Tag Archives: scars

23:06 – Just the most perfect song right now

25 May

Every time I see,
My eyes,
In my reflection…
I can’t help but be disappointed,
At who I am…

And every time I feel,
My skin,
Breaking on metal…
It helps me be quiet,
And quiet’s where I need to be…

Scars on my skin…
Scars on my heart…
Scars on my soul…
Reminding me of myself…

Scars on my skin…
Scars on my heart…
Scars on my soul…
Reminding me of myself…

And if I let you in,
You’ll tear me apart…

Every time I feel alone,
And left forgotten,
I have to believe in something…
Like angels,
To breathe…

And every time I see,
My pain,
Beating in rhythm…
I need to be silenced,
In silence where I hide my fear…

Scars on my skin…
Scars on my heart…
Scars on my soul…
Reminding me of myself…

Scars on my skin…
Scars on my heart…
Scars on my soul…
Reminding me of myself…

And if I let you in,
You’ll tear me apart…

So just hold me,
Wrap me in your arms,
Don’t let me fall again…
Teach me,
So I don’t have to learn anything more from you…

Isn’t my pain good enough for faith,
In you?
Isn’t my pain good enough for faith,
In you?

So just hold me,
Wrap me in your arms,
Don’t let me fall again…
Teach me,
So I don’t have to learn anything more from you…

Isn’t my pain good enough for faith,
In you?
Isn’t my pain good enough for faith,
In you?


00:21 – Terrified of the wrong side winning

12 May

“Do you know what I’m really terrified of? The wrong side winning. It’s as though my mind has split in two and I have no control over it. And the thing is, I’m beginning to get confused about which side is right and which is wrong.”

(Victoria Leatham)


That quote above couldn’t be more true right now. My mind is split in two and it is driving me mad, it’s tormenting me constantly, it’s trying so hard to pull me backwards and make me fall with an almighty bang. I have two things going on inside my head right now and the voices keep cropping up as well, making sure that my head is constantly busy.

Over the past couple of weeks I have been finding it incredibly difficult to watch television. I feel as though everything I watch is trying to trigger me, like the programmes are being deliberately controlled by someone to make sure just about anything I try to watch either leaves me feeling panicky or in floods of tears. There are two reasons for this, one is that I can’t seem to watch anything even a tiny bit upsetting or I end up in these moments of intense sadness and tears. The other is because there have been so many alleged cases of historical sexual abuse by soap stars and TV presenters reported recently that I feel as though every time I see a news report it is trying to fuck my head up. I start to wonder if this is a deliberate attempt to see if watching TV could send me properly bonkers.

I don’t know if this will make any sense, but some of the men accused I associate with happy childhood memories of seeing them in kids TV programs and others I have kind of grown up with as TV soap stars. And because my childhood wasn’t always happy as I was abused myself for a large part of it, when I see these news reports this noise starts up in my head just of laughter, a sick laughter that goes on and on until I switch the TV off. It’s not good enough just to put it on standby, it must be switched off at the wall. When I see/hear these reports I feel as though the evil laughter in my head is just one final way of reminding me that even the innocent happy memories of my childhood can be tarnished so easily.

One part of me reacts to it all angrily – very angrily – and I find myself sitting here thinking that all men are complete wankers, that I will never have another relationship because at the age of 31 I’ve had so many bad experiences with men that I genuinely do not believe I could ever trust one again. Even in the last week I have seen yet again just how much they can leave me feeling dirty and ashamed. I got talking to a guy online and after a few nights talking online he asked if he could have my number. Like a fucking idiot I gave it to him and he called me for a chat. It was pretty awkward at first as I sort of clammed up and didn’t feel like I had much to say for myself – I fucking hate phone conversations, they make me feel really anxious when it’s someone I don’t know. But I stuck with it as I’d had my medication and waited to see if I would calm down a bit and be able to chat away to him. Eventually I did start to calm and we talked about loads of different things. It was him who said he had just seen someone posting one of those stupid sick jokes that always go round when the media report that well known people have been arrested on rape or abuse charges. He asked me what I thought of it and as I’d already been honest about my mental health problems I figured I’d try telling him the truth. So I told him I hated hearing about it all as it triggered a lot of memories from times I had been abused. He sounded a bit sad when I said that and asked me what had happened. I didn’t go into great detail about the adult experiences but told him I’d been abused by an older cousin throughout my childhood. He began to ask a lot of questions and I thought it was just his way of asking to understand what I’d gone through, he sounded like he was asking it in a caring sort of way, and even though it felt a bit weird to be having such a deep conversation with someone who was still a stranger it also felt nice to be able to be open from the start with someone. He began to ask more details – how old was I when it first happened? What did he make me do to him? What did he do to me? How did he get me to keep it a secret? I answered the first couple of questions feeling OK but the more questions he asked the more I started to feel a bit uncomfortable. I could hear his breathing going funny when I was talking. At one point I thought he had fallen asleep as the breathing became so loud. And then it dawned on me what he was doing on the other end of the phone. I didn’t want to believe it but I couldn’t ignore it, I had to ask him what he was doing? Why was he breathing like that? Had he fallen asleep? How I wish he had fallen asleep because I was completely unprepared for his upfront answer that he was “getting off”, what did I think he’d do if I started “talking like that”?

