Tag Archives: university course

23:45 – Put simply, I feel like shit

6 May

It’s been almost a week since I last had anything to say for myself. Since I last posted the desperation and the urgency and unpredictability of my destructive thoughts has all quietened down somewhat. I’m not really sure why. What has replaced those thoughts is a feeling of numbness, I feel almost detached from everything and I don’t want to be around anyone and I don’t want to do anything. My brain feels sluggish. I can’t think properly so I give up trying. My ability to concentrate or focus on anything is shot to shit at the moment.

If I could, I would just lie in bed all day and all night, not bothering to get dressed or go outside. The only thing that prevents me from just doing exactly that is knowing the dogs need to go out for walks, they don’t need to suffer because of my state of misery. So I scrape back my hair and I put on the same clothes that I wore yesterday (and probably the day before that as well) and we go out. They get a walk and to do the toilet, I stay hidden with my hood pulled up and stare at the ground. And this repeats itself several times a day.

In between times I pull my pyjamas back on and lie in bed or on the sofa staring into space, not even thinking about anything really, just lying there feeling numb and empty. I found a box of stanley knife blades in the drawer yesterday and had a very brief urge to self harm but you know what? I couldn’t even be bothered. It was too much effort and too much energy to do it. The blades got thrown back in the drawer and the drawer closed.

I’ve gone from barely being able to sleep at all to just wanting to sleep all the time. I can’t sleep all the time, my body won’t allow me that privilege. My GP was off on holiday last week and I needed a repeat prescription but because my last prescription was the first month long one in years the other GP said he wasn’t comfortable to give me another monthly and so he put me back on weekly dispense until I can get an appointment to see my normal GP. Then she can decide whether she is happy for me to get monthlies or whether she wants me to remain on weeklies. I think it was probably because the other GP had seen all the A&E trips from self harming episodes over the past month and probably wasn’t sure if I was a bit of a risk. Maybe it’s for the best that I’m on weeklies at the moment as it means I tend to take my medication properly as I don’t have enough tablets to mess around and do a bit of self medicating here and there. At least I’m doing one thing properly.

This week I have an appointment on Wednesday with my support worker from Rape Crisis and an appointment with CPN#2 on Friday. Other than going to them I expect this is going to be another week of hiding from the world and living in my pyjamas. It’s not as if I haven’t got things to be doing – I have a washing machine to order and I have an essay due in at the end of the week if I want to have any chance of passing this module… but I just can’t seem to do it. I keep putting everything off and delaying everything, telling myself I’ll ‘do it tomorrow’ then tomorrow comes and again I do absolutely nothing. If I don’t meet this essay deadline and pass it with a pretty decent grade then I will have to re-sit and I just want this module over and done with. I’m going to try and take an early Summer break and try and get my head back together for the increased workload that September will bring. Hopefully by September I will have done a fair bit of work with the psychologist and be armed with some better coping tools than cutting myself to shreds.

I just feel this complete sense of misery, a big black cloud right above my head threatening to start pissing down on me at any time. Numbness and emptiness and a sense of detachment from everyone and everything. Quiet and in full hibernation mode. Self harm is too much of an effort even though I know I deserve to be covered in more cuts. Thoughts of ending my life have passed through my mind a few times, but they are just that, thoughts. I don’t have a clear enough head to do anything. I don’t have the energy either. I don’t even know if I have the energy to go to my couple of appointments this week – I’ll see how I feel at the time.

I hate myself for writing such a depressing post especially after writing about all the sad news I’d learned last week and how it had put life into perspective a bit. It made me feel like I shouldn’t take life for granted so much and that I should be doing something happy and something positive every day. And I hate that I can’t adapt into that mindset even when I try. Any time I’ve tried to laugh or smile this sense of darkness begins to loom again. So I don’t try. I just sit and be miserable and wait to see what is going to happen next.

I’m shit. I deserve to feel this way. Honestly, if you really knew me you would say the same. The people who tell me nice things about myself like my Mum or best friend just say it to try and cheer me up, they are biased… If people could hear the stuff in my head they would have no hesitation to tell me that yes, I am shit and deserve nothing more than to feel like the piece of crap I am.

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00:02 – Truth be known, I’m struggling… a lot

10 Apr

[Warning – there is a graphic description of sexual violence in this post]

Since my last post in the early hours of Friday morning I have been quite busy but also, if I’m honest, struggling. On Friday afternoon I went to see my Mum for a little while and to see best friend. We were all going out on the Saturday night for best friend’s birthday and I was trying on my outfit I was planning to wear out up at Mum’s. Seeing their eyes quickly scanning the extent of the scarring on my body felt horrible but then they both started telling me how proud of me they were that I was now being trusted with a month of medication again and how proud they were that I’d stayed out of hospital for so long. They were nice about the scars but I felt utterly hideous and very uncomfortable with them on show so quickly got covered up again.

