Thursday, 29 December 2011

Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes

I hate to admit it but I'm really struggling. I should be past this. It's been over 10 years since I developed and eating disorder. I should be better already.

I thought Christmas would be okay but I spent the three days purging and since then I've been scared to eat over a certain amount. My head is telling me that it's okay to only eat twice a day. That it's okay to count calories. That it's not restricting if I eat a certain amount. That it's just dieting. I went to look for my scales and then remembered that I chucked them out over the summer and now I'm in tears because I don't have them.

I am obese. It's a medical fact. Partly down to medication and partly down to binging. I need to lose weight. I don't know how to lose weight properly. A part of me misses being underweight. A bigger part of me misses just being normal. At my sickest I weighed 97lbs, at my heaviest I weighed 196lbs, I weighed myself about a month ago and I weighed 186lbs. I want to weigh between 125-130lbs. That's healthy for my height. Not to high and not too low. But my head tells me that I should try and beat my low weight. That it wasn't really all that low. Even though I was at death's door. It wasn't that bad. I ate too much even if I didn't eat at all. I don't want to go back there but I want to be thin. Is there a compromise? Is there a middle ground? Do I have to be anorexic or fat? Is that my choice? One or the other?

My head is such a mess. It's been less than a week and already everything is overwhelming and too much and I can't cope with it. I don't want to have to worry about my weight. I don't want to be the fat kid anymore. I want to be thin. I want to be well. I want to be normal. I want to be thin. etc etc etc.

I need to lose weight I need to lose weight I need to lose weight I need to lose weight. I'm being completely open with my parents about what I'm eating. I'm not doing it in secret and they are encouraging me to diet. Telling me that I should weigh myself once a week in Boots like I used to when I was at my sickest. Telling me not to eat carbs. I don't know what to think. I've got it in my head how much I'm allowed to eat and if I go over that then it's not okay. That I have to punsih myself if I do. That I have to be strong. That I have to do this.

I don't want to be sick. I want to be okay. But my head. My head is so confused.


Saturday, 24 December 2011

So you did your best and faced such music as anyone cared to play

So... It's been forever since I updated, it's hard to know where to start.

I ended up in hospital after drinking a litre of gin and becoming hysterical and suicidal. I saw someone from the booze bigrade who said they would be in touch with me but never did. I managed to get myself back to a somewhat normal state by using my PRN Diazepam everytime I felt like I needed a drink. I haven't drunk on my own for a couple of weeks now, I also haven't self-harmed either.

In the midst of all this it became apparant that I wouldn't find anywhere to live in Leicester anytime soon and that whilst I was living back with my parents I needed to go back under the Nun CMHT. I was told I could go to the day hospital, and then told that I didn't fit the criteria. At the minute I have seen my old CPN, who I don't particularly get on with, and she is going to be my care-co again. She said she would refer me to psychology, but she keeps going on about me repeating DBT and I am really not impressed by that. She is leaving in a couple of months though so I will have someone new. Hopefully. There has been no mention of seeing a psychiatrist but for the most part I am happy to be on the medication that I am on.

I have finished rape counselling and feel like I have gone as far as I can at the moment, although I know I have barely scratched the surface. I know I need to go deeper. To heal. Because I don't feel healed. Although I feel a little less...heavy. I am wondering if there is a crisis centre here in Nun or maybe Coventry. I know when the summer comes around I won't be able to cope...

I have spent the last week with a good friend, travelling around the country stalking Tim Minchin. It's been amazing. That's all I can think of to describe it. AMAZING.

This will be my third Christmas in recovery from anorexia and I'm having THREE meals in as many days and I'm freaking out about it a little bit. I am also having a lot of chatter in my head about going on 'a diet' in the New Year and losing as much weight as possible. I am sick of being fat and obese. I just want to be thinner...

Anyway, that's about it, Happy Christmas everyone, I love you a lot and appreciate your support.

Sunday, 4 December 2011

Some things you lose and some things you just give away

Somewhere along the line of the last few months my parents have found out that I was raped.

I am finding it almost impossible to cope with.

My Dad keeps calling it a 'suitcase' that I'm carrying around that he knows about but that I don't have to open for him, it sounds like a pretty reasonable metaphor but it makes me feel sick just the fact that I know they know and that they're finding there own ways to deal with it and reason it out when I can't do it for myself. They know I was in crisis counselling. They know that I get flashbacks. They're reading books on PTSD...

I've spent seven years trying to keep it a secret from them and I feel like I've failed.

It feels like when they found out about my Eating Disorder. I felt like sure a failure. It wasn't my secret anymore. They were watching me all the time. I couldn't escapse it because it was all around me.

This probably sounds stupid, considering the fact that I am fairly open about what happened to me online, and to a few select friends in real life, my ex boyfriend, this is an open blog, if you're a friend of mine from FB or twitter or any forums I post in online then you would be able to find my blog and read it, and I am totally fine with that, I am fine with the fact that strangers might stumble upon my rambles... I am not ashamed of what happened to me. I try to be as honest as I can be with myself through writing here, exploring my feelings and the after-effects, going through the constant interal battles of blaming myself and feeling real enough of valid enough to be hurting. I will talk about my flashbacks, about nightmares, about how fucked up it makes my thoughts sometimes. I am open and honest and I accept that means that I leave myself open for people to see the ugly parts of me...

... I just never wanted my parents to find out about it.

Sunday, 27 November 2011

I am fine and I'll learn to take what's mine and live without guilt

I had my initial group assesment at FDL (personality disorder service) on Friday. It was... okay. They just talked a bit about the difference between personality disorders and other mental illness, which I already knew so it was a bit pointless, and then they explained a bit about what they do and had some current service users talk about how it's been for them. It seems pretty intense, one of the programmes is five days a week for a year, then there's a two day a week one,and it's all group work, there's no individual therapy at all, and I'm not sure about it, at all, but I filled in the form to go back for an individual assesment and I'm hoping they'll help me decide what's best for me then, or atleast give me a better idea of whether or not it will be worthwhile. I really don't know what my own thoughts on it are right now.

Then I had my last session at LRC. It went well, I feel like I've achieved something and she told me that I shouldn't feel stupid because I couldn't do much 'talking' and that maybe I did all I could do at the time and that I can always ring the helpline if I need them.I didn't do a lot of hard stuff, I did talk about what happened to me but I was awkward and difficult and I didn't seem to get very far with it. There is still so much I need to deal with, to talk about, it still effects my day to day life, I still get flashbacks and nightmares and the only way I know how to deal with them is to drink or self-harm, I still can't sit with myself, I still can't see myself in a relationship, I still can't see myself trusting a man enough to have sex with, I can't see myself ever having sex again, I am still severely Tokophobic, my skin still crawls... I don't know. I agree with her that maybe I talked as much as I could at the time, but I also know that it wasn't enough, that it isn't enough, that I need more help or therapy or support or whatever to get through this, to heal, because I don't feel healed. I feel like I've taken the first step, but that's about it...

Sunday, 6 November 2011

Feeling close but keeping my distance

I haven't SI'ed and the urges have gone away. I'm not sure how long it's been since I last did it, it's over a month since I threw out my tools and I think I've only done it twice since then so it's been awhile, and it's been much longer than that I haven't had to seek medical treatment, so I guess I'm doing well on that front.

Eating is a bit all over the place, binging, throwing up a couple of times, hating my body, vague restriction plans that I know will never happen, I just want to get back to being a normal/healthy weight and not feel so disgusting.