I hung up immediately and burst into tears, went over to the wall and stood there banging my head against it over and over until the tears stopped. I had allowed it to happen. I was to blame. I made him aroused by telling him about some of my most painful experiences. I felt so stupid. So fucking stupid. But it is just another incident to remind me that apart from my Dad and my brother, I must look at every man like he has the potential to hurt me even if it starts making my head go crazy. I’ve been getting these rushes of ideas going through my head, things that could land me in serious trouble if I were to act on them, like carrying some kind of weapon so that if I ever get caught off guard I’d be protected. But obviously that is highly illegal in this country. Usually when I am in some type of depressive or paranoid episode I prefer to go out during the night when nobody is around. The dark makes me feel safe and protected, the day time busy-ness makes me paranoid and anxious. But this time it’s different, the daytime busy-ness protects me and keeps me safe. At night time I am vulnerable and terrified. I might not be allowed to carry any type of weapon to protect myself but I do let one of the dogs off his lead and walk with it wrapped tightly around my hand, I hold the thick metal end tightly as images rush through my head telling me to make sure I’m ‘ready’ if anyone tries to hurt me in any way. Thankfully there is only one walk a day that I have to do when it’s dark but it is getting harder and harder because I have to stay so alert to anyone else whose around. I can’t relax, my heart beats so fast I can hear it in my chest and I keep one of the dogs next to me at all times because I know they will bark like mad if anyone approaches us, especially in the dark.

When I’m not thinking of all possible scenarios whereby a man could hurt me I am thinking about all the possible ways I could hurt myself. It’s not enough just having these violent thoughts towards potential ‘abusers’ – my thoughts race off in another direction telling me that I clearly deserve to be hurt and abused because it’s happened to me by so many men at various ages throughout my life. I must attract it somehow. They must be able to tell just by looking at me that by slipping something into a drink or by acting all caring and sweet to get me into a conversation with them that they’ll be able to make me do things for their perverted pleasures. They must just be able to tell by looking at me that they’ll be able to use me for what they want then fuck off and leave me to pick up the pieces. I told my support worker at Rape Crisis all of this on Wednesday and she told me it’s not uncommon for women who have been abused in some way to go on to have a string of abusive relationships or experiences. I think the sick fuckers can smell vulnerability and just have to try their luck. So yeah, along with the thoughts of wanting to castrate every man who has ever hurt me there are also a lot of thoughts and urges to self harm. I want to see the rivers of blood trickling out of me, I want to grab a blade and cut and cut and cut. But I don’t want to go to A&E, my legs are still in an absolute mess from the last self harm episode, I’ve got an area on one of the cuts where I think I’ve done some kind of nerve damage as there is a bit about the size of a 50p which is completely numb, I can’t feel a thing when I press down on it, even with something sharp.

It terrifies me to have thoughts about hurting other people and I have to keep telling myself over and over that I’m just being overly alert and that it IS safe to keep going outside. I know I would never act on them unless I was put into an extremely threatening position by someone. But then one part of my head screams so loudly that I deserve for another man to hurt me, I deserve to be used and abused and left even more broken than I am just now. And that just feeds the images and the urges to self harm again, because I believe I deserve to be cut, scarred and to look as disgusting as I do. I should look even more disgusting than I do now, I should be covered from head to toe in self mutilated wounds. Then no-one would ever want to come near me again. By making myself less and less attractive I can protect myself, or so the racing thoughts and occasional voices blurt out to me.

What was the quote I started with again?

“Do you know what I’m really terrified of? The wrong side winning. It’s as though my mind has split in two and I have no control over it. And the thing is, I’m beginning to get confused about which side is right and which is wrong.”

Which is the wrong side? I guess it’s the thoughts of hurting someone. I can’t control the thoughts, but I can control my actions. I think. And like the quote says, I truly am terrified of this side winning.

So which is the right side? I wish there was a side which believed that one day I will recover from all of this and achieve some things with my life. I wish I could believe there is a right side and it is going to be a place where if not happy, I’m at least content. But I don’t believe that is going to happen so instead I have to wonder if the right side is actually all these thoughts and encouraging voices telling me to hurt myself? Hurting myself feels right. It’s what I do. It makes me focus on a different kind of pain, a physical ache feels so much better than an emotional one. After all, I can see what is causing my pain when I can see that I’m covered in stitches and the variety of wounds all at various stages of healing.

I simply do not believe that I am ever going to escape these intrusive thoughts or escape from the self harming behaviours. I have been self harming for 17/18 years now. The voices have come and gone so many times I’ve lost count over the past 4 years or so. Feeling different in every way from every one I know has been a part of my life for too long now, and whilst I may have avoided any psych hospital admissions for over a year, my head is still very messed up. I don’t feel in control, I feel like something dark and sinister is controlling me, something that only gives me very occasional glimpses of feeling normal or even the tiniest glimpse of happiness, and then snatches them away from me… coming back every single time to ensure they can torment me a little bit more.

I still have so much more to say but I think I better end this post now, it’s got pretty long and the more I write the more messed up my head gets. I was also going to mention that whilst I did go to see my support worker on Wednesday, I phoned up with an excuse not to see CPN#2 on Friday. I think I just didn’t want to take the chance of opening up and all of the above pouring out because I already know what her response will be. It will be the usual bollocks about how I “will get better” and “will get through this” I just need to “learn coping techniques” that will work for me and then my life will somehow miraculously be cured of any mentalness. Plus there is the risk if you mention even having violent thoughts towards others – even if you know you wouldn’t act on them – that they still might get concerned enough to start assessing if you could really be a risk to others. And I’m not… well so long as no one tries to hurt me I’m not. Isn’t that a complete contradiction? I don’t want anyone to hurt me yet the only way I know to cope is to hurt myself? It might not make a great deal of sense to anyone apart from me.

