Tag Archives: friends

dependence.

So I haven’t written much on my blog lately. In all honesty, it’s because I’m having quite a difficult time right now. My emotions are everywhere, I can’t keep up with eating because I have no money for food half the time. I wound up in hospital after yet another overdose. There are things going on within my family that are really difficult, a lot of which involve my brother, and when he goes, who is there to help me? My brother is my safe place. In mindfulness and meditation more generally, thinking of a safe place to try to calm your mind is thinking of a safe location. For me, that’s alone, in a mac, with bare feet and legs, writing in my diary on a stoney beach, somewhere in England, during a storm. The rain and wind whipping up my hair and the sea, whipping against my skin. That’s just in my mind. In reality, it’s Joe. He ‘s there for me always and when he melts down, I melt down even more.

I’ve been actively suicidal for about a week, cutting holes in my body, drinking, taking drugs, etc.. I’ve been falling apart. It’s partly to do with my attitudes towards sex, which is entirely fucked. Being sexually abused for years makes you feel like you are nothing unless you are fucking someone, I sleep around and it means I exist. If I didn’t, I’m nothing. Logically, I know it’s isn’t true, but emotionally, I don’t. However, if I can make myself that image first, no one can do it for me. Another thing is that I’m poor. So poor I can’t keep up with my friends. And now I think I feel jealousy and fear towards them. I’m losing them. I can’t go to their birthdays and no one ever seems to enjoy my company. I feel like all my friends are gone and all think I’m a lazy waster with no ambition or hope. I’m jealous because they are better than me, and I’m scared because I’m losing them. I feel completely isolated. I’m also starting to get back into uni, and that in itself is hard. Working on my MA again is a lot for my brain to take in. It’s doable, but just hard. And my motivation is low because use every time I think about my life, I want to die. I’m not safe.

So obviously, because this makes all the sense, I decided I could have no friends and everyone had to go away because they all hate me and I need help and needed to shout really loudly so that everyone would come and help me. So I blocked all my friends on Facebook, and anyone that linked us, so they’d all think I’d run off dramatically. This, by the way, is a ridiculous idea. Telling everyone to fuck off doesn’t get you attention, it’s gets people fucking off. Just praying someone realises that what I’m doing means I need help is believing in blind faith alone. I don’t have blind faith in anything else in the world, just about how to ask for help. So shout and scream and text people to tell them I’m leaving and telling everyone they hurt me, or just plain blocking (which they don’t notice anyway). Rationally, this is ridiculous.

The thing is, I think I’m ok when I know what I need. I ask, and it’s fine. Now though, I don’t know what I need. I don’t know what will help. I know I can’t mind read, but that means that anyone could lie. Everyone could hide whatever they want from me. That’s why, however an obvious choice this may be, my super power would be mind reading. Not knowing is the hardest, and sometimes all people can do is listen to me tell them their wrong until I run out of steam. Then I need people to sit with me and watch silly television till I fall asleep, just so I’m safe. I don’t really know how to articulate my emotions and I’m kinda sure that no one can fix them but me. Sucks right?

So on Friday, I cried a lot, threatened to kill myself and wound up with friends who couldn’t fix it because how can they?

Which all kinda leads to my point – dependance and attachment in BPD. I think that a common part of BPD includes unhealthy attachments to people. You need them and their attention more than anyone else does, or at least on some subconscious level you do. You need them to belong to you in a sense. You don’t want to own them, but for them to be yours. For them to invite you to everything, for them to contact you the most, for them to be there when you need and never pick someone over you. It’s ridiculous and irrational, but I think it’s true. All I can say is what’s true for me, but I constantly feel like people are like mice or something. I’m always trying to keep them in my shoebox, but they are always trying to escape.

So you cry for help in any way you know how. Whether that’s sitting alone, self-harming, hoping that maybe someone will help, but then hiding it anyway so the whole affair was futile; screaming at people about how much you hate them and ruin their lives (again, futile); or hurling stuff around, breaking things and ripping things to shreds (notice the futility? It’s a pattern).

Forming healthy relationships is hard for me, and maybe it’s hard for other people with BPD. I don’t know. I can’t speak for everyone. What I can say that I’m not sure any of my relationships are healthy. I adore or despise people. I will listen to someone tell me they need space, then fall to the floor and literally beg, holding on to their legs. I’ve covered rooms in blood so that people will stay. I’ve also ignored people, glared at them, never explaining why. I will sit alone for weeks because I hate everyone. The middle ground doesn’t really exist for me and I think it exists for everyone else. The part where not everyone is your best friend or your worst enemy. I know that exists, just I don’t know how to access it. So I cry a lot and cut myself to shit and take overdoses which wind up with me in hospital. Maybe I should have paid more attention in interpersonal effectiveness skills groups.

