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.

confusing times

Hiya guys! I wonder if anyone even remembers this blog exists. I sure don’t most of the time. A lot has changed I guess. I think the biggest, bestest change is that I really don’t worry about food that much. I stay around the same weight, though I duno how much that is because I haven’t weighed myself in about six months. I know my clothes all fit the same, basically all the time. And it’s a healthy size too. So for an eating disorder blog, there seems to be a distinct lack of eating disorder happening. I just eat – sometimes healthy, sometimes McDonald’s. I still have a bit of a problem with drinking calories, but I do when I really want to and it has no real negative impact on my life, doesn’t play on my mind and doesn’t give me unreal amounts of guilt so I don’t think it’s a problem.

It’s been quite nice taking a super long time off blogging because its given me time to get away from that eating disorder mindset. I haven’t focused on it and I don’t think about it too much. It’s good. Great in fact. I’ve been moving on and I’m doing well and kinda losing that bit of my identity. I mean, it still is plays a part in making me who I am, but in a kinda positive way. I eat a whole load of junk and I don’t have mad guilt. I now just think “I’m eating this because its tasty and I enjoy it and it makes me feel good.” I don’t even think about calories. I don’t read food packaging religiously. I just eat, but whilst actually thinking positively about it and enjoying food as it should be enjoyed really. I duno if I would have got to this point without having been eating disordered in the first place. I duno if I would have actually ever been able to reach a point where food is just enjoyable and good, with no baggage. And I feel fucking awful for anyone that struggles to eat without mental drama of some sort. Being a girl that eats like a beast is now a part of who I am. I like that.

What other things are new…

Well I’m basically living south of the river now (ergh) with some friends. There was essentially this huge dramarama involving self-harm, overdosing, stitches and Gym.  It really wasn’t his fault, but he was trashed and responded badly, then he was banned from my home so we moved to his. Then he got evicted, so we moved to whoever would have us. My friends said they’d put him up for a month and me up as long as I want. It’s good to get some space from what’s going on at home and I’m intending on heading back there, but for now I’m back in the family homestead.

See, I’m not sure I even have any blogging friend anymore. I’m not sure anyone who might read this will understand me or even care. I used to have blog friends, but I disappeared for almost a year. I got wrapped up in a boy who I love and gave all I have too. I lost myself entirely and in truth, I didn’t mind. I got attached in a really BPD way. He was my all or nothing. My emotional self became entirely reliant and I began to need him in a way I guess he didn’t respond to. I find trust almost impossible, find it hard to have him leave for a little while because it feels like rejection and I get desperate for him to stay. I try and fix anything and go to completely ridiculous extents. In one argument, he wanted space and tried to leave whilst I ended up on my knees, crying and begging him to stay. He controlled all my love and all my anxiety. I can understand my illogical, broken thinking, but it still effects my emotions and behaviours. Our arguments became fierce. My whole self became dependent on him.

At the same time, his life has kinda fallen apart. He’s homeless, with terrible credit and a job with shit pay. He’s shit at saving as well which doesn’t help and hasn’t got a great support network. He needs to sort his shit out. I’ve done nothing but try to help, but apparently my help wasn’t very good. In his opinion, he isn’t in a position to have a relationship right now. I get it, but it’s killing me.

Apparently I’m also too much. I rely on him too much and became too much of a priority for him. I stressed him though. I call too much, text too much, need to see him too much. I rely on him to help me be ok. He can’t do it right now and fix his own life up. He says it’s just too much. He says he loves me and does want a relationship right now, but he needs a break. A break to fix up his life whilst I fix up mine. A break of an undisclosed amount of time.

I didn’t want a break. I wanted to step back from the relationship, but keep a relationship going. He didn’t. We decided we’d stay friends during the break. We’d still contact each other, see each other a little etc., but then I think he changed his mind. He wants to emotionally detach from me. I don’t want this at all. I don’t even know if we’re good together but I want him in my life so much. So I sent him a text telling him what I was up to, but a few hours later he text me to tell me how much it wasn’t ok. I was out at a party, having a really nice time, totally trashed, but these texts devastated me. I had to go home, in absolute mountains of tears, too trashed to deal with it and hurting too much to understand.

We ended up texting last night. He told me it’s either no contact or break up. I said I needed time to think about it and he gave me the night. Then changed his mind that I had a night and stopped communication then and there. I don’t know if we’ve broken up or not. I also don’t understand how the break would end if we’re not talking and there’s no end date. He text in the middle of the night to explain why he was being a bit of a dick, but didn’t explain anything or apologise.

So now I’m just confused and hurting and I don’t know what to do. It sucks out really. Apparently I love him and he loves me, but maybe we can’t talk and maybe we can. Maybe we’ve broken up, maybe we’re on a break. I can’t ask because contacting might make him angry and hate me more. I don’t know what I want or what he wants and I’m desperately sad. I’m so sad because I’m so confused. It’s so unpredictable and unstable and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know whether to move on or keep where I am. I feel really horrible and I can’t turn to the person I care most about to help me.

Logic and emotion always fighting.

And what sucks the most is that I do think I’m making progress. I’ve been in treatment essentially since I met him and I am moving forward. My risk behaviours are way down. Almost none at all. I haven’t taken any really damaging overdoses or self harmed in months. I’m relying more heavily on drugs and alcohol to get through, but that’s less damaging. Maybe. The other day I was too trashed, slipped on a space hopper and broke my nose and possibly my teeth so it’s still a little bit damaging. My treatment is going good I think. I’m getting a new psychiatrist who I’m seeing tomorrow. I’m going to ask for maybe a mental health social worker if I can. I have housing and money problems now. My family home is supportive right now, but I don’t think it’s helping my mental health. After the drama, I feel kinda at a loss here. I love my family dearly, but after the drama and all the talk of not wanting to support me and how it’d be easier for them if I wasn’t here, it makes me need to go. I don’t know. I’ll be south of the river againIn a few days really. I have to learn to rely on myself. Money is a problem. My lack of structure is a difficulty. Basically, I’m in need to carving out a little life for myself.