On that note I think it is time for bed. I might try and write some more tomorrow if I feel like I can write something that makes a bit more sense. I don’t know if any of the 2500 words I’ve just written even make any sense at all. But my medication is kicking in and I need to try and sleep… I’m sure I’ve been writing this for over an hour now.

Goodnight folks, and I hope you’re all having a good weekend xx

21:27 – I gave in… I’m so pathetic… Argh!!

19 Mar

Just to let you know this post has a lot of talk about self harm

Well I think I lasted about half an hour after my random shizzle post before I got up, started pacing around, went to my ‘hiding place’ and retrieved the blades I bought last week. Before I knew it I was sitting cross legged on the bathroom floor and feeling that rush of everything leaving my system, every time I pressed down on the blade and sliced through my skin I felt calmer and calmer and calmer. I sat with my back against the wall and closed my eyes for a couple of minutes before looking down to see what the damage was.

The one thing I’ve written about on here over my past couple of ramblings has been about the regret I feel in the aftermath of self harming. The regret didn’t flood in straight away because I thought the two cuts were reasonably shallow. I had only made two cuts but just kept cutting into them so I was expecting to be greeted with two big gaping wounds but the damage didn’t look too bad. I didn’t feel glad that I’d done it but I didn’t feel regret either. I think this is because at that point I felt like I’d actually cut but managed to keep in control of it. And on initial inspection the wounds didn’t look too bad. But then once I started to clean myself up I realised that one of the cuts was actually a bit deeper than I’d first thought and straight away the feelings of regret started to flow through me… because I knew I hadn’t got away with some shallow cuts after all… and then started the debate in my head over whether or not to go to A&E.

At that point it was probably around 2pm and as I sat there trying to decide what I should do I got severely anxious. I put a bandage around the wounds and began pacing again. Every time I sat down I’d feel restless and irritated and anxious and had to continue to pace around the room. I had an appointment with my support worker from Rape Crisis at 3.30pm so I decided I would go to the hospital and get the wound treated and then go to my appointment. But every time I went to walk out of the door I’d get a horrible sinking feeling in my stomach that stopped me in my tracks and again the anxiety would kick in bad so I continued to pace around until 3.20pm then left for my appointment.

I had initially decided that I wasn’t going to tell anyone I had done it. I kept thinking that OK the cut probably did need glued, possibly a couple of stitches, but also that it wasn’t the worst of cuts I’ve ever done and whilst the scar would probably have been extra nasty I’m pretty sure I could have just put some steri-strips on it and a dressing and it would have healed in time itself.

So when I got to my appointment my head was all over the place. Support worker asked me what was wrong as I told her I needed to pace around because I was very anxious. I didn’t want to tell her but I did. We sat for about half an hour and debated the pro’s and con’s of going to A&E to have the cuts checked and treated. She could see that I really didn’t want to go and was making up any excuse I could think of to prevent having to go but I then began to calm down a little bit when she said she wasn’t going to force me to go. I relaxed a bit knowing that and then I was more able to talk rationally. I told her I regretted it and didn’t have any urges to do it again and I think she believed me. It was/is the truth, I do regret it.

My support worker asked me if she was to come with me would it make it easier for me to go? At first I said I didn’t mind either way but then she said to me that we could go in and if I changed my mind then we could just keep walking and I wouldn’t need to speak to any of the nurses if I didn’t want to. So I agreed to this and decided it was probably best just to go and get it over and done with. I was fairly confident I wouldn’t need any stitches so just kept thinking to myself that in half an hour it would all be over and done with and I could be on my way home. With a deep breath I got in her car and off we went.

On arrival at A&E the nurse who saw me was someone I’ve seen before (also for self harming) so that helped to calm me down a little bit. I still found it really hard to speak but did tell her I regretted it and had no urges to do anything else to myself. She asked if I wanted her to contact the mental health team but I said no thank you. It’s not like they ever turn up or call anyway!! The nurse got me up on the bed thing and had a look at the wounds. She agreed one just needed some steri strips but the other she said could do with a couple of stitches in it. I asked if she could just glue and steri strip it but because of where the cut is means that every time I move my leg walking I’d be pretty likely to burst the glue. I said I’d prefer not to have stitches so I have ended up with about 20 steri strips all going in different directions to hold the cut closed nice and securely. I think it will heal just as well as it would have had I had the stitches as it wasn’t too deep but it’s deep enough to leave another scar. Pfft.

Why the fuck do I do these things to myself?! Argh!

Anyway, the nurse was pleasant enough to me and didn’t make me feel judged or any of that stuff. She just cleaned me up, patched me up, reminded me of signs of infections and asked if I wanted to go back in a few days for a wound check. I declined the offer and said I’d just care for it myself and start removing the top layer of steri strips in about a weeks time. She seemed happy enough for me to do that and gave me some clean dressings and let me leave with support worker. Funnily enough the whole time my support worker was there the nurse didn’t even ask who she was. Guess she just assumed it was a friend or something.