Saturday night we all went out. All the girls had short tight dresses on – I on the other hand had my legs fully covered and my arms fully covered. I felt a bit out of place so took just a couple of diazepam whilst we were all getting ready at best friend’s house followed by at least four pretty strong vodkas. By the time we got to the first pub around 10.30pm I was feeling a little tipsy… by the time we left the last pub and began to head home at 2am I was very drunk. But it was a strange kind of drunk, I just couldn’t seem to relax properly all night. I couldn’t get hyper-alert-suspicious-paranoid-brain to shut up. I didn’t join in on the dancefloor, I didn’t let a single person buy me a drink, every guy who got within a couple of feet of me I quickly walked away from. I tried to join in with the laughs but my head was somewhere else all night and all I seemed to do was watch the clock and count down the minutes until I could get the hell out of there and back to my safe little house.

Sunday I felt absolutely awful all day. It seems I’m at that age where hangovers don’t feel too bad when you first wake up but as the hours pass you feel worse and worse, not any better. So yeah, Sunday was pretty much spent lazing around doing nothing. I know alcohol is a depressant but this weird state of mind has been on the go since Wednesday when lovely GP decided to trust me with a month’s worth of medication. Every time I open my cupboard door I hear ‘male voice’ telling me I’ve got them there for a reason and it’s not to prove how responsible I can be with them. But then I hear Mum and best friend in my head, telling me how proud they are of me and I hate myself for even giving the tiniest bit of attention to ‘male voice’.

But ‘male voice’ has been very much present over the past week mostly being insulting telling me things like I’m a dirty whore who deserves to be raped again… a stream of laughter by him every time someone said I looked nice on Saturday night… telling me it would be a good idea to take all of those Diazepam and just fucking knock myself out… telling me me I’ve not made my body ugly enough for him yet and to get a blade back to my skin. He’s angry with me that I walked past the DIY store today and didn’t go in and replace my empty box of blades and it is all I keep hearing from him tonight that I WILL go buy more tomorrow or else I’m going to make him so mad that he will have me [insert warning here to very graphic horrible instructions] “cut my tits off” or his other favourite is “someone’s gonna rape you [between the legs] with the sharpest knife I can find” . Pretty fucked up I know but that is the way he speaks, that’s his vocabulary, that’s his way of showing me he is in control, not me. He is particularly violent in his threats and comments and I am not a violent person, but he says things in ways that flash images in front of my eyes of either me mutilating my body badly or hurting someone else. I’ve never really hurt someone else, I’ve had a few bitch fights, hair pulling and that kinda shit… I’ve punched a couple of people in anger… but I’ve never really properly hurt someone to the point where I could do them permanent damage. And I can’t imagine me ever doing something like that but the things he is saying to me scare me, I can’t deny it.

So with all this going on in my head and his voice talking far too much I haven’t been able to sleep again. I stayed up all of Sunday night, all day yesterday until I finally took a handful (not an overdose) of diazepam this morning around 11am and at finally around 1pm I fell asleep until 4pm. I had promised best friend and her kids that I would go out and see them today now they are back from their dad’s, I promised Mum I would go for a walk with the dogs with her and maybe go for some lunch or coffee or something. Neither of those things happened and other than going out a few times today with the dogs I have done absolutely nothing.

I am very very much at crunch time with regards to my part time university course. I have failed the 20% part of the module. The essay part makes up the other 80%. If I was able to spend the remainder of the week studying like crazy there’s a chance I could throw some sort of an essay together but I have an appointment with my rape crisis support worker tomorrow and then it’s best friend’s actual birthday on Thursday. And to be completely honest I have lost all motivation. I’ve lost interest. But then I’ve lost interest in everything over these past few days.

My head feels like it’s going a bit mental again and I am lacking in strength to fight back. All I seem able to do is lie on the sofa or in bed and battle back and forth with the intrusive voices and crazy thoughts. I feel like I have all this invisible pressure around me: be responsible with the medication, prove to them all I can do this, keeping mum and best friend proud of me, keeping ‘male voice’ happy, knowing I’m probably going to be kicked off the uni course and fail at yet another thing.

I am shattered right now. It’s midnight and I pray I can sleep through the night. I need a little bit of energy back, it all feels like it’s been zapped out of me. I am so scared I’m going to let everyone down… things feel slippery yet I don’t know why. I have no plans to take the medication to hurt myself but the self harm urges (cutting) seem to be getting stronger again. If only to shut him up. And not even the remembrance of the major regrets I had after doing it a few weeks ago are enough to keep me certain I won’t do it again… I think in all likeliness I will give in… because I’m weak… pathetic and weak.

Why oh why can life never just be straightforward? Why does it always have to end up mental again in the end?

23:38 – Being trusted by GP for the first time in over 3 years

3 Apr

For over 3 years now I have received my medication on a weekly basis. Every Wednesday I have to go to the chemist and pick up my weekly script. Every four weeks when I get a new prescription I have to sit for ages whilst the pharmacist splits it all up into 4 separate weekly bags. For pretty much all of this time (apart from when I’ve had medication changes) my meds cupboard has looked the same every week:

14 x 25mg Quetiapine

14 x 200mg Quetiapine

7 x 300mg Quetiapine

7 x 30mg Mirtazapine

56 x 2mg Diazepam

All the tablets precisely counted out so I take 750mg of Quetiapine each day, 30mg of Mirtazapine and 16mg of Diazepam (4mg 4xday).

