Tag Archives: therapy

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.

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Filed under bad day, bpd, CMHT, coping strategies, eating disorder, general, life, rant, recovery, therapy

flu.

I know I said I would blog more, but in fairness I’ve been really kinda ill. I wrote this a couple of days ago, so it’s slightly out of date. Sorry.

Firstly, I was mental health ill. I wound up in hospital again. Overdose on tranquillising prescription drugs and alcohol, plus some pretty horrid self-injury. Not good really. I don’t seem to be getting any real support from the NHS right now though, which I think is a bit of an oversight in their care. I don’t really know what I want from them, but I did kinda think the if you wind up in hospital for mental health reasons, someone should try to help you. Maybe I’m just naive.

So yer, another waste of my time being a complete idiot. I was with Gym, but he was too drunk to realise just how many sleeping tablets I was taking. I just didn’t want to feel anything. He was crying because I’d self-injured whilst he was out with his friends and it upset him so much. He was riotously drunk to be fair, but he was oscillating between telling me how much he cared and how important I am, to how he can’t just have another person fuck up his life and how I’m hurting him. We drank some wine, then he decided, in some sort of quest to make me understand, that he too should cut himself. Again, he doesn’t remember this. There was a lot of rum by this point. It got very dramatic. He was hiding razors and making demands and it wasn’t so great. Then he passed out, so I took more sleeping tablets and cut myself more dramatically, and in that stereotypically BPD way, woke him up covered in blood and crying, dripping all over my bed. To which he freaked out mode, so I took more sleeping tablets and drunk some more rum to try to numb myself out. Then I suddenly clicked that shit, this was not ok and started necking Pro Plus, coffee, Diet Coke, paracetamol plus and cold and flu tablets for the caffeine to keep myself awake and called the crisis team, who immediately sent an ambulance. By this point it was 7am and my family were waking up for work and I was struggling to walk and had to go to A&E. Obviously no one went to work that day. It was all very dramatic. They put me on some drips of some description, glued me up (badly, so some of the wounds didn’t actually close) and made me sit there till like 4pm. Once Gym had sobered up a little, he was so incredibly apologetic and tried so hard to look after me. He stayed with me for a few days to keep and eye on me and apologised for his drunken and terrible behaviour and feels a lot of guilt I think. I have a lot of guilt too. I upset my family and am dramatically pushing a boy I actually like away. Basically because I’m a dick. The glue didn’t work for some of the worst wounds, so they opened again. And stayed open. And got infected. And I had to get them dressed by a nurse at my doctor’s. Urgh. Stupid life. I hate the state I get myself into.

I’m feeling really fragile at the moment. I’m trying not to let it show. I’m trying to keep myself held together. I don’t want people to worry and I don’t want to drag anyone into my drama. I’m constant dramarama I know that, but if I keep myself together for others, then maybe I’ll get together for myself. You never know.

Then after that, I spent a little while being too damaged head to think about writing, basically until I got super physically sick. I managed to get out of bed today, but I did have to have a huge nap this afternoon. I’ve had some sort of delirious flu tonsillitis vomit mess. It was super gross. I couldn’t really see properly. Or walk. It snuck into my joints first. I was like this little old lady because my hips just proper killed and I couldn’t walk without hunching over and Gym was all like “ewww. Look at my old lady girlfriend. You’re so old” (mostly because I’m 23 and he’s 20 and he likes to remind me of this often). It was terrible as well because it hit me during a comedown and I was like ”ARGH! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!?” because I had no idea what was happening to me until I realised my temperature was way high.

Something that really fucks me off is that if I’m in hospital or in bed delirious or whatever, and I don’t make therapy with IMPART, it counts against me. I’m allowed to miss up to 4 sessions in six months, but anymore than that and I’m kicked out. I missed one because I was in hospital on a drip and even though I was in hospital and called the Therapist up to tell her I wouldn’t make it, she still told me to try to get out early to get there if I could, which is actually pretty fucking dangerous to tell someone I think. Then when I had flu, I called the day before to say “I’m really ill so I don’t think I’ll make tomorrow”, to which she replied “Well just come in and have a quick session because if you don’t attend at all it’ll be one of your non-attendances.” I actually think that’s maybe a little too strict really. I mean, I get why it’s important to have attendance rules when working with people with personality disorders, but not even being allowed to be sick is a bit much I think. So is telling someone to leave hospital if they can. It’s all a bit much. Then obviously, an actually important bit of therapy in which we did a chain thing for how and why I wound up in hospital, I was out of it with a temperature and unable to focus on anything, which is pointless.