When we left A&E we went back to the centre and had a chat for another half hour or so. We made an appointment for next Tuesday and I left a message for my social worker to see if I could get an appointment with her later this week as it’s been a couple of weeks since we met up and with my parents being away this week and not having them just a phone-call away I feel like I could do with being able to have another chat and little bit of support again in a few days.

Since I got home I’ve been feeling in a weird mood. I don’t know if it’s because of the self harming but I just feel a sort of numb sensation throughout my body… numb everywhere apart from where I cut which is pretty sore. And that’s like the only feeling I can feel… everything else is just blank.

Well I’m going to go and walk the dogs now and see if I can find something on TV to watch and distract myself for a while. My sleeping is still shit so it will probably be another long night, another long night of mentally beating myself up for giving in and cutting, for causing another scar, for not being strong enough to ignore those urges!!

Weak… Pathetic and weak…

Will I ever learn?????

13:53 – Tired, emotional and (still) wanting to cut…

18 Mar

As you may have guessed from the title this post contains talk of self harm

I’ve not posted in a few days as I’ve had very little to say for myself. Following on from my previous post in the early hours of Friday morning I still have very strong urges to self harm. But as yet I am still hanging on and still haven’t done it.

I was awake again most of the night between Thursday and Friday. I have taken to going onto a free site (www.king.com) and playing free puzzle games all night in an attempt to make the screen brightness give me tired eyes… and with the hope the last of my brain battery juice would be sucked out. Alas, it doesn’t work. Just like lying in a dark room all wrapped up in my cosy bed doesn’t work. Nor does reading a book/having a milky drink/taking extra medication. It’s as if my body doesn’t want to rest even though I badly need to.

Due to the extreme tiredness and shitty weather combination I’ve spent all weekend indoors (besides a few short walks each day with the dogs). Friday night I watched Comic Relief all night and despite having fuck all money in the bank I did do the donate £10 by text so it can just get added onto my next bill. It was a good mix of entertainment as well as some utterly heartbreaking stories of kids all over the world living in poverty, dying from such preventable diseases. I did shed a tear or two 😦

Saturday morning I woke up with really bad pains in my tummy. Don’t know what the fuck they were but they hurt a lot. Located some strong 30/500 co-codamols in the cupboard and they did the trick to get rid of it. But they left me sleepy and not wanting to move so I sent a text to my Mum and cancelled meeting her for lunch. That’s the parents away on holiday for the next week which for some reason leaves me feeling quite vulnerable and alone. I might only see them once a week at times when I’m hiding from the world, but I do feel safer when I know they are close by if I need them.

Then last night or was it Saturday night? (I can’t even remember what I did less than 24 hours ago my brain is so pickled) I decided to traumatise myself a bit further and watch the catch up of One Born Every Minute. In this week’s episode one of the labouring mothers-to-be delivers a beautiful baby boy. Then her Mum (baby’s grandmother) comes in the room once the baby is born and as she cuddles him she says “welcome to the world Lewis” … cue the lump in throat… followed by tears rolling down my cheeks… followed by giant heaving snotty sobs and crying into a pillow… **flashback** me holding my little Lewis (he was stillborn for those who don’t read here often) … me wondering did I welcome my little Lewis to the world??… **flashback** my mum holding me as I sat between her and my (ex) fiancé with my little Lewis in a tiny moses basket on my knee and the hospital chaplain reading out a blessing… wishing my Mum had been able to hold our Lewis and welcome him to the world as a proud grandmother… **flashback** the confusion.. it didn’t make sense.. why had it happened.. why wasn’t my baby alive????

I wanted to cut so badly at that moment. I was angry with myself for letting myself watch the program, why do I do it to myself pretty much every week? Why do I sit and trigger myself watching programmes and documentaries about things that leave me so upset? It’s bloody ridiculous. Why can’t I ever just learn to change the channel… argh! I was also hurting really badly with memories and flashbacks. I was over tired and very emotional. I was mixed up with too many emotions running around so I decided to go to bed and try playing some mindfulness tracks on my iPod to see if it would help me to calm down a bit. The first couple of tracks I sat and cried through, but by the third track I was starting to breathe a bit slower and the tears were drying up. By the fourth one I was actually listening to what the woman was saying and trying to follow her instructions. By the last track I felt OK again and ready to sleep. And amazingly I did fall asleep soon after but unfortunately I woke up at 2.20am and have been up ever since. So yep.. still shattered.

Today I had planned to be a study day but I don’t know if I’ll be able to focus on it. I need to have a shower as we are back in ‘personal hygiene fail’ territory again. It’s just after 1.30pm and I need to find some motivation to do something.. anything.. to distract from those little fucking head crazies that keep on at me to just get hold of a blade, slice it through my flesh and just get it fucking over with. They know, I know, we know, you know, everyone fucking knows it’s going to happen… why not just do it??!! I need that outlet, I need to be able to release all the emotional headfuckery, the sadness, the hurt, the anger, the frustration, the confusion, the… everything. I need to let it all out and unfortunately the only way of getting it all out at once tends to mean I seek that rush and calmness that self harming gives me. If only for a moment.

And that’s what the problem is… like I said in my last post, as time passes and more years go by I now tend to regret self harming pretty much immediately after doing it. I am aware of the consequences. I don’t want the consequences. I want the ‘quick fix’ feeling but I don’t want the aftermath of it. It’s like medication vs talking therapy – you know certain medications work quickly and provide a temporary plaster over the wound…. talking therapy on the other hand is a slow drawn out process that takes ages to see results but is the one that is going to help you most long term. Do I want the long term answer or the quick fix? Am I prepared to deal/live with the consequences? I think this is the first time I’ve actually stopped and thought about self harm wounds before just diving in there with a sharp blade cutting mindlessly lost in my little trance then returning to find myself back in the moment and in a total mess.