Getting meds weekly is never something I’ve argued about. I understand that when things are quite unstable it is not a good idea to have loads of tablets in the house. And it also helps keep track of what I’ve taken each day when there is only a small amount of medication to start with. However, it has now been quite a long time that I have gone with no hospital admissions and whilst I may still be struggling with the self harm I would choose cutting rather than overdosing 9.9 times out of 10 if I wanted/needed to hurt myself. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – that last overdose I took, the one which almost killed me, scared the utter shit out of me. No more overdoses for me – if I ever reach a point of being that suicidal again it will be a quick and definite ending – not shovelling pills down my throat.

Sorry… I’m going off at a bit of a tangent here… Back to the point!

This morning I had an appointment with lovely GP. She asked how things have been going and said she had seen a copy of the letter after my recent trip to A&E. I told her the thoughts and images and urges to do it had just got too bad that day and I’d given in, but that I also regretted it very soon afterwards. She asked what support I was receiving at the moment and I told her I’m on the waiting list to see the psychologist again once she returns to work (hopefully at the end of this month) and I told her I was trying to work on some of my issues surrounding both the childhood and adult sexual abuse/sexual assault I have suffered. She said that sounded like hard work to do and I agreed it is, but it’s something I’ve never properly dealt with and it’s something I need to do before I end up with a genuine phobia of even being in the same street as a man. She asked how my university course is going and I told her the truth – shit – due to my total inability to concentrate or focus on the course work. To be honest I think I’m going to get kicked off the course which is pretty bad given that I’m only being expected to do the absolute minimal level of work this semester… but it would seem that even the minimum is just too much for my mind to process and understand 😦 So overall I was open and honest with lovely GP, I admitted there are some days that are pretty challenging especially when my sleep is crap like at the moment; but also told her that whilst my head might feel a bit bonkers at times I have no thoughts of ending my life at all and still regret cutting.

After we had a chat for ten minutes or so I decided it was time to brave it and ask the question that I’ve been wanting to ask for a while now but kept thinking she would say no so I hadn’t bothered before now. But today I felt like we had a rational chat and identified the good and bad things going on and I felt quite calm so out came the big question…

“Doctor, as I haven’t been in hospital for quite some time and as I don’t have any urges to harm myself, would you consider trusting me to have more than one week’s medication at a time?”

And to my surprise she said she was confident that if I did have any suicidal type thoughts that I would ask for help and not take an overdose. She asked me if we could have a mutual trust agreement that if she gave me a chance to prove I could be responsible with a lot more medication in the house that I would agree that if I did feel particularly low at any time I would contact someone…anyone…and get help. I agreed to this and so she agreed to give me a chance with the medication. I expected her to give me two week’s worth to start with but she gave me all four week’s worth which sort of shocked me a little bit. I know I can be trusted and I want so much not to let lovely GP down but fuck it is a bit scary having so many tablets in the cupboard. It’s probably just because it’s so unfamiliar to be given so much trust, but if it continues to feel weird I will do the right thing and take some of it to my Mum’s house or something.

So I now have in my cupboard:

56 x 25mg Quetiapine

56 x 200mg Quetiapine

28 x 300mg Quetiapine

28 x 30mg Mirtazapine

226 x 2mg Diazepam

2013-04-03 11.50.49

Wow. It feels so weird to be trusted again. So weird that my head feels so utterly crazy at moments and yet it’s like I’m determined to see this as some sort of a challenge – a test if you like – that I can have these crazy moments but somehow deal with them in a way that doesn’t involve abusing medication in any way. I am determined in 28 days time that I will have taken my medication properly and at the correct times and the correct dosages every single day. I’m not going to let myself down and I’m not going to let lovely GP down. If that’s the only one thing I manage to do over the next 4 weeks then I will be happy. Happy they can trust me and happy that I can trust myself.

I cancelled my appointment with my support worker today as I got absolutely zero sleep last night then was up early to go see GP and by the time it got to 1pm I was like a total zombie. So we have rearranged for tomorrow.

I also got a new phone today and I’m such a happy bunny! (well besides the guilt trip I’m putting myself on)… I used to have the Samsung Galaxy S2 phone but it broke and for at least six months now I’ve been using this shitty little phone that doesn’t do much more than make calls and send texts. I’m not due a contract upgrade until September and really was trying to make do with the shitty phone until then, but then last night I got chatting to someone on Facebook who was selling their Galaxy S3 at a really good price (but still pretty expensive). I said I was really interested and would love to buy it but there was no way I could afford that much money, it would take me at least a month to save up for… Then about an hour later I got a message which basically said “look I know you pretty well, I’ve known you for years, I know you aren’t going to run off with the phone and disappear, I’m not desperate for the money so if you want to pay me in 4 weekly instalments then you can have the phone”… Of course I couldn’t resist that offer so this morning we met up and I handed over my first weekly instalment and got the phone and I’m so in love with it already! Plus I know that in six months it will still be worth a little bit of money so when I get my upgrade I can sell this one and get a bit of money back again.

In a way I feel a bit guilty for treating myself to something I didn’t actually need. I could have lived without it. But at the same time I very rarely go for nights out any more, I rarely buy myself new clothes or nice things for myself, the most extravagant treats I have are the occasional lunch out with best friend or my mum. At least this treat will last much longer than a bowl of pasta or something! But yeah I still have this niggling voice at the back of my mind telling me I didn’t need or deserve such a big treat and it makes it hard to truly enjoy something when you’re feeling guilty for allowing yourself to have it.

