Tag Archives: christmas

17:35 – Slipping, sliding, swinging moods

1 Dec

I am stressed. Extremely stressed. And my anxiety is sky high. I am taking more Diazepam each day than the amount I am prescribed meaning that I would have run out about a week early if I didn’t have my secret mental meds stash, which I’m guessing, most of us have.

I have been finding it extremely difficult to concentrate as my brain seems to jump from feeling so foggy I just can’t think… at all… about anything other than how fucking anxious I feel… to thinking about too many things in a fast and mixed up order… unable to concentrate on the task in hand… jumping from one internet page to the next… still getting absolutely nothing done.

And I feel so awful because my parents are spending their weekend off work up at my new house redecorating it for me and telling me just to stay here in my flat and get my two uni essays written as they are both due by this coming Friday. I’ve managed to get a half hearted first draft written for one of the essays but it is an absolute pile of bollocks, in fact I don’t even think it’s answering the question that is the essay title. It’s just a big long ramble that doesn’t flow properly, doesn’t really go anywhere, just rambles on about nothing. I think half the problem is that I don’t know how to answer the essay question… I don’t know what we are supposed to include… but I do know that the shit I’ve written so far doesn’t really include any of the stuff that we have covered in the module. So yeah… I think I’m way off track with it… it reads pretty much how my mood feels… no logical order… no nice flow from one point to the next… no explanation… just chopping and changing from one thing to the next.

My mood feels as though it is slipping and sliding all over the place but then it always does at this time of year. As soon as we hit November I seem to start struggling a lot. Once we hit December I just want to curl up in a ball and hibernate until it’s the Summer time again. I know people reading this will think I have that Seasonal Affective Disorder but I don’t… it’s because I now start seeing Christmas trees popping up everywhere, every shop window full of gift ideas, having to buy presents for friends kids and it’s like with every gift I see this big invisible boulder comes out of nowhere and knocks me to my feet… and as I try and climb back to an upright position it tries to knock me down again and again with the constant voice I hear reminding me that this is yet another Christmas to face without my little boy being here. It is immensely difficult to put on a smiling happy face for my friends kids as their little faces light up when they open all their presents and all I can think is why? Why did my little one not get the chance to experience Christmas? Why do I decorate a cold marble head stone in the cemetery instead of having my little one here helping me decorate a Christmas tree and seeing his little face light up on Christmas morning? It doesn’t get any easier even though it will be seven years in February since I lost him. Every year I go through these same emotions and they hurt so bad. It still makes no sense why he isn’t here with me. I don’t even have a Christmas tree to decorate because there is absolutely no Christmas spirit in me at all.

Then once we finally get Christmas over with for another year and enter the new year I have a six week countdown until it’s his 7th anniversary. So yeah… from now through to mid February is a very difficult time of year for me and I’m used to it pulling my mood down to super low levels. I’m used to feeling really depressed at this time of year. The majority of my hospitalisations have been this time of year. I don’t know how I avoided a hospital admission last year… perhaps it was using my uni work as a distraction or maybe I was feeling a bit stronger… I’m not sure. But right now with the stress of knowing that somehow or another I need to get these two essays written and submitted in less than a week and at the same time start getting all my possessions packed into boxes to move on Monday the 9th, I’m starting to feel like I’m not really coping very well at all. I should feel some degree of excitement about moving to the new house but I just don’t. I just don’t feel anything about anything really. Other than moving between depressed to stressed to anxious to foggy headed and then my moments of having about 100 ideas in the space of five minutes where everything suddenly speeds up inside my head… goes too fast… then like a lightbulb blowing it all goes dark again.

I better go for now, my Mum is coming to pick me up in half an hour to have a Sunday roast dinner at the parents house and I still need to have a quick shower. I might post back later as I feel like I’ve got more to say but it’s all a bit muddled up in my head right now. Maybe it will all make more sense later on…


00:01 – Hoping and praying I’m doing the right thing

25 Nov

So… since I last posted I have made the rather huge decision to accept the offer of the housing transfer. I went with my Mum to view it for a second time on Friday afternoon and then had an hour to give them a final decision as they are closed over the weekend and if I didn’t want to take it then it would be offered to someone else on Monday. I felt massively under pressure and I still don’t know if I am doing the right thing but after an appointment with CPN#2 on Friday morning and talking things through with her I decided I do need to get out of this flat I’m in. There are memories everywhere I look and a huge amount of them are bad ones. But, as lovely support worker said to me on Thursday “the memories that you need to keep you will keep in your heart and no matter where you are living they will always stay with you” and I hope so much she is right.