Everything just feels pretty blah right now. Scared of the consequences yet scared to ignore what feels like the ‘natural’ thing to do. All of my thoughts and feelings and emotions are rolling into one and bringing back the pressure cooker feeling of everything getting so close to just blowing the pressure cooker lid. Last time the lid eventually blew… will this time be the same? Who knows…

14:53 – Maybe obeying the voices does help…

17 Feb

I’m sitting here yawning away to myself and trying to do some studying but I’m too easily distracted and unable to concentrate properly due to being so tired. Last night was another night of going to bed at 1am and being back up just before 8am this morning. When I have problems sleeping six or seven hours sounds like utter bliss, but when my body is actually letting me have deep sleeps I could really do with an extra couple of hours. But I have to go with Charlie dog’s food and medication schedule so I force myself out of bed at 7.45am and get the day started!

Yesterday I managed to get some studying done. Not as much as I’d hoped but I’ve managed to do a couple of hours this morning as well and have now completed week two’s work. I’ve just opened the course material for week three and the first thing I have to do is read a 112 page document about family structures and then another 40 page document about socio-demographic changes in childhood and family life. I don’t even know where to start! And I hate reading documents and reports that are over about 10 pages long on a screen but I don’t have a printer at home. Maybe my parents would let me print off both documents at their house if they have a spare 160 sheets of paper and enough ink! It’s so much easier to have it written in front of you so you can draw all over it with highlighter pens!

So my goal for today is to read the smaller 40 page report and make some notes and try to at least get through the introduction and part one of the big report. That will be a good 60 pages of reading and note taking and if I can get that done today I’ll be a happy bunny. However week four’s work starts tomorrow and this is me just beginning week three’s work and I have no idea how long it’s going to take me to read these reports in full, make notes and then send my summaries of the reports to the course tutor. And I just had a look ahead to see how much work there was to do in week four and it’s another really heavy workload. Argh. I really think they told some lies when they said part time study was approximately 10 hours per week, at the moment it’s more like 10 hours a day and that’s only doing one module… I have no idea how the full time students manage to do three modules at a time!

We all got an email a couple of days ago telling us about an online student mentoring program that they run. There are quite a few mentors who are doing the same course as me but they are in their 3rd or 4th year and the idea is they can give 1st and 2nd year students a little bit of extra help to understand the course material and help you to plan your studies in advance and things like that. So I’m thinking that could be something that would help me, even though I’m only doing this one module this semester and obviously I can get help from the course tutor as well but I don’t want to be emailing the tutor everyday with questions and driving her mad!

So besides being a bit stressed out knowing I’ve got so much reading to do and still panicking a little about being able to catch up with my studies, actually I’m not feeling too bad. Last weekend I was so stressed and so emotional with everything that was going on and this weekend things are a little stressful but also calmer. I am starting to allow myself to believe that Charlie might just be on the road to recovery now *touchwood* and that is a huge relief. But the past couple of weeks of him being so ill and nearly losing him has taught me just how precious my two little dogs are to me. I can see now what a massive part of my life they are and the love I have for them is just like the love they have for me: unconditional. They don’t judge me for having a body covered in scars just like I’ll never judge Charlie dog for his big scar and funny looking tummy – in a sense they are both our own battle wounds.

I guess you could say that the circumstances that have caused so much stress and distress over recent weeks have now improved but I am still hearing chitter chatter in my head, to be honest pretty much all of the time. And I don’t know if it’s because I listened while they were angry and screaming at me to bare my soul to Christ… I listened and eventually I started to pray and the more I continue to pray on a daily basis the happier the voices are with me. Don’t get me wrong, if I am given orders and I choose to ignore them then they will just get louder and make me suffer. But so long as I listen and obey then all is OK… And for the moment I have no thoughts of wanting to do anything to harm myself because I’m trusting the voices are going to guide me in the right direction.

I am very much being drawn towards religion and having a faith at the moment and I also really want to go to church. My problem is that I have a mix of Christianity and Spiritualist and New Age beliefs, but I don’t believe everything someone of Christian faith would and I don’t believe everything a spiritualist would either. I believe in spiritual healing, I believe there is no hell, I believe in a Heaven and I believe there is a God. I believe in an afterlife. I struggle to believe the Bible fully but also have scepticism over those who claim to be ‘mediums’ – although I do believe that some people have the gift to connect with the spirit world. So I’m left feeling a bit confused. My plan had been to start going to a Christian faith church on a Sunday morning and to start going to the spiritualist church on a Monday evening and just see if either of them feel “right”. I guess that’s the only way I’m going to know for sure, it’s just a little daunting going by myself.

Right I think I’ve rambled on for long enough now, I can’t believe it’s almost 3pm, the day is flying by and I still have so much stuff to do. The dogs are due another walk around about now so I’m hoping fifteen minutes of fresh air will perk me up a bit so I can come back home, do Charlie’s medications and then get stuck into one of these lovely big reports I have to read. I’m still so tired and I think it’s going to be a real struggle to stay awake through until midnight then up again early tomorrow and a check up at the vets at 11am for Charlie dog. It’s all go go go!