Anyways… after being up all day yesterday and all night during the night and then up all day again today I am starting to get extremely tired so it’s time for a quick dog walk, medication and furry pyjamas on and with any luck get some sleep tonight.

Goodnight folks xx

20:52 – Meeting with support worker and social worker

7 Mar

Well today I went along as planned to an appointment with my social worker and support worker. I was very anxious beforehand, I don’t know why, but taking a small amount of Diazepam helped a little. It was good for them to meet each other and we chatted about a few things like what they should do if they have concerns and what I should do in situations where my crisis plan would be useful and the possible triggers that doing this work with my rape crisis support worker could have and if they did trigger me then making sure it didn’t destabilise me too much mentally. There was nothing too heavy talked about and it was all over and done with in about 45 minutes so it was easier to sit through than I expected it to be. We pretty much ended it with a verbal agreement that I’d see my social worker every couple of weeks until the psychologist returns and I can start more ‘structured work’ and I’ll carry on seeing my support worker every 1-2 weeks and I gave permission for them to share information if needed so we can all work together.

There was only one thing which was said at the meeting which *searches for the right word* … surprised? me. My social worker said at one point that I have attachment issues. I’ve never heard her say that before, well not in those words anyway. And it didn’t as such annoy me but it played on my mind for a while afterwards because, in my head, someone who has attachment issues is needy and possessive and jealous and has turbulent relationships. And whilst I can admit that the first year I worked with my social worker I probably did feel quite dependent on her in a lot of ways… since not seeing her so much over the past couple of years and since having a string of people starting to work with me and then leaving I now have the opposite problem. I find it harder and harder to trust people so in general I spend a lot more time on my own and have done for some time now. I make excuses to leave friends and family’s houses early. I don’t like people being in my house for too long, it starts making me feel agitated. So yeah, I’m left a little bit confused by what she meant by me having attachment issues, I’m not overly bothered about it just confused as right now I feel like the most unattached person on the planet!

I’ve arranged another appointment with my support worker for next Thursday and hope to touch base again with my social worker the following week. That’s all I need, just someone I know and trust and who knows my mental health to touch base with until the psychologist starts back. I’m really trying just to ask for the bare minimum so that my social worker can see that I know seeing her is just a temporary thing until the psychologist is able to work with me again. That way it means she doesn’t have to make any commitments to me that she might not be able to stick to, I know I have someone to touch base with and I have the support of my support worker for the ‘other’ stuff that I’m trying to work through.

So yeah, we’ll see how things go.

I’ve been taking my medication properly again for a few days now and am happy to say that the constant stream of chitter chatter has actually been very quiet today. I am still hearing the occasional sentence which is usually telling me to do something but it doesn’t have the same weight to it so it’s easier to ignore. I am still having huge problems with my concentration and am still no further forward with my studying, just adding more and more days onto me getting further and further behind. My tutor emailed me on Tuesday asking if I was OK and I still haven’t replied to her, because I don’t know what to say. I think I’m somehow still hanging onto the hope that I will suddenly get my concentration back and get myself back up to speed and everything will turn out OK. But with the more days that pass the more unrealistic that is starting to become. I will try and compose a reply to her tomorrow.

Anyways it’s getting close to 9pm now and I’ve some washing to hang up then there’s a program on TV I wanted to watch and then it will be medication and dog walking time. I’m going to try and get some studying done tomorrow but it’s just so hard to focus at the moment. I’m not even writing proper notes when I try and study, I just write word for word what is on the screen onto my notepad. None of it goes in, half the stuff I’ve written down I have no clue what it actually means. So yeah, not so good. And this is an important week as it is the start of our online sociology debates and we have to contribute to the debate forum boards over the next four weeks as 20% of the module mark comes from these posts and then the other 80% comes from an essay due in May. How can I debate what I don’t understand? Argh.

Right I guess it’s time to say goodnight, fingers crossed for a good day tomorrow.

13:01 – Maybe God is listening

21 Feb

Charlie dog was so ill his chances of survival post-op were tiny.

I listened to what the chitter chatter in my head said and I prayed like they asked me to. I lay on the floor and cried and begged for God to listen to me and save my Charlie dog.

He did.

The last few weeks I’ve been struggling so much with my studying and the chitter chatter told me what they’d like me to do so my prayers would be listened to. I done as was asked of me and then I prayed for God to help me.

The following day I managed to make an agreement to drop one of my modules so I could continue with the course but at a pace that would be easier for me.

He listened again.

The past couple of days I have wondered whether to go back and see new CPN, whether to write a letter of complaint about her, whether to go and speak to her and tell her how upset she had made me, I couldn’t decide which would be best so I cancelled for this week to give me more time to think.

Last night, in my prayers, I asked God to help me feel strong enough to phone her and explain why I cancelled the appointment. I went to bed with the intention of getting up this morning and getting the matter dealt with one way or another.

This morning the postman brought me a letter from new CPN which says:

Dear MCBL,

I am sorry that you could not attend your appointment today. I had hoped to speak to you personally to inform you that as I am leaving my post at the end of this week I will no longer be your allocated caseworker. Until my post is filled and you are allocated a new key worker (lovely social worker) has agreed to support you in the short term. I trust she will contact you with an appointment in due course.