The appointment with CPN#2 on Friday was one I’d actually go so far as to say it was ‘semi’ productive. Yes she asked what items I wanted to put on “the agenda” for the session which as you all know drives me mad… but for once I actually had things I wanted to talk about. I knew I’d have lots to say about the housing transfer so decided to make it our second thing on the agenda and first of all discuss the recent letter from the psychologist. I told CPN#2 that I’d felt a mix of emotions when I received the letter, initially I felt hopeful as I read the words that I was now at the top of the waiting list and the psychologist was now in a position to offer me an appointment… but then as I carried on reading and saw she was only able to offer me 4 sessions due to going on maternity leave in March I felt pretty gutted. I chose my words carefully and said to CPN#2 “I’m assuming you only recently found out yourself that the psychologist is pregnant again as I’m sure you wouldn’t have left me hanging on waiting for my sessions to resume with her knowing she was pregnant and knowing that’s why I had to stop working with her last time”… I looked out the window as I said it and CPN#2 didn’t say yes or no… she just left me to carry on talking.

I’m now quite sure CPN#2 probably has known for at least a month if not a couple of months and that was possibly my way of making a little dig at her to let her know that I knew she knew. But I kept myself composed and said that whilst I wished the psychologist all the best with her pregnancy, I really felt like I would find it extremely difficult to spend January and February watching her huge bump whilst also spending January and the start of February trying to keep myself mentally strong enough to get through my little one’s 7th anniversary. CPN#2 said that she understood and was sure the psychologist would understand as well. I told her I felt a little bit deflated after being on the waiting list since May and to finally be offered an appointment then not be able to take it. Again, I’m not really sure if we would have achieved much in four sessions anyway, but now it looks like I’m going to be waiting considerably longer. CPN#2 told me that they had been advertising the post for a replacement psychologist for a while (this is why I’m sure she clearly has known for a while that the psychologist was pregnant again yet kept telling me just to hang on as I was getting closer to the top of the list) but unfortunately they’ve had very little interest in the post so far. She went on to say that it was not looking very likely that they will have a new psychologist in post by March and I’d most likely be in for a long wait. So just as I felt like she couldn’t make me feel much more deflated she actually surprised me and said that she thought I really did need psychological input and was going to ask the psychologist if it would be possible for me to be referred to a different psychology team. Basically it is the team located at the psych hospital about 90 minutes from where I live and they offer an outpatient service so CPN#2 is going to speak with the psychologist and see if they could refer me there instead. I don’t know that I’d be overly keen in being back in the grounds of the psych hospital or having to travel 90 mins there and back each week/fortnight but I guess if they could start seeing me in the next couple of months it would be better than waiting for God only knows how long to see a psychologist here. So that was the end of that conversation and I guess I can only hope for good news the next time I see CPN#2 that they are going to make the referral.

After that conversation was over with we started talking about all of the pros and cons of moving house. I talked about everything that scares me about leaving my flat behind and moving onto somewhere new but CPN#2 kept pulling me back to the positives of it all. She sat for about ten minutes painting this lovely scene of me waking up on Christmas morning with my little doggies bouncing around on my bed playing with their new toys… me getting out of my bed and being able to open my back door whilst still in my pyjamas and let them out to the garden… relaxing in a nice hot bath and getting ready to see all my family… peace and quiet around me, no noisy neighbours… getting the doggies and my presents and just having a five minute walk round to my parents house… talking almost like the way they do on hypnotherapy cd’s and I wanted so so much to feel this happy relaxing scene she was painting but in my head all I could see was me being in my flat. She then started to talk about how I needed to try and separate my anxiety associated with my “illness” and normal anxiety. That moving house was stressful for everyone who does it and it was normal for me to be having all these doubts but that she really thinks I need to leave this flat now and start afresh.