I hope you’re all having a nice weekend xx



20:21 – Birthday parties and head crazies

19 Jan

Well I got a reply yesterday from the woman who sent me that shitty (no pun intended) letter on Thursday. I saw the email reply sitting in my inbox and mentally prepared myself for an explanation that they had been filming me. I felt all shaky and kind of scared as I opened the email because I was expecting an answer to the question I had asked – what was this process of elimination they had used and why they believed I was responsible. But to my complete surprise her reply was worded very nicely and she thanked me for my email and apologised for “any distress” her letter caused me and said that she was “happy to believe” that I was telling the truth and was not the dog owner responsible!

So I went from reading a letter that messed with my head and was the final straw to everything… to self harming pretty severely… to an a&e visit and stitches… from the threat of prosecution to believing that I was telling the truth… And whilst I felt relief that she believed me I also felt a lot of anger, some of which was directed at her but mostly it was directed at myself for losing the plot so much over a letter. I couldn’t quite believe that if I had just managed to stay in control until I had received a reply from her then I wouldn’t be sitting here now with more permanent scarring on my body.

My head was starting to feel messed up again so I managed to get an appointment to see my support worker at Rape Crisis late yesterday (Friday) afternoon. The doctor at a&e did say a voicemail had been left for someone from the mental health team to contact me on Friday, but of course none of them did. And I didn’t want to phone them to be told that they were too busy or some other excuse for not seeing me. So I called my support worker instead and said I needed to talk to someone about the self harming who I knew wouldn’t judge me. It did help a bit to talk to her. She asked me how I’d feel about writing an email back to the housing association woman and telling her how distressed her letter had made me feel (without mentioning that I self harmed) and ask her that if in future they have any concerns could they please talk to me before sending any letters that could distress me. I haven’t decided whether or not that would be a good idea yet.

I told support worker that I was also a bit confused I mean how can they go from saying that through some process of elimination they thought I was responsible to then saying the next day that they believed I wasn’t responsible. The housing woman didn’t answer any of my questions that I had asked in my email, such as what was the process of elimination that they used and of course the housing woman didn’t mention anything about cameras so if I mention anything about cameras I’m just going to sound like a paranoid mess.

Anyway, I’m glad that me and my little doggies aren’t being blamed any more but still very much convinced that all my neighbours are talking about me, and that doesn’t feel very nice.

Today (Saturday) has been a busy day so I guess it’s distracted me from the head crazies a bit. The day started with a trip to the toy shop to buy another present for the youngest so that both boys had three presents each. I gave the 4 year old his presents on Monday when it was his birthday and it’s the 2 year old’s birthday this Monday coming so best friend was having a kids party for them this afternoon. After the toy shop it was a quick trip back home to wrap the presents then I had to go to A&E to have a wound check and dressing change done. It was the senior charge nurse who was on who is (on paper) a part of my care team so I wasn’t as anxious seeing her as she knows my history and diagnoses etc. Everything looks like it’s starting to heal, there are no signs of any infection so I have to have another dressing change on Tuesday and then hopefully get the stitches out on Thursday or Friday.

After I left the hospital I went to best friend’s house and it was chaos! They seemed like they were all under control when I first got there as they were being good and all sitting in a big circle playing party games… But as soon as the games were over there were just children running around crazy! (high on too much sugar and too many E numbers no doubt!)

I stayed out at best friend’s house until about 6.30 pm then came home. I’m actually quite tired out from four hours of children! I was worried seeing all the kids would start to trigger me, it’s only three weeks now until my little one’s anniversary and I tend to find the kids birthdays leave me feeling upset and really really missing my baby. But it was so chaotic in her house that I was constantly distracted either playing games or fixing toys or changing nappies or dealing with the ones who were getting tired and crying and wanting cuddles so the time passed quite quickly. On my way home from best friend’s house I pass the cemetery so I did have a little moment of a lump in my throat thinking I should be planning a birthday party and having all that chaos in my house, not buying flowers to sit on a headstone 😦

Anyway I don’t want to get myself upset again so I’m going to go and make something to eat then probably just spend the evening watching TV hopefully there will be a good film on or something. It’s so cold at the moment that all I want to do of an evening is just curl up with the heating turned up to the max and try to get through to bedtime without any dramas. I hope I can get through to bedtime tonight with no dramas but now that I’m back home and it’s quiet I’m beginning to get bothered by head noise again and feeling a bit paranoid again.

I don’t see new CPN again until Friday and despite A&E phoning the mental health team I can pretty much guarantee that no one from the mental health team will contact me and I won’t see anyone from there until I go for my appointment on Friday. Not that I really want to see any of them but it would be nice if they actually did give a fuck and took notice of A&E’s requests especially when it was about to be the weekend and the mental health team is only open Monday-Friday 9-5 (cos you know, people don’t have mental health crises outwith those times… and no we don’t have a crisis team here either).

