Tag Archives: confused

21:20 – 24 hours in my crazy head – What do I do now?

21 Apr

This post was started around 9pm on Saturday night (the 20th) and goes on through to tonight – it’s very long – graphic in places – so *insert trigger warning here*

I don’t understand why I feel this way I am feeling at the moment. Or maybe it’s more that I don’t understand why it’s suddenly hit me with such force. All I can think about is hurting myself and I’m trying so fucking hard to fight it but I can’t. It’s winning. I’m trying so hard to distract myself, I’ve used just about every suggestion on my ‘distractions’ tab at the top of the page. Nothing works.



I am completely stuck in this horribly miserable depressing state of mind. I feel so empty yet in so much pain. And now I’ve had to go and trigger myself haven’t I… my stitches from Wednesday were itching like mad because they had put layers of some special material between the stitches and the dressings. When the pressure bandage was on I didn’t notice the itchiness so much but since it got taken off yesterday all I’ve wanted to do it scratch and scratch. So the couple of extra dressings I had are now also gone because every time that material touches my skin I end up ripping it back off. And that was me fired straight into Trigger Time.

Seeing all the cuts, seeing the stitches, looking at both legs that are in a complete mess just makes me want to do more and more damage. At the back of my mind all I keep thinking now that I’ve made this much of a mess I might as well just keep on going. The usual regrets that come in the aftermath of a self harming episode have not come… it’s almost as though I didn’t do a good enough job to release everything on Wednesday and so I need to cut again to get back into that ‘regretful’ headspace. When I’m regretting what I’ve done then I generally don’t do it again for a while.

But this is getting bad, if things continue on this way I know I am going to cut badly again, what the fuck will A&E think of me/say to me if they need to put a second lot of stitches in so soon after me last doing it? How do I know how the doctor will react? In my head I think and feel and know that it’s all just about needing to cause more pain, it’s not really about wanting to die or anything remotely suicidal no matter how disgusted in myself that I am. I just want to be able to take a deep breath and feel calm again.

One minute I feel rational and think “well, if I cut and if I do need to get medical attention well they will just patch me up as usual and send me on my way”. I’m not psychotic, I’m not suicidal, it wouldn’t be a suicide attempt. I know if I can say those things to the nurse/doctor then everything should be OK regardless of how true that really is.

But I’m becoming more and more agitated and irritated and the only one thing stopping me from cutting is the fear that this time if I have to go to A&E they will say “fuck it’s the weekend we better put her in the bin”… OK so that has never happened to me, I have never been hospitalised for self harming but that new doctor on Wednesday seemed like the type who’d take no nonsense and not help with giving any meds to calm me down which is likely to get me more and more worked up until I start behaving in a less rational manner.

I don’t know how to stop these thoughts. I don’t know how to make the voices shut up. My iPod isn’t helping. TV isn’t helping. I can’t go for the long hot shower thing as I can’t get my stitches wet, especially now they have no dressing over them. I don’t even know what I feel. Emptiness? Numb? Messed up? Confused? Depressed? Scared? Like I’m about to lose it? Very very scared of ‘losing it’.

It’s 9.40pm now and I can’t even sit still to write this. I need to walk or pace or something. This is driving me mad. I’ll save this as a draft for the moment and come back to it later.

UPDATED – 11.30pm Saturday 20th

It’s now 11.30pm. Two hours have passed since I wrote the ramble above. I have taken my medication, a few extra diazepam included. I have half had a shower (I tied a plastic bag around my leg to cover my stitches) but feel cleaner now, my hair is clean, my leg isn’t itching so much either. I have also been out for a late night walk with the dogs and got some fresh air but there were a load of drunk people staggering between pubs so I didn’t stay out for long.

Where is my head at now? Still in the exact same frame of mind as it was earlier unfortunately. Perhaps the restlessness and irritability have calmed a little with the medication starting to kick in, and my thoughts are going at a slightly slower pace. It’s the exact same feelings of impending doom that I had for a couple of days at the beginning of the week before I cut. Knowing it will happen, just not knowing when it will happen. It could be tonight, it could be during the night, it could be tomorrow or I might even manage to fight for a few days but the longer it goes on for the more of those feelings of being in a pressure cooker with the lid about to blow go on for. Yet because that immediate desperation has calmed slightly it is giving me the space to reflect upon what the consequences of my actions will be if I do go ahead and cut myself:

I will have another scar or two.

I will have to face A&E.

There is the possibility of them being way too busy with drunken people who’ve been fighting and what not and me having to sit for a long period of time making me more and more anxious.