Right now, people are hard and I need them and I need them to not judge me for getting fat and ugly or being a waste of space or living on benefits. I need them to understand me in a way that I don’t. I suck at understanding myself and I suck at listening to others opinions. I need a lot of opposing ideas to come together and make sense out of who and what I am. I need to be more than obsolete. I need to stop being a moody cunt, but let’s not lie, that’s never going to happen.

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Filed under bad day, Benefits, bpd, coping strategies, fuck, general, Hospital, life, Mental health, self harm, Welfare

advent!!!!

There’s a really annoying boy in my bed right now. The sort of boy that turns up at 6am, drunk, to tell you he misses you then ask you to be his “plus one” at his work Christmas party. I think this is a little bit ridiculous. I mean, its not entirely his fault seeing as I’m totally buff and super amazing, but still, why can’t people fucking chill? Seeing as I haven’t slept at all and he is now sleeping like a really tired, hungover person, I thought I’d catch up on some blogging.

To be honest, I’ve not been blogging much recently, in the reading and posting capacity. It’s mostly because I’m actually doing ok right now. I have my moments, but I’m spending a lot of time with my friends, boys, the Fam, at uni etc. so I am actually busy. I’ve gone from never busy to often busy. And I’m enjoying it. I really like my friends at the moment, a few in particular, and I’m getting my confidence on again so I’m actually talking to people. People are so good. Sometimes you forget, but remembering again is fun.

I’m still under the HTT, which I guess is good because I still have my unstable moments, especially when there’s any contact with the Ex. I literally cannot hack him. He completely ruins anything that makes me feel happy. I know that sounds dark, but he makes me feel so horrible. Like, I spoke to him the other day and ended up crying in Tottenham Court Road, spending £30 on stationary and buying darker hair dye purely because he likes my hair lighter, then getting home, crying, dying my hair and painting my nails black because I was angry and shouting at everyone I spoke to and self injuring. That boy has a lot to answer for when it comes to my mood. He fucks me up so much I swear. And I hate that I miss him. Cunt. And generally I’m not so rude about people. Well I am, but in a lolz way, not a serious way. This is a serious way. Still, he’s fading and I have people shaped distractions.

There is good news though. I’ve finally been seen by my new psychologist. It’s sad because I’m going to have to say goodbye to my super nang therapist who I love and actually sometimes trust, to be replaced by some next woman I don’t even know. The Psychologist is still seeing me weekly right now, but probably not for long. He wants me to write him a goodbye letter, and he will write me one and then we’ll read them to each other. All sounds a little bit too cringe for me really. I’m not sure I’m up to that challenge. I guess I’ll have to give it a go, but I so badly don’t want to :(. Plus I don’t want to say goodbye to the Psychologist because I love him so much. I hate it when people go. I’ll probably cry and look like a dick, but what can you do? I have to be ok moving on to some new therapist who might suck out and I might hate and might be really horrible. I hope she’s not, but who the fuck knows? Soon there’ll be a new the Psychologist and I just have to deal with it.

Still, this change means I no longer have to attend stupid coping stupid skills group. I hated coping skills group so much it’s ridiculous. Seriously. All the way in fucking Essex. So much travel for so little gain I swear. Plus I didn’t like the facilitator that much because she was too loud and in your face and the people in the group we’re all a lot older than me and no where near as logical and scientific thinking, so what I told them didn’t really resonate and vice versa. I don’t say that like their thinking was bad, it just wasn’t at all like mine and it made it hard to feel comfortable. Maybe that’s just me trying to rationalise my own prangs, but it is how I feel. It’s fine though because I never have to go again, which is a huge fucking relief.

But anyway, I still haven’t finished being assessed by IMPART yet. Apparently there’s only one left, but who the fuck knows really. There have been so many assessments you couldn’t imagine. In the whole process, I gained another diagnosis – panic disorder. Gotta catch ’em all in NHS mental health service. Really annoying, but I guess I already had it and now it just has a name.

I’ve been pretty open about my mental health with the sleeping boy seeing as I can’t go out in the dark by myself and he lives about 2 mins from my psychiatric hospital, but he has some pretty wafty ideas about mental health. He’s anti-medications and thinks that treatment doesn’t work and talking therapies fuck you up more and you shouldn’t have them. I didn’t really want to smash his opinions down with scientific research, statistics and generally knowing what I’m talking about because he’s only 20 and I didn’t want to be rude, but I’m sorry what the fuck? Suicide is the biggest killer of men under 25, anorexia the biggest killer of women under 25, people with psychotic disorders really fucking need their medications to stay stable, as do many people with other problems. It really bugs me. I spend so much of my life surrounded by people who either do or try to understand mental health, I forget sometimes how much people opinions can differ and be based on negative stereotypes. Still, at least he’s not rude about my mental health which I appreciate and he does try to get it. Jeez I’m such an over-sharer. He is a bed teef though, which makes him supes annoying.