My head is still a bit pickled from the events of the last couple of days, I really am trying to stay as calm as possible and not let things get to me but it’s hard… And if I’m completely honest I’m kinda sad to say that now that I’ve had the relief through cutting badly again I kinda want to do it more and more. It’s like I’ve got the angel and the devil, one on each shoulder, and the angel tells me not to hurt myself again, that I don’t need any more scars and I certainly don’t need another trip to A&E for more stitches… But then the devil says “do it, it will feel good, do it, do it” and it’s very tempting. And I really don’t know why it’s so tempting because I felt awful with anxiety after doing it on Thursday… yet I feel like I need it/deserve it/not sure which… probably both…

OK… time to go now before I open the door and let the head crazies start running wild… I really don’t know where my heads at… Up then down, down then up, I need a head that is peaceful tonight… I’m too tired to deal with the crazies…

Hope you’re all having a nice weekend xx





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

14:00 – Yo-yo moods and trying to stay safe [Edited to add…]

16 Sep

Today I feel neither up nor down. I decided not to go out last night with my friends. It just felt too risky to take the chance of coming home filled with alcohol and not act on any bad thoughts. So I tried to do the sensible thing that would keep me safe and stayed in, watched the X Factor on TV, took my medication and finally drifted off to sleep.

Oh, I know I’m going to talk about self harming somewhere in this post and I have a feeling it may be quite graphic so just to warn you in advance that you might not want to read any further.

There was a lot of commotion going on outside last night as I was trying to get to sleep. My flat is fairly town central in the little town I live in and I could hear a whole load of arguing and screaming so went for a look out the window. I swear there was around 20+ guys maybe aged between 18 and 25 all throwing punches at each other and fighting pretty bad. I tried to take a photo of it from my window because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing… they were all right in the middle of the road and no cars could get by or anything so all the cars were just sitting in a big queue waiting to get by. It only lasted for about 20 minutes and then 3 police cars appeared, I watched six officers breaking it all up and sending them all on their way. I didn’t see anyone getting arrested, I think it was all football related as there was a game on yesterday and unfortunately in the UK football can just send people into such violent outbursts, especially when they’re drunk. I can’t stand football for that very reason.

Anyway, back to yesterday afternoon. I met with my Mum around 3pm and we went for a cuppa in a little cake shop. I managed to resist the cakes though as I was being bad enough by having a hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows. Bad… but very tasty! So I ended up telling Mum everything that’s been happening over the past week. I told her about the self harming on Wednesday, about my frustrations with my CPN and social worker, about seeing my GP on Friday and having to hand over all the tablets. I told her I didn’t want her to worry about me and wanted her to go and have a nice relaxing holiday and that I felt as though all of the bad urges were out of my system. That was a slight lie but it made her feel more at ease. She told me she knew I wasn’t in a good place from last Thursday’s CPA meeting and had already asked my brother and his girlfriend to keep an eye on me whilst they were on holiday. It feels a bit weird having my little (well not so little he is 27!) brother having to look out for me, but he works with people with both mental health problems and learning difficulties and his girlfriend’s brother suffers from pretty bad depression so they are both pretty understanding.

Mum asked me if I would think about throwing away the blades I have. She said if I could throw away the tablets I could manage the blades as well but I said to her that I only had to walk two minutes out of my front door and could just pick up another packet. But I guess that is true for the tablets as well, I know that if I wanted to I could easily get around 8 boxes in the space of half an hour just going round all the local chemists and the couple of supermarkets. But I guess it’s a case of telling myself that I don’t want them or need them and doing my best to not get any more. As for the blades, I know I will hang onto them, I’m not sure if all the self harm urges/needs/desires are out of my system. The problem with the type of blades I have is that you really don’t need to press down very hard to do some really bad damage to yourself, it’s not like the razor blades you use to shave your legs with where you cut and it bleeds a lot but the cuts stay shallow, you end up cutting right down til your pretty much exposing a muscle with these ones. Mum was like, if you have to do it could you not do it with blades that will just leave shallow cuts so they will heal and not scar and again I said I’d think about it.

My thing with self harming is that sometimes I want to feel the pain and actually the razor blades that make shallow cuts are what I use in that situation, anyone who has ever accidentally made a little shaving cut or even had a paper cut knows how much it stings. So when I want to feel actual physical pain I will cover my arms in those kind of cuts until all the bad feelings are out and then I can stop.

However I also have another type of self harm that I do when I am angry, frustrated, not coping, etc and that is when I use the stanley knife blades. I know they will do a lot of damage and I know that I will almost certainly end up needing to go to a&e and get stitches but it’s about seeing the damage, seeing the pain externally, getting some relief from the craziness in my head.

One thing I don’t do, which I know a lot of self harmers do, is wound pick. Once I’ve cut and got that feeling of relief I want the wound closed as neatly as possible. I hate scars despite being covered in them and I want them to heal as neatly as possible. So I keep the dressings on and I generally don’t look at the damage again until I’m having the stitches removed, and even then I never seem to get the feelings to cut it back open or anything. If I need to cut again I move onto another part of my body, which I know makes no sense because that’s creating yet another scar, but it’s just the way I am.

Moving on from self harm talk, my parents leave later this afternoon for their holiday. I said I would go up and see them for an hour before they leave as Mum is giving me money for one of my textbooks I need for my uni course. I managed to buy all the other ones second hand on amazon but this one I can only find in the “new” section and it’s quite expensive so Mum said she would get that one for me. So I’ll pay the money into my bank tomorrow and order it then.

