Tag Archives: alone

20:08 – Another day closer and in a real mess

15 Jun

I’m sitting here crying my eyes out, tears rolling down my cheeks. I have been feeling like I was about to break down at any second all day long but trying so hard to hide it. I managed to spend a couple of hours with best friend and the kids again this afternoon but just felt like I was a bit detached the whole time. I was there in person but my mind was somewhere else altogether.

Since I got home I’ve felt the anxiety building up inside me but did my best to ignore it. But then the tears started to well up in my eyes until I couldn’t see any more and with every blink they spill out down my face. Part of me wishes there was someone here to give me a hug and the other part just wants to be completely alone.

My head is a total mess. I am terrified beyond words of the HIV test results on Tuesday. I want to know and for it to be over with yet when I realise I’m another day closer I begin to completely freak out. Three more sleeps until I know. Utterly utterly terrified.

I don’t know if this emotional state I’m in just now is out of fear, I can’t really explain it as my thoughts aren’t very clear, they are all jumbled up, they are racing around too fast and I feel completely on edge. I’m chain smoking one cigarette after another and I feel sick to the very pit of my stomach. The only thing that makes things feel a little more bearable is pulling my knees up to my chest, cuddling them into me and rocking myself. The last time I remember feeling like this was in November 2010 when I was detained for the first time, sitting rocking on my bed, terrified that I had lost control and someone else would be deciding when I could leave the hospital again. Feeling so trapped and the agoraphobia sending the anxiety to crazy levels. That’s how I’m feeling again now.

Scared, terrified, anxious, emotional and all alone.

 

 

 

Advertisements

23:09 – A mental head and a poorly dog

1 Feb

So, it’s February.

Ten more days until my little angel’s anniversary.

I haven’t posted all week as I’ve been really unwell – physically and mentally. I think I’ve had another flare up of the suspected stomach ulcer as I have been constantly vomiting all week, had pain in the same spot as last time and a complete loss of appetite. So because I have been sick so much I felt completely exhausted but my head has gone ‘out of control’ crazy a few times this week as well. I guess the meds can’t work very well when you’re throwing up all the time, most of them probably ended up partially undigested at the bottom of the toilet so I have no idea how much medication has actually gone into my system these last five or six days, maybe that’s contributing to how mental my head’s been.

I’ve spent this week plotting and planning at a crazy pace inside my head whilst lying on the bathroom floor trying to go another five minutes without vomiting. I guess it might have been a good idea to have gone to see my GP but I knew too many head crazies would be at risk of rambling out my mouth when I couldn’t think straight. Anyway that’s all for another post.

Today one of my little dogs decided to give me a fright. He hadn’t seemed his normal self for a couple of days, he’d been quite sick and hadn’t really eaten anything or even drank any water. I thought he must have just had a bit of an upset stomach and that he’d be OK today but by lunch time I was getting seriously worried about him. He was just lying there panting really fast and shaking and I knew I looked an absolute mess from not showering in days but I suddenly went into panic mode and phoned the vet saying it was an emergency and I needed her to see him so she told me to take him along. I had this horrible gut wrenching moment where I actually saw him stop breathing in front of me. I don’t think he actually did, I think it was just my head being crazy. But it was enough to make me spring into action, it was like it no longer mattered how hellish I felt, I knew I had to get him special doggy medicine immediately.

Got to vets and she first checked his temperature which they do rectally. Normally he would not be a happy doggy having someone do that to him but he just lay there and didn’t flinch. She said his temperature was really high and then checked him for signs of dehydration. It was confirmed he was dehydrated as well from the vomiting and not drinking. The likely diagnosis is he has gastritis (a stomach infection) so they treated him for that for the moment. So he got an injection to bring down his temperature and another to stop him being sick and she said she wanted to keep him there overnight on a drip so he could get fluids IV. But I asked if I could bring him home and try to get him to eat and drink a little bit and promised to phone them if I couldn’t get him to drink anything or if he was sick again.

Thankfully some fresh air and a couple of injections seems to be doing something. I managed to get him to take two syringes of water and once his tongue was wet he went to his water bowl and drank a little himself. I managed to get him to take just a couple of spoonfuls of a really gentle food meant for puppies and after that he went to his bed and slept for a good three hours. Since he woke up he hasn’t been sick once so at least I know he has some fluids and a little bit of food in his tummy. But the agreement I made with the vet is that if he is sick at all then I will take him in to spend the day in there tomorrow on IV fluids and for further tests. Now I hope and pray he will get plenty of rest tonight and maybe be a little brighter tomorrow now he’s had some medicine.

