02/10/12 – After Therapy
So I hardly blog at the moment. I don’t really read any either. It’s not because I have better things to do. It’s mostly because I’m finding myself pretty much permanently doing not very much and just trying to get by. The therapist told me today that I wasn’t doing badly. I even made him promise and everything. Getting by is actually not that easy. It’s all about keeping my thoughts occupied with as little thought as possible. It’s not always optimum productivity or anything, but I can keep myself stable enough with varying levels of destructive activities and not one of them is starvation. I spend too much money, take too many drugs, distract myself with confusing relationships with confusing people, drink more than I should, self-injure and have prescription drug abuse problems, so productivity is basically out of the question. It’s ok though because as long as I keep doing what I’m doing, I never spend too long actively suicidal. Friends help a lot too. A lot a lot. I have a lot of fun when I’m able to get out of my little, angry world and just have a silly time. Friends are really good. They have lots of patience with me.
The thing is, my life is pretty static right now. I’m not making progress. I’m not working on anything. I’m in treatment limbo. I cannot stand being in my own brain so I do whatever I can to blast myself out of it. I spend a lot of time in a bit of a daze, not really knowing what’s going on. I’m thinking with surprising clarity for me right now. Probably won’t last the entirety of this post though considering my current situation. Ah wells. It just means I don’t have progress to report on and I don’t like it. I’m not moving forward. I’m basically good at eating now. I can eat whatever I like, whenever I like, with no real drama. Sometimes it’s more difficult than other times and I still get the occasional eating disorder thought, but I weigh myself once a month or so, don’t count calories, sometimes eat chip sandwiches, always get dessert and use a whole load of real life fatty foods in my baking. It’s basically normal eating. That part of me seems pretty fixed at the moment. The therapist thinks I’ve traded an eating disorder for drug and alcohol misuse which is kinda sad, but at least I feel like I’m not constantly worried about food. I duno. I just really don’t like having time to think and right now, I don’t really have healthy ways of avoiding it.
Apparently when I finally get seen by IMPART, I’ll be treated in three areas – parasuicial behaviour; behaviours which negatively impact upon therapeutic relationships (like leaving halfway through therapy, not being able to look at anyone in any of my treatment teams in the eyes); and raising my quality of life (which involves fixing how I view my relationships, keeping me more in my own head and in the present, being less obsessive, stop having panic attacks blah blah blah). The therapist thinks it’ll all start to get better if I start to like myself more or some rubbish. Actually feeling like you have some worth and can achieve some sort of aim or something. We talked a lot about aims today, but I’d never really thought about it before. Especially aims in relationships. I don’t really know what that even means. He asked a lot about if what I’d like from a friend, from my fam and from a boy. I don’t think of people that way though. I don’t think of them in terms of what nice things they do and say. I think about how to hide myself and make it so that if they go, I don’t lose face. Even if it reall hurts. I don’t like to be the social loser. Relationships with friends and boys are built upon the primary idea of protecting myself from the shame of having people hate me or decide to go, so that’s my primary aim. I honestly don’t know how else to relate to people. It’s weird to think about. Therapy is weird. Once I’m satisfied that someone actually likes me, it becomes a different game. It becomes a game of proving your worth as a friend or girl or whatever. You have to give just the right amount, but not too much, whilst not care too much that you become vulnerablee at the same time. It’s complicated. People are complicated.
Anyway, I’m still waiting to hear from IMPART. I don’t even know if they know I exist. I had serious problems with my referral to my EDU and the CMHT. The Psychologist is gonna try organise some sort of big meeting with me, him, some people from IMPART and people from the CMHT to try figure out how my care should be handled from here on out. The idea of that terrifies me. I still think they won’t believe me and that there’s nothing wrong with me because I’m fine. The Psychologist really doesn’t think that’s true, but I do. I duno. I really like the Psychologist today because he’s taking extra effort to make sure I don’t “fall through the cracks”, which I know happens to a lot of NHS mental health patients. I love him a little bit.
I was going to focus a little bit on love in my post today because I’ve been thinking a lot about it recently. I don’t know if I can phrase it right.
(then the internet broke and then I got distracted and blah blah so now it’s now)
I heard from IMPART yesterday, so I guess I take some of that back. They do know I exist. I have a two-hour assessment with them in eleven days and I’m terrified. I’ve put a lot of hope onto this treatment and I might not even get it. I spoke to them for ages on the phone about what they offer. Apparently they usually only take on high risk, “red zone” patients (those at real risk of suicide, self-injury, substance misuse and abuse) and the nice lady (called Siobhan) looked over my referral and said I look like I fit that category. We then talked a bit about the types of treatment they offer and it sounded really great. Generally, for people with my sort of history, they offer individual, weekly CBT based therapy, which links into a weekly DBT group. They also have loads of other groups depending on individual needs. Plus if needed, you are able to contact your therapist out of standard hours in order to help put therapy theory into practice. They don’t do too much work into past events, mostly concentrating on how to manage problems now. That sounds really good for me. But they might not even take me on so obviously it’s not all good.