I just ordered myself some vitamins called Soy Isoflavones as I have been reading a lot of things about them being good for hormonal imbalances. I have a condition called PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) and I don’t have periods by myself or ovulate (produce eggs). I have to take tablets every couple of months called Provera which brings on a bleed, similar to the bleed you get if you are taking the contraceptive pill. But these vitamins get really good reviews for helping your body start to have a menstrual cycle again, they are also used a lot by women going through the menopause, so I’m going to give them a try for a few months and see if I notice any difference and if it makes me have a period by myself again. When I conceived my little man who went to Heaven I conceived him naturally, but I had lost about 4 stone in weight beforehand and I think that helped jumpstart my body a bit. I have since put all of that weight back on and I really do need to start trying to do something about it. I don’t feel healthy at this weight, I hate never being able to buy the pretty tops and dresses and things that my slim friends can all buy. I am not massive but I should be around 9 stone for my height (that’s what I was when I conceived little man) and I’m now somewhere around the 13 stone mark which isn’t so good. So I’m hoping with the combination of some proper exercise, cutting back on the junk food and trying these vitamins that my body might start working again.

I have the joiner and plumber coming tomorrow morning at 8am to start ripping my old shower and shower cubicle out and put the new ones in. So I am going to have to get up about 7am and have a shower before they get here. I will have week two of my uni course to keep me occupied for a while and will maybe go out to see best friend in the afternoon (and so I can go for a pee!)

So that’s all from me for just now. Mood is up and down, up and down, like a yo-yo. Trying to continue to distract myself from the bad thoughts and replace them with positive ones, trying to think about the future every time I feel like I want to cut, trying to remind myself of all the consequences that could happen if I cut badly again so soon after the last time.

This mental illness stuff really is no fun at all. Sometimes I get quite upset that it happened to me when nobody else in my immediate or external family has any mental health issues. But then I get upset about a lot of things that have happened to me in my life that haven’t happened to anyone else close to me. Sometimes I just think I’ve been incredibly unlucky in life so far. But I want that to change and I know there are some things that are out of my control, but I can change the things that I can control and hopefully map out a decent future for myself.

Right now I really don’t know what direction I am heading in. It seems to change hour by hour, day by day. I’m using every bit of strength I have to keep myself from slipping backwards and it’s been bloody hard work this weekend. I’ve been listening to some of my mindfulness tracks on iTunes when things are starting to slip and trying that approach to bring me back “into the moment”. It does help but when the bad thoughts get really bad, sometimes there is just no stopping them.

Like yesterday, I will carry on today taking it hour by hour, minute by minute, and try to get through another day safely.

[EDITED to add]

I was just looking at some site stats and came across this on today’s stats. Not only are they a sick cunt (excuse my language) but they have now just thrown my mind back to thinking about the assault. So thanks for that you sick bastard.

19:19 – Losing it

3 Apr

I posted earlier about whether or not to go to a&e for a wound check. I decided it was best to get it checked rather than just leaving it. So I went to a&e, waited 20 minutes whilst the three nurses sat in the room next to the waiting room, listened to their phonecall about some kind of audit that they had on speaker-phone, and then was called through.

It was the senior charge nurse who called me in. I recognised her face and said I thought we had met before. She said yes we had. She asked what the problem was and I told her I was concerned that part of my wound had become infected. She had a look at it, I saw her rolling her eyes out the corner of my eye at the mess of my legs, she was really quite unpleasant in her manner now that I think about it. Anyway, she told me it looked like it had the ‘potential’ for infection and to regularly clean it and change the dressings daily. She commented that I was going to have a big scar because the skin is gaping open a bit, then looked at some of the other big scars on my leg, pointed to one, and said “like that”.


I got some more dressing pads and said thank you to her for looking at it and got up to leave. She was just looking at me in this really weird way that makes me think that as I can’t remember what I actually saw her for the last time she saw me, then I must have been a complete pain in the backside that time. Either that or she is just shit when it comes to anything mental health.

After the hospital I met a friend for a while and we went to another friends house and I fucked about with his laptop for a while getting it hooked up to the TV.

Then I came home.

Since the moment I walked through the door I’ve been feeling like I’m losing it. The voices are very loud and feel very controlling tonight. I am trying every distraction technique I can think of but end up just pacing around the room restlessly. I think I’m going to crack open a bottle of wine and see if that helps with a couple of diazepam. I really shouldn’t drink again tonight, this is the third night in a row.

My Mum sent me a text message to say she has taken time off work on Thursday so she is coming to the CPA meeting. I don’t want to go to it but I think I have to. I need to ask the psychiatrist for a Quetiapine increase. I need to tell them how unsupported I feel right now (even though this means having the lecture on me not attending my appointments).

When the nurse at a&e phoned the CMHT to see if someone could get in contact with me, it took the CMHT from the Sunday night until the Thursday at 5pm to actually get in contact with me. And that was only because the nurse called them for a second time.

When I spoke to my social worker late Friday afternoon I told her I felt unsupported at the moment and she said she would email the support workers section and ask if I could see a support worker for a couple of weeks until I start seeing my new CPN. Surprisingly enough I have not heard from them. I’m guessing I probably won’t hear from anyone, I will just have this bloody meeting on Thursday then be left to wait on my new CPN starting.

I think I am losing it. And I don’t think anyone really gives a damn. On Thursday everyone at this stupid meeting will be able to hear the voices, those of Satan ridiculing me, they will all laugh no doubt. Right now all I can think about is self harming, I have crazy strong urges to do serious damage to myself, is this because I know I can’t go back to that hospital again so will have no choice but to leave myself with some really ugly scarring? Or is this just because I know I am pathetic and revolting and need to put some of that revolt on the outside?

Does it even matter?…

I’m losing it. I swear I’m losing the fucking plot. Time to open that wine and try to escape from this madness.