So we’ll see. I’m going to hopefully start blogging a bit more about treatment and the steps I need to move forward and all that business. I want to start this up as a recovery blog again, but right now I’m not feeling strong in recovery right now. I thought maybe if I got this self indulgent stuff out of my system and started to find an outlet to talk about recovery techniques and skills and stuff again, maybe I could find some independent recovery focus again. I duno. It might not work and I might not keep the blogging up. We’ll see.

I’m going to read some blogs now. Distract myself from what’s happening right now and hopefully feel a little better. I think I need a lot of distraction right now. A lot of self soothe techniques, and general distress tolerance skills. Maybe I’ll blog about them soon.

I doubt anyone will I read this but maybe it’ll help me. Maybe write again soon.

what i’ll be thinking about this valentine’s day.

There are a few blog posts I want to do. I want to put up the skills I’m learning in DBT, I want to look at some of the stuff I’m doing to actually try and stuff, but for now I’m going to talk about relationships and BPD because that’s what’s on my mind. This is a bare long post. Sorry.

The Internet is literally full of people giving their opinions on dating people with BPD. Most of these opinions are pretty fucking negative. There are websites devoted to “How to tell if you’re dating a crazy, borderline girl”, why you should never get involved with someone with BPD (it’s been suggested that we have no empathy and are actually evil), and even a “How to train your borderline” site for those stupid enough to take us on. Apparently we make bad girlfriends, boyfriends, fiancés, husbands, wives, partners, whatever really.

Now, I really fucking hate the internet sometimes. It seems to be full of guys that hate that they got dumped, seeking revenge by writing out how their ex “must have BPD”, but at the same time, some of the hateful articles out their do have some elements of truth I guess, and that’s what makes me really upset.

I’m starting a new relationship right now. I have no real expectation of where it will go. I like Gym some ridiculous amount. He makes me laugh and tells me nice things and is very silly and jumps around my bedroom with me and thinks it’s a good idea to take leftover drugs at 4am because its lolz and I find him bare attractive and its all kinda good right now. I didn’t want to like him. I was looking for an easy fuck. I was ready to inevitably feel a bit rubbish or decide that maybe he liked me too much and run off. In the end though, he won me over. And it was all him – he kept asking me out in a joke/serious way until I eventually got annoyed at him and gave in. We are not the world’s most romantic couple, but we’ll do.

The problems come in when I think about how I relate to him. I knew exactly how to get him to want me and on some level and I do believe I kinda manipulated him to catch him in some sort of web of my spider-evilness. I don’t know how much of it is premeditated because it doesn’t feel like some sort of plan, but sometimes it feels that way. It feels like it’s a mixture of the perfect amount of filth, the perfect amount of nonchalance, the perfect amount of emotional distancing. It’s about being physically attainable, but mentally cut off. You show the right amount of flesh and the right amount of guarded psychological distress and you’re in. Its basically shouting, “I’m emotionally vulnerable, will sleep with you and expect nothing in return.” I think a lot of guys don’t expect that. I’m really upfront and confident in what I’m doing and men seem drawn to it, often because they secretly think that they can break through all the emotional defenses and maybe get to know you. You make yourself super buff so you know and they know your fucking desirable, then you feed them a slight bit of emotional drama and suddenly they’re interested. It like they good “hot AND deep…. Shit she’s different and worth knowing.” Men can be very predictable.

What makes me sad is this is what they say in all these helpful “How to spot a borderline” articles. At first, we manipulate you with sex and being damaged.  I don’t exactly do it on purpose, but at the same time, it is kinda what I do. I don’t think, “here, have this calculated amount of my drama”, but instead I try to hide the drama as much as I can. Unfortunately, a body covered in scars (old and new), regular psychiatric appointments and having mental health workers visit you daily can sometimes make hiding it hard. And I don’t look like a stereotypical sket either. I wear DMs almost everyday, cut up t-shirts, and long sleeves, it’s just I also wear a lot of eyeliner, lipstick, tacky jewellery, shorts or little skirts and have my belly out. I look obvious and I like to think it makes it seem like I’m hot, but don’t give a fuck. It might not though. And that’s just how I dress for everyone. Saying that though, every time I go out is an opportunity to meet a boy so that’s not saying much. Still, I dress with getting men in mind so I guess that this is me behaving seductively. I feel like a right idiot writing this. I don’t think I’m necessarily super attractive or anything; I just work what I’ve got.

Apparently, this sort of behavior is common in people with BPD. As a group, it seems both people writing for and against dating someone with BPD, sexuality and seduction are apparently something we do well. I don’t know if I do it well, but I know I can be a tad… inappropriate (?) to get a man’s attention. You can read a lot about how people with BPD use overt sexuality to get what they want. It’s a validation thing. It doesn’t really matter if you even like someone, they just have to want you to validate that you are attractive because they would sleep with you. You crave the validation that you can be attractive and people would want to be around you in some way, so you pick the easiest way to seek validation from people you don’t know – look shit hot and flirt like a motherfucker. When you’re turned down, you feel like fucking nothing, but most of the time you get at least some positive attention. I really hate that I do this because really, it can make you feel worthless in the long run, and also it’s gross and also it makes me a bit of a bad feminist. I disagree entirely with the idea that anyone’s worth is based on his or her levels of physical attractiveness in the eyes of others, but I apply it to myself anyway. I wish I actually didn’t give a fuck rather than sculpting an image like I don’t.

My next phase of starting a relationship is one you don’t see on the sites warning you away from people with BPD. It’s the “SHIT! RUN!” phase. You start to actually like someone and worse of all, they start to like you back. Except they don’t like you back because you suck so much and all they actually want to do is hurt you. Liking people is something that comes naturally to me. I actually pretty much like everyone, especially when they’re new. There are rules to like people (obviously). Like, if they are someone else’s (because yes, people are kinda possessions in my mind), then you can’t get too close because they’ll always be someone they like more and you’ll always be inferior so are likely to want more than they can give because other people are in the way, so you distance yourself because they can’t like you enough. You don’t want to get caught out liking someone who hates you, so you let them lead to start with. You don’t start conversations, text first or call people because they probably hate you and would find it annoying. Sometimes, when you get really caught up in someone, you break this rule with disastrous consequences. You break it when you at your most agitated, say and do thinks you regret and punish yourself for doing it later, then resolve to deliberately stay out of that persons way even more so you can’t be vulnerable. You have to take the stance that they probably don’t like you, so you protect yourself by being proactive and deciding to not like them first. This is how I make friends and to be honest, it doesn’t work very well. It takes a lot of effort to get me to loosen my grip on the rules, and generally a lot of time. In this phase, you have to be prepared to run the fuck away from people. At all points, you have to have an escape route planned. If someone actually likes you, they’re lying so you have to run. If you actually like someone, you’re vulnerable and you have to run.