So I left the appointment with CPN#2 and came home and got the dogs and went for a long walk with them for an hour and tried to get my head straight. Then Mum came and picked me up and we went for the second viewing of the house. There is a lot of work that needs doing in it. The whole place needs completely repainted, the walls are going to need sanding down as someone has obviously put some plaster on to cover up little cracks but not bothered to smooth it out so there are big bumpy bits all over the walls. The ceilings and skirting boards need painting too. The flooring isn’t in a very good condition but I think I’m going to take my flooring from this flat and have it re-laid in the house as the rooms are slightly smaller than in here so it should fit. So after twenty minutes or so of viewing it I said yes I would accept it and we then went to the housing office for me to sign the acceptance forms. I have an appointment at 3pm tomorrow to collect the keys and sign the tenancy agreement. Then we had to go to the housing association from whom I currently rent my flat and was told I have to give them a 28 day notice period that I am ending my tenancy here which is a pain as we then had to go to the housing benefit office who have said that they will only pay the rent on one property at a time so I’m going to have to try and move as quickly as possible… ideally within a week as I will have to pay the rent on the new property out of my own pocket until I hand the keys back for this flat. But Mum said not to worry about that and that she and my Dad would pay a week or two’s rent for me.

So tomorrow it’s all going to start feeling real. Once I have the keys Mum and I are going to spend a few hours in the new house cleaning it all. I also need to phone a couple of removal companies tomorrow and get quotes from them to see how much it is going to cost to move all my heavy stuff like furniture and electrical appliances. Then on Tuesday I will need to contact my gas and electricity companies and arrange to have pre-payment meters installed in the new house. I also need to go to the post office and get a form to arrange to have all my mail redirected for a month or two to give me the chance to contact everyone to notify them of my change of address. I also need to phone and arrange to have my phone line and broadband moved. Then I need to start packing all the things that can go into boxes that I can move with the help of the parents. I feel like I have sooo much to do and to be honest I’m finding it all quite overwhelming and scary… I’m so thankful I do have my parents to help me with all of this because I think I would have fallen to pieces by now if I had to try and do it all by myself.

Plus I have less than two weeks to write and submit my two final essays for this term which I had intended to try and make a start on this weekend but I went to an engagement party last night and had a little bit too much to drink and have been suffering for it all day today. My own fault but never mind… I’m sure I’ll get them done. Sometimes I feel like I work better when I’m under pressure with a deadline fast approaching as I have no choice but to just study and write and study and write until it’s done. Maybe not my best work but so long as I scrape a pass that is all I really care about. I may just get my phone line moved and study from my parents house whilst they’re at work using their internet… at least I don’t have any distractions there and should be able to get my head down and get some work done.

So the next couple of weeks are going to be crazy, hectic and super busy but hopefully in a fortnight’s time I will be fully moved, essays done and on my Christmas break from the uni course and able to relax and get the rest of my Christmas shopping done. I’m hoping and praying that I am doing the right thing and won’t regret leaving this flat as once I leave I can never get it back… that’s it gone for good to become someone else’s home. And that really does throw up a whole mix of emotions for me. Whilst I need that fresh start I will also be very sad and probably quite emotional when the day comes that I’m sleeping here for the very last night. I have a feeling I am going to just sit here completely consumed with so many memories of the past 7 and a half years jumping into my head. But I am trying to trust my instincts and the words of advice other people are giving me and I do need a blank canvas to start creating new memories in… a new place to build into my home… right now it might just be ‘a house’ but I can make it ‘a home’ eventually I’m sure.

Big, scary adult decisions… argh!

Well I think 2000 words of rambling is quiet enough! I can’t quite believe that this time tomorrow I will be sitting here with the keys to my new house. It’s all happened so fast I just hope I can keep up and it doesn’t start going too fast that I get myself all into a big mess.

Deep breaths… keep calm… think of the positives… and when it all starts feeling overwhelming take a couple of Diazepam, try to be mindful and try to calm down… I guess that’s all I can do :/

Scared just doesn’t cut it. But I keep telling myself I’m only getting the keys tomorrow, I’m not moving tomorrow, I won’t be moving for at least a week yet, the more time I spend round at the new house getting it looking nicer the more familiar it will become and the more comfortable I will be when the official moving day comes around. I bet this last week of living here is going to fly by.

Another chapter of my life closing and another empty one just beginning…

16:08 – Struggling. Again.