There is always the fear of being judged or someone not understanding that I’m either appearing completely silent or talking non stop due to anxiety, not just because I’m a bit mental.

OK it is now 11.45pm and I’m going to go and lie in bed and just see what happens. I have no idea how tonight is going to pan out, it really could swing either way. I’m so so so confused and messed up at the moment, I just want it all to stop. Will one more cut make it stop? I don’t know. I really don’t.

I’m not going to publish this post yet as I have a feeling it’s going to be a night of having difficulty sleeping so I’m going to keep adding and updating until my mood makes a real change or until the urges win and I collect another scar.

UPDATED – 4.22am Sunday morning

4.22am I’ve been awake for about half an hour I feel horrible and very emotional. I think I woke up crying or at least it felt that way. That urgent desperation to hurt myself has calmed but with the calm it’s like that big black cloud of doom is now sitting over me instead. I sort of wish I had just cut earlier and got it out my system but will one more cut get it all out this time? I don’t know. I feel all messed up, all I deserve is to lie here and completely absorb all this misery.

UPDATED – 1.55pm Sunday afternoon

I feel calmer. I have stopped looking at triggering things online. I have put all the blades back in the drawer. I am going to take the dogs for a walk and try to clear my head. I need to get out of here and away from sharp objects that I can’t stop thinking about using. The thing is that I don’t want to see anyone at all, I have already lied twice today and send two texts saying I wasn’t well and was staying in bed to avoid them asking to meet up.

I just want to be on my own even though it’s probably the worst thing I could be doing. I don’t care. I just want to be left on my own until these urges finally go away 😦


Ok I have fought and fought. I can’t fight any more. The blades are back out the drawer and my spot on the bathroom floor is ready and waiting for when the moment is right. The towels are there, the blades are there, the dressings are there. Maybe I could just do lots of little cuts to get that intense stinging sensation. That way I could avoid A&E completely. I don’t even have any skin closures at home though, just some bandages.

I think that I’ve fought against the head crazies for long enough now. It’s time to just give in, let them win and hope they fuck off. There is no certainty that they will though and I’m scared that I end up being right back in this very position within another few days. I’m supposed to be going back in to A&E tomorrow for another wound check and to have the dressings changed, I can’t go in tonight and tomorrow and then again on Wednesday to get these stitches out then possibly a few days after that again to get more out. They will think I am completely bonkers. I’m just so terrified of the unknown. The unknown being – which nurse/doctor will see me and how they will assess me. In a way it would help if I took someone with me, when someone is with you then they think you have support so are a lot happier to just treat you and let you go. But where I live we don’t have crisis teams or out of hours mental health people so the judgement on whether or not you are “a risk” lies with the A&E staff. And that is fine when it’s someone who knows me a bit, but is extremely scary when it’s someone I’ve never seen before.

I have to do it. I have to get it out of me. It is tormenting the hell out of me now and I want to shout and scream at the top of my lungs – I want to throw a tantrum the way a toddler would and just scream and throw things around for no real reason other than it feeling like the right thing to do. I am ridiculous. Pathetic. Weak. Ridiculous.

UPDATE – 9.10pm Sunday night

I did it. I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t cope with the urges and thoughts and voices all joining up and making me feel so mental. I had to get it out. I just had to. Three fairly nasty cuts. Three cuts that are all probably going to need stitches. My dilemma now? I honestly don’t think I can go to A&E. I can’t face it. Regret has finally kicked in. It’s a shame it took a bunch of new scars to get there. I don’t know what to do now, I don’t know where to turn, I don’t want to tell anyone and even though the cuts are all deep and gaping, the bleeding is under control. Best friend will be at home with the kids in bed, she can’t leave them so I can’t ask her to come to the hospital with me. My other friend who has come to the hospital a couple of times with me thinks I don’t self harm any more and I’d like it to stay that way. There is the option of my Mum but she has just finished a long shift at work and will be having dinner, probably enjoying a glass of wine and I don’t want to phone and tell her what I’ve done. So that leaves two options: go myself or don’t go at all. I’m scared that when this blurry trance like feeling passes and the physical pain starts kicking in that I will have no choice but to get medical help and I’m also aware that wounds not cleaned or dressed properly which are gaping open are far more likely to become infected. I feel sick with anxiety. I’ve never felt like this after self harming. I feel really really weird. I wish I had just fought on a bit longer. I could have won. I didn’t need to let it win. Why did I let it win? I’m so stupid.

I don’t have a fucking clue what to do.