I actually find myself asking people, after years of knowing them, if we can be friends now. This more often then not shocks people a little as they thought we were already friends. I however, thought they hated me the whole time.

The next phase is what I think of as the test phase. It’s not tests you plan or want to give (in fact, I try really hard to avoid them because I think they make me a bad person), but once you like someone enough and start to believe that maybe they like you, they start to play on your brain. When you get distressed, you want them to fix it, but you have no idea how to ask or what it is that needs fixing, so you start acting out. It seems pretty common for people to have an increase in BPD behaviours when starting a new relationship and I don’t think this is because we’re all horrible and manipulative. For me, it’s just I want to get someone to understand how much I hurt and to believe someone cares, so self-harming and other impulsive behaviours start escalating, and you start pulling people in to help you. It’s those blood all over you, pills across the floor, in need of hospital attention moments. If someone helps you, then maybe for a little while you think they understand, care and that maybe they can fill whatever it is that is missing. So you act out more, desperate for someone to understand and then fix you. They can’t fix you, but you hope anyway. It’s kinda like you’re testing them – seeing how far you can push someone to know they care. In the moment though, what you’re thinking is “shit. I’m vulnerable because I like someone and they hate me and I got everything wrong. Best do something to feel better. Well now I need help so I’m going to involve the first person to pop into my brain. Of course that’s the new person I’ve been upset about. Now they’re coming to my rescue. Maybe they care.” It’s a temporary release from the constant stress of not knowing for sure if someone likes you.

There’s also the obsessional, idealization phase. This one’s on those horrible websites too. The new person seems to do everything right and they quickly become the centre of your world, so you treat the accordingly. You shower them with everything positive you have to give, not for some manipulative, mean way, but because that’s how you genuinely feel. There is nothing they can do to change the fact that they are amazing, even if they really fuck up and you know that. They get all your attention, all your thoughts, all your time. You change your whole identity to fit with them, which of course doesn’t make a difference because you don’t have a real identity anyway and they are so perfect that you want to steal their identity for yourself. You start to rely on them because they are so different from people that have come before and they can give you everything you need and will save you from yourself because they have the answer to the unknown question that’s been bothering you your entire life. Apparently, this makes people feel wanted and special and is all part of the evil borderline’s plan to ruin someone’s life by luring them in through being nice.

This is me and Gym. I think this is an appropriate picture because I look like I completely adore him. I’m mostly putting it up to show off my new hair though as the only pictures I have of it are with him blah. (He doesn’t always dress like that by the way – fancy dress party).

But like everything, this phase ends too. This is kinda where I think I am right now – that place where things start to change, inbetween the two phases. Every little thing is a sign that the other person hates you and wants to hurt you. I think it’s to do with beliefs. If you fully believe that you are awful, then you fully believe your can’t be liked. Everything becomes an attack. Youget over it because the other person does something lovely or you forget about it or whatever, and suddenly, you start to feel happy and comfy again and it’s all good. Again, it’s not even thought about, it’s just how you feel at the time. It’s constantly being on the look out for slights against you that prove your own opinions of yourself. When you get signs, everything is over; when you don’t, everything seems perfect. You’re always waiting for those signs that they’re going to hurt you though, and it’s better if you can push them away before they that happens. You avoid the future abandonment by pushing away the person who might abandon you. Then they prove they’re not going anyway and you stop pushing.

Today was a bad day for Gym and me if you hadn’t guessed yet. I got upset because he woke up unhappy and therefore he was bored of me. Yesterday, I decided he didn’t actually want to sleep with me enough so he thought I was ugly. The two thoughts together wound up in me telling him I’m considering breaking up with him because he is done with me and won’t admit it to me yet. Obviously, he responded by saying I’m an idiot and he really like me and thinks I’m super hot, but I didn’t believe him and we had this massive talk where he decided I have to just try and talk to him more about my worries rather than ruminate on them till they get too big. Maybe then I’ll trust him. Although I don’t think that’ll work, I eventually agreed to try because I actually like him and didn’t want to upset him. It was ok for a while… until I was trying to explain why I was sad again because I felt like I was ruining his day because I made him an omlette, but it was too big and he got too full. Yes, this really upset me because I ruined everything and he hated me. He told me he didn’t want to have the same conversation again because it was just long and went round in loops. I took that to mean he finds me boring so asked him to leave. As he was walking to the front door, I started raging, which he heard so came back. It went down hill from there. I was shouting and swearing and hitting myself in the head and crying and telling him how much I was failing and how much of a cunt I am and how I just fuck everything up and how much he hates me. I went on and on till he got super angry at me and started shouting “I just want a normal girlfriend. I want a girlfriend that can trust me and doesn’t tell me to leave when she’s upset and actually believes I want to be near her.” Even in his anger, he’s kinda nice. He was shouting “Why do you just think you suck at everything? You could do so much. You’re so smart, but you don’t think you can do anything when you could do anything. It makes me so angry.” The normal thing stung though. He hates it when I get worked up because he thinks I just shut down and make it difficult for him. I don’t know if I do, but still. Then he got really angry because I wouldn’t tell him I wanted to see him. I never ask to see him. Ever. He has to make the call to see me. He told me over and over to give him a straight answer, but all I could say was “There is no right answer. If I say yes, then I’m pressuring you to see me. If I say no, then I’m not giving you the attention you might want.” Eventually I just said no because it was easier than actually saying I wanted to see him. I’m vulnerable if I admit I want to see him, plus the prospect that I might become a burden is something that I’m so scared of, I’d rather not see him at all. Again, he was pissed because he just wanted me to be able to tell him I want to see him to show I care. Got that wrong as well I guess. I then asked Gym if he thought I was cut out for being in a relationship, to which he responded, “No one likes to hear this, but I just don’t think you’re trying hard enough. You’re doing everything right, just not enough.” Again, I freaked out. That just means I’m doing it wrong because I’m actually trying really hard, but it’s just not enough because I’m not enough and I suck etc.

