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.