Still shaken up from 'the sighting' as much I try to calm myself down and tell myself it wasn't keep the resemblance is just making it hard to really believe that I will never see him again, and that urge to get in touch and have it out with him is so strong, I don't know how I'm resisting it, I think it's fear, the fear of him denying it, because if he denied it then I would, too, but of course he would deny it because that's just what people do... How do I trust my own memories? How do I go back to that day? How do I move on? How do I make peace with myself? Do I try to forget? Do I go into every tiny little detail? Do I just... do nothing? What do I do?

I'm struggling with knowing I only have one counselling appointment left. I've only really just started talking about stuff and now it's going to be over. I'm meant to be keeping a thought diary and something has come up in it that I would like to talk about, about how I feel manipulated into feeling guilty about what happened to me because of his actions afterwards, with the voicemail and the disappearence and then the email about 'forgetting the past' over a year later, but it seems like such a huge thing to bring up in a last session. What happene afterwards affected me a Hell of a lot more than the actual rape did, for a long time I was caught up in the emotional side of it, the huge amount of guilt I felt, the feeling that he had killed himself and it was all my fault, trying to work out what that messege meant, was it a final apology, a kind of 'suicide note' because it felt like one, I felt like that was the corner I was backed into. I carried that guilt around, that responsibility for someone's suicide, that I was the cause of someone's suicide for over a year. That broke me.

I don't know what I'm going to do. I've only just started talking about what happened, let alone exploring the feelings around it, I just don't know what to do next...

Friday, 4 November 2011

Still dancing with your demons

For the first time in weeks I have strong urges to SI. I am meant to be in London with friends but I cancelled on them and now have nothing to do but sit around and feel incredibly guilty and worthless. My mood is dropping, I hate to admit it but I can't deny it, the tiredness, the need to isolate, the fear of being awake for longer than I need to be. I just want it to stop. I want to be normal. I want to be happy.

I have one session left at crisis and I feel like I've barely even started to deal with it, but at the same time I feel like I want to leave, that maybe not going to a rape crisis centre will be a good thing because then I can go back to pretending it's not real. Maybe it isn't real. Maybe I'm an attention seeking liar. I don't trust myself or my memories at all. They seem false, or too much, or something out of nothing, and in these moments I crave a kind of certainty, I want bruises, I want violence, I want my life to be in danger. What I don't want is what I have. It doesn't seem serious enough. It doesn't seem real enough. It doesn't seem validated. I am still fighting with the urge to get back in touch with him, to see if he remembers, to see what the voice mail was all about, what he was really sorry about, does he know, did he know, will he remember, does he feel guilty, does he even know who I am anymore?

Sometimes I'm angry, sometimes I don't believe what happened, sometimes I'm scared, sometimes I feel like a liar, sometimes I feel like I'm making too much out of it, sometimes I think I think it worse than it was, sometimes I feel guilty, sometimes I feel ashamed, sometimes I hate myself, sometimes I hate him, sometimes... Sometimes I want it to happen again so I can feel validated. To say that it was violent. I was attacked. Sometimes I want it to be late at night. Outside. Some dodgy looking old man. I want to beaten up and my life threatened. Sometimes I want a real rape.

Sunday, 30 October 2011

It's not war (just the end of love)

I realised today that I am terrified of my anorexia returning, and that it has a big part to play in my current relationship with food, in that I eat too much of the wrong thing because I feel like it might be the last chance to have it, that all or nothing feeling, I'm in the all phase right now but I want to get that under control, I don't want it to be a phase, I want to eat more healthily and lose some of this excess weight in the right way. But that fear of being sick again, of losing the weight and still hating my body and myself, of depriving myself of the comfort that eating gives me... I know I am stll disordered but I'm not anorexic, and I live in a kind of fear of becoming anorexic again. It's the last thing that I want. It truly is. If I start to lose weight will it trigger it. If I don't eat something that I want to eat will it trigger it. If I say no to a meal out or a dessert or wanting to eat cake instead of a proper dinner will it trigger it.

I'm in a vulnerable place right now. I'm probably quitting university. I'm living back with my parents. My future isn't really something that I have even the vaguest idea about. This is when the anorexia could kick in. That feeling of power and purpose. I overeat, or eat crap instead of real food, because I am terrified that saying no to anything will be the start of that Hell returning. Of tests and poking and measuring and appointments and meal plans and fear and anger and resentment and hospitals and Ensures and endless, endless numbers.

I have too much to lose. It would kill me if there was a next time, I am sure of it.

Saturday, 29 October 2011

Lost in the supermarket

I saw someone in town that looked like him. For half a minute I was convinced that it was him. The fear. The panic. The numbness. The memories. Waiting for the flashbacks. The nightmares to kick back in. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting... The feelings start somewhere towards to floor and rise up until they're clinging around my throat, making it hard to breathe, to swallow, to speak.

I have been struggling with anger recently. Feeling so angry at him. At myself for letting it happen. For not being heard. For not being strong enough to stop it. Maybe it's something that's wrong with me. Something damaged inside. Something that gave out the wrong signals. Something I did or didn't do. Something I said or didn't say.

I want to confront him. I want to make him understand. I want to feel like there is someone else in this memory, that it's not all just me. I want to believe that what he did was wrong and I want him to admit it because if he doesn't realise, then I don't think I can move on. I want to survive, and I am, but it's not enough, I want *more*, I want closure, I want revenge (kind of), I want to be told that it wasn't my fault, that he knew what he was doing and knew that it was wrong. I want the life I imagine that he has. I want the world to be on my side and not his. I feel so guilty feeling like this. I mean, really, what would it change? What would it take to make anything change? I could forgive him and move on but I'm not sure I can do that, so instead I want some kind of absolution from him, for him just to say I'm sorry, I was drunk, I made a mistake, he made a mistake... Is it just that, a mistake, is rape just a mistake? If he was drunk and I was drunk is there really anything wrong with that?

Wednesday, 12 October 2011

Hit and run

I had my CPN handover earlier and now I'm officially a Leicester patient. Yaaay! No more dealing with the team back home! It was pretty anti-climatic really, nothing happened, I just had to give the m my new address and that was that. There seems to be no real plan of action right now...

I'm stressing over uni, I've missed a week now, whether I quit or keep going, I just don't know, what to do for the best, I don't want to get really unwell again, everything is so complicated though, accomdation and finance and stuff that's a real headfuck but you can't ignore. I'm going to try and go back in on Monday and give it another shot...

I want to come off Mirtazapine. I don't feel like it's working as well for me as it has been and the weight gain and appetite increase are really starting to effect me. I'm medically obese. I'm not sure what else there is out there in terms of antidepressents. I'm on Paroxetine at the minute as well but it doesn't do anything for my mood, majorly helps with the OCD 'moments' though. Seroquel which I've been on for years, it does exactly what it says on the tin most of the time, more sleep, less anxiety, less thoughts and noises. Lamictal which stops me from being all impulsive and erratic and Borderline and the Haloperidol that kills the bugs. Maybe it's the combination of all that that's making my mood crash, but I'm betting it's more likely to be a circumstantial starting uni leaving home type thing... But I would like to change the Mirtazapine around anyway, even if just to sort out the weight (14lbs +) I've gained on it. Going back on Duloxetine would be nice, or maybe even Venlafaxine, or something new....

I rang the psychaitrist's secretary to try and bring my appointment forwards but there are no spaces. I have to wait till 4th November, she's a new consultant, and a she which I am thrilled about. I have an appointment with the GP next week though for a med review and I may ask her what she thinks about changing antidepressents, at least I get to touch base with someone. I feel like I need some kind of structured therapy right now, I am being refered to the personality disorder services so maybe that's why I haven't been offered a psychologist or something like that, I don't know, there are just so many things going round in my head that I'm drowning into, and I don't want that, I want to be able to swim through them or around them or under them.