I did have my first DBT skills group yesterday though and that was surprisingly not so bad. I got there in a fucking awful mood because a) I was really ill and b) Gym said he’d take me to make sure I was ok, but then he got too stoned and fell asleep too long and his phone ran out of battery and so on so I was pissed off. It wasn’t too awful though. I ended up getting really fucking agitated and talking bares and being a bit annoying, but I think I made a good impression. The group is all women and I’m pretty sure they’re all older than me. It’s sad because it seems like they’ve all had to deal with this shit way longer than I have and they all seem way more run down if you know what I mean. It makes me happy I’m in treatment when I am, but it still really upsetting to see. I duno. Anyway, they seem nice. A lot of them have spent a lot of time in in-patient wards, which again makes me sad but they all seemed to be really friendly and open. On the group rules it said we’re not allowed to sleep with anyone in the group, which I think is a hilarious rule and it made me wonder if it’s so explicit in all group therapy situations or just when working with personality disorders. A couple of people in the group said they thought my “look” was really “stylish”, which I thought was hilarious, but I didn’t laugh because I’m trying to make sense.

Ooh and also, in between all of this, I cut my hair really short and got it dyed blonde with some purple bits in and it’s really great. Finally I got back to blonde. It’s like super short on the back and sides, with a long sweepy bit up front. It’s really great.

So there you go. Updates init. Love to you all.

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Filed under bad day, bpd, coping strategies, general, IMPART, rubbish, therapy

back again

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Filed under bpd, coping strategies, eating disorder, IMPART, life, recovery, therapy

advent!!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here’s the igloo:

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

And a festive London Eye:

20121202-223532.jpg

 

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

best of the worst.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

angry.

I guess this could be a trigger. Sorry.

So last night I called the HTT crisis line because I was so worked up and distressed and I’d just got off the phone to the Ex and I felt out of control and fast and mean and basically the whole world sucked and I blamed treatment.

I literally have nothing normal left in my life anymore. Since starting treatment over a year ago I’ve only lost things. I’ve lost thing after thing till now I’ve got nothing nice left. The only thing I’ve gained is a bunch of professionals that are paid to pretend to care about me, but make it pretty fucking clear they don’t give a fuck. I didn’t feel safe.

I told them I never wanted anyone to come to my house again. The guy I was speaking to is actually nice and he got worried. I told him I’d lost everything and that having people barely conceal their contempt for me only hurt me more and I didn’t want any part of it ever again. I told him I wanted out of it all and I didn’t feel safe and they weren’t helping and everything in my life has just be getting worse and worse. This went on for a little while and he eventually agreed to the HTT calling me instead of visiting this morning and told me he cared and was worried and would listen and I should call him back if I needed to.

I didn’t call back. Instead I self harmed. It was quite severe, but I managed it with my now expert injury first aid and eventually felt better enough to fall asleep at about 4am.

I then get woken up by the HTT knocking on my door, and not just them, but also my new key worker from CDAT. I got so angry and told them over and over I didn’t want them there and had been told they wouldn’t come and they refused to leave because I had to talk to the CDAT woman and I hate her and I hate them and they lied and I wasn’t dressed and I hate every single part of my mental health treatment.

After they left, I called the HTT and asked them never to come back again and I didn’t want anymore treatment from them. They lied to me and didn’t care and they make me hurt more. Apparently they’re going to call me this afternoon, but I don’t even think they will seeing as they are full of lies and don’t give a shit. They talked about sectioning me if I didn’t comply with them, but I can’t even see how they have the power to do that. You need like two psychiatrists to section someone, and it’s not like any of them talk to each other. Like this morning I was told they’d come back this evening, then on the phone I was told they’d come back tomorrow morning. None of them have any fucking clue what the plan for my treatment is. I doubt they could get two psychiatrists in the same fucking room.

