Tag Archives: tattoo

21:09 – CPN appointment and a ramble

30 Apr

Today has been pretty busy and it’s only 8.30pm but I’m already thinking about going to bed. My sleep last night was ridiculously bad again and I felt like a zombie when I got to my appointment with CPN#2 at 1pm. I can’t even remember what we spoke about as my brain was like mush. I do remember her filling out a sheet for the front of my file with details of allergies and stuff on it. And she said something about meeting with my psychologist before we next meet to find out from the psychologist what kind of therapy she will be planning to do with me and then use the sessions with CPN#2 to get me into the right headspace for the more structured psychological therapy. Also she mentioned arranging another CPA meeting for me as I’m well overdue one but right now half the people who should attend it are off for one reason or another so I think we’ll probably wait until June or July before the next one, which is fine by me as I don’t particularly enjoy them.

After my appointment with CPN#2 I met my Mum and we went for a look at washing machines. I’ve narrowed it down to three, they are all pretty expensive so I’m now just trying to work out what the best payment method for me would be. My Mum said she will put it on her credit card and I can pay her in instalments until the balance is cleared. The alternative is that I could buy it from my catalogue and pay it off over 52 weeks interest free or the third possibility is getting it from a local electrical store who offer the same 52 weeks interest free for payment. There are a couple of offers I saw that were quite good as they included the cost of delivery, disconnecting and removing your old appliance then connecting up your new one so it saves a lot of hassle – especially when you live two floors up. Mum said I should have a think about which one I want tonight and we can meet up at some point tomorrow to get it ordered.

Tomorrow is going to be another busy day as I have to go to a&e to have the rest of my stitches taken out (which as usual I am dreading), attempt to get a repeat prescription when my normal GP is off on holiday and as this was my first time in years getting a monthly prescription instead of a weekly one I don’t know if I’ll get put back on weeklies until my GP is back. I also have an hour of tattooing booked in the afternoon and have to buy a birthday card for my Dad then go to my parents as we’re having a little birthday dinner for him. I’m not sure how he’s going to react to his present – usually it’s a boring bottle of aftershave or something like that – but this year my brother decided it would be fun to get him a flying lesson – yes – to fly a small plane! It was pretty expensive so I hope he likes it! I wasn’t planning to get him a big present this year as next year it’s his 60th but before I could have much input into it my brother had already gone and booked it!

Anyway, I don’t really have much more to say for myself, I really am trying not to write about all the bad thoughts in my head. I told CPN#2 today that I just feel numb at the moment, I don’t feel happy or sad, I don’t feel quite as desperate about hitting the self destruct button but still want to hit it. I told her I’d pulled a couple of my stitches out myself in some sort of anger/frustration the other day – she asked what stopped me from pulling them all out and I’m not sure of the answer – probably because I knew if I pulled them all out I’d be back at a&e again and I just don’t think I could face going in there for more treatment – just going to get my stitches out tomorrow makes me feel anxious enough. Why? Because I don’t know how long I’m going to go before my next trip for more stitches. I don’t know if it will be days, weeks or months. The urge to self harm again is extremely strong but with having an hour’s tattooing done on Friday, another hour tomorrow and another hour booked for this coming Friday I’m trying my hardest to somehow trick my head into believing that the pain that comes with tattooing will be enough to stave off the urges to cut for another little while.

Well it’s now gone 9pm and I’m going to watch a little television, take the dogs a walk then medication and bed. I’m totally shattered and need some proper sleep tonight. I can’t even do a bit of self medicating as I only have one night’s medication left. So hopefully the sleep fairy will come along and be nice to me tonight.

Goodnight folks xx

 

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22:15 – Meeting advocacy & other ramblings

2 Oct

I guess you could call today another reasonably productive day. I went to see my social worker and she came with me to my first meeting with advocacy. I explained my situation about the housing transfer application and how I feel like I’m going to be waiting forever to be moved somewhere I can be happy living in. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted from them but we had a chat about things and they said they would write a letter or email on my behalf and try to make the housing association re-read my file, and ask them for a realistic timescale in which I will be re-housed. I know it’s going to end up taking about a year though. I even went into the housing association afterwards and expanded my areas in which I’m willing to be re-housed to, hopefully with more areas then I have more chance of a quicker move.