19:25 – It’s all muddled up

1 Mar

Voices, thoughts and ideas have all been racing through my head since I woke up this morning. I didn’t sleep very well last night even though I took my medication properly. I’ve been feeling pretty messed up all day today and because my head has been all over the place I’ve just stayed in using the excuse of having to do some studying so I didn’t need to go out anywhere other than to walk the dogs. Of course I didn’t actually get any studying done at all because my concentration is completely gone and I don’t know how to get it back.

My head feels very muddled at the moment. I don’t know how to describe it but it’s kind of like I know something is going to happen but I don’t know when or what. I have this sensation of some kind of impending doom but I don’t have specific details of what it is that I’m afraid is going to happen. But it feels like something bad. Taking my medication last night and again this morning has quietened the direct commands and instructions but my thoughts are still racing around really fast, jumping from one thing to the next and then onto something else like I can’t seem to stay focused on just one thing. So as everything chops and changes I get nothing done, the voices make no sense because they aren’t speaking in full sentences just a few words then stopping. Things aren’t connecting properly and I’m left with a completely pickled brain.

I don’t know if I prefer it more the way things have been over the past few days when I wasn’t taking my meds properly but was seeing and hearing things much more clearly or if I prefer this slowed down speed but all totally mixed up. I think (well I know because they told me) that the chitter chatter voices are angry with me for saying too much on here and for saying too much to lovely support worker yesterday. I try to make a deal with them that I won’t say anything more about what they ask of me on here or to anyone. I promise them I will keep it all private then after some amount of mocking and warnings and telling me I’m a failure and how I betrayed them until they finally quieten down again. Then as soon as my head quietens with voices my thoughts and all these ideas start whirling round one after the other after the other.

So needless to say today I have achieved nothing. Zero. Zilch.

Blah it’s all such a mess. And right now these feelings of some kind of impending doom that I’m having are actually quite unfamiliar to me because usually when I feel like something bad is going to happen it’s more like a pressure cooker that builds up over the hours, days and/or weeks until the lid finally blows. But it doesn’t feel like that, it feels massively confusing while everything is going fast and not making sense. Then things go slow but leave me depressed, tearful, filled with dread – about what I don’t know.

It’s just all muddled up and my mind is crazy. But the craziness begins to speak the truth, just a truth I’ve never realised before, but then people say that the truth is craziness and what does that do? Muddle me up even more. I am so confused and nothing is making much sense at the moment.

What I need is some proper quiet time for my brain to just relax, but I really think that is asking for the impossible at the moment.

23:07 – You have to say hello before you can say goodbye

27 Jan

I heard a quote today which has been ringing in my ears ever since. The quote was “you have to say hello before you can say goodbye” and when I heard it my eyes instantly filled up.

Is that why it’s so incredibly difficult to accept the loss of my little boy? Is that why almost six years on I still can’t deal with it, and why every year as it approaches his anniversary I start to think constantly about ending my life here on Earth to go and be with him? Is it so impossible to even think about saying goodbye because I never properly got to say hello? And I’ve been thinking for hours and hours – did I say hello? I think that I did, I’m sure I remember saying those four words “hello my little man” through my tears as I cuddled him. But what if I didn’t? What if I never said hello?

This is making me feel so upset and anxious and emotional and yes I’m crying again. Because I can’t remember if those words came out my mouth and I have no idea why it matters so much to me but it’s just upsetting me so much.

I don’t have anything else to say. I just needed to write that down.

OK, take a breath. Stop the tears.

This weekend, what have I done? Nothing really. I’ve had a very boring weekend, although I did finally go back to A&E and got my stitches out after noticing one had actually gone completely under the skin so it was a bit uncomfortable getting that one out but the others were fine.

My Dad said he was going to come down to my flat tomorrow to start painting the skirting boards and lay the new flooring in my bathroom and hallway (or at least get the flooring cut properly to size then lay it next weekend. Tomorrow I officially start my next two university course modules but my thoughts are swinging between being completely blank and numb to racing fast and feeling completely unstable.

Sometimes I just don’t understand who I am, what I am or why I’m here. I really don’t. And it confuses the hell out of me. I wish life could make more sense. I just wish it could just be straightforward for once.

23:36 – So fucking confused

28 Nov

I had another reasonably good day but tonight has just been so confusing and anxiety provoking.

I managed to go to my appointment this afternoon with my support worker from rape crisis and we had a good long chat about a lot of things – mainly things I was rambling on about blaming myself for and her telling me that I’m always so hard on myself. I’m not, I know I’m to blame for stuff and she says that’s not true, but, whatever. I can’t find the strength to debate it.