I don't understand why the flashbacks and nightmares are worse, unless it's knowing that counselling it's virtually finished without the whole thing really be resolved or 'cured', the wound's still bleeding (ha) metaphorically speaking. I can talk about it and write about it now without falling apart, which I know is a huge step, but I still find it so difficult and the feelings of self-blame and guilt and denial are still really intense.

Saturday, 8 October 2011

He loves me, he loves me not

I had a really awful night, lots of flashbacks about the last time I had sex with my ex. It was awful. He knew all about what happened to me when I was 17, we didn't talk about it but he definately knew, I am only starting to look back and realise what a dysfunctional relationship it was. All my friends told me to ditch him but I judt didn't see it. The last time we had sex was awful, I was upset and crying all the way through and he didn't stop, he got really rough and pushed me onto my stomach, I was crying the whole time from pain and fear and he just didn't stop... After than I refused to sleep with him, to even let him touch me, and he started doing big drama things like walking out of the middle of a party and ultimately leaving me in the middle of a festival in Budapest. The reason he gave was that it was because I was being selfish and not letting him get near me... I ended it after that but I should have ended up way before then. He indulged my drinking, my eating disorder, there were the dramas, and the last time we had sex, the last time I had sex with anyone. Since then I have been too scared. Why do people not stop when I ask them? Am I really that much of a pushover. It's like my feelings don't matter. Like what I want to happen and not happen to my body doesn't matter.

I don't want to think about this shit, I want to forget, I don't want to deal with this on top of dealing with everything else. No should be enough. Crying should be enough. Saying I don't want to should be enough. But it never is. Never.

I hate my body.

Sunday, 2 October 2011


This is the first time I've ever spoken about this. I don't know why it's suddenly on my mind.

I was sexually abused in primary school and I don't feel anything about it. I'm numb to it. It was just playing. Just games. I'm not angry, how can I be angry at a child? I do wonder if it made me who I am today. If it's what made me so scared of sex. I have NEVER had sex without the influence of drugs or booze. I can't conceive of a time where that would change. Right now I don't want to ever have sex again. I'm scared that what happened to me as a child is what made me the perfect person to get raped years later. That I give out some kind of signal. That I'm easy. That I'm drugged and stupid and can't fight back. That I can't say no. I have never been able to say no. Even when I've wanted to. I've danced around it. Said things like 'what about x' or 'I don't want to be doing this' but they have always carried on, I've always been ignored, I've been pressured into having sex, I've been drugged and dissociated, I've been abused by people who only minutes before were looking after me.

I pretend that I'm to blame because it's easier, I say it was my fault because then I have some control over it. People blame me. People don't believe me. I don't believe me. I don't trust my own mind. I don't trust my own memories. All I know is that I hate sex, I never want to have sex again and every time I think about it I want to cry and scream and freak out.

It was my fault. I was always broken.



My handover is a week on Wednesday and I should be getting referred to the personality disorder services, although I'm not convinced that's what I really want but I guess I should give it a shot if I can, and I have two sessions left at rape crisis. I don't know how I feel about it, the last couple of weeks I've really opened up, talked, it's been hard and painful but afterwards I've left feeling so much better, less like my skin is crawling, I haven't had 'bugs' in a few weeks now, which considering they got so bad is really positive. My main concern is that once it's over I'm going to go back to pretending it never happened, and then having flashbacks and nightmares because I'm keeping everything inside. What do I do next? Do I talk about it? Do I forget about it? Does the end of counselling mean that I'm 'over it'...

My GP has also taken up monitoring my medication, she's fantastic, I really like her, and I get to meet the new psych who's female (thank God!) which should be interesting. I'm on a lot of meds but they do seem to be working, like I'm not feeling great about everything but when I take uni out of the equaion I feel a lot better than I've done since before summer. The 'heatwave' has been really triggering so I hope it stops soon... If I stop taking them I feel truly dreadful, suicidal and buggy and constantly anxious and unstable and impulsive, when I was IP they took me off Haldol and Seroxat and I felt worse then I did before I went in. Don't get me wrong, I don't 'like' being so medicated, but I'd rather be medicated and stable than all over the place, especially now uni is starting, I don't really want to start changing things around...

I've been going home quite often to get some space, I'm really not comfortable living at uni, I feel isolated and paranoid and threatened and out of place and weird and sad and lonely and scared.

I've slipped back into binging and purging, and I've been head banging and biting myself and pulling my hair out, I'm not sure what it's about, I just feel overwhelmed and out of control. I hate pulling my hair out, I love my hair, it's not what I want to get into the habit of doing. I haven't 'properly' (burnt or cut) SI'ed in two weeks which is also positive, even if it's not perfect.

I'm also feeling my weight, I hate being obese, I just want to lose four stone and be healthy again, that's how much I have to lose to get my BMI back to <25. Starting today I'm trying to eat healthily, three meals and two snacks, and avoid food that trigger binging. I'm also hoping to join the swimming society, they train twice a week and that seems like a reasonable and safe amount of exercise and a way to meet new people and socialise. I'm really self-consious of my weight and my scars, I'm scared that people will be laughing at me because I'm obese, and thinking I'm a freak because of my scars. I'e been asked by two different people what happened to my arm in the last couple of days and it's made me more aware of it. The thing is I don't think that they're that bad, other people have ten times more scars than I do, my SI is pathetic and superficial compared to other peoples, it's such a fucking stupid headfuck.

Friday, 23 September 2011

You can't take the sky from me

I still get so upset when I read negaitve BPD related articles/comments/conversations, and that just makes me feel more of a useless, hideous piece of shit. I get angry, I get sad, I get defensive, I'm tired of it. Why do I fight it? Because a part of me sees through the bullshit, believes that having this condition doesn't make me a worthless, terrible human being, believes that I am more than a bunch of 'character traits' and 'self-destructive and impulsive' behaviours.

I am more than that. Dear God, I am desperate to be more than that.

Anyway, I've moved back to Leicester... I'm not convinced that I like it, scared of having flatmates I don't know, paranoid, anxious, same old shit. Scared of going back to studying, scared my brain's rotted, that I'm not up to it. I know that it's completely normal though so I'm not letting it get to me as much as I would if it was out of context. I am scared, but that's okay, right?

Generely though, I'm feeling a bit better. I haven't self-harmed at all in 6 days which I know isn't very much but it still feels like a big deal to me, and I'm going to throw out my lighter and blades, and I'm going to the nurse every day to get my burns treated.

The meds have all kicked in again which means everything's a little (okay, quite a lot) less chaotic.

I've been thinking a lot about my last counselling session and how talking about it doesn't seem so terrible now, I feel more comfortable, less like my skin is crawling... It's taken 6 months to get to this point and now I have one session left. I don't know what I'll do after that. Go back to never talking about it. Not thinking about it. What do I do next?

Saturday, 17 September 2011

Without these pills you're let loose

I've missed two doses of meds (by accident) and my mood has crashed, I feel irrationally angry and upset, I really want to hurt myself, just completely all over the place... I was up and then smack back down again.

I take the meds willingly, I believe that they help, and them every so often I forget and things fall through so quickly, in less than a day, things are terrible...

Is it going to be like this forever? Will I be popping this amount of pills forever? Seroquel, Mirtazapine, Lamictal, Seroxat, Haldol, sometimes Zopiclone, sometimes Diazapam...

Am I over-medicated?

But if I go to pieces like this after two fucking doses then what else do I have? What choice...