It didn’t hit me until I was back home and watching him sleep how unwell my poor little fur baby was. I thought he had just eaten something that hadn’t agreed with him and in reality he was very close to needing to be kept in on a drip, and still might depending on how he is overnight. And something horrible triggered off in my head, I’ve been having all of these very intense moments of thinking “what if…?”

What if I’d lost him?

One day I will lose him…

One day I will lose both my little dogs…

One day I will lose my parents…

One day I will be left here alone with no one to love and no one to love me.

And for the first time in a long time thoughts of death raced around my head and made me really scared, the whole concept of disappearing forever, of never ever coming back, never being able to bring back the people who one day I’ll lose… And all I could do was cry and rock myself whilst I cuddled my knees… Death has never really scared me, it’s the one certainty that comes with life, but today… right now… it terrifies me. Even though I am pretty spiritual in my beliefs that I will be reunited in heaven with all of my loved ones one day, tonight I only feel fear of growing old alone and crazy and …

…I don’t know the words for what I’m trying to say…

Sorry, I’ll try and write something that makes more sense tomorrow, I’m getting myself all worked up again and it doesn’t feel good… paranoia and anxiety and head crazies… can’t cope with them right now…sorry… goodnight…

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

1 Jan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

20:18 – New Year’s Eve: All Alone & Extremely Low

31 Dec

It’s New Year’s Eve again, the last day of another long and challenging year, one which started on a bad note in January and is ending on a bad note as well. I have a feeling this may turn into a long ramble, I’ve got a lot of things to say in my last blog post of 2012.

So usually we go out on New Year’s Eve but this year my best friend is just going to a house party at another friend’s house (to which I was invited but politely declined) and so I am all on my own. It doesn’t have to be this way, I have just been on Facebook and had a couple of people ask me if I was going out tonight, if I really wanted to I could text another girl I’m friendly with and make arrangements to go out with her… but I know I will end up staying in all alone all night. Miserable and depressed. Still struggling to come to terms with the stupidity I referred to in my last post (and no, I still can’t write about it either)…

This might be a silly thing to say but I feel really let down by the CMHT (Community Mental Health Team) – they knew that Christmas was one of the hardest days of the year for me to get through, new CPN had said we would have an appointment on Christmas Eve and then a following one New Year’s Eve (today) so I had support right before what can be very triggering days for me. But we didn’t even get the appointment the week before Christmas Eve because I got a phone call to say new CPN was off sick but someone would be in touch. That was on the Monday and by the Friday nobody had got in touch. Christmas eve came and went with no appointment… no support. Then I got a letter on Saturday morning from new CPN offering me a next appointment with her on the 7th of January. So that is going to be exactly 4 weeks since I last had any support when I next see her. And the reason I said this all may sound silly is because obviously if I need help I have to ask for it, but new CPN knew, she fucking knew how much I struggle to cope at this time of year and whilst she couldn’t avoid being ill she was obviously back in the CMHT building at some point to type up the letter for the appointment for the 7th of Jan. So when she was writing that letter she knew I was sitting with no support, would it have been that much trouble to have maybe given me a little phone call and just told me she was back and sending me a new appointment out and maybe have asked if I was coping OK. But like I say… I guess if I want to try and get any sort of support I am supposed to phone and tell them so it must be silly that I’m sitting here feeling forgotten about and completely alone with my string of crazy thoughts.

Tomorrow (New Year’s Day) I will again be alone all day. My Mum is working late, my best friend is going to her parents for the day, so it will just be me, myself and I, probably sitting here feeling equally as alone in 24 hours time as what I do right now. It would appear that this makes me feel rather sad as I’m struggling to see out of the little pool of tears that are gathering up in my eyes.

Tomorrow a new year begins where I am still in the mindset of wanting to hurt myself, where every day I still feel like I’m stuck in this pressure cooker and with each day that passes where I don’t act on the thoughts I don’t feel proud of myself or like I have achieved anything… Instead I know that when that time comes where the lid blows off the pressure cooker it is going to result in some real damage to myself. I am so scared of that moment coming because I will be completely out of control and yet at the same time I wish it would just hurry up and hit me, make me do it and make it be over with.