So yer, I’ve been really worried about how BPD affects my ability to form healthy relationships. The Therapist told met trust issues are part and parcel of BPD. On top of that, a lot of this stuff seems pretty standard as far as the internet tells me. However, that doesn’t make it easier. All the information I find seems to say it is possible to have a relationship with someone with BPD, but it’s hard work. I don’t want to be hard work. I don’t want to be difficult. I want to be worth it and it just seems like I’m not. In a lot of ways, I’m beginning to think that maybe I just shouldn’t be in a relationship. Possibly ever. I’m upsetting someone I care about because I don’t know how to trust him, assume and look for the worst and have so little self-worth I can’t imagine that he even likes me. It upsets him. I find it difficult to understand why because it’s not like I don’t like him. I duno. I’m just worried I’m broken in some fundamental way that makes this all impossible. It doesn’t help that he really doesn’t understand BPD and thinks I don’t actually have it. I’m just really scared if I don’t shape up quickly, he’ll leave because I can’t give be a satisfying, “normal” girlfriend and he just has a bad time with me. I don’t know how to be different, but if I don’t learn how, I’ll probably be alone forever. I’m fucking up something good because I can’t hack being alive. Urgh.

Happy Valentine’s I guess.

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.

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.

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.

Juno having a nap – home again :)

crazy 24 hours.

Last night was really bad. I tried to distract myself, but it didn’t work for long.

I duno what flipped in me, but I flipped and got really agitated and distressed. I wound up on the phone to the HTT at midnight or summin with a bottle of aspirin and the full intent to die. Because they’re in and out of A&E at night, they had bad signal and promised to call me back in 10 minutes. It took me about 3 minutes to decide I couldn’t just sit, so I self-harmed pretty badly down my already gnawed up arms. Nothing that needed A&E, only steri-strips. That lasted about 45 minutes till I called them back again and there was no answer. So I then called the Crisis line, which was also useless and just burst into tears until they found someone to connect me to. He talked to me for about 45 minutes and persuaded me that yes I should take my meds rather than try to hoard them and I calmed a little, but still felt unsafe.

I got the Brother to come and sit with me. I told him how I felt honestly, even that I wanted to just die because it all burnt so much. I think that was brave of me. He made me some apple squash, put on Time Trumpet and watched it in bed with me and Afiq (my teddy). I even took my zopiclone, though it didn’t work so well. We got through the whole season before I felt sleepy, but he left me falling asleep to the Armando Iannucci Shows. The Brother was good and picked things that made me giggle and lifted my mood up a lot. He looks after me better than anyone else in the world. He doesn’t cry or tell me how he doesn’t understand or ask questions. He accepts it and goes “Right – let’s do something nice together right this second. For as long as it takes.” I need that when I’m feeling so desperately lost and low. I can’t find a way out myself, so asking me anything and expecting positive outcomes is ridiculous because I can’t find the answers.

I woke up not too drowsy and a little bit more hungry than I have been the past few days. I think the initial side effects of the zopiclone are wearing off a bit now. I was able to eat breakfast, a cookie and a big lunch, though I feel too sick to eat right now so I duno how dinner will fare up. I was in a foul mood though. I was angry. Like really angry. I was fuming at the HTT for not making it better and not taking me seriously. Sometimes I think I should just kill myself so people will finally believe I’m not making all this up. I get paranoid that everyone thinks I make it up so they don’t listen to me or take anything I say seriously. Then I start to think that I am making it all up and I’m fine, so I need to make myself less ok. Then I realise I’m not ok in the first place if I’m thinking of doing serious harm in order to get other people and myself to believe me. It’s a cycle of thought with no clear exit. Anyway, I was planning on shouting at them and telling them that they don’t care and don’t listen and don’t understand, but I managed to keep myself marginally acceptable when they came. I was argumentative and rude (which I regret), but I didn’t tell them how much I fucking hate them or anything. I don’t even hate them. I just felt like they didn’t care, which made me hate them at that moment in time.

Keeping my anger in didn’t last long though. I’ve been getting angry lately that the Pa wants to walk Juno all the time. We share care for her. He gives her breakfast and a quick morning walk, I give her a long daytime walk and lunch, the Ma feeds her dinner and the Pa gives her a quick evening walk. This works out well for me because generally, I’m home alone during the days, so I can walk her whenever and we get lots of bonding time. Granted, now the clocks have gone back, the walks will literally have to be earlier, but I have trouble motivating myself to do anything for hours once I wake up so I generally walk her between 3-6pm (now it’ll have to be 2-4pm. Fucking daylight savings). The Pa has some time off work because it’s half-term for the Ma and it was Eid on Friday so she had that off too. He’s kept asking me if he could walk her or saying “I’m thinking about walking Juno now” at like 1pm, whilst I’m probably still in pajamas. I’ve got it into my head that he hates that she’s not his dog and his dog only. I think he’s trying to steal her from me. My walks with Juno are one of my favorite parts of the day because I have music and my pup and autumnal weather, so this has been really getting to me. Juno looks after me and I love her and I don’t want her to stop loving me (some next level abandonment issues. I mean, come one – She’s a dog. She loves everyone). Anyway, I went downstairs to give her a hug and she ignored me calling and just sat by the Pa. Now I know she’s a dog and has no bad intentions, but this really really hurt me anyway. I then told the Pa he could walk her and he’d won and he’d got her all to himself now. I then ran upstairs and started hitting and biting and ripping etc. Obviously I had to go upstairs because I didn’t want Juno to feel stress in the household as it would upset her.