I told her about the house exchange, how confused I am about it all. How can you be so sure that something is what you both want and need but then be offered that thing and feel nothing but anxiety surrounding it all? No excitement, not even the tiniest bit of happiness about it. I just want it to go away. I don’t have the energy for all the upheaval that moving home brings. Support worker got where I was coming from, she understood and said that I have to do what *I* want and not do anything just to make someone else happy and live to regret it. See, I’ve been thinking about it from every angle (over-thinking it more like) and I’ve realised that if I go ahead with it then I will be taken off the transfer list because it will be seen that I have a home that meets all my needs. But I just have such a bad feeling about it all. I have convinced myself that I won’t be happy there, that I can’t cope with the anxiety at the moment on top of an already very stressful time of year for me, I’m trying to balance my head crazies and not let them tip me over the edge and right now just feels like completely and utterly the wrong time to think about moving anywhere.

Support worker agreed it sounded like too much stress for me and said she was worried that if I take that extra stress on I will put myself at too much risk of becoming unwell again and she knows how much I want to avoid any hospital admissions this winter. I don’t want a repeat of last year or the year before. I want to get through Christmas and New Year and then the little one’s anniversary all in one piece with no suicide attempts or episodes of psychosis or any of the other bad stuff.

I gave my Mum a call tonight and ended up talking to her for almost two hours. She said it sounded like I had already decided that I’m not going ahead with the house swap now (argh only yesterday I was saying I think I am going to do it! what is wrong with me?!?) so we talked about the things we could do to make my flat all nice and cosy and get my bedroom all re-organised and nice clean bedding on and try to overcome this phobia I’ve developed of the bedroom. I really don’t know what to do, I am so confused. I just want to be happy. Or happier would do. And I don’t know where I’d be more happy and if I stay where I am for now I may get offered a transfer in six months time to a house which feels ‘right’ and when the time feels ‘right’.

I’m now really scared to tell the girl that I’m having second thoughts because she is really unpredictable and wouldn’t think twice about having a full blown argument with me about it or telling me I was letting her down or whatever else she wanted to shout about. And I don’t think I can handle that. I couldn’t deal with confrontation at the moment. How do I tell her?

I need to make a decision on this as soon as possible. I can’t deal with all the anxiety it’s giving me and I really don’t know what to do for the best. And if I decide I need to stay here I really don’t know how I tell the girl I don’t want to go ahead with it?

Ugh. I just want to run and hide away somewhere ’til I miraculously wake up feeling like a normal happy person again.

17:47 – Had a lovely night out with an ex, then disaster happened

7 Oct

Well yesterday was interesting. It started off like any normal day, I’d arranged to meet my Mum and we took the dogs for a long walk in the afternoon. I heard my phone beep and saw I had a new text message. It was from my ex that I met around 8 years ago when I was 22 coming on 23 and we were together for about 18 months. He lived for the last 6 months we were together in my parents house with me. I will refer to him as P.

P  treated me like a princess, but we both used to smoke stupid amounts of cannabis and when he moved in things became really frustrating. Neither of us were working properly, I was on benefits and he was doing odd jobs here and there for people. The more cannabis we smoked the more pressures there were for money and the more we began to argue. One day I just had enough, on New Year’s Eve of all days, I lost the plot with him over something really stupid and told him to pack his stuff and leave. We split up on 31st December 2005.

By this point my agoraphobia was really starting to kick in so he moved back to big scary city to his parents house and we lost contact with each other.

Around a year later I was with my angel baby’s Dad (my ex fiancé)  and I remember getting a text message completely out of the blue one day from P asking how I was doing. Even though things had ended a bit badly and even though our relationship had been really unhealthy with all the cannabis smoking, I still had fond memories of the time we spent together, so I text back saying I was OK and was with someone else and was pregnant. He replied and said he too had met someone else and had got himself a place on a training course for a really good job within engineering.

From there we sent the odd text or email maybe once or twice a year and I learned he was with a woman who had a little girl and after learning I was pregnant, he then learned of my loss. Another year or so passed and I was planning my wedding; he and his partner had just got engaged. Another year passed and I started to become more and more unwell and by now we were onto the start of 2009 and I was diagnosed with Bipolar. I remember mentioning it in an email to P. He said it sounded right as my moods were frequently changing from happy and hyper to low and withdrawn when I’d been with him but he’d thought it was the cannabis. Around this time we emailed regularly for a little while because my relationship with the fiancé ended and P had finished his training course so would email me often and let me know how his new career was going and to see how I was doing.