Blah anyway I’m babbling away, losing my point. Standard though. This is what happens when you don’t plan your blog posts properly. I really should get some sort of structure to my blog. Except I can’t be fucked really. Maybe I’ll do it sometime. It really doesn’t help that I literally haven’t slept at all. No amount of sedatives stops insomnia anymore. Annoying.

The most important thing to mention in this post is the absolute brilliance that is ADVENT!!!! Which means advent calendars and lots of alcohol and festive spirit and mince pies and fun times and everyone is happy and it’s my favourite time of year. I love December. I love Christmas. I love winter. So much. I’m so excited and hyped all the time. Yesterday, me and almost all my S named ladies went to the Southbank Winter Festival to drink mulled wine for advent and it was so fun. Plus really pretty. The Southbank looks beautiful and festive. There’s this igloo outside the Hayward gallery which is literally so cute and pretty. And a bicycle powered light up tree. And so much good food. I had the world’s tastiest lamb burger with harissa and garlic mayo and it was so good. It might not actually have been the worlds best – that may well be the mulled wine and festive cheer talking. It was really good though. So good I could literally smell how bad my breath was and didn’t even care. I ended up getting pretty drunk, but not too drunk. Siblets on the other hand…. Well…

So anyway, I should probably try sleep if I can. Plus this massively horrible, seriously racist and really fucking irritating woman just showed up at my door (unannounced) and I have to rescue the Ma from her because none of us can stand her. Daughterly duty and all.

Here’s the igloo:

20121202-223324.jpgAnd inside the igloo:20121202-223549.jpg

And a festive London Eye:

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Filed under bpd, coping strategies, general, home treatment team, IMPART, NHS, recovery, shopping, therapy, university

best of the worst.

So I had a kinda eventful weekend. It was really bad, but also pretty hilarious.

I think I finally shook the Ex. Too much drama, too much baggage, too much of a cunt. Ok so I did lose my cool quite a bit. I was mean and spiteful and a bit of a cunt, but to be fair, when someone else has been such a persistent cunt to you, sometimes it’s called for. Ok so I raged, but I also apologised for raging. And to be fair, raging was better than the original option which involved crying on the grass after I left therapy in the hospital grounds then deciding to kill myself whilst crying all the way home. Then curling up in a ball on my floor crying some more. Eventually I found the Ma, called the HTT and ended up calling him to rage. I threw things, told him I hated him and that he’s a son of a bitch and that I’m brilliant and he’ll fucking regret how he’s treated me and in a few weeks he’ll realise just how much he’s lost and he’ll feel alone and I’ll be glad because I have people who love me and he has no one and should fuck off and die. Not my proudest moment. To be fair though, I don’t generally bitch about him on this blog so now at least I feel like I can be more honest because I don’t have much to lose.

Then my friends who I’d said vague words to whilst in tears turned up and made it better. By making it better I mean sit with me and make me laugh and tell me I’m loved then convince me the pub was a good idea and I got far far too drunk. Drunk enough for there to be information which cannot even be blogged. Some of it can be blogged though. I don’t remember all of it but there were a few boys, some let downs, others I’m texting and planning drinks with. I think the best way to feel good about finally cutting a boy lose is to get with someone new so that’s the plan. Rebound is always fun.

So for the past couple of days I’ve been distracting myself from one drama by creating new levels of drama and lolz around me. In a few days it’ll hit me that I’ve actually really ended something, but hopefully this next* man I’m texting will be a decent enough distraction to get me through the week. Plus I think he might be pretty. I can’t entirely remember. He had piercings I think. Maybe…? Worst possible scenario – whole thing falls through or he’s a dick, but I don’t lose anything from that seeing as I don’t know him. Except maybe my self-esteem, but to be fair that’s pretty battered already so I can’t see how I could lose that much. I also have the crazy prang part of me which constantly believes everyone is planning some horrible joke against me and that’s always scary in situations you’re not in 100% control of. I duno. Possibly stupid, possibly brilliant idea. I often walk the fine like between awful and amazing. Best of the worst = motto of my life. I am bad people.

I did apologise to the Ex and told him I didn’t want him to die or be alone forever, but I still hate him and never want to speak to him again and he will regret being a dick forever because he won’t find anyone better than me. That might not be nice, but it’s an improvement and I lose the guilt of being such a bitch whilst having another chance to be a bit of an avenging angel. Ok so I might still be a bitch, but a little less bad. I don’t want to be a horrible person, but I do want to be horrible in this scenario and I kinda have the right to be. There is a line between being horrible and being a horrible person though. Have to stay on the right side of that line though. I don’t have any urge to be close to that line though.