Anyway, the Brother came to talk to me and suddenly I was devastated. I was crying about how no one loved me and the Pa had stolen my dog from me and I had no one to care for me and even my dog can’t love me and blah blah blah. I was angry and devastated and confused. Mostly, I was just way too emotional. The Pa came into my room and I shouted and cursed and cried some more. Standard. He told me to just hug my puppy, but I told him she doesn’t love me anymore and I didn’t want to be rejected again etc. You know the drill. So I told him off, cried, and kicked him out my room. He threatened to send Juno to Battersea because he “doesn’t want a dog to tear a family apart” (which I think is a bit dramatic, but I know I was being dramatic too). I told him that I love her too much to let her go. It was a bit of a scene.

Once left alone to my own devices, feeling like death and wanting to self-harm, I checked the Daily Puppy (I know I keep going on about it, but still), just to see whether they’d accepted or rejected her. I did not expect to see my beautiful Juno staring at me as the puppy of the day 27th October 2012! All of a sudden, my mood changed entirely. I was ecstatic. I called the Pa and ran downstairs with my laptop to show him. I read all the comments, told everyone how many biscuits she had, started scouring twitter for all the Juno related tweets, ‘liked’ the Daily Puppy facebook page and shared their picture of Juno and commented on it and linked her profile on my page and was just really happy. As of right now, over 1,000 people on Facebook have ‘liked’ her picture and 54 have shared it, she has 1,611 biscuits and 52 comments on her Daily Puppy page. People are even putting her on Pintrest. I got major excitement. Bouncing off the walls excitement. We went on an extra long hour and a bit walk today so I could show my whole neighbourhood the puppy of the day. She’s a local celebrity, even though no one recognised her. I’m generally not someone to show off their pets like this, but with Juno I just feel so compelled. She’s too adorable.

Suddenly, I love everyone and everything and today is fantastic and I complied with the HTT treatment and took my medications in front of them. I promised I’d call again if I have another minor crisis or need to self-harm again tonight. The CMHT Psychiatrist (who will, at some point, be just the Psychiatrist, but I’m taking a transition period to not confuse people) emailed me this morning and told me I should go to the local Community Drug and Alcohol Team (CDAT) for help with my Valium issues. I emailed him back to tell him it was stupid this morning. I already have four teams involved in my care – adding another seems a bit much and a bit confusing. IMPART + CMHT + EDU + HTT + CDAT = waaaay to many acronyms. Plus, I’ve already been working on it myself to get off it. Then this evening I talked to the HTT about it and now I’m going to go tomorrow. I have to be there at 9:30am to get seen quickly as they only offer drop in sessions and the later you get there, the longer the wait, which sucks, but they’re in the same building as the HTT so I can kill two birds with one stone in that trip. Plus an extra hours walk is an extra hours worth of headphones so it’s not so bad. Still, at least group is cancelled this week so I don’t have that to cope with as well as all this other treatment malarky.

What is rubbish though is that, with the HTT coming twice a day (due to my tablet hoarding compulsions), I had to miss dog training today. The Pa can show me it all tomorrow so I can catch up, but I hate missing it, but it’s only one class and its session two, which is the same one I saw when I visited the group to see if it’d be good for Juno. I reckon I can figure it out better with the HTT by this time next week (if they’re even still seeing me twice daily. To be fair, if they are, I’d prefer them to come evenings anyway because I can’t got out in the dark as it is, but I can get them to come earlier).

This might sound all positive, but I’m not sure it is. Right now, I’m less excited. More lonely and sad. That’s probably because I just had some Valium though. The problem is, as I’m lowering my Valium intake or as more life stresses build up (having to repay my Professional Careers Development Loan, broke without a job for instance), my personal life gets more complicated and painful or my duloxetine needs to be upped or for whatever mixture of reasons, my emotions are becoming increasingly volatile. Both in a good, and bad way, they are getting more and more intense. More and more difficult to manage.

I’m getting more obsessive over little things too. Right now, I’m obsessively trying to decide between an iPhone 5 or a Galaxy SIII. I’m also obsessing over the Daily Puppy thing. It’s not like I mind being obsessive, but I find it hard to do anything else. Especially the things I need to do (like sort out how to pay off this loan and try to change my student bank account to Co-op so all my accounts are in one bank, thus easier to manage and getting the Psychiatrist to sort out my freedom pass etc.). I look over the same webpages again and again and I can’t not do it. Everything else becomes secondary to whatever I’m obsessing over. I’m also starting to get hyped up about my iPad 4 turning up (I had a major breakdown in Sainsbury’s, so even though it was against store policy, they gave me a refund so I pre-ordered the new one. Not a mini one though. I don’t want a mini one). I’m counting down days. Literally. It’s arriving on Friday and I cannot contain myself. Then on Monday I can upgrade my phone and well…. that’s its own minefield. These things cost money I shouldn’t spend, but I figure I can deal with it at some point in the future.

I’m also getting more irritable. Little things are triggering anger, rages and hate. Like the fact that it’s half term and the Fam are all around and I get irritated when they speak to me because this is my time and if they try to hard, I get angry and hate them. Of course, they are all trying too hard because the Psychologist told them about my increasing level of risk and stash of painkillers. I’m self-harming more and more, and it’s getting progressively worse. None of this is really that good. I’m not trying to stop it either. I don’t know how to and even if I did, I’m not sure I have the motivation for change. I’m acting as if I’m ready to change. I’m taking all the right steps and trying to do what I’m asked sometimes,  but if they don’t watch me take my meds, I hoard them. I’m not trying to cut down on self-harm. I’m not giving the HTT my stash of pills like they keep asking. I’m perfectly aware of the fact that it’s dangerous to have them there as I tend to act on impulse, but I want to keep that option open and I know that if I gave them away, I’d just buy more the same day and not tell them.

So I don’t know if I’m doing good or not. I don’t know if I’m being compliant with treatment or not. I don’t know what I want to get out of it or if I’m ready to change. I don’t even know if I even need help or not. If I’m acting or I really feel like this. I don’t know what to do or if I’m doing everything wrong.

All I know is that no one hears me screaming and I’m desperate to find a way of letting the whole world know how much my insides burn so that someone will understand and make it better. I don’t even think that’s possible.

when i leave my journal at home.