Then things went quiet for around a year, maybe more, I think it was the early part of 2011 when I saw another email from him. Again it was just an update and to see how I was. I didn’t reply because I think this was around the time I was detained and in the psychiatric hospital. One day nearer the end of 2011 I emailed him and asked how he was, if he was married yet, how his career was going and mentioned I had been quite unwell hence the reason I hadn’t replied until then. The reply I got back shocked and saddened me; his fiancée had cancer and it was terminal. I think I may have written about it on here back then I’m not sure, but that was when we went through another phase of emailing each other regularly. Sadly his other half died, I think it was around 6 or 7 months ago now. Even though he isn’t the biological father to her little girl he’d been in her life since she was 4 and is now just turning 11. She said she wanted to stay with him when her Mum died and that’s what’s happened. Her biological father died in a road accident when she was very little, so it’s quite a heartbreaking story for her.

Anyway… back to yesterday… I get a text from P who I’ve been in touch with on and off over the past 6 months and he says was the offer I’d made in an email of meeting up for a catch up chat and some adult conversation still open as he was finding the grieving hard at the moment and his ‘daughter’ was going to stay with her cousin overnight. I was really nervous but I understand all too well how sometimes when you are grieving you just need an impartial person to sit and talk it all out with. So I said yes it was fine and did he want to come here around dinner time and we’d go for a bite to eat. And that’s what he done.

I was nervous as fuck when he text to say he was in the local area. I looked at myself in the mirror wondering what he would think of me, 7 years since last seeing me, four stone heavier than last seeing me, no longer the 23 year old spring chicken I was back then. But in that time we have both gone through huge losses and life events, we are both older and wiser, neither of us smoke cannabis any more, he has a career and knows about my MH problems but knows I’m trying to better things at the moment now I’ve started the Uni course.

When we first saw each other it was awkward! Neither of us knew what to say and I think we were both kinda looking each other up and down, looking to see what had changed about each other and looking to see what was still familiar. I think we both looked the same facially, just a bit older maybe. He’d put a bit of weight on as well but that wasn’t a bad thing, he was really skinny when we were together and was now just the right size build.

We went to a local restaurant and he treated me to dinner. I was good and just had a chicken salad bowl with the dressing on the side so I could stick to my low carbing as best as possible. The conversation soon started up and before long was flowing away quite the thing. After dinner he asked if I wanted to go to a bar and have a drink. I’m not supposed to drink alcohol on my diet and have no doubt put on half the weight I’ve lost this past week as one drink turned into two, then to five, then up to about eight or maybe I just started to lose count. He only had two as planned to drive home at the end of the night and it was still early at this point.

We ended up meeting up with my best friend and her other friend and staying in the pub with them until it closed at 2am. I was starting to feel pretty drunk so went and got a bottle of water to try and sober up a little bit. The pub was so busy you could barely move but then I spotted a little seat in the corner and plonked myself down there. He sat next to me and all of a sudden said, “I think I’m going to regret coming down here” – I asked why – he said, “because now I’ve seen you again I realise how much I still like you”. I blushed and looked away with a little nervous smile on my face. I couldn’t look back at him without doing these silly little laughs so just gave him a hug instead and said thanks. We both looked at each other and there came that moment… the kiss was about to happen… but something flashed through my head that I had offered to meet with him as a friend, as someone to talk to, that he was grieving, so I just gave him a kiss on the cheek and then said I was going to the toilet.

We came back here after the pub closed at 2am and sat talking until about 3.30am. We took the dogs a walk together, it was so cold outside, Winter is definitely on it’s way! Then we get back to my front door and his car is sitting there and I ask him what does he want to do, come back to mine for a while or head home? Due to this current sleeping on the sofa situation I didn’t have anywhere for him to get some sleep and I wish so much now that I had just put the dogs in the house, got him to drive us both to my best friend’s house and used her sofa beds… because what happened next just ruined the whole evening.

He said it was probably best if he went home, we had that awkward moment where I know we both wanted to kiss each other but we didn’t. Instead I gave him another hug and told him to drive safely. The road he was taking home was going to take him the best part of two hours, it’s a bastard of a road in the day time never mind at 4am in the pitch black when you have been up all day and are shattered. But he said he’d be OK. I text him just after he left saying maybe it wasn’t a good idea for him to be driving home so late but he text back saying, ” got to concentrate on driving, was great to see you again, you’re still hot 😛 ” I giggled and text back “drive safe”.