Body revelations

I like drinking cocktails and eating pizza after midnight without thinking about it. Yes, things aren't perfect, my weight isn't perfect, my body image isn't perfect, my relationship with food isn't perfect, I have moments when I feel like I would give up everything to be at my sickest again, but I have more moments when I want to life the rest of my life without going there again. I am even starting to accept the fact that I might have to stay at a high weight for a while, that I may have to learn to be okay with being this size forever, that I may never lose weight again...

I'm fat, but so what? It's not going to kill me.

Sunday, 11 September 2011

Farewell the tranquil mind; farewell content!

Out of the blue my counseller told me that we only have three sessions left. I only started talking about the rapes last week. How am I meant to deal with all of this on my own. I feel so awful. Like I shouldn't have talked. Like now I've told them 'my story' they don't think it was bad enough to get their support. Like they think I'm an attention-seeking liar. A slut. Slut slut drunken slut. I knew all along that it was time limited. That I only had six months. But it's taken me nearly all of that to get to a place where I can talk and now it's all over.

That night I got very, very drunk and saw people coming out of the tele, thankfully I was with a friend who understands and calmed me down enough to go to sleep.

Yesterday I slept the whole day feeling more depressed and anxious than I've done since before the hospital.

Inside I'm not coping, outside I am fighting to keep it all together.

I feel lost. So lost.

Sunday, 4 September 2011


I am really, really feeling in a bad way right now.

I don't think I should carry on with counselling. I don't think that I have the right to hurt over things that were essentially all my own fault. I don't think that I have the right to think of myself as anything but a filthy slut.

I am trying to calm down. To relax. To distract. I got out my DBT stuff earlier I was feeling that bad and desperate. I can't put it into practise right now. It just feels impossible. I feel impossible. I want a hug but I don't want to be touched. I want to be told that it's not my fault but I want to believe that it is and that I deserved it. I don't know which is harder, blaming myself and the complete hatred and disgust that comes with it, or thinking that maybe it wasn't my fault and that it is okay for me to be hurting and talking about it. I would give anything to be told that I am okay and safe and not to blame, but at the same time it's the last thing I want to hear.

Saturday, 3 September 2011

False face must hide what the false heart doth know

Yesterday, I told my counseller about the rapes.

Today, I feel fucking hideous. My skin is crawling. I want to take it all back. I want to deny it. I want to pretend everything is fine. I don't feel valid enough. Because I knew my 'attacker', because I was indoors, 'amongst friends', because I didn't get bruised and beaten, because I can't remember all the details, because I didn't lock the door, because I didn't scream, because I didn't run, because I didn't fight back...

I just numbed it out. My body froze. My head went off somewhere else. I can't connect myself to it. I feel like I'm in the middle of a play, a fantasy, a lie...

Friday, 2 September 2011

You speak an infinite deal of nothing

I told my counseller everything about the rapes.

I feel scared and vulnerable, shaking a lot, I don't know what to do with myself now, I'm shocked at how much I said, I feel like there is nothing left to say, I've said it all, so should I even go back? I don't think I can cope with these emotions and memories now that I've shared them, it feels better but so much worse at the same time, that doesn't make any sense...

My consultant wasn't even there so I saw someone else who gave me a couple of Diazepam for 'emergencies' and reckons I should have a CPA meeting at some point. The thing is I will never see him again so I'm not sure if it will happen. The new consultant should have started by next appointment coz it's in eight weeks and apparantly she's a woman which I am really hoping is true. I can stay on all my meds until then, and then I'll see what happens... If they keep working then I hope that'll be enough, and if they don't work then I won't want to keep taking them anyway. I don't like taking so many meds, but it does help and being off them was horrible. I need to feel a lot stronger before I can go off them and with uni starting I don't want to risk anything. I just want things to stay level and get some kind of therapy involved.

I feel positive and in control, yet at the same time completely open and raw.

Thursday, 1 September 2011

By that sin fell the angels

I've been in IP for 8 days for suicidal ideation and depression.

I got out on Tuesday and still feeling pretty rough, my parents aren't too happy about it, actually they're a bit more than that, we have had some massive rows about it, they reckon I needed to stay in longer and maybe they're right, but I had to leave, it was driving me insane and starting to really get to me I was so bored. I don't cope very well with being bored. It makes me restless and anxious.

There was no therapy at all, no groups, no activities, and the nurses didn't even bother to talk things through with you, they didn't even give you the right meds half the time. Yes, I was physically safe, but I didn't feel in the least bit supported.

The consultant there took me off half of my meds which I am still pissed off about, despite me asking more than once to go back on them because I was feeling so anxious without them, and the bugs have come back, and the fact that I won't see him again, apparantly I am 'too young' to be 'dependent' on such strong medication. I'm going to see my actual psych in Leicester on Friday and I'm going to ask him to put me back on everything. Hopefully, he'll do it. I don't feel so good without them. It feels like I've just gone backwards in that sense... I went straight to the GP yesterday and asked for my full pescription back so fuck them, I know I'm doing the opposite of what they wanted but I'm taking them and I feel better for it, I can't cope with the bugs, I'm sure my actual consultant can see my point of view instead of a psych I saw once and will never see again.

I have this nagging feeling that it was talking in counselling the day before that kind of kicked me whilst I was already down, I need to somehow work out a way to do it that isn't going to leave me feeling so vulnerable.

I guess the summer is virtually over now, so maybe I can really get things back together. It's not really that simple though, is it? Even without the summer and the memories and flashbacks, even when things are on a level, there are some days it's okay, and I'm okay about it, and them some days my skin is fucking crawling, I don't want anyone to look at me, anyone to touch me. I really don't think talking about it is going to work, because I am trying my hardest and the words aren't coming out. All I said last time was that I got myself into situations where I was drunk in strangers houses, that was it, that's hardly anything, and it still tipped me over the edge.

The more I think about it, the more I go over it, scramble around for the details that aren't there, the more I hate myself and blame myself, or hate and blame everybody else, that can't be healthy, right? There are nights where I beg for the past to change itself, you would think that I would beg for it never to have happened, right? But you're wrong. I don't wish for that. I wish that it had been more 'real'. More like the rapes you see in films. Weird men who look like rapists and a dark, deserted park, or walking home from the bus. They never show anything else, do they? It doesn't happen indoors. In a house. With people you know. People you may start kissing, or kissed the week before, because you're too drunk and too weak and feel too fucking awful about yourself to stop them.

I have rape counselling tomorrow... How will I cope? Will I be able to go at all?

Friday, 12 August 2011

Waking up in the water

I did some problem solving/mapping for my anxiety last night and it really helped calm my head down a bit, this book I'm reading is really good, I'd be interested in actually doing CBT 'for real' if the chance ever came up, though I doubt it would because there are no services for it around here or Leicester, as far as I know, it feels different to DBT, like it's helping you with your thoughts and not just the behaviours, I don't know, maybe it's because I'm reading it from a book and making my own way through it.

I didn't self harm or drink last night and I feel okay about that today. My anxiety has been really bad today but I've got through it without hurting myself, hopefully I can keep it going through this evening and tonight.

I had a good counselling session, although I'm still not talking much about the rapes at all but I guess evetually it will get easier, or maybe it'll get harder, who knows... Nevertheless I always feel shaky and anxious and paranoid when I leave, like someone is following me there and spying on me, it's completely irrational but it still feels real. The counting has been bad today, too, I think triggered by the high levels of anxiety, it's still not settled down but atleast it's not a 'dangerous' coping mechanism and I feel like it's okay to count and check if it's keeping the self-harm at bay.

I didn't take my meds Sun/Mon and looking back on it I can see that it fucked my head up, that I got suicidal and paranoid and buggy, which on the one hand makes me relieved because the meds are actually doing something, and on the other hand makes me feel pathetic that I need to be so heavily drugged just to function at a base level.