My best friend asked me a couple of days ago if I was proud of myself for not “being in that place” of self harming and hospital admissions for so long. I couldn’t explain to her that she couldn’t be more wrong, I might not have acted on the thoughts, but the walls around me are crumbling and starting to fall and the more they fall the more exposed and alone I am as I hide behind them. I hate to say it and for a number of months now I’ve tried to avoid saying it, but I am well and truly in the the throes of Bipolar depression right now. And I feel exhausted from the minute I open my eyes to the minute I go to sleep, the smallest of tasks seem enormous, nothing feels as though it really has a point to it. I am about to enter a new year in pretty much the same place I was a year ago I’m just doing much much better at hiding it from people. I feel as though I can’t admit how low my mood is when people (my parents) have gone out of their way to try and make my flat look like a home again and this just proves how much of a bad person I am because they did all that for me and the whole time when they genuinely believed I was happier it was all fake smiles deep down. They think I’m coping better and after all they have done for me it’s my job to make sure they continue to think that.

If I’m honest with myself this episode of depression really kicked off just before my birthday, so around mid October. It’s been slowly getting worse and worse as the weeks have gone by. That is the really horrible part about mood disorders and similar conditions, the length of the depressive (or manic) episodes seem to go on forever. If I look at my calender it tells me I’ve been in this current depressive episode for about ten or eleven weeks now, almost three months of feeling like shit every time I wake up and realise I’m still here. And usually when a couple of months have passed of feeling so low a “crisis” would have happened by now. I’ve experienced every single one of my early warning signs as detailed in my crisis plan and yet somehow I’ve avoided the crisis being seen by other people (mainly by hiding away as much as possible). It’s like a silent crisis that is killing me on the inside, I know it’s there but nobody else does and what really worries me now is that if there is no admission from me that things are very bad or no actions by me to show things are really bad then the actual crisis part will go by unnoticed… and that means entering that place again that is past the point of a “crisis” and a whole new level of despair that is a truly terrifying place to experience.

Just like last ‘new year’ and the one before that and before that I enter a new year still mental, still single, still fat and disgusting and deserving of badness. I enter another year and know it’s a matter of weeks until my little angel’s 6th anniversary in Heaven. They said it got “easier with time”… they really need to think of a more honest expression because that one is a massive lie. It hurts more and more with every day, every week, every month and every year that passes.

What is it that keeps us going when inside our heads we are hearing (for the millionth time) that this is the way life is always going to be, when something in our mind is shouting at us that nothing is ever going to change, that this is the future and this is the place we are going to be stuck in forever? What keeps us going? And even if we act on it and make an attempt to end our lives, many of us get help (even if it really is at the very last second)… something inside us gets scared – for me it is usually the fear of what the process of death will actually be like, the fear of the unknown – and the sad reality for me and I’m sure for many others is that even though every day of being alive hurts like hell it is a hell we have become so overly familiar with that we almost know it inside out. Plus it is a hell that people around us generally witness and as a result of that they try and offer us messages of hope, promises that things won’t always be this way, anything they can say to make us hang on for another day (week, month, year). And so, with each “crisis” I have had, people have become aware of it and let me break down into little bits and then they help me put the bits back together again and give me a final push back onto my feet until the next crisis happens.

But ultimately what happens is you end up feeling as though you are living for those people who say they have “faith in you” who “believe in you” who “promise” that “things are going to get better” that maybe just trying “one more medication” or “a different type of therapy” will finally give me permanent freedom from all of this. And right now, I very much feel as though I’m living for others, I know I have passed the point of believing there is any point in living for me (ungrateful stupid bitch that I am), I don’t even know if you could class this as ‘living’… it feels much more like I’m just functioning on some sort of auto-pilot and trapped in my own never ending version of Groundhog Day.