90 minutes later I get a text, “just trashed my car, think I fell asleep for a second at the wheel”. I couldn’t believe what I was reading, it was just gone 5.30am and he sent me a photo of the view from the police car he was sitting in, the car I’d watched him drive off in was now a crushed heap on the road. After checking he wasn’t hurt I felt so guilty (and still do). I should never have let him drive home. He was breathalysed and it showed just a tiny trace of alcohol, like I say he’d had a couple in the early evening but then stuck to cans of Coke all night. The police got his car towed away and gave him a lift home after taking a statement about what happened.

We had such a good night last night, even best friend liked him, and then it had to go and end like this! He comes to see me for the first time in 7 years and ends up with a car that’s so damaged it’s a write-off and him nearly killing himself at the same time. I wished so much as I read those texts at 5.30am that I could just turn back the clock a couple of hours and have used my brain and said “no, you’re not driving that distance home, you’re getting some sleep first”… but I was a bit drunk and shattered myself and just wanted to flop onto the sofa with the duvet round me and fall asleep.

I know we were only meeting as friends, but he said in person and in text that he liked me. Then the crash happened and today his texts have been few and far between, none of them with little kisses on the end, I told him I feel so much to blame for what happened, he simply replied with “a lesson learned to us both, I’m sure we’ll both know in future not to let anyone drive when they are so tired”. I even offered him my car for as long as he needed it so he could get to work etc tomorrow but he said he would get a hire car until he got a decision from his insurance company as to whether they would pay out or not.

I know we just met as friends. I know he is grieving but he also kept talking about wanting to move on with his life. I know we weren’t compatible 7 years ago but we were so comfortable with each other last night that it was like we had never been apart. I didn’t say anything to him about liking him, he said it to me, twice. I’m sure he could tell by my face I was thinking the same but just didn’t want to say the words out loud.

He left last night saying he’d really like to come and see me again. From his texts today I don’t think he ever wants to come back to this place. I hate when these things happen, you do something completely random on impulse, you end up having a lovely time and then bang it all goes wrong. Instinct is telling me he is going to go quiet on me now, that we will lose touch again and that will be that until some other random email pops up in months to come. I’m not saying I want to get into any sort of relationship with him, not at all, but there was a definite spark between us and I’m now left feeling pretty blah that our lovely night together ended in such total disaster and now he doesn’t seem to be returning my texts.

Ah well, I guess if it’s destined for us to see each other again then we will. If it’s not, well such is life.

22:34 – The night-time crazy emotions and tears

28 Sep

It’s happening again… for the past couple of hours all I have done is cry. And again I am crying over nothing at all but cannot seem to stop myself. There is no reason for this and I don’t understand why it keeps happening. I just feel this lump start to rise in my throat, completely out of the blue and unrelated to anything and then my eyes well up and then the tears start to trickle down my cheeks until I’m in the state I’m in at the moment… huge big sobs, heaving, trying to catch my breath, my nose all snotty and mascara all over my face.

And I just cannot get it to stop. I have Alan Carr Chatty Man on TV which usually makes me Laugh Out Loud but it’s like I’m disconnected from it, I’m stuck in this state of shaking and crying and it won’t stop. It doesn’t stop until I’m all cried out, which sometimes takes hours. It’s been at least two already and I still have no control over myself.

It’s when I get in states like this that I think I need to do something drastic to make it stop – like cut myself – just so I have something visible, physical, some pain I can see and then the emotional pain calms down. And I’m not going to lie, I do still have a pack of blades in the drawer but I won’t use them, not tonight. I already have two wounds in the process of healing and I certainly am not going to a&e on a Friday night when it will no doubt be full of drunks.

I am going to try and do something sensible for once and call someone. I don’t know who yet, but I know it has to be someone I don’t know, I don’t want to speak to family or friends, I think I might phone a helpline based here in Scotland for people affected with mental health problems. I’ve known they exist for ages but have only ever called them once, quite recently actually, and found them to be quite helpful as they aren’t just a listening service but can offer advice as well.

I need to hear a voice so I stop feeling so alone. TV isn’t stopping the tears, writing these words isn’t stopping the tears, thoughts are starting to head in a bad direction and I need someone to just listen to my shit and then maybe it will all stop.

