back home getting the tablets) she had a phonecall with Mr Psychiatrist – she said he phoned her regarding another patient and she decided to tell him about me while he was on the phone – but I always wonder when they say things like that if actually she just phoned him to tell him the situation. So when I got back she told me that Mr Psychiatrist was aware of the situation that I’d self harmed and had been stock piling paracetamol. So that will be a fun conversation on Wednesday. I’m now really scared he will mention hospital as well. The psych hospital they send you to here does not make you better (I don’t know if any psych hospitals do) but this one really doesn’t.

So it’s now almost 7pm Friday night. Somehow I have to make it to Monday morning. Lovely GP gave me another appointment to see her next Friday to let her know how I got on with Mr Psychiatrist and if there are to be any medication changes she will have had a letter from him by then.

I don’t know what I’m going to do all weekend. My Mum is off work tomorrow so I may spend some of the day with her. I don’t really want to tell her about the self harming as I don’t want her going away on holiday worried about me but at the same time I don’t want to keep it from her as I know it will get brought up at some meeting or another that she is at and she will find out anyway. So I guess if I mention it I have to say that I feel much better now that it’s out my system even if that is a complete lie.

I have the guys coming to put a new shower and shower cubicle in on Monday morning (at 8am grr) and they will be here til around Wednesday lunch time. That means I’ll have to go up to my parents house or out to best friend’s to have a shower for a couple of days. But it will be nice once it’s all done.

Argh. How the fuck am I going to get through this weekend? I’m tempted to go out and have some drinks tonight but I’m really not in the mood to socialise. Yet at the same time I know when I’m sitting here alone is when my head goes crazy. GP is trusting me to keep myself safe through the weekend, that if I even *feel* like hurting myself that I will go to a&e, and if I need support on Monday to call her and she will find time somewhere in the day to have a chat on the phone with me.

So I do feel a bit more supported now but equally I’m scared of my own thoughts. I’m really not sure how I feel about knowing all those tablets are gone, one part of me says I could go out and stock pile again over the weekend, another part of me feels slightly relieved that they are gone and that I can’t just decide fuck it I’ve had enough and reach for them.

It’s too early yet to take any meds, I still have the evening to get through, but I really hope the Nitrazepam work at least for tonight. I need to wake up feeling a bit more refreshed tomorrow and not let my mood get any lower or it will only be a matter of time before I’m taken back to that hell hole aka the psych hospital.

12:45 – I let them down, I am shit. They let me down, they are shit.

Yesterday I saw best friend for a while. We made plans to spend the day together today which I was more than happy to do. However then she started saying she wanted to go to a place that my agoraphobia has prevented me from going to for at least five years. I told her yesterday I didn’t think I would be able to get there but that I would think about it and look on google maps to see if there was a way I could go that would be least stressful. Anyway I woke up this morning feeling crappy, with no confidence in myself that I would be able to get there. I phoned her and apologised and explained that I didn’t want to try and fail, that I didn’t want to get half way there and freak out and have to come back and ruin the day. Her 3 year old was in the background crying his eyes out because he wanted to go to McDonalds (I haven’t had one of them in years as there is none anywhere near where I live) and was throwing a tantrum that Aunty E promised him she’d take him today and now he wasn’t getting to go. It made me feel absolutely awful. I didn’t promise, his Mum promised, despite me saying last night that I really didn’t think I would manage to travel that far today (two hour drive there and two hours back). It was just too far and the place is a busy industrial area with lots of cars, busy roads, roundabouts, people, fast roads, everything I’m scared of. So in the end she text me to say her other friend had offered to go with her instead so I told her she was probably best just to do that, then the little one is happy, she is happy and I’ll just have to deal with the fact that my fucking stupid agoraphobia prevented me from having a nice day out.

My CPN phoned me this morning to say she couldn’t make our appointment today. We didn’t even have an appointment today, on the appointment card the next one is for Sept 19th. Anyway she realised she’d made a mistake but said did I want to see her tomorrow at 1pm. So I said yeah OK. Then she asked me to write some sort of list about why my social worker shouldn’t work with me anymore or something. I asked her had my social worker asked for me to do this, she denied it and said she hadn’t even spoken to my social worker, but if that were the case then why would she be asking me in quite a strong and insistent manner to find reasons why my social worker shouldn’t discharge me off her caseload. I know my social worker wants to discharge me and I keep saying no because I want to keep the one person who has been there from day 1 really involved in my care team.