22 Dec

I forgot to mention in my last post that I shouldn’t be so stressed about Christmas as things had changed around a bit for this year. For the past couple of years I have spent Christmas morning with best friend and my little ‘nephews’ so she didn’t need to give them their presents alone and so I didn’t have to spend Christmas morning alone. This has proved to be both a good and bad thing. Good because I do enjoy watching the little ones opening all their presents and the big smiles on their faces; bad because it’s like I’m being tortured minute-by-minute as each present they unwrap just makes me all the more aware that I am never going to get these moments as a Mummy to my little boy… Never going to see his little face all excited seeing Santa had come… And it hurts a lot that I will never ever be able to change that.

In February it will be six years since my little boy was born an angel and went off to Heaven, I truly thought it would get easier, but it just doesn’t. And Christmas is supposed to be that time of year when families all get together and it’s like every family event that takes place reminds me that someone very special is always going to be missing 😦

Anyway, best friend phoned on Wednesday to tell me that her ex had phoned and asked if he could have the boys for Christmas this year. She was reluctant at first but in the end decided to agree. So the plan was for the boys to go to their Dad’s on Thursday and stay until the 26th, so they will love it as they will get all their presents from Santa on Christmas Day at their Dad’s then the next day will be back home and get all the presents that Santa has left there – so two Christmas Day’s in a row – I’m sure they will be spoiled rotten from everyone! So as it was all a bit sudden as the boys Dad was getting them the very next day and then when they come back their grandparents want to spend the day with them opening their presents back home so I decided I would just take mine out to them on Wednesday night. They both loved their toys and gave me big cuddles and kisses which was nice 🙂 In a way I’m glad it all turned out this way because it is one less thing to stress about on Christmas Day, although it also means that I’ll be waking up and spending Christmas morning alone which isn’t so nice…

After that I came home shattered and wrote my last blog post which was all about whether or not I would manage to sleep in my bed for the first time in ten months due to this huge psychological barrier I have built around my bedroom. And well, the sleeping in a bed thing is slowly beginning to happen. The first night I took my laptop through with me and lay on the bed and watched a film. When it finished I decided I was going to try to get into the bed properly and close my eyes, but as I was getting undressed I started to feel the anxiety building up inside of me. I didn’t want to feel the anxiety and I was so tired after a few days of moving every item of furniture in my flat back and forth between rooms. So the first night resulted in me coming back through to the living room and lying on the sofa, trying to just breathe my way through the panicking feelings and after a while I calmed down and fell asleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night freezing cold as I had no blanket and realised both my little dogs were lying on top of my blanket, curled up and sound asleep. So I got up and went through to the bedroom, tried to make no big deal of it and just climb in and get snuggled up. I hoped I would go straight back to sleep but it was as if someone suddenly flicked a switch and I found myself wide awake and thoughts beginning to race through my head. Short but fast flashes went through my head of all the bad moments that had taken place in that room and after about an hour of this I was just getting myself into a mess so I got back up and went back to the sofa.

At this point I decided to take some Diazepam to try and just calm myself down. I couldn’t get back to sleep so decided to put another film on with the hope that if I picked one that you really need to concentrate on, that my brain would just give up and let me sleep instead. I got about ten minutes into the film and was yawning again so I made one last attempt at going and lying on the bed and watching the film. At some point I fell asleep although it was only for a couple of hours until the postman knocked the door and woke me up at 8.30am. So the first night wasn’t a very great success.

The second night (Thursday night) was very similar to the first night except I decided to take some Diazepam about half an hour before I wanted to try and sleep to see if I could take the edge off the anxiety a little. I thought this was working as again I lay on the bed and began watching a film and I felt OK. But as soon as the film finished and there was silence again I felt the overwhelming urge to escape out of the bedroom and run back to the sofa where I sat up most of the night watching crap on TV until finally being so exhausted around 4 or 5am and deciding I would just go and lie on the bed and put yet another film on. And again I didn’t manage to get into the bed but did get 3 or 4 hours sleep laying on top of it before hearing the post come through and that was me back up again for the day.

Yesterday (Friday) I was getting very tired after only having about 6-8 hours sleep in the previous 48 hours and my lovely Mum came to help me make the little finishing touches to my bedroom – hanging my new curtains and new light-shade – then she took me to the supermarket and bought me some food in after noticing my fridge was empty. The supermarket was a nightmare with so many people in doing Christmas shopping. I could feel myself becoming so irritable as it was taking forever to dodge trolleys and having people banging in to me and then the queues at the checkout’s were just crazy. It took the best part of an hour just to get two bags of shopping and I left the supermarket feeling so stressed out there was probably steam coming out my ears!!