This is going to be a very long, very personal post. Most of it is going to be in my handwriting so if you can’t read it, I apologise. I think it’s reasonably legible, but who knows what anyone else will think. It’s fine if you can’t be fucked. I write quickly and in a lengthy manner and because it’s handwritten, it’s not edited or anything. I’m also going to put lots of pictures because photos are nice. If there’s a photo of you and you want me to remove it, just lemme know. Here goes…

Then, in order of mention in these pages (most of these pictures come from my camera. The ones that don’t, I have no idea who took. Even some of the ones that are could have been taken by anyone. Sorry if you read this and you know it was you and I didn’t mention):

Juno chasing a ball in the park.

Juno being incredibly cute. German Shepard/Border Collie cross pups are too lovely!

Now I start my actual today drama, but in photos:

Me before university and before any weight issues.

First year photos:

An intense and completely mental relationship with the Boy in first year. Obvs.

A very small amount of my first year crazy. I’ve never taken pictures of my self harm, and if I had I wouldn’t put them online. Sometimes, when I’m feeling strong, I cover myself in sharpie marker to express how I feel.

Which the Boy tried to make better. Excuse my icky toes. I know they are bad.

That was a bad year. But second year was actually ok see?:

The beginning of second year – Three stone overweight (not in BMI terms, though I was overweight, but in terms of what my set point seems to be now) and at the very beginning of losing weight. At the zoo. Looking at the lion.

Christmas Eve 2008. I’m about the weight I am now and very excited (obvs. because Christmas Eve is the best day of the year ever!).

Being normal(ish) in love.

Having fun times with the Fam and famo friends (that’s the Brother eating a snail in France btw).

Visiting home friends.

And them visiting me.

Making uni friends.

And dressing up for bad club nights with them.

And going to pubs too!

That was my normal second year. Here are some pictures to illustrate how nang Bristol is:

See? Bristol is very pretty.

Ok so this isn’t my department, but I didn’t take any pictures of my department. This is where I graduated though. It too is basically a castle.

Brilliant clubs: Lab.

Motion.

I think this was Shit the Bed or Tribe of Frog at Lakota. I was too high to take a good picture so the quality is rubbish, but you get the point.

1920s Hip-Hop night at Lab. This was really good. Like really really.

Hallowe’en at Black Swan. I really love this photo.

These are now just going to be pictures of and from Clifton Suspension bridge in all its glory. They’re all from the day I graduated (so all these pictures were taken by the Dad obvs.). It’s so nice there. One of my favourite places in the world to be ever:

And for the hell of it, because it’s not on the internet anywhere – This is me at graduation:

This is like the only nice picture of me that day I swear.

And finally, me now:

Well kinda. I’ve cut and dyed my hair since. Plus I was so drunk and high and on a lot of Valium. I mostly don’t look this silly. (I have to give Walker credit for this photo).

I still have a thing about sharpie marker pens… Trust me, most days its all over the places you can’t see.

And for the hell of it:

Isn’t she just the best thing ever? I really really love my dog.

So there you go. Lots of photos so this post is nicer to look at. Plus it’s lots of happy memories, which kinda makes me sad, but is what I need right now. It’s a lot of insight into my brain and also my life, but I thought it’d be nice to share a little. I hope you enjoyed it.

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.

“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.

authenticity.

I’ve had a nice day the other day. It was hot, but not too hot. It wasn’t sunny. I went to St. Katherine’s Dock and had some really nice food and walked about, looking at all the posh yachts and things. I accidentally found the Denmark cultural market thing (lots of countries have cultural markets dotted about London during the Olympics). I walked from Tower Hill into the city to do some vintage browsing and a little shopping in Brick Lane, then grabbing a tarte aux fruits from Patisserie Valerie.

All good things. Except none of it feels like it happened. I know full well it did. I remember it. The memories don’t seem real though. The feel like someone else’s memories. It wasn’t really me. I wasn’t in control, I wouldn’t want to act that way, the things I said are things I don’t think etc. I have problems feeling connected to my memories and past feelings and thoughts. It’s not just past events and actions, it also happens in the moment. My brain starts questioning my actions. It’s most scary when it starts questioning thoughts and feelings. Everything becomes lies, except I’m not lying. It’s like I can’t not lie. I have to because there’s no facts and no truths and no person. Just stories I started telling myself years ago so I could pretend to myself that I wasn’t so terrible. Now whatever person there may or may not have been has gone and all that’s left is the narrative. It’s such a hard thing to describe and I keep trying to, but just can’t seem to find the right words. It’s just so distressing. It’s like suddenly you zone in to what’s happening and you’re doing something you don’t really feel is true because you’re not in control. You’re saying words that aren’t your words and don’t describe your thoughts. Then you start to try to work out what your thoughts are, but there are none. Each thought you have isn’t true. Even the thought that your thoughts aren’t true isn’t true. And because nothing is true, you have absolutely no choice but to keep making things up and pretending and lying because without the falsities, there is literally nothing. No thoughts, no actions, no emotions. You just wouldn’t exist. You become something entirely constructed. But the construction isn’t perfect because you just can’t create concepts that tightly mesh to make a coherent whole. The concepts don’t fit together properly and you get terrified people will push at the cracks and expose the fact you’re nothing and then they’ll laugh at you. So you panic, covering cracks with more concepts, digging the hole deeper and deeper. And the person you’ve so consciously, yet so entirely unconsciously, created is rubbish too. You’ve failed to make someone worth being and killed the truth completely. You’re just completely unable to be or feel anything true. You’re only a performance of a person, constantly performing even when you’re all alone.

It’s really horrible.

The Psychologist wants me to keep an authenticity journal. Every time I do or think something that feels authentically me, I’m meant to write it down to keep a log of what keeps me grounded. The problem with this task is that as soon as I reflect on whether I was authentic or not, I start questioning myself and my reality. It becomes lies. The question becomes how the fuck do I even start this task? I start freaking out about the task itself. I’m so stuck.