Wednesday, 3 August 2011

Teenage FBI

I had a weird night, I think it was because I took my Zopiclone too early which always makes me feel a bit drunk and out of touch. The bugs were bad, I made something to eat and then a voice told me that it was poisoned and that I had to make myself sick. I ended up taking a double dose of everything just because I needed to sleep so badly, but it just wasn't coming without a little chemical help...

Zopiclone's pretty much stopped working. I want to go to the GP's and ask for some different sleeping pills but I am too scared that it will be seen as drug seeking behaviour. Everyone I see says I should be knocked flat out with my night meds (Seroqul, Lamictal, Mirtazapine, Seroxat, Haloperidol) and the Zopi's only meant to be for when I *really* need it (my GP pescribes it so it's seperate from the rest of my meds) but I've been taking it solidly for the last couple of weeks and sleep is still so hard. I think it's the anxiety I feel as soon as the lights are off and I'm lying in the dark, the fear of nightmares/flashbacks, of being helpless and vulnerable. I am so tired during the day, I just feel constantly exhausted.

Some of the ol' drowning fantasies are becoming stronger, too. I didn't start a new a blade but I did some small stuff with a pair of scissors and the scabs of my burns. I am really trying to resist a new blade, I know that it's the most dangerous, and I got my repeat pescription early so I have loads of 'leftover' pilla which is making me feel unsafe and uncomfortable even though I have little urge to OD.

My anxiety has really started to kick again, I worry about everything, especially death, of myself or people I love, I'm so convinced everyone is going to leave me, either my choice or by death, I just can't talk some sense into myself.

I am still beating myself up for not being able to remember the dates of the rapes, like it's not real somehow, I made it all up to excuse the fact I was drunk and fucked up and hurt people. I feel so..... hideous.

Thursday, 28 July 2011

I haven't said enough

So, I never did update about my appointment (s)

I saw the psychiatrist last Friday. He was okay, although I still don't feel 'quite right' with him, if that makes any sense. I managed to talk about everything, he wanted to see my SI so I shown it him and I think that changed his whole attitude towards me, like he believed that the bugs are shadows are 'real' for me. He's put me on Haloperidol to try and help...

My medication is now;

Seroquel - 400mg
Lamictal - 200mg
Mirtazapine - 45mg
Seroxat - 20mg
Haloperidol - 3mg
Zopiclone - 7.5mg (PRN)

Am I normal yet?

My (home) CPN was completely fucking useless though, she is part of the DBT team and her answer for EVERYTHING is DBT, she even suggested I get re-reffered and do the whole course again. Seriously unimpressed! I do *try* the DBT skills but they just don't work right now and I honestly don't think I'd get anything out of doing it again. In fact I think it would be completely counter-productive, going back over old ground al shit. She also made a comment about Jassmine House (rape crisis) in front of my parents which I felt was bang out of order, like a complete betrayel of confidentiality, because I've made it clear that I don't want my parents to know about that, so now I'm kind of pissed of and angry, although I don't think my parents know what she was talking about because she just said the name, but now I just feel exposed and awful and really, really fucking angry!

She also said something really flippant about me going to hospital, I mean none of us even brought it up, she just randomly said 'well, she can never go to a psych ward because it would be the worst place for her' which also made me angry, because I wasn't even thinking about anything like that but now my head is all like 'well, I'm not that bad, maybe things are better than I think they are' or 'they think I'm attention/validity seeking' when I am not at all, because like I said, I wasn't even remotely thinking about hospital until she said that.

I really don't know what to make of her and everytime I feel like I don't think someone is doing their job I get the thoughts that it's just me or something, me just being all Borderline and shit and not liking anybody, when that isn't true because I do like some professionals, but it's a two way thing y'know, and I don't ever feel like I get anything back from Mari (home CPN) I'm seeing Melita (Leicester CPN) the start of next week, who is a damn sight better than the one here and I see her on my own so it should be okay. She usually makes me feel a bit better and more positive, even if nothing really actually changes, she's good to have a chat with, y'know, I like her a lot.

I'm supposed to be flat hunting back in Leicester for Sept but my head is just too foggy, if anything the Haldol is making my head more foggy, but I guess foggy is better than full of bugs, but it makes actual rela life stuff difficult. Maybe it will wear off... I'm also finding it hard during the day, I get two doses of Haldol, one in the evening and one before bed, but by midday I feel all anxious and awful and buggy again. I don't know whether that's just my brain storing up the crap...

I've not drank since 25th but still struggling with cravings even though I know it's useless and pointless, it just helps stop the memories, it kind of kills them so I don't have to deal with them, but I know that it will always find other ways to come out of the woodwork... I can't seem to get any handle of the SI, though, it just feels inevitable, or like everything would be a million times worse if I didn't have those few moments of restbite.

Things aren't terrible, the Haldol has definately made the nights easier and the bugs less, but the getting from the morning to the evening is difficult, I'm restless and find it difficult to focus on distractions, or the anxiety gets too much. Things don't feel okay though, I don't feel 100% safe mentally or physically and their is still a... white hot pain in my head that nothing can keep cool.

This is all a bit cut and paste from various bits of rambling.

Saturday, 23 July 2011

RIP Amy Winehouse

'They don't even know what it is to be a fan. Y'know? To truly love some silly little piece of music, or some band, so much that it hurts.'

I know what it's like to care THAT MUCH about someone through their music or art or writing, that I find it really, really upsetting when people make cheap jokes about 'celebrities' dying because you know, to someone their music or book or film means everything.

I understand that some people don't feel like that, or understand that, but I know that there are people that do and I always feel so bad for them when this kind of thing happen, that I know the deep and genuine grief that they feel, the fact that they feel like a massive part of themselves has died. It's not about the fact that someone famous has died, it's about the fact that someone who you felt 'emotionally connected to' has died. Words and music and films can do that, they can reach across languages and races and ages and get to the heart of people. Why should those people be belittled for hurting, or told that they're 'missing the bigger picture'.

For the record, I care equally about the people who died in Norway, I'm not saying that one death is more important than the other, only that I understand why some people 'need to grieve' when their favourite singer/actor/writer dies. What I don't understand is the need that some people have to take the 'moral highround', and to imply that lives lost to addiction are not as valid as those lost to a bomb explosion, or terrorist attacks, or Earthquakes, or floods, or fires.

No-one asks to be a drug addict or an alchoholic, anymore than someone asks to be the victim of a natural (or otherwise) disaster.

Thursday, 21 July 2011

Turn left

So, I've come up with a sort of list in my head of what needs to change and whether or not I can make the changes myself (or atleast work on them with support) or if I feel like I need some 'medical' support, or psychiatric medical support, or whatever the term for it is.

I think that the psychiatrist should help me with medication to sort out the hallucinations and dissociative episodes, because I honestly don't see how I can sort those out for myself, or with talking type therapy. I am aware that I'm already on a fair few different drugs, and they all do something to help me - depression, mood swings, impulsivity, panic attacks, sleep - but they don't seem to do anything at all for the shadows and bugs and bits of my body being disconnected. So, ideally, I would like my meds to stay the same and have something added, Risperdal really worked well for me a few years back so I'd be willing to go back on that, and it's not addictive or 'recreational' at so I can't really see how it would be a problem. The only problem I do see with it is the amount of meds I would be taking, and how I am told over and over again that medication is useless in helping BPD. I'm not sure how I would get past that... I think that my low mood and suicidal ideation would go down if my head was quieter. I also think that my drinking would improve as I am using it to try and regulate all of this crap, to make my head shut up for a bit...