The thing is that when I have experienced extreme low’s before I have acted upon them a few times. I know what will happen now if I shovel a few handfuls of tablets down my throat just to ‘make it all stop’ and I know what will happen if I take enough tablets to kill me. And I remember how terrifying it was in that moment where I wanted my life to be over so very badly, where I could not handle another day of being alive, where I completely lost control and swallowed a ridiculous number of tablets. And I remember that moment soon after where I felt extremely physically unwell, very dizzy, nauseas, holding onto the walls to keep me upright and just knowing that if I let myself lay down and close my eyes then there would be a very good chance I wouldn’t wake back up. And that actually scared the hell out of me that time as I frantically hit 999 and begged for an ambulance and cried to the operator that I was getting dizzier and dizzier but couldn’t sit down because I knew that would be it, game over. So I slumped against the wall trying to stay with the woman on the phone, praying that the main door buzzer would start beeping any second so I could let them in and then stop fighting and just let my body do what it had to do. Pretty much everything from then through to the next day passed in a blur but I will never ever forget that moment of lying in A&E and hearing the male nurse shouting that my blood pressure was crashing, hearing the numbers and thinking ‘I might actually die here’ and suddenly being terrified that they wouldn’t be able to save me because it’s such a small hospital here. I truly truly thought that night was going to be my last, when you hear nurses and doctors all panicking and losing their cool around you it is a very scary experience.

So what is the point to all this rambling? I think it was my own way of trying to make sense of why I’m still here. My way of frantically trying to remind myself that there is at least one place that’s scarier than here and that’s lying in A&E having knuckles pressed hard against your collar bone as they shout at you to open your eyes and you actually can’t or when you hear them talking about needing a helicopter to get me to the main hospital asap or hearing the numbers of your blood pressure and knowing those numbers are way too low… knowing that you are now totally dependent on these people saving your life, that very same life that you so desperately wanted to end.

Having bipolar disorder has taken me to some crazy places within my own mind. The mood cycles and their unpredictability of when they will come and how long they will last for are crippling at times, but after the disaster has always come a little hint of stability if even only for a couple of weeks before a new ‘episode’ starts and you go through the whole cycle again. This time I genuinely am trying to avert disaster and find absolutely anything at all to cling onto, anything that will help this to pass and allow me to feel like I’m coping for a little while longer. Because as scary as this is the thought of lying back in that A&E department relying on people to save you or waking up to find myself in the psychiatric hospital again or even just the feeling of being a little bit judged by turning up needing sewn back together after cutting too deeply are all even more scary tonight than just sticking with the familiarity of this current episode, my ongoing version of mental hell.

18:51 – Where I am and where I should be

24 Nov

Where I am: Hiding in my flat. Still in my pyjamas. Greasy hair. Unwashed. Massive amounts of anxiety coming in waves and trying to suffocate me. Depressed. Feel sick. Stomach hurts bad. More anxiety but accompanied by pain. Heart feels all fluttery. Don’t like it. Can’t control it. Can’t get it to stop. Too many thoughts all racing at once. Not sure which ones are distressing me the most and causing this ‘attack’. Is it the ones from the past or the future or the here and now? I don’t know. They are all coming at once. Thick and fast. All I can do is curl up and lie in the dark room alone waiting on it to stop. If it ever will.

Where I should be: In the cocktail bar with my cousin celebrating her ‘hen night’. In the health spa relaxing. (How can I ever go to a health spa or swimming pool again when my whole life story is written all over my body and told in scars?) I should be with my cousin tonight. My Mum is there. My Aunt (mid cancer battle) is there. Friends have travelled from all over the UK to be there tonight. And I, the only female cousin she has, and with only six months apart in our birthdays, the girl I grew up with the closest thing I’d ever have to a sister, the girl I went on holiday with every year. I should be THERE. And I’m not. And it hurts deep inside, it hurts my very core. My Mum phoned me last night to ask me for some funny stories to tell about my cousin from when we were kids (the head bridesmaid asked everyone to think of a funny story about her to embarrass her, just for fun) and I probably have more funny memories to speak of than anyone else there besides her Mum. And that makes me sad. Ok. That makes me cry it would seem. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. We always said when we got married we would be each other’s bridesmaid. And not only can’t I be that, I can’t even be there on her big day, I can’t be at the hen night tonight, instead I am consumed with crazy thoughts and phobias that I don’t know how to fight… I don’t know how to make them stop. I feel so very sad that I’m not there with everyone and instead of being there to enjoy her hen night with her and to be part of it, I will learn of all the fun and frolics from facebook statuses and from my Mum when I next speak to her on the phone.