So basically, I’m a terrible, entirely hilarious, awful person. So goes my life. Comedy, tragedy and a distinct lack of learning from history.

I just need to keep myself together for a little while. If I can keep myself significantly distracted then I’ll be ok. To be fair, it hasn’t really hit me yet that I think I actually might never speak to the Ex again. It’s really hard for me to process, but that’ll settle in a few weeks as I get used to it I hope. I hate hate hate it when people go and it’s going to be amazingly hard once it really sinks in, but it’s been coming for ages. We’ve been half-broken up since February, getting more distant, then closer, then more distant over and over. I can’t keep myself in that situation because a) he’s a bit of a prick and b) it’s such an unstable relationship that it makes me more unstable, which puts me at higher risk to myself. I make it sound like it was all me, but it wasn’t. I was just so much of a dick afterwards that I made it as impossible as I could to keep anything up. Else I probably would. This is what the Psychologist likes to say is “frantic efforts to avoid abandonment” but I’m not sure I believe him. I just don’t like it when people go to the extent I find it impossible to rid myself of dickheads like the Ex. Right now I’m just trying to purge my life of rubbish people. Hard fucking work.

Distraction is key. Incredibly so. I feel on the brink of falling apart, but as long as I keep myself as occupied as physically possible, I’ll be ok. Plus distraction can be pretty fun. I know distraction and avoidance might not be a way to work through an issue, but they are ways to put it off until it eventually goes away. Or you have therapy. Or you eventually crack. I don’t know what the outcome of this will happen, but it’ll be one of the other.

The line between brilliant and disgusting only gets progressively more blurred as you get older I think. At some point, I’m going to have to get wholesome. I still want a wholesome life with all the baking and stability and a-line dresses and flowers and calm nights, but instead, I seem to choose to be a mess. I’ll get wholesome soon though, just not today. Another day. It’s gonna happen just watch.

In total other news, I fell head first into a wall today. This happens to me twice a year at least. Also, even nice banks like Co-Op are totally rubbish at sorting out there lives. Valium withdrawal makes me feel horrific every day and finally, gingerbread muffins from Costa are so disgusting they made me and the Ma feel really sick. Such high hopes, but the biggest disappointment.

I’m adding this because in a pretty lolz way, it kinda describes my weekend. Too many in jokes in my life.

* I realised as I read through this that some people might not get this. It’s next as in “some next girl” or “any next man” – so basically a randomer. I really don’t know how far this particular bit of slang has spread and I don’t generally bother explaining my expressions, but I realised someone could read it and think next as in the one after the last one. Don’t mean that. I use far too much slang, but people do eventually get used to it or lived in east London as a teen.

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Filed under general, HTT, IMPART, life, recovery, rubbish, therapy

things in the last few days.

Wednesday 14th November 2012

So I’ve been having a bit of a blog break. My world has been a moody, hectic and stressful. I withdraw from the blog world when things are rubbish. Things are a bit rubbish right now.

The biggest rubbish thing is that Juno is very, very unwell. She started vomiting everything she ate and got really weak and feeble. The Fam took her to the vets last night and she needed an emergency operation, which she had in the middle of the night last night. Turns out, she’d swallowed a peach stone and it’d got stuck in her intestine. It’d completely blocked her gut and her gut had started to grow around it, so it was becoming a part of her. If we’d left it any longer, her gut would have probably ruptured overnight and she would have died, but she’s healthy and young and got there in time so she looks like she’s going to be ok. They had to remove six inches of her gut, and they also spayed her so she’s pretty unwell right now. She’s still at the vets to be monitored, plus she’s super doped up on painkillers, but me and the Brother got to visit her today and she seemed pleased to see us. Her bat ears stuck up and she rested her head on us and ate a little food and drank a little water. Hopefully she’ll be home on Friday (if everything goes as smoothly as it seems right now), but we won’t know for sure if she’s fully healed till a weeks time. Luckily, they don’t think there’ll be any lasting complications. Fingers crossed.

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Juno at the vets, snuggling the Brother

So yer, right now I have no dog and I’m worried and sad and have no one to look after me in that way that dogs look after you. They really do save you sometimes. I miss her and she’s only been gone a day. I hate not having a dog around. So much.

On top of this, our kitchen has just started being redecorated. This is stressful in an eating disorder way (obvs.), but also because my house is full of people and its loud and hard to feel comfortable. They turn up, bump into HTT, smash things and generally lead to me hiding away. I hate people in my house, especially when I’m meant to be home alone. I like my alone time. It’s important to me. I like empty space sometimes.