I then called the CMHT to asked to be discharged from them. The Psychiatrist is on leave so I can’t leave them till next week.

Following that, I called the Psychologist and left a message for him to call back. He didn’t, so I left a subsequent message saying I never wanted to see him again. He eventually called back and said he “hopes I turn up and he won’t discharge me yet” and said he’ll leave it in my hands to contact him if I don’t go. I’m most angry with him because he pretends better than everyone else. And if he didn’t tell me the Ex was a cunt, I’d probably still have someone to love me. If he hadn’t told me it was ok to take time out of uni, I’d probably have a fucking degree. If he hadn’t told me I needed further help, none of the other fucking teams would be involved. And he called my fucking parents. How am I supposed to trust him?

I can’t get in touch with IMPART because I didn’t save their number and I’ve swapped phones. Imma try get their number from someone else, but I don’t know who yet. I fully intend to leave their services as well.

CDAT can go spin to be honest. I told her as much, but she made an appointment for me anyway. I’m not going to go. She said if I don’t go, she’ll call, but it’s not like I have to reply. Calls from mental health treatment places always come up as private numbers so its pretty easy to know which ones to ignore.

I then called uni to ask to formally drop out, but I have to talk to my personal tutor before I can do that and he’s not in so I emailed.

I want to be out of treatment now. Out for good. All I’ve got from treatment is a worse life. All I had left was my fucking degree and that’s gone now so fuck it. If I’d never started treatment, I probably could have aced a dissertation by now and be finished and not care that all my friends hate me and my family think I’m disgusting because I’d be pretty and small and that would be enough and I’d have a boy and future. Instead, I’ve complied with everything asked of me and have essentially lost everything. I make the Fam cry, the Brother always chooses others over me when I really need him, my friends all think I’m rubbish and weird, the Ex treats me rubbish and I hurt him and the DVIP people keep calling me to tell me how shit he is and he calls me to tell me how shit they are and now I’ve lost uni. The one fucking normal thing I had left.

So fuck them all. I did as I was told and tried and now I’m angry and alone and have horrendous withdrawal symptoms. I keep having panic attacks and can’t focus or sleep and get tremors all over and I fucking hate every part of ever having entered treatment. So I no longer have an eating disorder? It’s not like I have anything else.

It hurts me more to be surrounded by people who pretend they care then it does to be alone. It’s better to not have it rubbed in your face that the most important thing you do is provided by people who think you’re worthless. Fuck them all. Seriously.

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Filed under bad day, CDAT, CMHT, fuck, HTT, life, NHS, rant, recovery, rubbish, therapy, university

“your love is gonna drown.”

I typed this out a couple of nights ago. I didn’t post it because I wasn’t sure if it made sense. I think maybe it does make sense, but I also didn’t want to be a reader spammer. You know how it is. Plus I wasn’t sure if it was too personal. I hope it’s not…

Friday 19th October 2012

Today, me and the Psychologist went over the weeks happenings as normal – the usual “any drugs/alcohol/self-injury/sex/shopping?” questions as standard. Then we went over the assessment and the group. He knew how much I’d been stressing about it and how scared I was, so he was nice and kind about it – not pushing too hard. He said it’s totally normal to feel kinda ambivalent about the whole diagnosis thing and to find it hard to settle with it. It’s both good and bad. Good because there’s a comfort in knowing that some of the things that make me hurt can be treated and that I’m not the only one and that I’m not just bad at being alive. Bad because it means I’m broken all through my brain and have been for a long time. Broken in a way that may never be fixed. He was nice about it though. He said he’s known me for over a year and knows me pretty well now and he doesn’t think I’m broken or bad. He explicitly said “You’re not at all a bad person Ellie” , which made me feel a little reassured.