This just wasn’t/isn’t the way things were supposed to be. And it is killing me imagining them all enjoying their night, having drinks and sharing stories, silly party games and nice food. I imagine laughter filling up that room tonight and I feel so alone. Quiet. Dark. Alone. Lonely yet I don’t want anyone near me. I ask myself again and again. When is this going to stop…

Image

17:04 – Where’s the missing piece…

17 Nov

21:31 – And I finally lost the plot

12 Sep

Today has been a shit day. This post has talk of self harm just to let you know in advance.

I had a shit night’s sleep, I woke up in a horrible mood, I was crying within half an hour of being awake. Thoughts were just spiralling round and round in my head, I felt so many emotions, I felt so angry and so alone and so messed up. I tried to go back to sleep, it was only 7am but I couldn’t. I tried to distract myself watching TV but I was just blank. So I sat and wrote a letter, to no one in particular, about how I felt regarding my care team at the moment. Basically a lot of what I wrote in my last post – that I felt completely unsupported by them right now. Come 9am I knew that today was going to be the day I lost the plot and did something stupid. By 10.30am I had got a stanley knife blade (yes I went blade shopping again yesterday after getting rid of them all just a couple of weeks ago) and that stanley knife blade resulted in an angry slash right down over my calf muscle. I then put a bandage around it and tried to go back to sleep.

But the sleep didn’t happen. There was blood everywhere despite a tight bandage being on. So I got dressed and walked the dogs. Then around 11.45 I took myself to a&e and sat there depressed, saying very little, just showed them my leg without even looking at it myself and heard her saying it would definitely need stitches. She asked me to go back to the waiting room because the room where the stitches were was being used but by this point it was like 12.35 and I had my CPN at 1pm. So I phone my CPN and tell her I am in a&e waiting for stitches and might be a little bit late. She tells me I have until 1.20pm to get there or she won’t be able to see me until next week. How that is the case when our appointments last an hour I don’t know but anyway I went back to the a&e nurse and told her and she said she didn’t think I’d be stitched up by 1.20pm so she took me back into the room and put a dressing and another tight bandage around my leg and told me to go to my appointment – the mental health team building is in the same grounds as the hospital – and to come back straight after it to get stitched up.

So I went to the appointment with CPN and I read her the letter I had written earlier in the morning. I straight out told her that I thought she had dealt with the situation on Friday really badly, that she hadn’t followed my crisis plan and had just passed the buck to my GP. She said to me if I didn’t feel like she was supporting me properly then she would ask the manager to assign me to work with someone else. I told her I didn’t want that to happen, what I wanted was for her to admit that she didn’t follow my crisis plan correctly. She neither admitted nor denied it, she said she was sorry I felt that way and I carried on with my letter.

The next part of the letter spoke about the amount of time I spent working with the last CPN on composing the crisis plan and how I feel as though I’ve always stuck to my part – i.e. if I have put myself in any medical danger I don’t call the mental health team I take responsibility for what I have done and I go to a&e if the injury/overdose is serious enough. Yet their part of the crisis plan was to recognise that when I was in a crisis situation they would see me and make a plan to keep me safe for the next 24 hours for example. Has that happened when I’ve been expressing all these self harm and suicidal thoughts lately? No.

I then moved on to what the point of the CPA meetings were when the agreements made at them weren’t being kept by certain people. I told CPN I was angry that social worker had agreed to monthly contact and never followed through with it and was in fact, uncontactable in all ways. CPN agreed with me that was not good and she also said it was not good that a&e had been asked to tell them any time I attended there and they didn’t do that after the recent sexual assault, it was me who had to tell CPN then CPN apparently went up to a&e to ask what had gone on although I didn’t know that until today. So she wrote a letter to a&e telling them again that they must inform the mental health team of any of my visits.