I had a really bad day today. A little bit because I’m scared of IMPART, a little bit because there’s an absolutely terrifying day next week as well. A little bit I think because I’ve stayed sober since I woke up this morning. A little bit because I only slept three hours last night. Today has been a bad day. Wave upon wave of literally unbearable loneliness, guilt and shame. A lot of shame. I’m on self destruct today. Lots of moody walking, sitting on curbs, starring over bridges and thinking about how much I literally cannot cope with how I feel. And tears. I’ve been an unbearable mess. I’ve also made a lot of lists of what exactly all my problems are and realised I’m stumped by every single one. And as with all these kinds of lists, they end with “no one will ever see me and I’ll be alone forever and no one will glue up the cracks I spill all over the place with so I’ll always just be losing more and more.” So now, after a bit of a rant, I feel like finishing my post. It’ll probably be markedly more depressing than it would have been if I’d finished it before the internet broke.
I don’t know if I can phrase all my thinking about love. I don’t only mean romantic, couple love, but all interpersonal love. I love a lot. I’m in love with all of my friends and the fam and my pup and a million other things. Not just loving them a little bit, but in active-mind-never-stopping-over-idealising love with so many people. I fall in love with ideas of people all the time, then I fall in love with them because I’m in love with the ideas. Then that person gets it wrong and I can’t be near them and they have to leave forever. Then they do something nice and I’m all ideas all over again. The thing is, people always fail because what I need from other people is totally ridiculous.
I don’t feel comfortable if I’ve not got someone to call. If everyone I know is working or something, I start to get really anxious and I really need someone to talk to. The longer it goes on, the more overwhelming it gets. My skin starts crawling because I’m just so uncomfortable. Obviously, no one can be there all the time, but I really need to have people who are there else I start to freak out. This is an entirely unrealistic way to view other people. I can’t expect people to be there for me all the time, yet I can get really angry if someone isn’t there when I need them.
I love with every bit of me. I really do. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by how much I love someone. Like the Brother or Samani or the pup. It’s physical and raw. I expect people to have the same need that I do to always be there. I always have to prove how much I love people else they’ll go away, but no one needs me the way I need them, so it’s not like I’m giving more than I’m getting. I need to call people in the middle of the night. I need to turn up at people’s houses sometimes just because I ache for that human contact. It feels like I’m nothing at all unless there’s someone to see. I need attention else I feel empty and non-existent. I need reassurance else I feel worthless. But because I’m so worthless, I’m always hiding behind concepts and ideas, so I can’t ever get that reassurance or attention because it’s not really me earning it because there is no me.
See, it gets kinda complicated to phrase.
I just wish sometimes I didn’t love at all. That I didn’t obsess. That I didn’t spend time trying to work out how to get someone to realise I need them to not go to work today. That I didn’t spend nights awake dying to call someone just to know that they’re there and that they care. That I could just believe that they liked me and maybe even love me a little too. I wish so much that I felt like I had the same thoughts about people around me that other people seem to have. It’s horrible.
I’m tired of being hurt and let down because I need more than the vast majority of people have the time to give. I get angry at people all the time because they don’t understand how much I need and I’m fed up of being angry. I’m fed up of disappointment. I’m fed up of effort. Basically, I’m fed up of other people. People are so difficult.
But the thing I want the most is for someone to finally understand what it is I need from other people and actually see me and understand that I’m burning and make it better. I don’t think that’ll ever happen because I don’t even think it’s possible. I put so much stock into love and what I might earn back, but I can never earn enough. I do things I hate in order to be loved and it never works. Then I just hate myself more.
I know this is miserable, but I’ll probably get over it soon and be all happy to love again. I’m just sad because I realised I backed myself into a corner because everything I do to get someone to understand and really help is based on concepts which mean that no one will ever see me. I can’t win, yet I keep idealising everyone, thinking that maybe they finally get it. Then I’m hurt because they don’t, but of course they don’t because I’m hiding and I don’t even really understand. So then I create more, but none of its me and I’ve only just got more hidden in the process. It just can’t work. No one I know or love can ever give me whatever it is I’m burning for. Not even the Fam. It sucks.
Maybe the Psychologist is right. Maybe I do just need to learn how to like myself a little bit more.