We talked a little about how my suicidal thoughts and impulses are increasing right now. He thinks that partly it’s to due with the treatment changes, but mostly to recent life dramas. There’s things going on which I find really too difficult to manage. I’ve had horrible things said and done to me, and horrible things I’ve said and done back. My insides feel disgusting and I’m sad and feel pretty hopeless. Love and intimacy are funny things really. They break you up from the inside out. Caring always seems to be where sorrow starts to drip inside from. We talked a lot about what I get out of relationships and how I view relationships in general. I always think in terms of the other persons needs and desires, not the things that I legitimately need in return. That doesn’t mean that I don’t get angry and argue my point, but I’m always left feeling so fucking horrible inside if I get what’s best for me, and I give in quite often to things I don’t want to because I just get full of guilt for being selfish, even if its simply because I know they’ll hurt me instead. It’s not just the way I few the world, but also the ways others view and treat me. And the problem is that I just can’t get away from it. I can’t let it go. I start to hate and be angry and get away, but the barrage of guilt quickly build up and I cave all over again. Each time it’s worse and I honestly don’t even know if I get anything but hurt by doing it. I don’t even know why I want it so much. I just can’t let go. I can’t let people leave.

And then I got confused and upset and really began to think about some of the damaging things that I keep let happening to me and because of me, but time was up and off I had to go. I hate when therapy leaves everything unresolved, raw and opened up. I had an optician appointment straight after, so I had to go to the nearest decent town centre. However, there are shops there and after therapy is my worse time to shop. I buy waaaay too much when I’m stressed and sad. I get it into my head that stuff will somehow make me more acceptable. I’m the ultimate gullible consumer, even though it goes against a lot of my beliefs. I just want to be better so I can get things right for once and I think things that I buy can help with that. I have literally got no money right now, so out of my overdraft, I had to buy a new pair of glasses because lost one pair and smashed the other when I was angry, so haven’t been able to see properly for a while. That was a necessary purchase, but I walked past Topshop and there was a sale and well… I had to buy these stripy dungarees that I’d wanted for about 6 months but had always been too expensive (now down to £10!) and holographic silver leggings. Then I went to Boots to pick up some prescriptions which should have been a totally free shop to visit, but there was a 3 for 2 sale on Barry M nail varnish… With the glasses on top of that, I spent over £50 I don’t actually have… I have so much guilt – especially after the iPad incident. I felt better though.

I mean, you have to admit my buys are awesome.

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Plus, you’ve got to admit, the dungarees look really great.

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See?

Then it started to rain and I was dreading the walk home, but I’m way to poor to take bus luxuries, especially after these buys. I didn’t know what to do. I was tired, hungry and didn’t want to be wet, so I decided “fuck it. Bus it is. Considering how much I’d spent already, what’s the difference now?” Luck was one my side today though because the Oyster machine on the bus wasn’t working, so they didn’t charge me. Plus the dungarees were only £10. It was as if the world had aligned to understand the pathetic situation I was I and gave me a tiny gift to make up for how shit I feel and give me a smidgin of faith that sometimes things work out.

So yer, I’m not even feeling too bad right now. The drugs and shopping might be helping, but I’m able to block out how horrible today has been for a while. Tomorrow, I’ll deal with money issues and the guilt and how horrible I feel every day. Tomorrow, I’ll worry about the dirt and what to do to fix all these broken situations. Tomorrow, I’ll worry about what I might have to do.

Later that afternoon…

I typed that before I walked my dog in the rain. By this point, all the Valium had made the rain really fun – comforting and atmospheric. It started to get s bit dark on the walk. Not fully dark, but a bit dark, and I had to walk for longer than usual because I’d promised the Ma I would and I didn’t want to upset or disappoint her. The good thing about Valium is that it didn’t cause a panic attack. At points, I was shit scared, hyper vigilant, making every movement into a catastrophe in my head, flashbacks. It was shit and hard, but I didn’t fully break down. I didn’t stop freeze, tense up and close my eyes to just give in to the inevitable, I didn’t have a panic attack. That is a serious up point of Valium I hadn’t noticed before because I just don’t go out in the dark by myself. Ever.

Then in the evening…

I couldn’t just leave it all till tomorrow. Receiving phone calls I didn’t know If I could avoid without ruining everything, stressing out and a lot of awkwardness. I just need time to clear my head – a little breathing space to think. Maybe I’m unreasonable. Maybe I read into thinks too much. Facial expressions, tone of voice, verbal misunderstandings. I don’t know. Maybe I’m the problem. Therapy sometimes makes you get that feeling where you start to feel like just maybe there are other options. Maybe you’re not always in the wrong maybe it’s ok to think about your own needs and stick up for them. Then, in just one second, something comes along and all that hope for the smallest sense you’d thought you could maybe start to believe you’re not just rubbish and your needs are valid, you suddenly realise just is not true and your therapist makes you believe in lies. Some people are just bad and therapy can’t fix that. You were a bitch all along. Nothing can ever change that.