May I take the opportunity to say that it has been a pleasure to work with you [patronising cow] and I wish you good mental health now and in the future [I bet you do… not!]

Yours sincerely,

[Crap] CPN.

 

He listened to me again and solved my little dilemma for me! 😀

Now my only hope is that lovely social worker actually does get in touch and offer me an appointment. Hopefully I could work with her until the nice psychologist I worked with previously returns next month, and not bother with another CPN. That’s three I’ve had now and they’ve all left! Two were on temporary contracts and then this one was supposed to be permanent but for whatever reason she’s leaving!

I am most definitely going to a church on Sunday. I have a few thank you’s to say to Him! It’s all working perfectly. I have some sort of dilemma or problem and then it spins round my head, my thoughts race around and then the chitter chatter starts up and now I’m realising that I don’t need to put my earphones in and my iPod up to it’s loudest volume to drown out the noise. Instead I need to sit quietly and listen to what is being said, listen to what they want me to do, do it, pray, and prayers might just be answered! 😀

 

 

21:31 – Feeling really unsure about tomorrow

19 Feb

I haven’t seen new CPN since the 5th of Feb due to her being off sick then on holiday. And as you might remember the last appointment did not go well at all. At our last appointment I made the stupid mistake of opening up about some of the things the voices were saying and talked for the first time with her about some of the suicidal feelings I was having (although had no plans to act upon them).

At that time I was feeling very messed up and emotional as it was a few days before my cousins wedding which I couldn’t go to due to the fucking agoraphobia and it was really messing with my head and making me so upset that every family member would be there to share in her big day apart from me. I made the decision to open up to new CPN for the first time and told her that the voices were putting ideas into my head to do something to myself that weekend when all the family were away. Before I got the chance to say I wouldn’t act on the thoughts, for several reasons, she cut in and told me I was incredibly selfish to say something like that… she went on a little ramble and basically left me feeling like shit. And left me really disappointed that I knew from that moment onwards I wouldn’t ever want to see the woman again.

She had already pissed me off because I’d self harmed badly quite a few weeks ago now and the CMHT have an agreement with A&E that if I attend A&E then a copy of the notes get sent over to the CMHT. The nurse who treated me at A&E that day phoned the CMHT and asked if my CPN could please get in contact with me the following day so check if I was OK but needless to say she never did. In fact at our last appointment she didn’t even mention it and when I briefly did she seemed to want to change the subject.

I don’t know what it is about her but I can’t work with someone who shows such a lack of compassion. I’ve already been so patient with the CMHT and had two temporary CPN’s who I’ve had to get to know and tell my story too, only for them to leave several months later. And now this new CPN, the permanent new CPN is turning out to be totally shit.

So I have an appointment with her tomorrow, it’s been a couple of weeks since I last saw her. In that time I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster dealing with everything that’s happened with Charlie dog and of course getting through the weekend of my cousins wedding without being there and then my little boy’s anniversary last week. And in a way I wish she was a nice CPN because I’d like to be able to talk about some of that. I’d also like to talk about my desires to find a faith again and all the stuff that’s running around my head that I’m trying to keep happy and settled because it’s trying to protect me. And I think that’s another reason I’ve been thinking so much about religion because I see that as a form of protection as well.

But the reality is that I don’t want to see her again nor do I particularly want to speak to her again. About anything. The only one thing I want to tell her is how she made me feel during our appointment back on the 5th of Feb. And I would quite like to tell her that the following day when I had appointments with both Mr Psychiatrist and lovely GP that I told both of them how she spoke to me as well. I just don’t know if I have the strength to go into the appointment, say what needs to be said and then stick to my guns and tell her that I do not think this is going to work and that I would like to work with someone else. I’m scared she either (a) denies it or tries to tell me that I’ve somehow misunderstood her (b) tells me that’s fine but there is no one else with space on their caseload to see me.

I want to start working with my psychologist who I was seeing up until a year ago when she went on maternity leave but she doesn’t come back til next month and there’s no guarantee that she will definitely work with me again seeing as I made such little progress with her the last time. But I was pretty bonkers then and in and out of hospital all the time and things are a bit calmer compared to then (I think?)

So yes back to tomorrow… I don’t know what to do. I’m thinking of just phoning them at 9am tomorrow and saying I can’t make the appointment. I have thought about writing a letter to the manager of the CMHT and explaining what happened and why I don’t feel like I’m going to be able to work with this new CPN but again I panic about being believed or being told “well there’s no one else who can work with you”. Hmm I really don’t know what to do for the best. When they made me work with the first temporary CPN I didn’t get on with her at all and made absolutely no progress with her the whole time we worked together. And then with the second temporary CPN things got off to a little bit of a rocky start but then we started to work quite well together and then she left after a few months. And now I’m back to someone I don’t think I can work with, but permanently.

Pretty stupid to keep it going really.

I guess I’ll just wait and see how I feel in the morning.