CPN said to me she could see why I was feeling unsupported by them at the moment – well by my CPN and social worker. The woman from rape crisis and a&e and lovely GP have always been helpful and supportive. She said herself if it was her that was me she would probably be feeling quite rejected so she obviously realised that she didn’t follow the crisis plan correctly on Friday. She raised the issue about my social worker again and I said that I personally felt as though because 5 months has now passed where she hasn’t stuck to the monthly contact agreement that she no longer had an excuse and was just avoiding me because she wouldn’t know what to say to me any more if I asked her what was going on. CPN said this was very bad practice and asked me why I still wanted social worker in my care team if I felt this way. I had written down a list of reasons why I had wanted to keep social worker in my care team, like CPN asked me to on the phone yesterday and I gave her the list. She agreed with all my reasons and said they were all valid ones, but she still wondered why I wanted to keep someone in my care team when I felt so let down by them. She suggested it was out of some sort of loyalty and maybe she is right. When I was first going properly bonkers about 3 years ago my social worker was my rock. She was amazing. If I look back on posts way back when I first started writing this blog I talked so much about how lucky I was to have her in my care team and how much incredible support she gave me. And the thing is that despite the past 5 months, I still remember ‘back then’ I still remember her as the lovely social worker, the one who gave a damn about me. And no matter how frustrated and even angry I have felt/am feeling towards her at the moment I will never ever forget how much she made me feel like she cared. And that is something that is hard to let go of, I will still sing her praises even when I’m moaning about her and saying I think she is avoiding and ignoring me and that she no longer cares about me. What can I say? She spent a hell of a lot longer being a good person in my life than what she has spent as a not so good one and for some reason I hang onto that.

CPN then started to tell me that as she is leaving at the end of this month and going to be handing me over to the new permanent CPN that is starting, that there is going to be about a 4 week period where she will be busy with the new CPN and may not be able to see me much over that time while new CPN settles in. So her suggestion was that I work with social worker on a weekly basis for 4 weeks until I start working with new CPN properly and that this would also give the chance for me to feel supported by social worker again, for the bad feelings towards her to go away and then maybe at the end of the 4 weeks I would feel ready to say to social worker to go ahead and discharge me. I said I would like for that to happen but I knew it wouldn’t. I just know social worker will not see me again. CPN said that if she asks social worker to see me over those 4 weeks and thinks for any reason that social worker won’t stick to it then she will arrange for someone else to see me. She promised me she wouldn’t leave me with no contact person or appointments for a month.

Then… the most ‘pathetic?’ thing happens (I don’t want to call it that but that is genuinely how it looked and felt). CPN says she will walk me back to a&e to get my leg stitched up but needed to go to the toilet and put my notes away so she said to go and have a cigarette out the front and she’d be 5 minutes. So I’m standing outside having a smoke and I hear a car and naturally glance round. It is social worker. Now social worker ALWAYS parks right next to the mental health team building, then there is a kinda car park thing as well which only had maybe 4 cars in it. But social worker sees me standing there, we glance at each other for maybe a second, and she carries on driving right the way up to the furthest point she could get to where there are only two tiny little spaces. I turned my back and finished my cigarette. I glanced back round, she was still in her car away up the top. I almost laughed because I could be completely wrong but my head said to me – she has seen you and hopes you haven’t seen her and is actually hiding up there so you don’t speak to her – CPN then appears out the building and I say to her, “guess what social worker has just arrived back” so CPN says lets go and speak to her and see if we can sort this situation out. I say to CPN that she is in for a walk and point to where social worker has parked her car (and was STILL in her car). CPN looked genuinely puzzled and said she now didn’t know whether to agree with me that social worker was actually avoiding me, she said “I don’t understand why she has parked away up there, she always parks down here and there are plenty of spaces”. She said she would try and find an opportunity to speak to social worker and ask her if there was a reason why she wasn’t seeing me, and see if she could get some sort of answers for me. She also said she would give her the list that I wrote about why I wanted to keep her in my care team. And then came the magic moment, CPN says “why do you want to keep someone in your care team when they are ignoring you?” she ADMITTED it! She agreed with me! I’m not going bonkers, social worker really is avoiding me! And I have no idea why…

Gosh this post is getting long.

So we go back to a&e, CPN says she will see me next week and try and talk to social worker in the meantime, I sit in a&e for a while then the doctor came and got me – the same one who had seen me the day after the sexual assault. There was a nurse in the room as well who I have seen a couple of times after self harming and she is really nice. The doctor is nice as well, but was concerned about me. But then he asked to see the wound and there was a moment that was actually kind of amusing and made us all smile for a moment, he realised it was my calf muscle I had cut into and (sorry this is gross) but when I bent my leg you could see all the fat layers pushing right out of the cut, and the doctor’s face kinda went white just for a brief second and he said “I know I’m a doctor but there is something about calf muscles that has always made me feel a bit sick when I see them” and the nurse asked the poor guy if he wanted her to take over. We all giggled just for a second. But it took the horrible-ness of the situation away and relaxed things. The doctor took a breath and said no he would be brave and face his calf muscle fear lol. Between the two of them they got 4 sutures in, glue between all the sutures, steri-strips on top and then a dressing and bandage. I have to go back on Tuesday to have my stitches taken out.