If that got sorted out, then I would have a better chance at reducing the self-harm, in the meantime I need to look after myself better, stop interfering with healing, go to A&E when I need to - I never used to have a problem with that but there have been a few too many times the last couple of weeks that I just haven't been able to bring myself to go and get looked at even though I *knew* I needed it.

I'm not getting very far in councelling, and maybe when things are a bit more stable I need to push myself to talk more. This is 100% my responsibility and I accept that I need to put the work in there. It is just so hard...

There are times when I am genuinely scared for my safety, of not being able to resist killing myself, the fear that I will eventually break down and do something drastic. I am not sure what they can do about that, if anything, I don't have my permanant address in Leicester yet so I can't access HTT...

If things don't work out tomorrow and nothing changes then I am going to have to let someone else stand up and fight my corner. I know that I have people here I can talk to and ask to do that and I appreciate it so much, I can't tell you. I feel better knowing that if it all goes to shit then I'm not completely isolated and alone.

Seriously, this is the clearest I've been able to think in weeks and even though it's all theoretical it atleast feels like there is the potential for things to change, but whether I will be listened to or taken seriously or anything will actually get done is a compeltely different matter...

Monday, 18 July 2011

Spots that never come off

My Nun CPN is going to come round to the house on Weds
My parents are worried about me but they don't even know the half of what's really going on
They only know about my self-harm
They don't know about the rape/dissociation/hallucinations or the suicide fantasies or the drinking
I am trying so hard to reign the drinking back on but I just... don't seem to be able to do it
It's like the all or nothing switch has flicked in my head and now that I've started I may as well keep going and going and going
I am scared of talking in front of them but at the same time I'm obviously not getting very far talking for myself
The woman is useless and only ever tells me to 'push myself to do more'
When I already do more than I feel I can cope with
Which is part of why I end up in such a state most nights

Then the psychiatrist on Friday
I'm going to give him a chance
I don't really have much choice about it
But if I don't get anywhere then I'm going to go to the GP and ask what I can be done about seeing someone else

I'm dreading that 'well what do you think will help' question
Because I really don't know
I want to say that I was on this drug before and it helped
So can I please start taking it again
And maybe have some kind of practical support in place
Someone to help me sort out all the things that my brain can't cope with right now
I find it so hard to say that kind of stuff though
Especially to people who I don't think really 'understand me'
Or who will judge me
Or not believe me
I guess that is what I'm most afraid of right now
That people don't believe me
That they think I'm it all up
I'm getting so paranoid
Convinced that everyone is talking about me
Plotting to humiliate me or hurt me
That friendship doesn't really exist
Or that I don't deserve it
Everything just feels.... hostile
Shadows in the wall
It's like there are... ghosts
I can see them and feel them and the weight of them on my chest makes it difficult to breath
The darkness is like a physical sheet of black
It's not just a feeling
It's there
I can see it and hear it and feel it
It exists

If things don't change at all by the end of the week then I really don't think I can keep going
I'm not saying that as a threat or anything like that
It's just... I cannot stand the thought of staying like this for much longer
It's time that things start to change
Even if it's just a little bit
I feel stuck
I don't want to be stuck
I just want to get back to 'normal'
For the world to slot back into place


Sunday, 17 July 2011


'I can't sleep these days
and my blues they won't go away
so these little pills I've been taking
my doctor she says they're safe
but I've been sleepwalking down to the lake
and waking up in the water'

For the past few days I've hallucinated different ways of committing suicide, in vivid detail, exactly how it looks, what I would have to do, how long I would have to stay underwater, how many pills I would have to take, how high a building I would have to jump off... The thing is, I don't really want to die, I just keep seeing it. Hearing noises in the wall and bugs under my skin... I can't make anything out, except these visions of death, everything else is a blur, white noise.

I can't keep going like this. I just can't. But I am so quiet, contained, sane, that all this shit doesn't even register, no one can tell, fuck it I can't even tell when I look the in the mirror. A part of me wishes I could lose that control, that I could just start screaming and crying and throwing myself off bridges and into lakes, but I'm not like that, I just keep it all inside, drink and cut and burn and try and numb myself from it.

Saturday, 16 July 2011

It's just words they mean so little to me

I'm not that great
I really think I'm losing this fight
I just feel so.... bad inside

I try to distract myself but I get so restless
I can't stick to one book or one film or one album
I keep flicking constantly between things
It makes it really hard to get any kind of focus/engagement going

I've been drinking every day
I feel a lot less anxious
Less aware of my body and all the memories that go with it

I still see and hear things though
The walls are shaking
I SI and it stops for a bit
Then it just comes back
Bits of my body don't feel right
Don't feel connected

I feel like all I am doing is trying to reist killing myself
I just want it to stop
I don't know how this psych appointment is going to go
I want something to change
Specifically, to go back on Risperdal
But I am failing at keeping myself safe
I drink and cut and burn becuase they're the only thing that stop me overdosing or drowning myself
But I can't shake it off my thoughts
Seeing it all the time

Jenny, you're barely alive

Sunday, 10 July 2011

You're not alone in trying to be

I had a really bad night, I used all my behaviours apart from drinking, that was only because I didn't have anything to drink or any money to go and buy some. Today feels a bit better, but the pain in my head is like a blinding white light, my skin is on fire from the crawling bugs in my blood, the things talking and moving behind the walls are getting so loud, the memories just won't leave me alone...

I'm trying. I am really fucking trying. Getting up every day, getting dressed, going out and doing something, making plans, tying myself to the future and therefore staying alive...

I want to go back on Risperdal. I want a break from trying to keep myself safe. I want a break from living in my head. I want a break from... life.

I am tired. I am so bone achingly fucking tired.

Saturday, 9 July 2011

Sleep the clock around

I had an okay day yesterday, I had counselling which was okay and then I went out to eat with one of my best friends and then to a gig. I was meant to be meeting up with my ex-flatmate today to go to London Comic-Con but I had such an awful nightmare last night, about being pregnant, and when I woke up I just couldn't bring myself to move. I feel like a complete shit for letting my friend now and that just makes me want to isolate myself even more.

My appointment with the psychiatrist is a week on Friday, I want to ask about going back on Risperdal but I just can't see how I can bring myself to do it because I really don't want to stop taking Seroquel either, it's the only thing that gives me a shot at a decent night's sleep. I don't know, I'm going to come across as this drug seeking idiot and I really don't want that, with the whole BPD thing, I end up feeling like I don't have the right to ask for anything because 'drugs don't help' and it's just... argh! I know the things I see/hear/feel aren't real, but they still bother me, they still get in the way of my 'normal life', like the days I'm just too scared to go outside.

I just don't know.

I also keep bursting into random crying fits over Deathly Hallows, knowing that it's going to be all over in less than a week, the fact that it'll be the day after the last ever time I see Bright Eyes the day before is making the whole thing overly-emotional. It's like all the little things that keep me going are not going to be there soon... Heartsick!

Thursday, 7 July 2011

Do you remember the first time?

I had a good talk with my CPN, she didn't make me feel like I was pathetic for hurting over the past, I think she just has a better way of wording things than the woman I see at home, so even though nothing has actually change (I'm not getting more help/meds) I leave feeling like I've at least had a bit of an off-loading session. I haven't managed to talk about the intense drowning fantasies I'm having, although I did say I've been feel suicidal, so it's all the same thing really I guess. Although the drowning thing is more of an obbsession, I get such graphic dreams and visions of it... I'm hearing dead babies crying in the walls, and this fog of black dust falls of the ceiling and goes into my mouth and chokes me. I'm self-harming on and off all day, trying to resist the urge to really fuck myself up.

The more I think about it, the more I think that I want to go back on my old meds (Risperdal) because it really did sort out my hallucinations and suicidal ideation a few years back, but it's been such a long and I keep getting told that medication isn't going to help me so I'm reluctant to bring it up.