So it was good to meet the woman who co-ordinates things and the woman who is a volunteer who is going to contact the housing association for me. She said she should hopefully be able to get back to me by the end of the week with some more information.

It was also nice to see and spend some time with my social worker. I know these are going to be the last few times I see her over the next little while and I’m happy that if things have to come to an end that they will do so on a happier note. I still have my moments of wishing things were how they were a couple of years back but I guess time moves on, lives change, situations change and one day I will have to be big enough and strong enough to stand on my own two feet, one day with no professional involvement at all if I manage to establish some form of recovery.

I keep trying to think that recovery, or walking the path of recovery is where I’m at just now, but this is mainly because CPN tells me that. Sometimes I don’t really feel it, I mean lets face it things haven’t exactly been great lately with one pretty severe self harm wound and a second not quite so severe but still requiring medical help. My moods have been very emotional, I have cried a crazy amount over the past few weeks. Sometimes I’m sure I can hear a voice again swirling around in my head telling me I’m not good enough, that I won’t be able to complete my Uni course, that I’m kidding myself that I’m going to complete a degree and have a good career one day, telling me I’m always going to fail, whispering to me that it’s all pointless and my life equally as pointless and I don’t know if it’s all my own thoughts and my own voice I hear repeatedly chanting away to me or if it’s something external… but something external or maybe it’s internal… any type of ‘voice’ is not something I’m willing to consider right now.

In conversation with my social worker today I mentioned that this is always the time of year I seem to start feeling rather unwell. October through to February/March time are like my danger months. And no, I don’t think I have Seasonal Affective Disorder to add to my list of quirks, it’s just the amount of child related things that happen over those months that is what really gets me down.

It’s my birthday at the end of the month, the 28th of October, and it’s not a day I look forward to any more. This year I will be 31 and still single and sleeping on a sofa in a flat I hate, a flat that I just feel so unhappy in. And then a few days later comes Halloween and I have to do the pretend smiling stuff as I help best friend get the kids ready and take them out trick or treating. Then it’s Christmas and like last year, best friend wants me to stay overnight on Christmas Eve at hers so I wake up with her and the kids and watch them open their presents. And somewhere deep within I need to bury all the hurt it makes me feel. Then we get into the new year and the run up to my little one’s anniversary begins and that takes me up to February, then I always have a couple of weeks of feeling really low after the anniversary because it brings back all the memories and also means spending a short period of time acting as civil as I can towards my ex-fiancé.

So yeah… a bit wary of how things are going to be over the next few months.

Changing the topic (because I’m starting to feel sad) my Atkins online planner informed me that I wasn’t eating enough “leafy green vegetables” today. I eat a full bag of iceberg lettuce every day but apparently that’s not enough. So I walked over to the supermarket and picked up a brocolli, a leafy green cabbage, and some green beans. Came home and boiled the lot up in a pot with some sugar and salt free vegetable stock then blasted it with the blender. And poured a lovely big cup of it to have with my dinner. It was properly disgusting, bland, tasteless, every mouthful made me feel sick and I like all of the ingredients but just not blended together in some strange green soup. So I let it cool down, put it in the fridge and tried it as a ‘smoothie’ – it was equally as disgusting but I forced it down.

I have enough for another big glass tomorrow and Thursday. Lucky me eh!

Well it’s that time of night again… 10pm and time to take medication, walk the dogs, and try and wind down with all the lights off. In other words lie awake in the dark for hours, being restless and getting up to have a cigarette, getting water, going to the toilet, flicking the TV on and off, trying to sleep again, watching the clock tick through hour after hour, staying offline because I know it will only keep me from sleeping even longer. Finally somewhere around 4/5am falling asleep out of exhaustion and waking up again when the postman comes at 8.30am and the dogs start barking like mad.