I play with Juno because I love her. But do I love her? Or do I pretend to love her because it’s nice and girly and cute to completely love baby animals and I want to believe that is who I am and I want others to believe it to so I’m just pretending to love her because I think that’d make me better? Do I really want to self-injure, or do I just want people to think that I’m not coping, even though I am, because then they’ll want to help me more? Did I ever really have an eating disorder, or did I actually just want to believe I did so that I could get attention? Every section of my brain becomes something to doubt.

On top of worrying about all this nonsense, I still have to actually worry about it. I have to worry when I’m lying in the dark, calling people up to tell them things I know I shouldn’t and might not even be true with no control over my actions. I have to worry when I’m running down the road, pounding my feet on the pavement till my whole body aches so I feel more present and can rid myself of the burning emotions I don’t know if I feel. I have to worry when I’m shouting at the people I love. I have to worry when I’m tearing my room apart.

But that’s why I’m getting a blood test tomorrow. The HTT are putting me on mood stabilizers to try to dampen my moods. They have to check my blood levels first, but then I start a new medication on top of everything else I’m taking. I’m scared of them. I don’t want to dampen all my moods, just some. I like when I feel great because I get really excited and jump about and cannot contain my happiness. It can be good to not be able to contain an emotion, but it can be awful too. In some ways though, I think it might be good to contain some on the good emotions too because then I’ll do less things that with hindsight make me feel so much shame. I like to share all my uncontainable emotions and although the good emotions are great, it’s in the sharing that I find the shame. So much shame. I never understand why I do and say things. The Pa is organising for me to have some sort of terrifying conversations with my Uncle about what mood stabilizers are actually like. He’s suffered from bipolar in the past and had a lot of experience with those medications, plus seems to be pretty darn stable so might have positive stories. I’m already feeling shame for that conversation and it hasn’t even happened.

To add to it all, I’m really struggling internally with my eating. I gained some weight I think, which should be fine seeing as I’m on new meds and cutting back my NRT and still have no periods so probably need a bit more weight anyway. It makes me feel awful though and it makes me want to control my eating more. I’m struggling to keep up my progress. I am obviously eating more than I need to, but I’m also hungry quite a lot and I don’t know what to do about it all really. Restriction keeps playing on my mind, but I don’t restrict. I keep eating regardless so I don’t wind up going backwards. It’s hard though. Like actually. I really badly want to lose weight. Really badly. My thoughts are getting more and more caught up in food and diets. I’m ugly and I suck therefore I must lose weight so I can be prettier and people will like me more. Whether or not this is actually true is neither here nor there. It’s not logical, but it’s how I feel. I feel dumpy and ugly.

It’s hard to eat. It’s hard to not exercise. I’ve spent a good portion of today looking up adult gymnastics and ballet classes. I want to be strong and flexible. Yoga isn’t enough anymore really. I’m not getting pushed enough. I’ll probably not follow-up on it, but today I’ll dream of exercise.

home treatment team.

I got a visit from the Home Treatment Team (HTT) psychiatrist and psychologist today. They were here to review my care. They stayed for like an hour. In general, it made me think “Fucking yuss HTT. You’re properly nang!”

For those of you that are less clued in to mental health treatment on the NHS, the HTT are basically a crisis resolution team. They are a short-term team designed to keep people “experiencing serious mental health crisis” (says their leaflet) from winding up being admitted to hospital. This means that they essentially provide all the services psychiatric inpatient facilities offer, but within the home environment for an average of 6 to 8 weeks (though sometimes more, sometimes less, depending on need)  during “acute crisis”. They address you medication, mood, stability etc. daily to make sure you are getting the right level of support (even if that means urgent referral to inpatient services). They have a multidisciplinary team made up of social workers, community psychiatric nurses (CPNs), medical staff, psychiatrists, psychologists, occupational therapists and all sorts. They arrange to see you either once or twice a day, depending on need, with the idea of tapering down when appropriate. They are available 24/7, 365 days a year and provide you with a telephone number to get in direct contact with a member of their team whenever necessary for either phone support, an immediate home visit or to arrange transport to their offices or a medical or psychiatric facility if needed. You are seen by a psychiatrist twice weekly, weekly or fortnightly in order to review stability and medication needs. You are only given the exact dose of any medication needed on that visit and have to take it in front of them to prevent medication hoarding (something I’m really guilty of). They liaise with any other services you may be engaging with, as well as refer you to any further services they think will help you with your long-term needs is they think necessary (tending to lead to referrals being processed faster than when received from other sources due to the urgent needs of their service users), as well as alerting any relevant employers or education providers of your situation and helping you gain the correct support from them. They shape their care package to your needs and rearrange visits in order for you to keep up your daily activities so that your crisis experience has as little disruption to your normal life as possible. Due to the nature of the service, it can be quite difficult as you often end up seeing different people each day (which I find quite hard as inconsistency can make me panicky), but that’s understandable given what service they are providing. Essentially, they are one of the best ideas ever. I didn’t really know about them till a week ago and I honestly cannot stress how fantastic I think this service is. Seriously. The NHS is a constant source of joy and surprise for me. I had no idea anything like this existed before and I just find the whole idea inspired.

Today, they were really great for many reasons.

Firstly, I think I might just be in love with every single psychologist I meet. They are so good at dealing with me I swear. I kinda wish I was a psychologist so I knew how they do it, but I actually don’t want to be one so I guess I’ll never know. It’s ridiculous though. They make you feel so much less stupid and useless and dramatic and undeserving. I cannot stress how much I appreciate the existence of psychologists. Yesterday and today they made me feel so much less fucking stupid. I appreciate all people who make me feel less stupid.

For instance, I was telling them how I’m really not miserable all the time and I really don’t understand my emotions, so I never feel like I deserve to call them up when I’m in need because I don’t know when I’m in need or what I’m in need of, and probably am in less need than their other clients who are obviously much worse than me. Whether it’s true or not, he told me that he thinks I am actually in a somewhat more serious position than lots of other users as I’m so disconnected and unpredictable that I could actually end up in a lot of danger without even realising it. thinking about it or comprehending the consequences. Apparently that’s incredibly serious and dangerous. He understood just how powerful self-destructive behaviours are at connecting yourself and re-establishing your presence, but also just how that escalates and if left unchecked, ends in suicidal behaviours. He says I should just call them up as soon as I start to feel myself getting worked up and agitated. They’re going to leave instructions for others on the team to just talk to me and help to ground me. And also they’re leaving notes that “watch t.v./read a book/have a bath” aren’t acceptable types of advice for me so should be avoided, instead chosing to visit me or just talk to me. Do you know how good this made me feel? Like seriously. I felt like I was being taken serious. And like maybe I actually need this and am not just manipulating everyone. It was nice to have someone actually recognise just how scary these feelings, beliefs and emotions are, rather than just tell me it’s normal and ok. I think I liked him. I felt like he really actually recognised and understood what I was saying and how I felt and he made me feel comfortable and deserving.