On top of that, I’m starting to believe the Ex is really sick. Everyone deserves support for mental illness. Everyone deserves to get healthy. I don’t want to leave someone to fend for themselves. If I’d been left, I might have died by now. I want to help as many people as I can to feel better, regardless of how they effect me. That’s what nice people do right? ANd I don’t want to be bad anymore. I want to do the right thing.

So now it’s just bad all over again. I can’t keep fucking up. I fuck other people up too. And I need to help.

The Brother is entirely angry. Angry because he loves me. And he’s sad because he thinks that some day soon, he’s going to find himself in a situation he wants to avoid. He’s scared because he thinks that at some point, a line will be crossed and he’ll feel forced to round up my supporters and hurt someone. The Ma said she’d take a brick. I think they were being dramatic. I hope it’s all just being dramatic. Now I’m scared that if I end up destroying myself, it’ll be all my fault if someone gets hurt. And it not stable enough to know that won’t happen. Not right now.

I’m so full of guilt and shame and confusion. Fuck this.

So there you have it – a day in my life really. Obvs I missed quite a bit out as you can tell though. Right now, I appear to be living in an incredibly destructive cycle and I can’t get out of it because I don’t know how. I do try to do good, but I can’t seem to. I can’t sit with how I feel at all. I can’t cope with how horrible it all is, so I use destructive methods of coping with it and then let it all happen all over again. Reading over this made it seem so clear how I fuck this up time and time again. Yet I know it’s already started again today. Same every day. Except sometimes there are parties involved…

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waiting group.

So today I had my first session in “Coping Skills Group”. To be fair, it wasn’t much of a ‘group’ seeing as it was only me… It’s in a different psychiatric hospital to where my EDU is as there isn’t an eating disorder service in my local NHS foundation trust, but it is similar as its where all the inpatient units are for the area and stuff. The biggest difference is that it’s huge, in an area you can’t wait to leave and seriously confusing. The buildings have different names to the signs, it’s next door to a standard hospital so the site is extra confusing and there’s no one to help you.

I was super late, but once I’d finally found the IMPART building, there wasn’t even a receptionist. There was a reception, but no one in it. I had no idea where I was going and the hallways were massive and echoey and empty and I had no idea where I was going. I started asking the few random people I bumped into what to do, but no one knew. I eventually found someone willing to direct me to the psychological services reception and waiting area and a really kind woman walked me for about 10 minutes to the room I was meant to be in. That’s why there was no one else there. No one could find it. There were lots of messages and calls during the meeting with people saying they’d left with no idea where to go. Apparently the main receptionist at the hospital and the IMPART receptionist were all made redundant in the last round of cuts, which is actually a bit of an issue for a hospital that big. The group facilitator is going to try iron out these issues though so hopefully that’ll mean next week there’ll be a few more people there.

It was quite cute though. They had biscuits and Quality Streets and tea and herbal tea and coffee and lemonade and milk and hot chocolate and Fanta. They gave me a list of rules which included “if you need to take a break, feel free to just go outside for a few minutes. One of the facilitators will check in with you to make sure you’re ok” which I thought was sweet.

Regardless of who was there, it’s actually really impacted upon me. We basically went over what the diagnosis really means and how I felt about it when I was first told about it and how my feelings have changed over time and what I knew about the disorder in general. It was a bit weird because it was just me, but they asked me a lot of questions and things and I think maybe it was useful. I duno though.

Basically, they went through a few of the symptoms with me and explained them in a non-personal, but more explicit way than I’ve been told before. They basically laid out how a borderline mind processes emotions and think, then compared that to the way non-borderline people think. It finally really clicked. It was like they were writing out my entire brain on a white board, with charts and graphs. Impulsivity, negative ways of regulating emotions, constantly changing obsessions with people and ideas etc. It was all there. It was exactly me.

At first I found it kinda comforting. It was comforting to know that I really couldn’t have made this whole thing up. This wasn’t lies. It helped me put together stuff I’d never been able to understand or articulate. It was bizarre. I felt like I was being understood.