I just don’t understand why this keeps happening. I don’t understand what I’m so upset about. I don’t understand what the tears are for. It just keeps happening at completely random times for completely random reasons. In the past few weeks I have cried my eyes out so bloody many times it is just getting ridiculous but I seem to have no control over it. This afternoon when my Dad was here, he was painting, I was half taking down uni notes and half playing with the dogs and then out of nowhere I felt it, that big lump, my eyes welling up and I had to put the dogs on their lead and put my hood up as it was pouring with rain and just walk for half an hour trying to stop myself crying, then I came home and was OK for a few hours and then it started again because a fleeting thought went through my head of how I always tell my Mum I love her at the end of a phone call, the end of a text or when I’m saying bye after I’ve seen her – and I had the sudden realisation that I couldn’t remember the last time I told my Dad I loved him and he has done so much for me recently. And he was in the bathroom painting and I was in the living room quietly letting tears run down my face and I got totally stuck in this thought “does my Dad know I love him?”

Eventually it stopped. He went home around 7pm. I had an hour roughly of feeling normal and then it started again. And it’s still going now. It just won’t stop but right now I have no thoughts in my head, I’m not thinking about anything other than why the fuck am I crying again…

If it hadn’t been happening for weeks now I could maybe say it was to do with the fact I’m on a course of Provera to induce a period and it was hormones… or I could say it was due to being in the early stages of this Atkins super low carb dieting… but I know it’s not them because this has been happening since before either of those started.

It is something deep in the pit of me that is aching but I don’t know what it is aching over and I don’t know how to make it stop other than by hurting myself and the sobs are coming harder again because I know I will not allow myself to hurt myself tonight.

Quite simply, this already hurts too much.

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.

19:28 – A bit of an explanation

25 Aug

I wrote this post recently and said there may come a time I would expand on it and explain it better: https://mycrazybipolarlife.wordpress.com/2012/08/17/1814-a-very-sick-dissociated-girl/ just now feels like the right time to do that as it contributes a lot towards why my head is so fucked up today.

I met the guy a couple of times who I went on a couple of dates with. I liked him more than he liked me. On the Thursday (out of some sort of rebound?) I think I went online and think I asked a guy to come and meet me. I say think, because I can’t remember a damn thing about it. I can’t even remember the asking to meet him, or the meeting him bit which is even more bloody confusing. What I do know is that I was extremely sick that night, violently vomiting, nose bleeding, crying, scared and confused. Trying to walk the dogs and being sick outside, an old man asking me if I needed help. Me freaking out at him to get away from me.

What I didn’t tell you is that on the Friday when I went to see my CPN and I told her all about the memory loss and flashbacks I was getting she was concerned that I had somehow been spiked with drugs. I didn’t want to mention anything about it on here or to my family or friends in case they thought I had willingly taken the drugs. After seeing my CPN I went to a&e. They did a urine drug screening and it tested positive for a drug called PCP which is odourless, can be put in someone’s drink, and is fastly becoming a date rape type of drug. It also causes memory loss.

I kept having flashbacks on the Friday of being in the passenger seat of a car with a man with grey hair and a very Northern Scottish accent. He was forcing me to perform sexual acts on him in the flashbacks and then he had me pinned down on the car seat whilst he took my bottom half of clothes off and then tried/succeeded? to rape me. The doctor at the hospital examined me and he gave me the morning after pill, he found a lot of blood in my urine. He encouraged me to involve the police, I said I didn’t want to, I just wanted to try and forget about it and move on. They made an appointment for me for this Tuesday coming to go and have a full sexual health screening done. You see, I stupidly dabbled with a little bit of another drug very soon before this all happened, and I didn’t want my friends or family to know I had touched anything again. So I thought it was best that I kept it all to myself and told no one other than my CPN and the doctor and nurse at a&e. Like I said in that previous post I was also treated for second degree burns, which I’m not sure if I did by myself from being so out of it that I let cigarettes go out on me or what.

All week I have been taking these antibiotics knowing deep down that it wasn’t due to a kidney or urine infection in the way I told people. It was caused by severe irritation to my cervix/bladder because of what that mystery guy did to me. I finally broke down today and couldn’t take the flashbacks any longer, I wanted to talk to my Mum but she was at work so I went to my parents house and broke down and told my Dad everything.

He asked me if I wanted him to come with me to the police and make a statement. He said the police would be able to look at the history of my laptop and see if a conversation took place somewhere where I arranged to meet someone. (My laptop automatically deletes it’s history, cookies etc when I close it down). There are no messages or strange numbers on my phone from that day. That’s why I was so sure I dissociated it all. But when they told me there was this PCP drug in my urine that’s when I knew I didn’t.

