crying on the tube.

Thank God the Queen is almost over. I’ve got to this point where I just cannot even comprehend why anyone cares this much. So she goes from one place to another – and? Why do you need to watch that? It’s almost fascinating – people who really do get emotionally attached to seeing and old woman they will never speak to and don’t know. It would be anyway, if it wasn’t so dull. I just don’t get it. But then I’m not a royalist. I cannot comprehend the appeal. Yesterday, I went to Oxford Street and in all the little side streets were mini street parties. It’s beyond me entirely.

Yesterday was actually pretty awful in a lot of ways. I’m mostly sticking to my rules. I avoided the pub and some friendly outings due to the chances of alcohol and people who I think hate me, I did something nice for myself etc. (fabz. golden hoops with skulls threaded on them – yes please! Sometimes I think I should stop buying things because they’re silly. Then I realise life would be so boring then). It doesn’t change the fact that I’ve lost a whole afternoon and that I don’t feel like I was really there or that it was me or that I had any true thoughts. It didn’t really happen because I wasn’t there. I watched it, once removed. No control over my actions and completely void of any thoughts because I don’t have true thoughts. I ended up crying alone on the tube home.

I really hate crying on the tube. People watch you and don’t want to be near you. It was rush hour so it was packed, but people tried to stay away. No one wants to try to make it better, which I like personally as that would be mortifying, but it leads to making a whole load of strangers incredibly awkward looking. It’s not nice watching a girl cry, and no one wants to think of themselves as bad people for not helping because they’re stuck near you for so long that it seems polite to get involved, but no one actually wants to. It just becomes an exercise in awkward smiles, stepping away and glances which try to be sly, but aren’t. It’s really uncomfortable. It’s worse than crying on National Rail. National Rail travellers tend to want to be more involved. They see you cry, they offer you one of their Malteasers, or a tissue, or ask how you are, or give you an unwanted newspaper, or resolve to distract you for the whole journey (which has actually happened to me and I’m incredibly grateful for) etc. Not everyone, but someone always seems to eventually want to help. And because they cross that line, you can say no, you don’t want or need anything, so their absolved of any guilt whilst you’re left alone. That’s what I think anyway, and I act this way in both scenarios when I see someone obviously hurting. National Rail is just less awkward.

I then proceeded to cry all the way home and into my room. Then over dinner, which made it almost impossible to eat. Lots of tears.

By midnight I was pretty desperate. I felt awful and empty and I had nothing and no one. The fam were away last night, so I had no one to distract me, and Brother had ignored me when he came home from work so I assumed he’d had enough of me. I went through my phone contacts over and over, looking for someone to call. There wasn’t anyone. Plus, as it’s a Bank holiday today, I assumed they’d all be busy anyway and not have the time for me. I don’t know what it is I need, but I know I need something. I don’t know how to ask for it though, or whether or not anyone can help me with it. I’m glad I didn’t actually call. I sent a measly, nondescript text that was ignored, but in the long run, I’m glad it was ignored. I’d probably be so ashamed if I’d actually spoken. In all honesty, I really just wanted a hug. But in reality, I don’t have anyone to call when I feel so awful. No one else calls me up with the thoughts and feelings I have so often, so I assume it’s either inappropriate or abnormal or I don’t really have anyone that would consider me that much of a friend.Whatever reason, I don’t have anyone.

I really had nothing. Right then, I had absolutely nothing. I’m struggling to have something today. Sitting at home, alone, trying to rationalise that I do actually have some things, even if they are small, that make me less empty. I still feel empty though. It’s just more overwhelming at night.

So after completely ruining my day and being incredibly self-destructive, I eventually called my crisis line. It takes a lot for me to call them. I always feel like I’m not bad enough, that it should be worse. But I called them. I got put through to a woman who works on the switchboard for NEFLT, and it’s her job to put you through to the right borough. She put me through, but no one picked up. No one picked up the 24hour crisis line for my borough. She tried over and over. No one picked up. She tried other boroughs, but no one would answer me as I’m not in their care. She told me she’d call back in five minutes, so I hid under my duvet, trying some mindfulness techniques to put me in the moment. Lots of “I am in the dark. My skin feels warm. The duvet is soft. The mattress is springy” whilst I waited for half an hour, then eventually called her back. Again she tried over and over to be put through. It didn’t work. Eventually she got me on the phone to someone in another borough. This new woman just shouted “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?” I asked who she was and if she could help me. She didn’t give a name. She just shouted “NO. GO TO HOSPITAL. CAN YOU GET TO HOSPITAL? THEY CAN HELP YOU THERE. THEY’LL HAVE AN ON CALL TEAM. GO NOW. CAN YOU GET THERE? IF YOU’RE NOT OK, GO THERE. I’M SURE YOU CAN.” So I just mumbled “yer. bye.” and hung up. I can’t leave the house alone in the dark. I literally just can’t – one of the more persistant effects of PTSD. And by this point, it was the small hours of the morning, so it’s not exactly the safest of times anyway. So I didn’t go to hospital. I just curled up under my duvet for a few hours. It took a lot to keep myself there. I felt so unsafe and so empty. There was just nothing. I called Samaritans and talked to them. It wasn’t what I needed, but it was better than being alone. Destructive night. It took a long time to fall asleep.