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The £2,000 peach stone

There are good points to it though. In one of my more hyper moments, I decided to create an incredibly selfish Facebook event in which I invite myself to people’s houses for dinner so that they can cook me nice foods to make the transition a little easier. I’ve been struggling with food a bit recently and I’ve lost a couple of kilos, so I think it’s important to try keep my eating up regardless. I figured what better to kick an eating disorder sneaking back in than letting other people cook me normal people meals. I used to find other people cooking for me horrific, then uncomfortable, but now fine. I figure this way, I’m less in control and will probably at least maintain a vaguely healthy weight for a while. Maybe I’ll even gain some weight. That’d probably be a good thing if it does happen. It’s only two weeks. Plus I’ll get to spend a little more time with my friends, which is always fun. Yesterday I saw a couple of people and their aces gecko Ricardo and we ordered Thai and drunk wine and gin and I had a nice time. It was good to see people. Especially people I don’t see enough and actually really like.

But yer, the kitchen makes life more difficult. It’s annoying and makes eating hard. Especially with Valium withdrawal. Valium withdrawal symptoms come and go in varying intensities, but it basically sucks out. I occasionally break and end up taking more than I should, but it is so hard you have no idea. It’s like the worst flu ever – tremors run through your entire body, you’re exhausted but can’t sleep, you get extreme fluctuations in body temperature and mood, my brain is louder, my appetite is just gone, there’s dizziness and generally feeling like you could collapse at any point, your head gets foggy and everything gets less real, you shake and have that not sleep you get with a fever, nightmares, increased urges self-injurious thoughts, anger, irritability, feeling like you literally might be about to die because you can’t breathe, feel nauseous and so dizzy you literally cannot stand. It’s shit. Another reason blogging has been a little rubbish recently.

Another stress had been the major amount of life admin I’ve had to go through recently. Sorting out my freedom pass, upgrading my phone with O2 and Carphone Warehouse, sorting out the Ma’s new phone contract, switching banks, sorting out a new student bank account, trying to work out uni, sorting out deferring my Professional Careers Development Loan due to being in benefits, having no money. It basically means I’ve spent what feels like years on hold. On hold to O2, Carphone Warehouse, NatWest, Co-Operative Bank, Tesco Mobile, Job Centre Plus, university etc. Urgh. I actually feel like I’ve done so much, but it’s probably haven’t done all that much really. I still haven’t decided if I want to insure my iPhone and iPad, so that might be a little bit more admin, but it’s like the least important bit left.

Treatment is also really bringing me down. I’m hating on the HTT, arguing with CDAT, telling the Psychologist I hate him more than anyone else and how he can’t help me, telling everyone off, shouting at the IMPART group that I’m never coming back because they suck. I don’t even know if I need help, but everyone thinks I do and I don’t know what to do about it. Double urgh.

Thursday 15th November 2012

So I did my finish my post yesterday – I got too Valium ill. Sorry.

Things are a bit brighter today because I got to pick up Juno from the vet because the recovery has been going so well. She’s going to need special food and special medications and special walks for a week, but she’s doing well. She’s very confused from all the painkillers and I think they make life a little difficult, but she’s beautiful and home and the vets all really like her and she doesn’t even have to wear a cone on her head because she’s been so good and isn’t even touching her stitches because she’s so well-behaved. I love my puppy so much. I’ve been appointed supreme pup watcher for the next week so I’m going to be well on watching her to keep her safe. She makes me so happy. I’m still scared, but it looks like she’s going to be ok. I now have a purpose again – keep Juno safe and healthy and happy.

I also actually went to my IMPART group today. It wasn’t as bad as the past few weeks, but I think I’ve realised that I’m actually quite behind where a lot of others in the group are right now. I’m pretty sure I’m the youngest and I’m pretty sure that I’m not as good at managing my emotions and impulses as most of them. What they are showing us seems impossible right now. Today, it was anger and anxiety management, but it was all like “in between the trigger and the behaviour, you have all this time to intervene and stop your thought processes etc.”, but all I could think was “what time between trigger and behaviour? There is no time between trigger and behaviour.” It made me feel pretty useless. I don’t think I can stop my impulsive behaviours. I honestly don’t know how. In showing me how, I got to listen to what other people do and it was all like “exercise” which I can’t do without going overboard, or “learn to be assertive” or “step outside the situation.” I am really not good at being assertive and have pretty poor interpersonal skills. I do ok with the people who know me really well, but not so much with new people, and even when the people I’m in love with make me feel too much, I often react in the wrong ways. They deal with it though. I think there’s a general feeling within my friendship circle that I’m not actually the problems, which makes my friends super aces. I’m just realising I really don’t have any coping mechanisms for managing my emotions. Except self-harm, spending money, not eating and getting fucked. Way to go Ellie – fucking useless at self-regulation. Triple urgh.