And also, he actually sat and talked to me about what the fuck is wrong with me. Quite often, people avoid answering that question. He told me that four separate psychiatrists and he himself believe that I have borderline personality disorder. A couple of members of the HTT had noted that was what they believed so he specially did some research and reading before coming to see me so he could be more sure and everything, and having spoken to me says that actually, my feelings and experiences are fairly typical of BPD. Apparently it is fairly difficult to treat, but with correct treatment and my active engagement, it is possible to recover. He also told me he’s going to find me some good, informative websites to look at. BPD has a lot of haters and there are a lot of sites with people bitching and moaning and blaming and calling people with BPD cunts. He said it’s best I just don’t look and he’ll bring me the links for more accurate sites next week, as well as special sites to direct the Famo to. Serious G.

I talked to him about IMPART and how I wasn’t optimistic that they’d take me on and that I was waiting for something I wouldn’t get. He was very clear in saying that he would be shocked if they didn’t take me on and actually is pretty much positive that they will. He told me how great they’d be for me and how I’ll be given a key worker that I’ll be able to call 24/7 to help me manage my destructive urges in order to help me break the cycle and things. Because (and this is a quote) “It’s incredibly complicated and difficult to break the reliance on self injurious behaviours, so it needs a lot of intensive care and support to manage appropriately.” Again, proper G. Apparently IMPART only take people with “severe” personality disorders and he thinks that I have BPD which affects my life strongly enough to warrant their care. He has been chasing them up for me and because it’s a crisis team doing the badgering, they are trying to see me earlier. Apparently my assessment should be in a matter or “weeks, not months” which is pretty speedy for the NHS. They offer intensive, long-term support with DBT group therapies, CBT individual therapies, mindfulness group, anger management group and anxiety management group. That’d be cool.

So yer, I think it’s basically fact I have BPD. Which is scary. Very scary. I won’t know for 100% sure till my assessment by IMPART, but everyone seems to be pretty clear that they fully expect me to be taken into their care. I duno maybe it’s not so bad. I’m going to try get used to it.

Both him and the psychiatrist (who was also a G, but not quite as much) think that right now, the most important thing is to stabilise my emotions. Quite often, I have no idea if or what I’m feeling because I feel like I’m only performing it and I don’t feel it at all, but I’m performing with so much commitment that it burns me. I have no idea when or why or how to predict this happening, but I get completely overwhelmed  and confused and lash out at myself in order to connect myself to reality and my body again. It calms me, but it’s only temporary and puts me at a significant amount of risk. This idea is stabilising and muting these emotions for a while until I can access the correct treatment, though nothing they can offer is a permanent fix as what it essentially means is I’m just dampened. Intense emotions can suck, but intense excitement and joy are fantastic, so it’s sad I need to be dampened for safety purposes. Their fix is essentially to quadruple my diazepam prescription, keep me on zopiclone and start me on the SNRI duloxetine (which is still an antidepressant, but slightly different to standard SSRIs so hopefully won’t end up with me suicidal. It might, but if I’m being monitored twice a day by the HTT then they hope they’ll be able to catch any negative side effects before they become a problem).

Oh and they also said I could tie in my walking to go see them in their offices rather than have them visit. As long as I organise it with them, I could go in to see them in Walthamstow. That sounds so good to me I swear. It gives me something to do and it gives me some control over their visits. I’m only allowed to once a day, so they’ll still have to come in to see me (their psychiatrist decided I definitely need twice daily visits), but it gives me somewhere to go and a reason to my walking and it just feels nicer.

The nurses that came this evening were also great as they talked to the Ma about their role. what’s been going on etc., as well as further explaining to me what was happening. I like that I’m having things explained to me clearly. It calms me.

So now I’m just dosed up on Valium and seeing what happens. I’m worried about duloxetine, but it’s meant to be weight neutral so I’m hoping that won’t freak me out. I’m also worried that I’ll end up doing even more damage to myself, but I’m hoping it’ll be fine. It’s all just to stay stable enough until I’m getting settled in the right treatment, and with the Psychologist at my EDU keeping on till that point, plus the HTT there to help me navigate my way out of crisis, I think I might be on the right track. And I don’t need to be psychiatric inpatient so that’s good. I mean, as long as I don’t wind up in A&E again. I honestly have no idea how likely that is.

Everything is scary right now. Scary and new and hard.

It’s ok though because I bought an anklet with bells on so now I jingle everywhere I go. It’s lovely. And I bought my favourite perfume (The Smell of Weather Turning from Lush). It smells like rain in the countryside. It’s such a calming smell. Fresh and musty and lovely. And some other silly jewellery. I spent way too much money today, but it’s what I do when I’m anxious. I think it’s ok though as I’d been saving for Istanbul with the Fam, but they cancelled that (which makes me feel awful as I’ve single-handedly ruined my family’s summer because I’m a fucking mental liability. Urgh).

All in all, I hope maybe I’m ok. I hope all of this is the right treatment and course of action. I hope I’ll finally be put in a place where I can actually get better for good, rather than jump from one issue to another. I have a lot of hope. Maybe today has been positive. Or maybe I’ve just been dosed up on enough Valium to dampen all my feelings enough for it to feel that way. I duno. It’s better than yesterday, and though I’ve still had seriously destructive urges, I haven’t acted on them.

Yet I’m still scared they’re just going to reject me and tell me I’m making it all up. Because it still feels like I am. Nothing I do is true because I’m not true. I’m ideas of a person. A construct.

Gah.