Finally around 7pm I sat down and had some dinner, watched some TV for a few hours and then before I knew it it was midnight so I took my medication and then took the dogs out for their bedtime walk. When I got back home I tucked the dogs up in their big blanket. They have been so good and seem quite happy to sleep in a different room to me, I think so long as they’re together and nice and warm they are happy 🙂

Then I took my laptop through to the bedroom to put yet another film on. When it finished I was really struggling to keep my eyes open so I closed them and just laid there. I remembered something that the lovely social worker I used to work with often said to me, it was about letting the thoughts run through your head and not fighting them, not trying to stop them, just being aware of them and letting them run until they pass. I guess in a kind of mindful manner. And I tried very very hard to do this but the thoughts got me into such an anxious mess again and for the third night in a row they won and I was up and down all night long.

Today (Saturday) I am getting really exhausted now but I’m going to keep trying to sleep in my bed. Eventually the exhaustion will take over and when that point comes I will be like a small child on the program Supernanny who has to be taken repeatedly back to their own bed until that point finally comes where they fall asleep in it and remain asleep all night. I am determined not to let myself lay down at all on the sofa just in case I fall asleep. I know any sleep is probably better than none but I am adamant that when that severe exhaustion takes over it will be my bed that I sleep in, not the sofa. I have to overcome this and keep fighting it.

There was something else that I wanted to talk about that was probably a lot more important than rambling on for about 500 words about where and when I’ve slept… my brain is a bit pickled just now… Anyway I wanted to talk/moan about the CMHT (community mental health team). Now they have recognised and identified that Christmas is a particularly hard time of year for me and new CPN said at our last appointment that she was going to give me an appointment for Monday (Christmas Eve) and the following Monday (New Year’s Eve) so I had weekly support and on the days before the ‘big’ days that are likely to be in some way triggering for me. But I got a phone call on Monday saying new CPN had phoned in sick and now no-one has called me back all week so I don’t have an appointment now on Monday and I’m worried about how I will cope if I have to get through the Christmas and New Year week’s with no support. I can’t even see my support worker from Rape Crisis because they are closed now til the 7th of January. The CMHT know this is the time of year I am most likely to harm myself or end up being admitted to hospital and they say they will help to make sure that doesn’t happen this year and then they don’t contact me to offer me any form of support. Even if new CPN is still off sick it would be nice if someone made contact with me even if it was just to ask me if I thought I would be OK over Christmas with no appointments. But of course that didn’t happen.

Anyway I have rambled on for long enough. I’m tired, my head is a little noisy, I’m feeling quite alone and unsupported from a ‘professional’ point of view but then my lovely Mum has been trying so hard to support me. And I am so extremely grateful to her, she has helped me so much and tried so hard these past couple of weeks to help me get my flat looking presentable again and make my environment a happier place to be… but it’s the ‘mental’ things I’m struggling with and find them hard to talk to my parents or friends about. Plus I feel massively guilty to talk about how much I still want to self harm badly when I’ve got someone who is doing everything they can to make things better and a little less stressful for me. How can I still want to do all these bad things when someone is trying so hard to make things good for me? It doesn’t make sense. I am still doing the blood letting stuff with syringes but I think it’s the pain I need to feel rather than the blood I need to see as it isn’t giving the same feelings of release as it was a week or two ago.

Fuck. I really wish I could be a better daughter to them.

I really do.

22:38 – When you just can’t find the words

16 Dec

I feel as though the increase in Quetiapine has made me a bit stupid. I get half way through sentences and completely forget what I’m rambling on about. So then I look double as crazy because not only was I rambling about something nonsensical to begin with I can’t even make my nonsense have a point to it.

Tonight it would seem I can’t find the words to write about what I want to write about. I actually wanted to write a somewhat intelligent post about a question I have swirling around my brain but I don’t know the right words tonight.

Additional to that thought I am also thinking a lot about my angel baby, about heaven, about Christmas without him again… These thoughts are making me feel lonely and sad. Lonely and sad inject themselves into the already ridiculously strong self harm urges. Visually I can picture graphic wounds and I want them so badly. Not the scars, I fucking hate the scars, I always feel ashamed of them and jealous of people who can view them as their ‘war wounds’ – then – maybe they view them that way because they’re winning their war and I’m still stuck right in the middle of mine. At war with myself, that sounds pretty apt. So the scars I know I don’t want, but the release… I need the release… I need to bleed and bleed and feel some of this badness leaving my body. I need that so much, I don’t know the words to express how badly I need this.