Only to be awoken at twenty past seven by the crisis team. Apparently if no one answers, they’re supposed to leave a message. The switchboard woman didn’t leave a message. If she’d done so, I would have been called back hours earlier, whilst I was scared, devastated, alone and (most importantly) awake. Instead, she told the team at seven am this morning. I was groggy and didn’t know what was going on. She asked if I needed her to come round. I said no, though I probably should have said yes. She told me she’d contact the CMHT for me and they’d call me when they open after the bank holiday. Apparently, I also have to call the psychological services to try to speed up getting a new psychologist. I don’t know if I will. I already have one, even if I haven’t had any contact with him in almost two months. I couldn’t tell her anything. I should have. I need the support. But I really wasn’t awake enough. Two hours of sleep will do that to you.

After a meaningless few hours in bed, I eventually got some more sleep. I woke up at one this afternoon. The not so funny thing is, whenever things go so badly, food becomes so easy to focus on. I put too much cereal in evening snack last night. I shouldn’t have had so much cereal. I’m more hungry than I should be. Why am I hungry? Is it because I’m ill. I am ill, but generally that makes me less hungry. Why did I eat that much cereal? I should eat less today.  Don’t need a snack. No one will know. No one is watching anymore. I’m already fat, no need to get fatter. That cereal has caused me to gain weight. I’m so much fatter than yesterday. How the fuck have I managed to think it’s ok to not count calories/weigh myself etc.? It’s not ok. I’m going to gain weight. Fuck’s sake Ellie. Plus I’ve stepped down a nicotine patch this week so I’m burning fewer calories. Maybe that’s why I’m hungrier. I shouldn’t eat more cereal because of that. I’ll be fat then. I’m already fat. I’ll get even fatter. And quickly. That’s what happens when you quit smoking. I need to lose some weight just to be sure. I can drop a few pounds easy. Greedy idiot. Why did I eat that cereal? Why? Now everyone will think I’m useless because I have no control. Everyone already does. It was too much. So what I’m hungry and thinking about food a whole lot more. Doesn’t matter really, it’s not a reason to eat. It’s because of quitting smoking. I have to eat less anyway because my metabolism is slowing anyway. Useless person. Can’t even get my body right. Everyone knows I’m useless. They see my failure on my flesh. If I can’t get my body right, how can I get anything else right? Why did I eat that much cereal. I’ll make up for it today. I have to make up for it. Fuck

This is my brain. All day. Whenever it stops, I just have nothing at all. I’ve managed a small breakfast and lunch. I’m starving now. I don’t know what to do. I did manage a diet hot chocolate though, on top of what I’d planned. Even that was hard today. But if I stop for just a second, I don’t have anything. I don’t know. This is a rant and a mood I think.



Filed under general, rant, recovery

7 responses to “crying on the tube.

  1. You get a like for the Queen thing. It’s been driving me batty all day.
    Oh and the comparison between national rail and the tube. I got “counselled” by some dude before on national rail, he wouldn’t go away, he wanted to make sure i was okay. The tube, no one bats an eyelid, unless you have a backpack and “look like” a terrorist, then they freak out.

    Is there no psychiatric hospital near you? When I was admitted, they gave me the number for the ward, which I can now call for 12 months if I feel like that again. You know someones going to be there 24/7 because it’s a hospital ward, not the number of my “24/7” crisis number from my outpatient clinic (they NEVER answer). It kind of makes me feel safe that someone is just there.
    Oh and I’m totally with you on the “not feeling bad enough” because at the time, I never feel bad enough. Three doctors and a nurse had to convince me I was before I’d accept this psychiatric hospital treatment.
    Are you on meds?

    Food is always the first thing I focus on, and sometimes I find myself blaming it for my mental state. “I ate too much yesterday, that’s why I feel like this” when actually, it’s not. Theres something else. Problem is, it’s pretty tough learning what you’re actually feeling and quite often I get it wrong, then feel stupid. You don’t get born with that ability, it is learnt.
    I’m also afraid of the dark. Our GP out of hours service, if I ring them and I need to see a doctor/go to hospital, and explain the situation, they will send a porter in a car to come pick me up. I don’t know if yours might do that? I wont go anywhere alone at night otherwise.