I have crisis counselling tomorrow. I know I'm going to feel fucking awful afterwards even if I don't talk about anything much. Just being there is enough to make me sick and ashamed.

I stole some of my Mum's diazepam earlier and my thoughts have been a little more coherent and less racing but it's worn off now and I can't get anymore. I'm tripling my Zopiclone so I'm running out of it fast.

I have a psych appointment in a couple of weeks but it's with the same one as before and I was so furious and upset afterwards I don't think it's worth it. I don't know, I keep getting told that there is nothing biologically wrong with me and that all I can do is keep fighting but I am so.fucking.tired and I want something, someone, to get back to a place where I can do that.

The circus girl fell off her horse, now she's paralyzed

If I was drunk and they were drunk and I didn't fight back or scream then it's my fault, I don't have the right to say otherwise, to feel otherwise. My CPN is right, there is no pill in the world that can fix this, and I don't have the energy to fight anymore.

I want absolution. I want to hear that it wasn't my fault. I need to know that the people who did this to me aren't getting on with their life as if it never happened. I know that they are though, I know that they have love and girlfriends and plans for the future, that essentially their life doesn't include what they did to me.

I want to drink. I am so fucking desperate to get drunk. To forget. To not feel.

Tuesday, 5 July 2011

Cover me in white clay

I'm going to the doctors in a bit to get my SI looked at
My hands is very swollen and painful and I've put it off for over a week and it's not got any better so trying to be sensible and get it properly sorted out
I managed to get up and dressed today and go into town for an hour with my mum and newphew
My parents have no idea how bads things are for me right now and I think it's putting on a huge strain on our relationship
Which isn't great at the best of times
I'm trying so hard to fight through but I'm just exhausted
The noise in my head won't stop drumming
The thoughts of drowning and poisoning myself are still very strong and turn into graphic images I see myself dead all the time and it looks so fucking perfect and peaceful
The bugs under my skin won't stip infesting my blood
The 'proper' flashbacks and memories and dissociation are unbearable
I want to self harm pretty much constantly
I just don't feel like I can do anything to make it better
I just feel so fucking trapped in my own head
I'm seeing my CPN tomorrow but I'm not expected anything to come of it
I just feel.... compelely fucking hopeless and lost

Friday, 1 July 2011

Play me a song to set me free

I managed to make it into town for my session and then when I got there
I found out it had been cancelled
It was such an effort that afterwards I felt so bad
I went to the GP's to see if I could make an appointment but nothing's free till next week

So I left it
On the way I home I had an awful flashback of an horrific acid trip I had years and years ago
Now I am too scared to even move
I just want to curl up under the covers and die
I'm blaming myself for everything
For being drunk
For not fighting back
For not screaming out
But when it was happening I was just paralyzed and I couldn't do anything
I couldn't even say no
I can't even remember it consiously
Just in flashbacks that I don't really believe
The noise in my head is unbearable
I cut to get the bugs out of my skin
But it just starts again
I don't want to eat
I want to starve to death
I want to lose 100lbs
I want to be skinny again
I am obese and ugly and disgusting
I just want to disappear
I want to trust the way that I see the world
To feel connected
To feel like I exist
I just want it to stop

Thursday, 30 June 2011

Tattooed on a criminal's arm

I asked my home CPN to see me but it's not till next week
I don't feel depressed as such
But I have lots of these suicidal fantasies
Especially drowning
I've become completely fixated on the idea of it
Everything feels strange
Looks strange
The world isn't right
Reality is all wrong
I know the sensations of bugs aren't real
I do know that
And that the white noise and black dust isn't real either
But it's still hard to get past the fear of it
And the dissociation is awful
All I can do to get back in touch is burn or cut
I should go to rape crisis tomorrow
I don't know if I should
I've missed one week already
It's just a big blur
I get scared and feel sick and get flashes of moments but that's it
Then I get awful flashbacks of things that I don't think really happened
I don't know what to do
I don't know how to speak out about it
I don't think anyone would listen anyway

Sunday, 26 June 2011

Fold your hands child, you walk like a peasant

I'm sorry I've not been around
My laptop is broken and I lost my phone

Things are...

I'm thinking about suicide a lot
But in this really fucked up romantic way
The idea of going to a lake and walking in with a pocket full of stones
Or drinking tea and cyandine
I'm not interested in overdosing or jumping off a bridge of slitting my wrists
It's like I'm stuck in a time loop
I don't think I belong to this time

I have no idea where my nightmares end
Where the edges of my body end
I feel like I live in a different dimension
Where time moves differently
Where millions and millions of ghosts move about in the empty air
There are insects under my skin
I try to burn and bleed them out
But they're still crawling
I've convinced myself that the flashbacks aren't flashbacks but some kind of hallucination
Therefore it doesn't matter because it's not real
I don't feel real
I feel like I don't really exist
I'm just in a film
Or a dream and I will wake up any minute and it will all be over
I feel so out of touch with everything
Things are too bright or dull
Too big or too small
It's like living in fucking Wonderland
And I have most definately lost my muchness

Saturday, 18 June 2011

I'll fight like Hell to hide that I've given up

I'm obbsessed with the idea of drowning myself. It seems so perfect. The world doesn't look right. My body doesn't feel right. Subtle changes. Corner of the eye stuff. Noise and voices at detuned low level. It's hardly anything but it bothers me. Scares me. My head and body is full of memories and violent ideas of revenge. I don't know what to do. I go to Germany tomorrow. I have plans I'm not prepared to put aside but the strain of keeping going and acting well is getting on top of me. But mostly I just feel like a lying, attention seeking fuckwit.

I fight like Hell and I end up back at the begining, or worse, why bother?

So. Germany. Bright Eyes in Berlin and Cologne. It's already breaking my heart that this is the last.ever.tour. I have these two dates and London and then Birmingham, Gateshead, Leeds and Manchester in July.

As is and unmotivated and on the edge of sanity I feel. I HAVE TO DO THIS. I have to go. I will regret it for the rest of my life if I give in and let it beat me. This is why I go to so many gigs. To just keep going. Right now it's so fucking hard. That's what it's like. The things that mean the entire fucking universe to you make you tired and anxious and out of touch. That's how it works.

I'm becoming incoherent. My thinking is all stitled. I can't think fluidly. Stop start stop start. But I'm going to Germany. That's it.

Thursday, 16 June 2011

Mais les yeux sont aveugles. Il faut chercher avec le cœur

A girl who I was close friends with at EDU and who I've kept in touch with since is back in hospital. Along with my flatmate. And another girl I was IP with. I think it's all finally got on top of me.

I'm medically obese. It's a fact. I eat a lot. I enjoy food. I pig out. I try and kid myself that I'm okay about all of this but I'm really, really not. I hate the lack of control and will-power I have now. I miss being the skinny one. The one that didn't eat. I miss all the anorexic thoughts that used to keep me company. That used to matter more than anything else in the world.

If people look at me now there is no way they would ever be able to guess that I used to be anorexic. I imagine them thinking that I've always been this fat. That I am greedy and lazy. They don't see me as anything else.

I want to go on a diet and stick to it. I want to add up the calories and take away the exercise. Most of all I just want to be normal. A normal healthy weight. To look okay in clothes. To not have bags and bags of clothes that no longer fit.

I feel like I'm just growing and growing and growing and everything is spinning around and losing control and my weight is something that needs IMMEDIATE ACTION because if I don't do it than I'm going to be fat forever. But being fat makes me feel safe. Eating makes me feel safe. I know that I am ugly like this. That no-one would ever want to touch me. I crave that feeling and I crave the food and I crave the comfort in the same way I used to crave emptiness and thinness.