So why do I keep saying it but not doing it? Simple. I don’t want anyone to see or know. And I know I would have no control over the severity of the wound if I were to cut with the head crazies present. I have tried letting myself do very very shallow cuts over the past few weeks, barely more than scratches, as I thought by doing this it would calm the more severe thoughts down a bit. But it hasn’t, they are worse than ever.

Sorry, I just can’t find the words tonight to write anything else. My head isn’t in a very good place this evening. I have my weekly appointment with new CPN tomorrow morning at 10am, I have no idea what we are going to talk about. I’m having one of my ‘I don’t want to go to the appointment’ moments and can’t see the point to it at all, maybe I will feel different in the morning.

Then at some point during the day tomorrow the carpet fitter is coming to deliver all the new flooring which he is coming back to lay on Tuesday and Wednesday. So I need to get everything out of the living room tomorrow night and put it in the bedroom so he can lay the flooring in the living room on Tuesday and then somehow move everything back into the living room and all of my bedroom furniture into the living room so he can lay the bedroom carpet on Wednesday. And then move all the bedroom stuff back in there. So it’s going to be a busy few days which I probably need even though it means having strangers in my flat for a couple of days which I sincerely don’t like. It’s most anxiety provoking and horrible. But it will be some kind of distraction I guess. I have also bought new bedding and have decided to move the bedroom stuff around so that it all looks different, and put some nice wall art up as well.

And maybe one day I’ll manage to sleep in that room again. You would think after 10 months of sleeping on a two seater sofa I’d be desperate to get into a nice big double bed again… But no… That bedroom is a total head and mind fuck.

So yeah, I guess I can sum up by saying I’m not feeling too great mentally although I’m starting to feel slightly physically better. I took my 5th tablet (out of 28) today to heal the suspected stomach ulcer and was only nauseous in the morning, an hour or two after taking the tablet I began to feel better and kept my dinner down this evening so I’m glad that the amount of time spent with my head down the toilet is now on the decrease.

Even though it’s only 10.30pm I’m going to bed (to wrap a duvet around me on the sofa)… turn the lights out… watch a couple of new stand up comedy DVD’s that have just come out… and hope I laugh until I fall asleep. If I don’t laugh I fear I may cry and I can’t handle tears tonight.

Goodnight folks xx

00:12 – Impossible

11 Dec

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

‘Tell them I was happy,

And my heart is broken,

All my scars are open….’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again… Impossible…

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

My brain… impossible…

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

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

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

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

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

Goodnight folks

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

5 Dec

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For you little man:


19:59 – I can’t write

3 Dec

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

18:48 – Meeting new CPN & how everything has gone to fuck

1 Nov

Everything is fucked up right now. My head being the main part of ‘everything’. I am struggling so hard to find any concentration, motivation or focus on anything. I had a tutorial for my uni course yesterday afternoon and I felt like I didn’t have a clue about what to say so just sat there quietly reading it all. I am contemplating emailing my student advisor and just making her aware that things aren’t good right now, but I’d rather just see if I can push on with some of my reading and see if I can narrow the gap a bit.

Yesterday I also had a support session with the woman from rape crisis and we are starting to talk more in detail now about how I am still affected from my childhood abuse and the assault in August has just kinda catapulted back a load of old hidden away memories. She frequently asks why I don’t feel deserving of things or why I play down achievements when I should be letting myself be excited or proud of myself or whatever.

I met my new permanent CPN today. I’m not entirely sure yet what I make of her. She was doing my head in at times because she kept saying all this shit about how I was “articulate and intelligent” and then making me feel like I couldn’t tell her how I was feeling because it was all going to sound crazy. And she’s telling me I’m this “intelligent young woman”… At times it felt almost patronising like at one point she asked me to explain how my anxiety makes me feel and when I said the word “paranoid” she then made me explain what paranoia meant and kept saying things like it was a “huge word” and a word used to describe “people who are very unwell” and all this shit and I just completely lost interest in whatever she was going on about. She then dragged up my old crisis plan and gave me a copy of it with a blank crisis plan and she wants me to fill it in for when I see her next Friday. I cannot be fucked even looking at it.