Then I started to freak out. I’ve been kinda hanging on to the hope that it wasn’t true. That I had made it up and I wouldn’t be so wrong. I know this isn’t true, but the label of ‘personality disorder’ makes me think I’m broken. Broken so far beyond how I’ve felt before. If I’m not borderline, then I’m just a bad person and being bad is better than being broken. Being bad doesn’t need to be fixed. Broken is something that just doesn’t work at all. I hate it. I know it doesn’t change things really, I just hadn’t taken in the reality of it all until today. I just hate it. I burst into tears whilst walking my pup. It was horrible. I’ve feel so fucking hopeless. I don’t want to be this way. It’s like I’ve suddenly seen just how different my thought processes and emotions are from what they should be and it hurts me. It’s actually physically painful inside my bones and organs.

So now I sit and wait and try to just ride it out. I’ve got therapy tomorrow so maybe that’ll help. Chain smoking and watching way too much Heroes and hoping that tonight I might be able to sleep. Again. Except I feel like dirt and everyone and everything makes me hurt. I don’t like this whole new treatment thing. I’m done with my EDU and I know that, but I don’t want it to change. I don’t want a new therapist and I know tomorrow I’ll have to talk about winding therapy down in preparation for change. It took me ages to like my therapist. Ages and ages. Most people in the world are kinda idiots. I know that’s a stupid way to look at people, but I think it’s true. The Psychologist isn’t an idiot. He’s really nice and really smart and he really tries to look out for me and he gets my humour and he’s not an idiot. He’s not a simp, he’s not at all new age-y, he’s doesn’t go on and on about all that “aww it’s so hard. Compassion, love blah blah blah etc.”

Except now I have to meet someone else and hope they’re not an idiot. The problem is that they probably will be. I don’t want to get to know someone new. I like who I have. Not that I’d ever tell him that obvs.

I feel so disgusting. I’m scared and lonely. I’m not sure I’m ready for all this. :(

Also, I’m going to add this. It might seem silly, but actually a lot of people have asked me this, or assumed it. Borderline personality disorder isn’t the border between a normal and disordered personality. It got the name a long time ago. Apparently it comes from the idea that BPD was thought of as the borderline between psychosis and neurosis. We know better now and it’s thought of as its own, distinct mental health problem. It’s not borderline anything. In fact, there is a movement at the moment to rename it as ’emotional and unstable personality disorder’ (in the U.K.) or ’emotional dysregulation disorder’ or something (in the U.S.). Just to clear that up for anyone who doesn’t know.

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remission/recovered.

Today was a big day in terms of treatment. Like a really big day.

Firstly, I had an appointment with the Psychiatrist at my EDU. Obviously, I was weighed. It was down from last time by a few kilos, but I think that’s due to natural variation due to time of the month, what I’d eaten etc. Still well within the healthy range though. My BMI has settled to a healthy 21 (ish), regardless of what I eat or how much I exercise. I’m getting a whole load better at understanding my hunger signals – I eat whatever, whenever. Today I even had a greasy spoon sausage baguette (don’t judge me. It’s literally one of my favorite foods. Deep fried, bad quality sausage in a buttered white baguette tastes so boom its almost obscene) which is something I never thought I’d ever eat again. The Psychiatrist was so pleased with my progress. She said it was really surprising considering some of the shit I’ve had to deal with whilst with them, yet I stuck with the treatment plan fairly consistently for an eating disorder patient and that she’s really impressed with my perseverance. She has pronounced me eating disorder free! I know that my eating is something I have to keep my eye on (probably forever) as relapses are common and eating disorder behaviours can sneak back in or manifest themselves in different ways, but right now, I live basically eating disorder free. It’s actually really good. Life is a lot less tense. Plus I actually am getting used to my body and don’t entirely hate it. I’m almost sad that summer is over because I can’t wear crop tops as much any more. Today I did wear an incredibly tight, incredibly short black dress though so it’s not like I’m ashamed of my body. I don’t even think I’m that big. I look big sometimes, other times not so much. I eat what I like, but I don’t want to eat everything. I don’t have weird cravings to eat all the dried fruit or all the calcium or all the nut butter or all the honey. Some of my recovery foods seem a little bit sickly now. It’s ok though. I don’t always want biscuits or chocolate or chips, but when I do, I can eat them happily. I can and do eat whatever I like, yet I don’t actually want to eat everything, all the time. I didn’t think it’d ever be possible again. Sometimes I eat so much cake I feel a bit sick, but I don’t purge and my weight doesn’t change and it doesn’t upset me too much. Sometimes I don’t eat enough, so I grab some extra fruit or have some cereal or whatever. It is entirely possible to get to this point. You’d think it wasn’t, but it is. I’m even losing my food morality things. I used to thrive in the moral superiority in eating low-calorie, low-fat, lots of veggies, lots of fibre, lots of fruit, or nothing at all, especially when other people are eating around me. Now I’ll happily munch on some chips smothered in salt and pepper in front of everyone I know. I’ll even make chip sandwiches because they are too lovely (carbs go so well with other carbs I swear). It’s not hard to order something I know is higher calorie than what people around me eat. The best bit is that I don’t think about food or plan food or count calories 24/7. And my fat is redistributing a bit. My belly isn’t too big – it’s kinda soft and nice. My arms look so much healthier it’s ridiculous. I actually think my legs are well buff, even though my thighs definitely touch, almost entirely.