I don't know where I'm at but it feels like fucking Hell right now.

Colour my life with the chaos of trouble

So I saw my CPN yesterday
It was a good session
I'm starting to like her a lot more
But she said she had no idea what my 'absenses' were about
Because she's never heard of it before
And said that I should go and get tested for epilepsy
I already have been ages ago and I was fine
I don't think she understands dissociation very well
I can't see another psychiatrist because she said that they're all men and that he is the 'easiest to talk to'
I rolled my eyes a bit and she said 'I know' so atleast I know that it's not just me
Things are still really bad
I have no interest at all in stopping self-harming
I don't give a shit about that right now
I had to go to the nurse to get my stitches out
I'd lost or picked out a lot of them and she asked me how many there were orginally
I told her xx
She said oh my god in a ridiculously dramatic way
As if she'd never heard of such a thing before
At the same time I had an hour fresh burn on my wrist
That she never even asked about
Either my self-harm is serious
Or not
Every time I have ever had stitches out
I've wanted to seriously fuck myself up straight after
The memories and numbness and images keep overwhelming me
I'm getting scared of the dark again
I don't know what to do
I don't think I'm very good at explaining myself
Or something...

Wednesday, 8 June 2011

Was she scared? Was she bored?

It all got too much the other night. The flashbacks and memories and thoughts are so bad, the panic and paranoia of everyone, even my best friend became a threat. I was 100% convinced that he would hurt me. I feel fucking awful about it. I don't deserve friends when I am like this. I just hurt them. I was so dissociated, the flat looked like a crime scene, my flatmate and best friend had to take me to A&E. I spent the night on a drip and left with 53 stitches. I can't even remember it. It didn't hurt. I just can't connect.

I saw a couple of psych nurses, tried sohard to explain everything, but it's like they don't listen or don't understand or maybe I'm just crap at explaining. They phoned my CPN who's going to see me next week, they said I had another psych appointment next month with that fuck awful one I saw the other week. I couldn't ask for a new one, I don't even know how, I just feel deflated.

I'm going to Download at the weekedand I'm not excited about it, I have a lot of gigs and travel booked up but a part of e just wants to fuck it all and completely fall apart. I feel awful but I don't feel bad about SI'ing. I just feen numb and dissociated and sick. I don't know...

Saturday, 4 June 2011

Do something pretty while you can

On a beech tree, rudely carved
"NC loved me"
Why did she do it?
Was she scared?
Was she bored?

On a beech tree, rudely carved
"NC loved me"
why did she do it?
Was she scared?
Was she pushed?

Do something pretty while you can
Don't fall asleep
Skating a pirouette on ice is cool

Do something pretty while you can
Don't be a fool
Reading the Gospel to yourself is fine

On a bus stop in the town
"We Rule The School"
Written for anyone to read and to see

On a bus stop in the town
"We Rule The School"
Written for anyone with eyes in their heads

Do something pretty while you can
Don't fall asleep
Writing from California to New York

Call me a prophet if you want
It's no secret

You know the world was made for men
You know the world was made for men
You know the world was made for men
Not us

- 'We Rule The School' by Belle and Sebastian

I am still not over hearing that song live the other night. Stuart Murdoch stole my heart with those three minutes.

Some of the time I feel okay and then I crash completely and end up shaking and crying locked away on my own for hours. I tried to go out with my flatmates and couldn't stick it out so ended up walking all the way back through town on my own sobbing.

I'm scared of trying to reach out because in my head all I can hear is you're weak and stupid and should just bloody get on with it.

I'm so desperately fighting to be okay, to stay well, but it's like it's not enough. Willpower and plans and fighting isn't enough. What is? What do I have to do to make it stop? Why is it that my life and mental health fall apart just as I've got it back together.

I am tired of fighting and not getting anywhere...

Thursday, 2 June 2011

When everything feels like the movies

I'm terrified
This afternoon I dissociated in the middle of town and walked out in front of a bus
I have no idea what I was doing or where I was for over an hour
Obviously, I'm okay (well, you know what I mean...)
The driver went fucking mental at me
Loads of kids around
They thought I was pissed or on drugs

I rang my CPN this morning and got no response
I'm guessing she's on annual leave
There is no way in Hell I am contacting that psychiatrist

I am so scared for my safety
Not because I'm suicidal or want to hurt myself
Just because

I do dissociate a lot
But it's mainly a drealisation thing
I am aware of what I'm doing and what's going on
It just doesn't feel real
Or I think I'm on a film loop
Or a bit of body feels wrong or missing
It's not very nice but it's not dangerous
And I never lose a significant amount of time
And slapping or pinching or biting myself usually bring me back

But this
I can't cope with this
I WANT to get the fuck on with my life
I have stuff I NEED TO DO
I am fighting and fighting and yet
It just finds another way to kick me the balls

This is all so hard to explain
I don't even understand it

Wednesday, 1 June 2011

J'ai demandé à la lune

I wrote commented on someone’s blog last night something that still makes me feel sick, something that I’ve been too ashamed to tell anyone. When I was raped I was wearing one of those goth shop tops with the dark fairy prints and bitch and fuck and slut and stuff written all over it. Admitting it to someone after all these years has just made me feel a million times worse.
I should blame myself for what happened.

It was my fault.

Every day is a contant battle between fighting and giving up.

I feel so fucking awful.

Tuesday, 31 May 2011

All I wanted was to be wanted

My mood is unstable, I feel impulsive in ways I haven't done in months, almost constant derealisation, awful nights full of panic and things in the walls and ceiling, my mouth and throat so dry that everytime I lie down I physically start to choke.

I don't know what to do. I have no-one. I'm coming to the end of DBT. The pychiatrist is less than useless and I've been waiting for weeks for a call or appointment from my CPN. I can see myself slipping off the radar and losing it...

I am terrified that I am functioning too well on the outside that no-one is going to believe what's going on inside.

Monday, 30 May 2011

Keep holding on

I don't know what to do
I'm a mess
I went to London with some friends a radio gig
I was waiting for them and this guy was lurking
I assumed it was just my hypersensitivty
So I ignored it
And then ater fifteen minutes he came over and started asking me if I had a boyfriend and all that hit trying to get me alone
I tried to get safe
Go to Starbucks
The met my friends
Forgot about it
And now I'm on my own again I can't stop crying and shaking
Flashbacks and seeing shit and panic
I have so much planned for the summer
So much to look forward to
But when it's quiet the noise in my head is just too much
I never feel safe from people
I miss self-harming
I just don't know how to cope
How to keep it together
I feel completely isolated after seeing that psych
Like I'm completely worthless of help
Like my problems are nothing
I am so despeately fighting to be healthy
But it's not enough
Giving in would be such a release...

Sunday, 29 May 2011

If you're going through Hell, keep going

A part of me wants to throw away my health and sanity.

It's overwhelming and I'm scared of the things that will be expected of me, once I finish DBT and go back to university.

I could so easily self-sabotage right now. I’m craving some kind of destruction. To cut or burn or drink or overdose. To know where I stand. Safety. Security. No pressure. No expectation. No worries. No fears.

I am scared of being healthy and sane and better.

I am scared of life without disorder.

Yet, still, things are not okay, I can't forget the past, it's inside of me, rotten, diseased, no-one will ever want me, nightmares, memories, thoughts, seeing things and being scared and anxious and the panic that catches in my throat.

I am not okay but I am.

I don't cut, I don't drink, I don't overdose, I take my meds, I got to DBT, I go to rape counselling, I fight and I fight and I fight.

But it is too much.

Being okay is too much.

The fight it just too much.