I am actually complying with treatment though. Kinda. I struggle with the Valium thing a bit, and I drink too much and smoke too much, self-injure too much. I know this, but I’m not trying to fix it because I don’t have any other ways too. Still, I actually went to all my appointments. On most days, I do actually get dressed and out of bed, even if I haven’t slept much. I am really trying to be budget and to eat lots and to stay as safe as possible. I don’t call the HTT as much as I should, but I don’t like them as a whole unit. They can’t keep me safe from myself and I won’t let them really. Maybe I’m half complying.

The thing is, although I’m taking some action to get better, I’m not sure if I believe I’m ill or deserve help or need to get better or have the motivation to. Intense emotions suck out, but sometimes they are great because intense love and intense happiness and intense excitement are really fabz. However fleeting and uncontrollable these emotions may be, I honestly believe I feel them stronger than other people. I know black and white thinking can be bad – everything is all or nothing. However, I have a strong sense of right and wrong and I like that. When applied to myself, it sucks, when applied to outside circumstances, I have a strong opinion and without the grey, I gain passion. Sure, my identity and opinions can change rapidly depending on my surroundings, but I think it means I am more able to empathise with other people sometimes as I really do absorb their views so whole heartedly. My impulsivity around things like drugs and alcohol and shopping etc. make me more fun to be around sometimes. Sure, the dissociation, negative self-beliefs, parasuicidal behaviours, impulsivity when alone etc. suck, but there are positive things about the way I am now. And that’s the thing – this is who I am. I don’t know if I want to be anyone else. I’m taking action, yet I see the positives and don’t know if I’m ready for change.

Still, being unable to work and being unable to do the things I want to do and struggling every fucking day might make this all worth it. I just don’t like knowing what’ll be left of me when this is all done. Will I even be me? I hate not knowing.

But finally, some other great news – my uni have decided to waive my fees and make me a part-time student so I can access all the support I need. This makes me supez happy. It’s also scary as it means I’ll actually have to finish my degree this year, but I have a whole year to do a dissertation so hopefully it’ll be ok. I’m scared, but at least I’m able to access any support I need. Fingers crossed. Once my freedom pass shows up, I’ll be back at uni to try sort it all out.

So goods and bads and lots in between. This is some sort of update I guess. I hope you’re all well.

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Juno having a nap – home again :)

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Filed under bad day, bpd, CDAT, coping strategies, eating disorder, HTT, IMPART, Juno, life, recovery, therapy, Uncategorized, university

sleep.

Last night I utterly failed to sleep until way after my parents had left for work. Lots of smoking and lots of Valium didn’t even help. I’m going to try again tonight though in the hope of greater success. To be honest, I think I’ll be less successful.

Sometimes people really hurt you. I got really hurt today. All I wanted was for someone to care for me, but that isn’t what I got. Instead, I was told repeatedly that I’m not worth talking to unless I do what I’m told, when I’m told. I’m told that because I didn’t answer the phone yesterday, that I’m not worth talking to (as you’re aware, yesterday was mad busy for me. I wasn’t by my phone at the time of the call, but I did text and ring back and apologise. Not good enough though). I’m told that if I don’t let a boy stay the night, it helps add to the fact that I’m not worth caring about (due to a lot of stresses, I’ve been trying to keep myself as stable as possible by removing potential triggers for destructive behaviours for a whole week. And yes it has only been a week). This all added up to it not being worth caring about how my appointments went yesterday.

I ended up completely breaking down. The Brother got really angry and called the person back to tell them that it’s not ok to treat me like this as I’m not in a healthy enough position to deal with it and sometimes, I need a little compassion. He doesn’t always want to try to keep me safe when I’m hurting. This inevitably led to further arguments, being made to feel that being upset means that then person should give up on trying to be nice to anyone and that they may never talk to me again. The Brother wants to fuck him up.

I ended up breaking down further. I thrashed at myself and cried and bit myself then just curled up in a ball and rolled a cigarette. I made a promise to myself that if I still wanted to die after that cigarette, I’d die. I felt like my insides are made of dirt and that I get everything wrong even though I try to do the right thing and that I’m toxic and poison the people around me into hating themselves and giving up on life. I really do try to do the right thing. It’s hard to know what the right thing to do is sometimes. All I am is dirt on the inside.

I finished my cigarette and called one of my top five people. I still intended to die, but I needed someone to hear my insides scream and try to understand. He was at my house within minutes. I sat with my head in his lap and told him I’m dirt and nothing and toxic. I wasn’t making much sense at this point, but he listened. He then helped to calm me down. We stumbled animals online for a little bit and then I was more about to talk to him about what was happening and how I felt because I’d calmed. We laid in bed and hugged and talked about silly things and he reassured me and I felt a lot more cared for. It was nice because he kinda proved that some people think I’m worth caring for. He doesn’t really understand some of my reasonings behind my actions and feelings, but he listened and didn’t make me feel like he just thought I was being stupid. He was just nice. Sometimes a person can help restore a little faith in the world just by being nice. I have all the thanks and all the love. He dropped his plans to help me and in the process, he really did. Today, I might love him and the Brother most of all people in the world.