In other news Charlie dog had a check up at the vets yesterday morning and they are really happy with his progress. He has to go back on Friday to have his stitches taken out but he’s been such a good boy and taking all his medications even the tablets which he accidentally chews and you can see the look of disgust at the taste in his mouth! We’re hoping this is the last week he’ll need to stay on his anti-biotics which would be great because they are the hardest medications to get him to take because they are all quite big tablets so it’s hard to hide them in his food. The three gut protecting medications he takes he will probably be on for quite some time yet but at least only one of them is in tablet form, the other is a syrup and the other is a powder. So yeah I’m really happy with him, he’s definitely starting to really fight back now 🙂

I also got confirmation I have been removed from one of the university modules I was supposed to be doing this semester so I now only have the one module to do. I’ve got a huge 120 page report to read and another 50 something page one then have to write summaries of them both from a sociological viewpoint. I’m not too good at sociology but I am trying. My concentration is still really poor and I haven’t got anywhere near the amount of work done over the past couple of days that I’d hoped too. I was aiming for about five hours study a day until I’d caught up but I think I’ve done about three hours in total over the last couple of days. I don’t know why I’m finding concentration such a struggle at the moment, there’s quite a lot going on inside my head, a lot of ideas to deal with.

I’m quite restless with everything, I can’t concentrate on television programs, I can’t concentrate on reading, it’s taken me over an hour so far to write this because I keep getting distracted with other things. I just can’t seem to sit still and it’s becoming quite irritable. I don’t have a choice, I have to catch up with this course work yet after fifteen or twenty minutes of reading I realise I can’t remember a single word of what I’ve just read. And most of my notes don’t make a great deal of sense either. I don’t know how to describe it, it’s almost as if my head chitter chatter feels like it has more of a sense of importance than everything else even though I know that catching up with coursework is the most important thing right now. It’s pretty confusing and extremely annoying but then, like I said earlier, the head noise isn’t causing me distress right now because I’m doing everything in a way that keeps it happy. Ah, fuck, I don’t know the words.

I’m getting a bit irritated with myself for not being able to express what I mean properly with words. Or rather I can’t think of the right words to explain it properly. Perhaps there aren’t right words for it? I don’t know.

What I do know is that it is time for Charlie to get some more medication, then it will be time to go out in the cold and walk the dogs then back for a nice hot shower and then bed before midnight with any luck. Midnight seems like ages away but the hours just seem to fly by at the moment, with my head going from one thought or idea to the next. I don’t want it to slow down as I find it nice the things I hear and it’s nice to hear something nice for a change and it’s nice that they are happy with me but it is a little bit irritating that they seem to require so much attention. It’s actually quite tiring trying to study, taking all your medications, the dog on his strict diet and medication schedule from 8am to midnight and making sure he gets them all at the right times, taking them walks, then on top of that all these ideas, thoughts, plans to find a faith, find the right religion for me to follow. But at least I now know if I keep them happy and do these things then I get rewarded with less distressing head noise, but I do also know that they will eventually start to get impatient with me and make my head hellishly bad if I don’t prioritise correctly.

Right it’s 9.30pm now (I started writing this at 8.06pm!) and all I’ve done is ramble. Time to say goodnight I think!

12:17 – Look who’s home!

10 Feb
Charlie Dog

Charlie Dog

 

Look who’s home! This is my tough little cookie who has had us all so worried over the past week. As you can see his stomach is very bruised, it also has staples all the way down. And he still has a cannula in under his paw bandage. But I got to bring him home about 6pm yesterday and whilst we’re taking things slowly and gently he is doing really well. He’s on a strict special diet and medication schedule which starts at 8am each day and finishes at midnight and he’s on five different medications which have to be given at specific times throughout the day, so the next couple of weeks are going to be hard work. But it will all be worth it 🙂

He’s pretty good at taking his medication but the one thing he’s not happy about is having to wear a basket muzzle but he will have to get used to it as he will be wearing one for the rest of his life when we are out for walks. I hate the way people already have been looking at him like he must be a bad or dangerous dog, I want to put a big badge on him saying “I’m not a bad doggy, I’ve got to wear this so I don’t eat anything off the ground again!”

So he’s not completely out of the woods yet but after a week of living at the vets he seems happy to be home and he’s managed to pass two bowel movements (sorry TMI!) since he got home last night which was the next goal for him so when the vet phoned late last night to see how he was doing she was delighted to hear that as it means everything is working properly inside 🙂 I’ve to take him in just to be checked over tomorrow and he’ll need his staples out in about a week’s time.

Having so much going on with Charlie dog meant I stayed busy all night and didn’t have too much time to dwell on the fact I was missing my cousin’s wedding. But a couple of people uploaded some photo’s to Facebook and I must admit I did have a little bit of a cry, but every time I looked and saw both my fur babies snuggled up it made me feel a bit better.

Tomorrow is my little boy’s 6th anniversary. I will stay up late tonight until it gets to 1.24am when I will light a candle to mark the moment he was born. I dare say there will be some tears but I guess that’s to be expected. I will go up to the cemetery with some pretty flowers between 2 and 4pm tomorrow as that’s the only two hour period where Charlie doesn’t need any medication. It’s going to be a bit of a tough day as it’s obviously extremely emotional for me but I need to try and hold it together whilst I go to the vets and then go and see my brother with his birthday present and I need to try and put a smile on my face for that.