He asked me why I did it and I told him my head has been really messed up since the assault, that I have had hard decisions to make regarding whether to make a formal police statement, that it has brought a lot of my childhood abuse memories back again and I was struggling with it all, but that I was getting good support from rape crisis. I told him we’d had a CPA meeting on Thursday last week and I’d told CPN and Mr Psychiatrist that I was having suicidal thoughts and had been self harming again, but I’d managed to keep the self harming quite shallow so it hadn’t needed medical attention. He said he knew this obviously wasn’t any kind of suicide attempt – after all who would cut their calf open to try and off themselves? But that he was concerned the suicidal thoughts were still there. I reassured him I didn’t want to walk down that path again and although the thoughts were present I had no plan to act on them. I told him I couldn’t put my family through that again and today I had cut out of anger and frustration and just feeling really utterly crappy and alone. He urged me to go back and see them if I thought I was going to act on the suicidal thoughts before I acted upon them and let them help me; but besides medicating me I don’t really know what they can do. I told him I’d been very low on Friday and had seen lovely GP and been given Nitrazepam to get me through the weekend but that I knew I couldn’t rely on medications to get me through all these emotions. Somehow I have to face them all and go through the hurt and the unpleasantness and not medicate my way through it all. He was glad to hear I had started my uni course on Monday and was managing to use that as some sort of a distraction.

And so, other than seeing my best friend and the kids for a little while and having dinner with them, that has been my day. I knew this day was coming, it was creeping up slowly over the past few weeks and I finally lost it and cut real bad, but I feel like something is out of my system now, I feel calmer now I have done it, I do of course have some regrets like that I have scarred myself again but I guess it’s much better I cut than swallowed a shitload of medication and tried to do myself in. I feel some sort of a relief from it, I hope now I have done it that I won’t feel the need to do it again. I will admit I do have a pack of blades back in the house and the doctor asked me if I would at least consider throwing them and all medications that I didn’t need in the bin. I told him I’d think about it.

I was supposed to be meeting with the woman from the charity I want to start doing voluntary work with tomorrow but my head isn’t in the right place for it just now so I phoned her (and she sounds so lovely) and just made up an excuse that I had a lot of uni stuff on this week and didn’t want to not attend when I’d only just started the course and could we postpone. Unfortunately her next available date when she is in my area isn’t until the 1st of October but that should hopefully give me enough time to straighten things out in my head again and be in a much better place to appear as a good person to work with their charity and the young people they work with. I can’t support others if I can’t support myself so I truly hope over the next couple of weeks things might start to feel better. That the suicidal thoughts will pass or at least become manageable and that I won’t self harm again before then.

I have nothing planned for tomorrow other than to do my weekly food shopping if I can face the supermarket. And I hope my textbooks I bought on amazon will start arriving so I can busy myself with doing some reading. On Friday I am seeing lovely GP just for a catch up and will have to tell her about the self harming, she will have the notes about it from a&e anyway. I hope I won’t be in a mess again asking for medication to get me through yet another weekend. I want to face this weekend head on, I just don’t know if I have the strength yet.

Well now that I have been writing for over an hour and almost 3000 words I think it’s time to log off, put my pj’s on and watch some TV, try and stay distracted and hope for a better night’s sleep tonight. Tomorrow can’t be any worse than today and that’s the only positive thought I am hanging onto for now.

15:31 – And why I’m not feeling so strong

25 Aug

I didn’t want to spoil my lovely award post below so I thought I would write a separate one. Right now I’m not feeling so strong at all. In fact very very weak.

Reasons? –

I feel very alone right now, I feel left out from best friend and not needed/wanted as she has other friend to spend all her time with. My stupid agoraphobia stops us going a lot of places, other friend doesn’t have this, they can go anywhere together, they both have kids, they have things in common. Slowly but surely I feel pushed away out of the picture.

Another possible reason could be that I am now pretty much off the Citalopram. I am down to 10mg a day until Tuesday and then I start the Mirtazapine so maybe that is affecting my mood as I basically have no anti-depressant in my system right now.