I still feel like shit and I’m not sure I can cope with it, but I’ve got some vodka and too much Valium and lots to smoke and I’m hoping that’ll be enough to see me through till morning. If not, I hope I can at least stay on top of things enough to remember I can always call the crisis team or get the Brother to help me. I want to get through till I can call the Psychologist without winding up cutting myself or worse.

I’m really sad and I’m really angry. I’m angry at how I’m being treated. I hate being made to feel worthless. I hate being made to feel so fucking objectified. I hate that I can literally ask someone to just tell me they care about me and they can’t even do it. This makes me so fucking angry it’s ridiculous. Angry at myself for letting someone hurt me like that. Angry at myself for caring. Angry that anyone thinks that’s an ok way to treat people.

I’m sad because I am worthless. I am only an object. I’m not worth caring about. I’m sad that this is all I deserve. I’m sad that I can never get anything right. I’m sad because I might lose someone and I can’t let that happen.

I don’t know how to fix this right now. I don’t know what I can do to make them care about me. I don’t know how to make anyone care about me. I know that in the long run, I’ll give them everything I have, regardless of if I want to or not because I need them to stay more than anything else. People only stay if you give up your needs or put yourself in hospital. It’s either making yourself into the person they like, or risking your life. Right now, I feel so fucking lost and so fucking empty that either of those options makes sense right now. I just have to get to 9am though. 7 hours.

What makes it worse is that he’s deciding whether he wants to know me anymore. I’m just in limbo. I can’t be perfect for him if I’m in limbo – I can only be perfect if he sees. I can only put my needs on hold if he’s there to let me and he might never be again.

I was having a reasonably nice day as well (well more like afternoon). Me and the Ma went shopping and I got false eyelashes and silly Halloween things and a boom check flannel pj shirt. I joked around with the Fam for a while and walked my puppy. I was feeling positive and it was all just shattered in one phone call. The world is fucking falling apart. I fucking hate everyone sometimes. Most people just fuck you up and it’s not worth it. I just want to hide. Except I can’t if I’m going to prove how fucking irresistible and brilliant and worthy I am. I have to put on that person and fix everything I broke.

I don’t see sleep happening any time soon…

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love and other things.

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.

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“i look into your eyes… you don’t know who i am.”

This post has another stupid lyric as a title. But I cannot get this song out of my ears and it’s almost appropriate so screw originality.

I’ve had a weird few days. Too many substances going up my nose, too many alcohols, too much into my lungs, too many people, all a big mess. It’s all a little manic right now. But that obviously comes at a cost. Today is a low day. The light of day creates a lot of low days. Today, I woke up crawling with shame and disgust all over me like a rash. I scrubbed so much to make me feel fresh, but raw skin from too much exfoliation doesn’t tackle the dirt on the inside. I want to claw it out of me because I can genuinely feel it. No point though because you can’t find a metaphorical feeling. I hate my brain sometimes. Quite often actually.

I realise a lot of the people around me have no real idea of what my mind is doing the majority of the time. It’s like there are two layers of person. On the outside, I try to act the same way that other people do. I try to cover up the things going on inside. I’m always trying to style out the ways I’m feeling. I just try to imitate the correct way to act and feel, whilst trying really hard to cover up what I feel. It tends to mean that quite a lot, I’m really busy trying to convince the world that I’m the complete opposite of what I am. I get so lost because it’s like no one knows me at all. No one knows anything really. I don’t either.

I had a really hard therapy the other day. I tried to be honest to him. I fucked up a bit because sometimes, the easiest way to be honest is to lie because it explains your feelings better. I try so hard no to lie, but sometimes it feels like truth because it’s completely how I feel. Anyway, the lies aren’t all that important. That’s more of a side note. I was talking to him about how I have to not care about things. I do care about them, but I have to pretend I don’t. I’m not allowed to give a fuck about anyone or anything. Like with people – I have to actively pretend that I adamantly don’t care about them or their opinions of me and I think they’re a bit of a dick so I can’t be bothered. That is hardly ever true though. I just tend to think that they hate me and it hurts me that they do and thoughts about it can be so consuming. No one can know I care though, so I tell everyone I can’t be fucked. Chances are, this shoots me in the foot because it’ll get back to the person I think hates me, making them more likely to hate me. It’s a vicious circle. It takes someone really being outrageously nice to me for me to start to actually, obviously care about them. Then I’m the most obviously in love person ever. I’m a little bit in love with basically all my friends. Unless they’ve upset me and I’m ignoring them because I hate them because they’ve done something which makes me think they’re laughing at me or hate me or know something I want hidden.