I am sort of glad in a way that I can’t remember it in full because the flashbacks are traumatic enough. The little glimpses and bits of memory I do have are sickeningly horrible. Someone took advantage of me, invaded me, gave me an infection, spiked me, drugged me and made me perform sexual acts on them.

Should I go to the police? That was a question I went over and over with my Dad. I don’t want to. My Dad said if I had decided I definitely wasn’t going to involve them then somehow I need to put it all behind me and move on, focusing on the positive things I have coming up in my life like my uni course. Can I just forget it? That’s what I’m really struggling with. It’s all making me feel so fragile, so confused, so messed up. It’s making me want to hurt myself. It’s making me not want to be here any more. I was abused as a child, why would someone do that to me again? Why can’t I remember who he was? What would possess someone to do that to me?

I’m never going to get the answers unless I do go to the police but I have firmly made up my mind that I don’t want to do that. There wasn’t much time between me willingly dabbling with a drug and that happening, there was like 12-24 hours in it. All I know is I feel completely violated and am shitting myself about what the sexual health screening is going to show. This guy could have given me anything, God if he is willing to spike a drink and drug someone to have sex with them who knows if he also has something horrible like HIV that he could have passed on to me.

So this is why my head is so screwed up at the moment. I still haven’t told my best friend as there just hasn’t been the right opportunity where I’ve felt like talking about it. But my CPN, the hospital doctor and now my parents all know and I don’t feel quite so alone in it all. I know trying to hurt myself or kill myself is not the right answer even though it is so natural/so much of a habit to lash out and hurt myself when I feel so mixed up and confused.

So that’s my bit of an explanation from the previous post. I hope my head settles down over the next few days and I can do as my Dad suggested and somehow forget about it all. I don’t know if I can, but I can try. I know deep down I don’t want to walk the path of psych hospitals or suicide attempts. I want to live but not with a fucked up head. Hopefully now I’ve got it all out I can start to feel better. A while ago I was considering becoming a volunteer for the rape crisis centre and I know the woman who runs it, I’m thinking that I might go and see her on Tuesday after the sexual health screening and talk it all out with her.

So there we go, that’s why my head is so fucked up, that’s why I keep thinking it would be better for me just to end it all, but if I do that… he wins. He’s won anyway by me not reporting it to the police but he’d win even more if I took my own life over it all. The fact that best friend has been spending so much time with her other friend has just made me feel even more alone with my thoughts. I am contemplating going to the a&e tonight and asking for a couple of Lorazepam but I can’t keep doing that every time my head goes crazy. Instead I’m going to try my best to spend some time with my Mum and then tomorrow and Monday my Dad is coming to finish all the painting in my flat.

Onwards and upwards… somehow… right?

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.

18:14 – A very sick dissociated girl

17 Aug

I was so ill yesterday I can’t even put it into words. I had a massive dissociative episode. I don’t really feel like writing on here how or why it came about but it was extremely unpleasant and left me very very confused.

I have flashbacks today of vomiting a lot, blood pouring into the toilet and realising it was coming out my nose, trying to walk the dogs in the dark and vomiting violently into the bushes, an old man asking if I was OK and freaking out screaming at him to get away from me.

I saw my CPN this morning and told her about it. I also ended up with two second degree burns on my stomach where I had obviously been smoking and thought I had an ashtray sitting on me but had just sat them on my top, burning through my top and through my skin. CPN advised me to go to a&e and tell them what happened. I went to a&e and was in there for hours. They did urine tests, found blood in my urine, the doctor came and did all my obs which were ok, I was just so confused and could remember hardly any of yesterday just these horrible flashbacks of being so unwell.

The doc put me on a course of antibiotics for the blood in my urine. The nurse treated the burns on my stomach. They were quite concerned I had dissociated to such an intense level and was experiencing such horrible flashbacks. I was put on an ECG machine to check my heart was beating OK and the doctor checked me over externally to see if I had done myself any other damage. Thankfully I hadn’t.

It is a real shame it happened because I had a really good day on Wednesday, I met up with best friend and we went a drive away to the middle of nowhere to a little village for some fresh seafood in a lovely restaurant right on the quietest prettiest little beach. We also went to visit her Aunt and to the cemetery out there where her Grandpa is buried.

This is the view from the restaurant:

I was supposed to be going out tonight with the girls but I can’t really afford to and I’m also still feeling very sensitive from yesterday. Also I am on anti-biotics so drinking wouldn’t be the best of ideas.

I’m a very mixed up and confused girl today. I can’t believe it was all my head, there were other factors involved that I shall perhaps go into more detail about another day but for now I just want to sleep and sleep til I feel back to myself again.