The act of “being OK”, no, being “good” is starting to wear thin and is proving harder and harder to keep up. Inside I feel as though I am crumbling. The thoughts of wanting to self harm badly, or worse, the suicidal thoughts are very much present right now. What is stopping me? Trying to hold out for my uni course starting, trying so hard to believe things are going to pick up and get better, not wanting to fuck up my chances of doing the uni course by ending myself up in hospital, or worse, dead.

We have this highland games thing here this weekend. Usually I look so forward to it, it’s a really good day out, the little town that I live in becomes very busy, there are pipe bands marching all day, lots of stalls and rides, there are lots of highland games type sports on (but I usually give that bit a miss, going to the beer tent instead) and yes, I don’t have much money to go out and enjoy it, but best friend chose to go to it with her other friend. I won’t lie, they did invite me, but she text me at like 9.30am when I was still fast asleep. By the time I woke up at like 11.30am they were already talking about heading home. They are going out tonight drinking, I am sitting in my flat alone. I don’t even have anyone to go and watch the fireworks display with. Just me and the doggies, alone, left out, feeling so low.

I don’t want to be away from my doggies again, I don’t want to have to give the responsibility of them to my parents or anything again not when they are both working long hours. But how much longer can I cope with feeling this way? I have no blades or anything in my house to hurt myself with, but if I just put some clothes on and walked two minutes to the top of the street I could go to the craft shop and easily sort that out. Do I want another scar? No, I really don’t. My video I made the other day showed how much of a mess my body is in from previous self harm acts. I am very aware of how many things having these scars prevents me from doing, I don’t need another, yet I need to release this emotional craziness from my brain.

I am scared to go to the hospital and say I need help. I don’t want people to think I need help again. I still want this pretence to continue, that I am well, that I am fine, that I am looking to the future. I don’t want to let them down.

But my moods swing so drastically from one moment to the next that I find myself thinking do I need to be in the psych hospital for a little while until things calm down? But I know I hate it there. I can see it in my head, the moment of arriving, the being put in a room full of strangers, the utter boredom where there is nothing at all to do. The walking up and down the corridor all day to go outside for a cigarette then wandering back to my bed, lying on it for a while, trying to read a book or something to pass the time but having no concentration. Every time I’m in there I feel worse before I feel better, I always end up making further suicide attempts. The last time I was in I was ripping bedsheets and curtains trying to make something that I could use as a noose then getting so frustrated that I could find nothing to hang it from. I get there then I want away again, I try to escape/abscond, I try and get to the nearest shop and buy tablets to overdose on. I don’t want to overdose, I don’t even think I want to die. Yet my head keeps telling me that I do.

I can’t put my family through all that again. I’ve stayed out the hospital since January. We are now in August. I have put in so much work to get better and stay slightly more well in these past 7/8 months. I can’t walk that path again. I can’t do it to the people who love me again. They all think I am focused on getting my flat repainted and sorted, trying to get my housing transfer, starting my uni course. But am I doing all of that for them or for me? That is what I am no longer sure of.

I don’t know what to do, I really don’t. Do I go and have a shower, walk the dogs like it’s another normal day and sit and battle these feelings all night? Do I phone for help? Do I take myself to the hospital and admit I can’t cope and deal with whatever actions they recommend? Do I go to the craft shop and buy some blades and cut myself to let out this pain? Do I open the cupboard door and take out the 4 boxes of paracetamol and remaining weekly medications?

Where have all these feelings come from? Nothing really makes sense. I don’t know what to do. I feel stuck. Completely and utterly stuck in my own misery and horrible thoughts. And I just do not know where to turn. I need help please.

15:08 – Post #560 – The girl who seemed unbreakable; broke.

31 Mar

That pretty much sums it up. I am broken and I have crumbled.

Whether or not the damage is beyond repair is still to be discovered.

For now, thank you to everyone whose taken the time to come on this journey with me.

It has meant so much.

(((big hugs)))

 

18:41 – I miss things…people…etc

28 Mar

My favourite song of all time…

I hurt myself today,
To see if I still feel,
I focus on the pain,
The only thing that’s real,

What have I become,
My sweetest friend,
Everyone I know,
Goes away in the end”

…never have truer words been spoken.

Professionals, friends, lovers… all gone.

Somehow I drive them all away.

There is someone I really miss but they too are just a memory.

Someone once told me “friends like you make happiness happen”

I wish that were true.