Back to today… It is a new week of university work starting tomorrow and I haven’t even looked at this current week’s work so I’m going to have to spend all day today trying to catch up. I just can’t seem to concentrate but if I don’t catch up now then I’ll end up falling further and further behind so somehow I’m going to have to force myself to sit and do it. It doesn’t help that one of the psychology modules I’ve just started is all about stuff I find really hard to get my head around – like this week is all about historical theories and how they have developed over time and to be honest I’ve got no interest in that stuff whatsoever. But I guess I need to learn it so I can understand how we got to the more modern theories.

It’s going to be a challenge to care for Charlie round the clock, to try and get through the emotions that tomorrow will bring, trying to keep my head from getting too noisy and/or crazy and catch up and stay on track with my studying. Maybe I should try and take some inspiration from Charlie dog – he was fighting for his little life over Tuesday and Wednesday and has had such a tough time but he’s fighting as hard as he can to get through it all one day at a time. And perhaps that’s what I need to do – try and catch up a bit then take everything one day at a time – stop worrying about the if’s, but’s and maybe’s and just do the best I can. So on that note I guess it’s time to open up my notebook and try to get some reading done.

Hope you’re all having a good weekend 🙂

21:22 – Scared to live. Scared to die.

3 Feb

I don’t know where my head’s at. I have been trying to distract myself from the head crazies and unfortunately my poorly dog who I had to rush to the vet on Friday still doesn’t seem to be much better. He isn’t throwing up so much, but then he hasn’t eaten more than a few bites in the past week and for the last 24 hours has completely refused all food and drink so I’ve had to resort to syringe feeding him water every 2-3 hours. That meant setting my alarm every few hours during the night but to be honest I couldn’t really sleep anyway.

It seems like when I’m doing something like syringe feeding, going out walks, attempting to start my new university modules – we’re just about to go onto week 2 and I’ve only just started looking at week 1 so I’m already behind. But yeah, when I’m doing something then the head crazies are bearable but the second I stop it feels like this huge big black cloud just sinks over me and all I can think is ‘what’s the point?’. I sit here trying to study but the words just won’t sink in and I think why the fuck am I doing this? And then the head noise starts up and I start being pulled into conversations or hear my name being talked about and then the only thing I can do is give the head noise my full attention because I want to know what the fuck is being said about me!

I have been thinking a lot about death recently (well, I’m always thinking about it but recently it’s been a lot more prominent) and I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m scared to live but also scared to die. But this only fuels the head crazies because it gives cause for more debating back and forth like a bloody ping pong ball…

I want to live

I want to die

I can’t go on living

I can’t end my life

Back and forth, back and forth, the thoughts go quieter then louder, faster then slower and on and on it goes. Yet if I sit here and say to myself that I am not going to die then I become more anxious and if I say to myself that I don’t need to live I become equally as anxious. What the fuck is that all about? It makes no sense. Nothing makes sense. It’s all so contradictory. The thought of living for the foreseeable scares the crap out of me but when I really start thinking deeply about death it scares the crap out of me as well. It never did until the last serious suicide attempt I made and now I get the flashbacks of that one particular moment where my blood pressure crashed and they were all panicking around me and I knew those figures were seriously low and I was trying so so hard to keep my eyes open, terrified of what was happening to me and those words just slipped out my mouth “am I going to die? I don’t want to die” and every time I think of that and how I felt both physically and mentally in that moment is enough to make me pretty much guarantee I will never take another overdose (well not the cocktail I used that time) in my life. Of course there’s plenty other ways.

This coming week I have to see new CPN tomorrow which I’ve not decided if I’m going to or not. I missed the last appointment but to be honest I just don’t want to see her. But I also have an appointment with my support worker from Rape Crisis and I haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks either so maybe I should just go to both of them. At least I know if I leave the appointment with new CPN with any bad thoughts going round my head that I can talk to my support worker who I seem to get on with a lot better.

I also have to see lovely GP this week on Wednesday and also Mr Psychiatrist on Wednesday, as usual I’m not particularly looking forward to that one. But then again I’m seeing him first then lovely GP later in the afternoon so if he pisses me off at least I know she’ll be more understanding. I just don’t know what he’s going to say/do about the voices still being very much present despite being up on the max dose of Quetiapine again. I really really don’t want to switch to yet another anti-psychotic but at the same time I really don’t want the voices either, they are making me do all this planning and plotting, telling me how to do things, putting ideas in my head.

Next weekend my entire family all make the 200 mile trip down to England for my cousin’s wedding. The one I was supposed to be a bridesmaid for. The one the fucking agoraphobia is making me too terrified to attend. Every single member of my family is going to be there apart from me. Seeing the wedding photos is going to hurt really bad. But the voices start up and tell me what a perfect opportunity it will be, everyone gone for the whole weekend, it would be ideal. I could get all my plans in place then go to see best friend with a fake smile painted on, ask her to watch the dogs for a little while and come home. Perfect opportunity.

But… I can’t do anything then can I… because a couple of days later is my little man’s angel anniversary and I will be here for that. I will do the same as I do every year and spend a lot of time by his headstone, talking to my baby and crying lots of tears. Making his headstone look all pretty. A certain someone who I have a massive amount of respect for once told me that if I was no longer here then no one would keep my little man’s memory alive… well not the way that I do or the way I’d want them to. I am the only person who can do that and I can only do it if I’m here.