It’s not just with people though. It’s with everything. Sometimes I let slip an idea or opinion or fact that I’m not sure can be backed up by the people around me. I then freak out because I got it all wrong, then try back track and get myself on solid ground again. I like to make sure people like me, so I’m good at mimicking beliefs and interests. I learnt a long time ago that it’s not ok to like certain things. The problem is, people like all different things. Some people like baking, but others think it’s really boring and pointless. All this means is that you have to then be great at baking. Nothing short of brilliant is enough. You also have to hate it with a passion. Bad example, but you get what I mean. Sometimes parts get all muddled then you let slip to the wrong person that you hold this belief and they think you’re then too trivial/too serious/lame/annoying/a joke/whatever. It’s all a game of getting people on side. I fail at it more than I win. The more you know someone, the easier it gets to mimic the right responses to get the right outcomes. You can even disagree sometimes if you know someone well enough and know you have the right argument to back yourself up in that situation in a way they’ll find acceptable. It’s exhausting

All this leaves you with though is a complete lack of identity. No one knows what I like, what I care about, what I think. A lot of the time I don’t either. What I can’t work out though is why I’m not allowed to care about anything. The Psychologist asked me why and all I responded with was “because then everyone will think I’m a loser and laugh at me.” I’ve lost out on some really good things because I was so convinced that people would think I was a loser if I let anyone know I cared about it, so I just had to pretend that I really have no emotional attachment to anything. I hate it. I hate it because I have to be silently obsessed with the things that take up my entire brain. I have to watch myself lose out on what I want so that I’m not vulnerable to the ridicule I’d open myself up for if I care. So I pretend.

It’s old news that I’m pretty convinced I’m entirely pretend though. I just don’t know what the right emotional responses are, so I have a default act of not giving a fuck about anything. I have no idea why I believe this, but I do. I don’t know why anything that I actually think is such a fucking useless joke, I have to hide it. I may overshare about my life, but I hide myself.

I was so fucking gutted when I actually worked out that this is something I do. I’d never thought about it before, I just did it. Instinct. It’s not conscious. And it sucks. I just so badly don’t want to be laughed at for getting my thoughts and feelings wrong. I don’t want to be a joke.

What I do want though is to be looked after. I have to be as perfect as possible for every single person so that eventually, someone will find me and they’ll look after me right and I won’t feel like my insides are burning anymore and I won’t feel so empty. I don’t know why I need it. I just need something to fill this gap and all I can think that could be is other people. No one does fill the gap though. I don’t know what more I need. I just need to be validated as something good. I sometimes catch glimpses of it, but there isn’t anyone that makes me feel anything but dirt in the long-term. Obviously I’m failing miserably at being perfect for every single person. Perfect daughter, perfect friend, perfect date, perfect whatever. If I was better, then everyone would like me more and then someone would be able to give me what ever it is I desperately need. There’s something I need, I just don’t know what it is.

So instead, I wonder why I always end up feeling horrible and alone. Everything I do to try to make it better only ends up hurting me in the long run. I have to do something to fill whatever it is that I cannot handle, so in my efforts to work it all out, I fail miserably at constructing the right sort of person and engage in physically and psychologically self-damaging acts to feel better until someone finally sees me and understands. It doesn’t help that I tend to get obsessed with the worst people. I wish just once it could be a good one. I wish someone was happy with just me so that I didn’t have to prentend. Just me doesn’t exist though. All I have is the constructions.

I feel disgusting. Passing out to handle the lows you’ll stoop to in order to just be liked and cared is probably a sign you shouldn’t do it anymore. I do it anyway though. Then hate myself. At least I’ve successfully created the idea I want to portray. After all, I’m nothing but concepts and images of what I think might be what other people want. Maybe one day, the ideas will be enough and someone will at least look after the constructed me enough to keep me safe. I honestly don’t know what’s inside so I guess that’s the only option.

Why am I not allow to care about anything? Why do I have to hide anything that matters? Why will I do almost anything in order to try get proof I’m worth anything? None of this is me, but I have no idea who I am. All I know about me is that I’m a 23-year-old woman living the life of a 16-year-old, taking sick leave from university, on benefits, no real prospects, nowhere to fit in, nothing to go on really. I’m seriously beginning to doubt there’ll ever be a place for me. It’s not like there’s anything about me that’d make someone want to stay long enough to mean I don’t have to look anymore.

God this is all so cryptic. Sorry. It’s just a really bad day.

My insides crawl.

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Filed under bad day, bpd, life, rubbish