I have been eating takeaways. I’m 1-2 weeks behind on my uni course. My thoughts race too fast. I’m constantly thinking about self harming. I’m also constantly thinking that I can’t cope in this world, it’s all overwhelming me and I just want to run away and hide for a while. It feels like everything has gone to fuck, the weight loss is currently weight gain…. the uni course has gone from a great distraction to a massive worry… the housing transfer application has gone from me feeling hopeful to completely hopeless… Christmas is just around the corner so the TV adverts are starting up, the shop windows will soon be full of Santa’s and the little Elves and Reindeer and toys and it will be another ‘festive’ season to get through both single and childless (but with a very bright shining star in the sky).

Ugh I just completely and utterly feel like who am I kidding? I’ll never get the career I want, I can’t stay stable enough for more than a month before everything in my life starts to go tits up again. Or everything in my head does. And I know it’s too soon to say but I just got a first impression from her that I am going to find her very annoying with all her “you can do anything…” – “you’re so articulate…” – “you are doing so well with your recovery…” Just like shut up. Seriously. I don’t want to hear those things, it makes me uncomfortable, I don’t like any type of praise, I don’t deserve it, please STOP saying it!!!

I so want to do something bad. I’m not entirely sure what, but my brain is squirming with ideas from the ‘little-bit-bad’ end of the scale to the ‘see-you-in-the-next-lifetime’ scale. I don’t feel safe. I don’t feel like I want to be here. I don’t feel like any of the craziness in my head is ever going to go away permanently… I truly believe that this is it for me now… A future of dipping in and out of craziness, a life time of anti-psychotic medication, a head that goes so fast I can’t keep up or so slow I feel like I have been set to operate in slow motion. Things are spiralling… I’m just not sure in which direction.


13:11 – Some random ramblings

22 Oct

I don’t have anything in particular to say for myself so I’m just pointlessly rambling here. I added some new music to my iPod this morning, I’m in love with the song “promises” by nero at the moment (the one I mentioned in post below) and also in love with Christina Perri especially her song Jar Of Hearts. Something about it resonates with me.



I saw my social worker yesterday, it was good to catch up with her. We actually used the session to do something practical and got my concerns about my rent sorted out. I had received a statement in, saying I was very much in arrears. But after some phoning around we found out what was happening and then it all made sense again.

I have been buying too many things off of amazon these past few days. Pointless and unnecessary things. I’m becoming an amazon junkie and need to cut my use down a bit. The only useful things I bought were the kids christmas presents (my best mate’s kids obviously). So I have bought all their christmas presents and birthday presents for January. I’ve bought a couple of little things for my best mate. I have still to buy for family but that’s because I refuse to buy a present for someone until they have specifically told me what they want. What’s the point in going out and spending say £50 on something that someone will never use/hates? Equally the people who drive me nuts are the ones who say “oh don’t get me anything, I don’t need anything” – well you know what, you’re probably right, you probably don’t need another perfume set or pair of socks or box of chocolates, but if you actually sat and thought about it then I’m sure you could think of a little thing you wouldn’t mind having. I know so many people say Christmas is either “all about the kids” or some religious mumble jumble – but to me it’s just exchanging some small gifts with family and friends who are just showing love for one another. That’s it. Simples.

I am realising this is the last Saturday I am going to be 29. It’s my birthday on Friday and turning the big 3-0 is a bit scary. I was a lot more freaked out about it a few months ago than I am now right enough. It just saddens me really that all the hopes and dreams and all the things I said back when I was 20 that I wanted to achieve by 30 haven’t happened. And it is a bit pants being single. It would have been nice to have had someone tell me they love me and someone to cuddle into on my birthday morning like on other “special birthdays” my 18th and 21st. Never mind, the doggies will have to do. I don’t really have anything planned for my actual birthday itself, but the next day some family and friend’s are coming out for dinner to a lovely restaurant, and then us “young ones” are getting dressed up Halloween style and going on a pub crawl. I am going as a devil. I know… I’m not very inventive.

I can’t think about anything else to ramble on about just now as although it is lunch time I have also been up seven hours now and am pretty exhausted, I need a bit more sleep I think.

Protected: 08:48 – 2nd year of xmas eve anxieties

24 Dec

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