I’m actually pretty pissed off about all of it. At the last CPA I expressed my wishes for my social worker to stay involved in my care team. The psychiatrist asked my social worker what she thought and she agreed to continue to see me but just on a monthly basis. Now that was about five months ago I think and she never stuck to it, and I have never seen her since then, despite trying to make contact with her on several occasions. Then this new CPN appears into the picture and seems determined to break my care team completely apart even though she is leaving at the end of the month, it’s like she wants to get me off as many peoples caseloads as she can before she leaves.

She keeps going on about how I’m not the same person I was a year or two years ago. And to an extent she is right. Yes I can now think of consequences before acting on urges. I do not act impulsively so much any more and just deal with the consequences afterwards. I am not in and out of psychosis any more. However, with regards to recent events, i.e. the sexual assault, it has put me back into a really bad and dark place lately and I have been cutting and self medicating and battling with suicidal thoughts again. And they know this, I haven’t kept it a secret, I’ve told them straight out how I’m feeling and behaving. I feel at the moment like I need more support not less and yet CPN seems to want to leave me with just her as the only person I see on a regular basis. She is excellent when it comes to encouraging me to do positive things in my life, but she is useless when it comes to needing to talk about the bad stuff. Just last week for example on Friday when I told her on the phone I felt so extremely low, she was the CPN on duty that day, but she didn’t seem interested in talking to me about things. Instead she passed the buck to my GP, didn’t even have the decency to phone me back and tell me an appointment had been made for me with GP, she left the receptionist at the surgery to do that.

My CPN is always chopping and changing our appointments and it’s always because “there’s a lot going on today”, “I need to attend an emergency”, “there is something that is a priority for me to deal with”…. But I am never one of those people needing dealt with. My self harming and suicidal thoughts/intentions do not matter in her eyes. Maybe because I have been doing it for so long she thinks I won’t really act on things and that I am well enough now to weigh up the consequences of my actions so she doesn’t need to see me when I feel so low. It just feels like she has come along out of nowhere and when I feel suicidal her words to me are “if you decide to act on those thoughts then that is your decision and only you can make that decision” – what happened to, “use the duty system, see whoever is on duty, go over the crisis plan and make plans to keep me safe over the next 24 hours”???

I actually feel like writing a letter, not of complaint but just to make the manager of the mental health team aware that my social worker has never stuck to her agreement made at the last CPA, my CPN offers me no help when I have recently been through a traumatic event, one which has put me back into suicidal thinking mode and when I asked for help from her she simply told me it was my decision whether or not I acted on my thoughts and to see my GP. She never uses my crisis plan so what the fuck is the point of it? What was the point in spending the entire time with the previous temporary CPN making a crisis plan for it never to be used? What is the point to these CPA meetings when members of my care team don’t stick to what they are supposed to do?

I’m feeling in a horrible place today. I have let my best friend down and her little boy. The 3 year old currently hates me for not taking him to get his bloody McDonalds. My CPN is phoning me asking me to find reasons as to why I shouldn’t be discharged from my social worker’s caseload. My CPN doesn’t give a flying fuck about the fact I’m self harming again or expressing suicidal desires. I have let myself down by not trying to have the day out that best friend wanted. I am sitting here alone and feeling rotten. In tears. With the only thoughts in my head to do something bad. I keep trying to force my head to think no I won’t do anything bad, instead I will see what uni work I can do today, but the bad thoughts are just outweighing all other thoughts.

I am sick of all this crying and cutting but it’s the only thing keeping me going. That and really not wanting to end up in the place I was in a year or 2 years ago. But that also scares me, because I know I don’t want to end up back in that place – psych hospital – so I know that if I do act on the suicidal thoughts I will do my damn best to make sure it actually works. And then that brings me onto the thoughts of how that would affect my lovely parents and then I just end up in tears again.

Why is it that the only person who can see that I am a bloody mess right now is me?