    I’m so sorry it’s been so tough for you hon. xxx Big love xxx

    • On the tube they also really care if you’ve got a big bag/suitcase/small child/push chair/other awkward sized thing in rush hour. They glare at you as if to say “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Seriously.

      There are a few near me, but I duno if I should really be asking for more than I have. The other times I’ve called that line they’ve been there. It’s totally weird that they didn’t pick up. Argh. Bad dpctors though. How are you supposed to know if you’re bad enough? What makes you bad enough? I have no idea anymore. I’m not on meds right now. I probably should be, but apart from olazapine, nothing been offered. I duno. I don’t like the idea of meds for me. I’m completely pro their usage, but I hardly ever have good experiences. I guess I’ll ask when I see my psychiatrist next. Urgh.

      That’s exactly it! Food is so much easier to focus on. Right now, I think I’m focusing on it way too much. I just spent a long time looking at various tofu recipes and deciding not to eat them because I had pbj for snack and I need something lighter than tofu. What even is lighter than tofu? I duno. But it’s easy. And distracts from all the depressive holes I keep falling into periodically throughout the day. Crying at my mum because she didn’t want to go to tescos. Crying on the way to tesco. Whilst gettiing gp appointment. Waiting for gp appointment. I have to keep distracted and berrating myself over food seems to be easy.

      The one time I admitted to the fact I can’t go out in the dark, they told me I’d have to get a taxi. When I said I couldn’t afford it, they said they’d send an ambulance, but I didn’t want one (this was an SI incident though. Maybe that effects it). I’ll ask them about if they have a car service if I call again.

      Thank you for this. Very informative. x.

  2. i broke down crying in waitrose once… all i got were stares. apparently its more socially acceptable to cry in tescos/sainsburys. if you go to asda you get a welcome pack for crying.
    serves me right for being such a supermarket snob

    • Meg

      Muahahaha Clemmy wins the prize for the funniest reply!

      So sorry you had to feel like that Scrunchy, what the hell is the point in a crisis team if there is nobody there? You should be proud of yourself for reaching out in the first place though, I know you’ve found that difficult before (it’s just shitty that nobody bothered to work bank holidays – bloody Queen’s fault).

      Your brain processes sound similar to mine, definitely not a fun way to be! I really hope you’re feeling a bit better now, and when you do finally get to speak to them again (when it’s not stupid o’clock in the morning) you should definitely give them some shit xx

  3. Oh Ellie, I’m so sorry you’re having a rough time. I was just saying to Meg how I would love to have some sort of transporting-machine (not the tube or the national rail) that would ZOOOFFF us over and make some sort of spontaneous meetup possible. Virtual hugs just don’t do, you know? Cards don’t either. Though I’m pretty sure I’d scare the living crap out of you if I spontaneously showed up at your doorstep (creepy old man!), I’d do nothing rather right now than to give you a big ‘ol bear hug.

    And good thing you have those emergency lines at hand. The more the better. Could you not have phoned your parents too, even though they were out? Sometimes even just talking to someone, regardless of them being able to come over to physically comfort you, can help calm you down a little?

    Hope tomorrow’s better. And don’t let the demons destroy your intake. I think I just proved (again) that that’s not a very wise idea.

    Virtual hugs and smooches anyway!
    Love, Sooz

    • Transport machine would be so entirely excellent. And actually something I really want. Quite a lot I wish there was some sort of signal helpful people could recieve when someone is in distress. Then all those nearby could come and help super quick. There isn’t though. And so there isn’t really anywhere to turn to. You’re a sweet heart though. It would be so good.

      I could have phoned my parents, but they were very far away with a very sick family friend and probably asleep. I really didn’t want to disturb them. Plus I like to keep them at a distance from all my not good things. That way they only see me getting better. I know this is probably the opposite of healthy but I can’t seem to do anything else. I try. But fail.

      I’m trying to keep my intake up. I think I’m doing ok. Not counting is hard and not knowing when I’m hungry or just not smoking is also hard. I duno. Lots of hard.

      Thank you though :) X.

  4. I’m so sorry Ellie, my heart went out to you reading this. If this wasn’t bad enough they totally failed you. Hang on through this – remember that you need to keep your intake up if you are to ever be free of this beast – otherwise you will lose even that chance. I’m with Sooz, we need to invent a way to zzzzzoooom through our screens and right to your side when we need to. *hugs* xx

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s