So basically I feel completely stuck. Scared to live. Scared to die. Yet this depression just carries on getting worse and worse. I continue to hear voices and end up quite distressed by them at times. I want to blank it all out. I want to escape from it all. I just don’t see how I can continue to live this way. It just feels like existing. The days just all seem to blur into one and every day it gets harder and harder to stay strong.

Tonight what will keep me strong is my poorly dog, making sure he gets fluids every few hours then first thing in the morning I will be phoning the vet, he needs to be seen again. I think he’s going to need to spend the day in there on a drip and get properly rehydrated. God only knows how much that’s going to cost me but I don’t think I’m going to have any other choice. He’s one of my fur babies and I have to make sure he gets better.

So, with a mixed up and tired head I’m going to try and get him to come for a little walk then get to bed reasonably early as it’s going to be another long night of getting up and down every couple of hours and then a long day with vets and two appointments tomorrow. My head feels totally pickled, I have too many thoughts and ideas and plans running through it and I’m too exhausted with them all that I can’t give them the attention that is needed. Things just feel like they are spinning a little bit out of control, the only button I seem to want to press is the self destruct one, to at least hurt and hurt by cutting. I need a way to release all of this frustration, I thought when I self harmed badly a couple of weeks ago that I had got it all out of me but clearly I haven’t. But just like not wanting to attend appointments I don’t want another trip to A&E, more stitches, more questions, more fear of being judged or control being removed.

Argh. I need to go find a quiet spot in the middle of nowhere and scream as loud as I can until I’m screaming louder than them and I can try to drown it all out. I’ve been listening to the new Rihanna album on my iPod (turned up full) whilst I’ve been writing this, very loud music through earphones is about the only way I can tolerate loud head noise and I still hear the voices over the music, they are just blurred out a bit. Anyway, this has been a bit of a depressing post so I’ll say goodnight and leave you with what I’ve been listening to… there’s something quite lovely about this song… it reminds me of a certain time in my life… there’s something quite poignant about it… and yes, as usual I prefer reading the lyrics than watching the actual music video…

Enjoy…

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

27 Jan

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

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

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

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

OK, take a breath. Stop the tears.

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

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

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

20:01 – The plotting and planning continues…

25 Jan

Yesterday I was supposed to go back to A&E to have my stitches removed but I couldn’t face it. I told myself one extra day wouldn’t matter and I would definitely go today as I had an appointment with new CPN this morning and the mental health team is in the same grounds as the hospital.

However I woke up this morning alarm beeping at 8am and just lay there thinking for the next hour or so. My appointment was for 10am and as the clock ticked on I continued just lying there, telling myself I would get up and start getting ready soon, but just like yesterday it didn’t happen. I didn’t go to the appointment and didn’t go to A&E to have the stitches out either. I can’t really see how an extra few days would cause any problems with the healing of the wounds…

To be honest I was thinking of just taking them out myself but they are very tight against the skin and I can’t really get into them properly even with tweezers and just a little blade, so I guess I’m going to have to go and have them taken out at some point.

So what have I done for the last two days? More planning. More plotting. Pretty much every minute I’ve been awake in the last couple of days I’ve either been completely caught up in dealing with voices – comments, instructions, filling up my head with the crazy laughter – and when the voices haven’t been distracting me I’ve still been gathering ideas “just in case”.

I’m supposed to be starting my next two university modules on Monday. I’ve received confirmation that I’m enrolled onto them but I just don’t see how I’m going to manage to do the work. My head is so so busy, fast moving thoughts, disruptions to my thoughts when the chitter chatter starts up… how the fuck am I supposed to find the concentration to study? But at the same time I don’t want to drop out of something again or fail at something again. But I can’t lie, things aren’t good just now. In fact they’re very very hard. And I am struggling a lot.

Sorry for such a negative post, I’m away to see if a couple of bottles of wine are enough to let me escape, at least for this evening. I just can’t help but wonder if this is always going to be it, if I’m just going to be this mess for the rest of my life. The periods of stability vs instability are so unpredictable, I hate never knowing how long a depressive episode is going to last or how many different medications I will need to swallow down to try and have a head free from hearing voices.

I refuse point blank to even consider a hospital admission because it doesn’t provide any form of therapy that might help me to feel better, the shocking lack of compassion of the nurses in our acute psychiatric ward is enough to make anyone go from feeling low to full blown suicidal. And don’t even get me started on the boredom, the fellow patients, the arguments, the way you can walk in voluntarily and told it’s just to keep you safe for a few days then as soon as you want to leave you are suddenly detained under the mental health act.

No. Hospital is a definite no no. Never again. And I can’t even go and have some stitches taken out at the hospital because I’m so convinced they will see right through my lies when I say I’m OK and I don’t trust them not to take control away from me. So I have to just hang on and hang on until I get a moment where I feel like I can paint on a fake smile, breathe calmly and just go in and get the bloody things out.

Hmmz. I’m confused. Very confused. I keep hearing the words “choose this path” and I’m not sure where “that” path will take me. Anyway, I’m sure whatever path I’m destined to walk along will be the one I’ll take. For now I need to drink think long and hard about what direction to start walking in and pray for some strength to get through this or find a way to make it all go away… permanently.