Tomorrow’s plans… pick up weekly prescription, go to a&e for “final” wound check (it better be the final one this time, I’m sure they are as sick of seeing me as I am going there and having my wounds on display for examination). Then at 2pm I am going to have my tattoo shaded and a couple of little lines fixed before the colouring begins. I was going pretty much every few days/every week for a while but it was draining me financially so it’s kinda been put on hold for a while but I’m going to try and get it all finished over the next month or two. I think it should only take maybe 2 x 2 hour sittings to get it all coloured, she said colouring it shouldn’t take as long as all the outlining and shading. I’m sort of glad I’m getting it done tomorrow because I’ve been experiencing a lot of self harm thoughts this evening, completely out of the blue, and I actually get some strange perverse pleasure out of being tattooed, I get the pain without the scars. The pain becomes a creation. It’s a good pain. I know I could grab handfuls of ice cubes (if I had any in my freezer) and get pain without scars but it just doesn’t work for me. Nothing works for me but the real thing. It’s all or nothing with me…

So yeah, tomorrow should be another fairly busy day. Thursday I think will be a quieter one where I focus on some Uni work. Friday I have a session with the other/new social worker which I can’t say I’m looking forward to because I really don’t see what the point is in me seeing yet another new person for a whole 3/4 weeks to then be introduced and start working with yet another new person albeit one who is actually permanent. But current CPN thinks I need someone to talk to each week because of all the self harming and deep down I know she’s right, I know I would panic a little if I was left completely on my own for a month but opening up to new people is always hard. Then later in the afternoon on Friday I have an appointment with rape crisis woman as today’s appointment was cancelled.

Right I think I have rambled on enough for now… time to face the rain and walk these dogs.

Night folks.

16:43 – Branded

19 Apr

Just left tattoo place. Writing this post on my phone as i walk home. I hope the devil will now be happy with me and stop harassing me so much as Satan is now on the back of my neck permanently with his prickly thorns and stinging tail. And for the tiny bit of good in me, a little halo with horns at top.

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12:14 – Friday the 13th

13 Apr

I am fucked. Had my mate round again last night and each took 4 of the little magic pills. We laughed so much I was aching. Apparently a couple of glasses of wine go well with the little magic moments. We were doing all sorts of crazy nonsense but it was so much fun. So he ended up staying until the middle of the night and I had to get up at 9am to get a parcel from Mr Postman. I thought it would be fun to have another little one with my morning meds and then go and take the dogs a walk, so out I went until 10am floating along in my own little bubble, no one around, no one to freak me out, no one to make me paranoid, just me and the nice scenery and the dogs.

Now it’s two hours on and the little floaty buzz is still around but more than anything I’m feeling the desire to have some sleep. I want to go and get some but a guy is coming round in a couple of hours to help me out with something and I know I won’t wake up in time. Maybe I will text him and meet him tomorrow instead. I don’t have the yawns but my eyes feel so much happier with the lids pressed firmly together. Also I have booked my tattoo for Thursday, I am getting this angel-devil on the back of my neck, it feels like it sums me up, I have my nice angelic side and then the side that satan the devil takes over so much. I was going to get a complete devil with 666 but the tattooist said he thought I’d regret it. I couldn’t very well explain to him I’m only doing it to shut the fucking voice up in my head that are setting me my initiation task to prove myself to the devil, prove I will never be worthy of the Lord, give myself to Satan. I couldn’t tell him all that could I? So, as my other five tattoos are all in black, I picked this design instead. I quite like it actually. It is the devil with his thorny wings and stinging tail, but with a halo above it to show I do try to be good. It says so much to me, but probably very little to others. And the voices haven’t been giving me hell over my choice so they seem happy too 🙂

Oh and just before I go, it is now Friday and I still have not – seen/met/had any contact from – my new CPN. Nor has anyone phoned to tell me about the short term use of a support worker. So that’s probably part of the reason I’ve just been getting off my face, because in my own little floaty world, thoughts about cutting and obeying voices quieten down and I get a warmly welcomed rest for a few hours. And I should state here that these little magic pills I have been taking are completely legal, they do not in any way make me want to go out and abuse hard drugs, and as far as I can tell they do not have any impact on my medication. But no doubt people will disagree and say that any drug on top of my prescribed meds could have the potential to destabilise me, but you know what… I’m already bloody destabilised. [And yes I am completely aware that drugs like meow meow (Mephedrone) started off as legal highs, then fucked some people up and is now illegal.] But these little pills just take away anxieties, make everything floaty, and help me sleep. All of which are good for my mental health (in my opinion!)

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