Tag Archives: crazy thoughts

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

17 Apr

Trigger Warning – graphic talk of self harm in this post

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God this post is getting long…

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

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

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

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

Anyways….

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

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

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20:52 – Craziness ‘on hold’

4 Aug

After my last post I knew I couldn’t carry on feeling so unstable. It was getting far too dangerous and far too likely that I was going to act on the thoughts. So I phoned the out of hours doctors and told them that my mood has been very low for the past couple of days and I knew it was heading to a place I didn’t want to go to. The person on the phone was really nice and understanding and said I had done the right thing by phoning them for help rather than hurting myself and phoning with an emergency. They made an appointment for me for 8.10pm to see the out of hours doctor at the local a&e.

It was a male doctor I’ve not seen before, I explained the situation to him and he was a bit concerned that I was coming home alone and that if my mood carried on getting lower there would be no one here to stop me acting on it. I tried my best to reassure him that if I could just calm down then I would be OK. I just needed the racing thoughts and extreme anxiety to calm down.

He checked my blood pressure and pulse, both of which were sky high and he agreed to give me some Lorazepam. So he gave me 2mg at the hospital, 2mg to take at bedtime and a spare 2mg in case I need them during the night or something. He was actually very nice and said to come back straight away if I felt like the medicine wasn’t doing enough to help me rather than hurt myself.

So I’ve had my Quetiapine, Citalopram, Diazepam and Lorazepam. Everything is still racing but ever so slightly slower now enabling me to write all this down. Hopefully in the next half an hour or so I will be able to breathe normally again and my heart won’t feel like it’s about to jump out my chest and I’ll be able to think straight again.

For the moment my craziness is on hold, I hope and pray it calms down soon, I can’t handle much more of feeling this way.

17:26 – Just fucking crazy

1 Aug

Things really aren’t good at the moment. I feel like everything is too much and I can’t deal with it all. I so want to be positive and think I can do this college course but something deep inside is saying that I can’t do it, I’m not strong/clever/intelligent enough. I find myself just sitting here thinking that nothing makes any great deal of sense, I know what I want but I don’t have enough faith in myself that I can achieve it all.

I am in a huge amount of debt to my parents, I am 30 years old and they still have to bail me out every time I fuck something else up. I am still living in this one room and bills seem to be hitting me left right and centre. I wake up and am not even sure that I’m actually here, I have to like pinch myself to see if I’m actually alive. Today I walked the dogs in a complete daze, I picked up my weekly prescription and tried to sort out the ongoing saga with my boiler that keeps blowing fuses. My phone kept ringing from the gas people who keep saying they are going to disconnect me if I do not pay my bill. I paid a bit of it off last week, I paid a bit more of it off today, I had to borrow yet more money from my parents… Fuck is any of this actually making any sense because it’s not to me.

Let me try and put things into some sort of an order.

Firstly my boiler keeps breaking down. It was brand new fitted in February and I had no problems with it until last week when it blew a fuse. Then it got fixed then it blew again. The housing association whom I rent my flat through then had to debate whether to get the manufacturer to pay for the part as it is still under warranty or whether to get a local company to get the part. Anyway I don’t know what they have decided, all I know is I have no central heating or hot water. And they aren’t going to be able to permanently fix it until tomorrow at the earliest, they phoned me today to say it might even take until Monday – how the fuck am I supposed to manage with no heating or hot water for almost a week??

Whilst this is going on, I have the gas company chasing me for money for my first bill that I hadn’t paid on time. Every morning letters coming in saying they are going to disconnect me – it’s fucking broken anyway I don’t even have any gas! So I paid a bit of the bill last week and paid more today, for which I had to ask my parents for a loan of money. Pathetic at 30 I still need my parents to bail me out.

I’ve not been able to leave the house properly for the past few days because they keep saying they might be round to fix my boiler then never appear. Today they finally confirmed they wouldn’t have the part needed until tomorrow at the earliest. I know I am repeating myself a lot here but I need to write it all out.

My Dad said he would come down next weekend to paint my flat for me so it will be all freshly painted as and when they come to do a housing inspection for my housing transfer that I am still waiting for and still seem no closer to getting.

College course. Everyone saying they are so proud of me. People saying I am getting better. I’m not, my head is fucked. Boilers breaking, not knowing when they are going to fix it, hating having workmen coming and going from my flat and being in my space. Letters from people saying I owe money to them, I have no money, I borrow money from my parents and have no idea when I will ever be able to repay it. I try and pay little bits to everyone so they all have something but the total balances never seem to clear. I have a week to go until I get my next lot of benefits money and already it is all paid out on bills. It’s a never ending cycle of debt and misery.

I try and blank it out and go get myself ridiculously drunk. Because alcohol is really going to help right? And then I feel ill and messed up and hungover and back to that place where nothing makes any sense. Back to that place where I think I am unable to achieve anything and constantly doubt my ability to do this college course that hasn’t even fucking started yet. Worrying about things that haven’t even happened yet. Crazy thoughts, constantly.

I pack a bag and decide I want them to cart me away because I can’t cope any more and then realise I can’t go back down that path again, so instead I sit and cry. Again, nothing makes sense to me, the phone rings, people want things from me, people want to see me and I can’t leave the house. I am trapped by my own craziness. It’s all so fast and so random and so nonsensical.

Why can’t it just be an easy list like:

  • Boiler needs repaired
  • Flat needs painted
  • I have debts to take care of
  • I need a housing transfer
  • I am starting a college course

They all blend into one, they all mix up, I am left feeling crazy and start having the crazy thoughts. That I shouldn’t be here, that I’m not even here, that my life is just pretence. Then I pinch myself and sure enough I am here, I am alive, I am living in this mess. Living, surviving, not coping. But trying to appear as though I am coping so superbly well to those around me. Wanting people to be proud of me even though I don’t think I’m going to be able to achieve the things I have to do to make them proud.

See, this post makes no sense, it’s all mixed up and back and forth and that is how my head is. A complete rollercoaster of emotions. Up down, up down, inside out, outside in. Wanting to achieve but no faith. Trying to keep these companies happy and live on next to no money. A diet that consists of bread and beans most days. Borrowing from my parents just to get by for another few days. Cold, no heating. Workmen invading my space. Fixing things then things breaking again. Always needing to come back, I don’t want them back I want them to fix it for real then fuck off out my space.

I get a slap of reality that I am here. I am alive. I am existing. This is my life. I hate it. I want out. I don’t know where to turn. I don’t know how to feel ok again. Everything feels out of control, how do I get it back under control? What happened in the past few weeks where everything was so positive to ending up like this?

Life is fucking crazy. Too crazy. Back to looking for ways to self medicate myself through this for another 24 hours. Falling apart, pulling myself back together. Not having a fucking clue where it’s all going or when it’s going to stop. Voices? Are they back? I’m sure I hear them. Do I hear them? I don’t know. I hear something. I don’t know what is real anymore.