So yer, I’ve basically been discharged from my EDU. I never have to be weighed by anyone but myself for the forseeable future and that makes me happy. I hate other people weighing me. I like to weigh myself first thing, naked, before a shower which might be weird, but it’s entirely fine because it doesn’t disrupt my life at all. I’m just more comfy when I’m at my lowest possible weight of the day, but I’m also fine with the fact that that weight will increase as the day goes on, I just don’t have to see it. I’m never going to see my EDU psychiatrist or dietitian or family therapist again. It actually makes me happy. The only reason I’m not fully discharged is because I’m still seeing the Psychologist until I’m under the care of a more appropriate service because he thinks it’s crucial that I have regular contact with mental health services. I’m a “high risk” and “unstable” patient so the NHS have to know whether I need urgent intervention or crisis care. As soon as I’m under more appropriate care though, I’ll be out of the EDU. Hopefully forever. I’ll be really sad when I lose the Psychologist, but I’m happy to be out of the rest of it because I honestly don’t feel like I belong there anymore. It took over a year, but I just don’t think I need their help any longer. I am thankful to them in every way though. I know lots of people have terrible experiences of eating disorder (and mental health more generally) treatment on the NHS, but I can really only sing their praises. There are obviously issues with waiting lists and being able to contact your psychiatrists and stuff, but without their treatment, I’d probably still be sick. The treatment the offered me was all in line with the best evidence based treatment I’ve learnt and researched about. I had regular contact with everyone on my team, there was a heavy focus on refeeding as the single most important aspect of initial treatment, an emphasis on reaching a BMI over 20 and flexible care that tailored around my needs as they changed. They’ve been so brilliant. I literally could not see a way out of anorexia, but with their help I found one and I’m all the better for it.

So now I’m no longer classified as having anorexia nervosa or an eating disorder or disordered eating or anything. I’m ‘recovered’ or ‘in remission’ or however you’d like to put it and I intend to stay that way. Ker-fucking-ching.

Today was also the day of my initial assessment for IMPART. It was basically a screening for all axis II disorders, so all the different personality disorders were checked for. I can officially say that I don’t have antisocial or narcissistic or schizotypal or histrionic or avoidant or dependant or schizoid or paranoid or obsessive compulsive personality disorders. That is good news. That’s so many mental health problems I don’t have to worry about.

However, I did finally receive an official diagnosis. Only a personality disorder specialist psychiatrist can officially diagnose personality disorders and now, it’s official – I have borderline personality disorder. Although I already knew that, I kinda hoped it would turn out to not be true and that a specialist would tell me I was fine. I also hoped they’d tell me it was true so I could be given the hope that I might one day have a better quality of life. It’s a mixed bag of emotion. Apparently I score very highly on the borderline part of the test and am considered to be “severely affected” by the disorder. I guess I knew that already, but I hate when people say it. The assessment was over two hours long. It was seriously hard work and incredibly stressful, but I got through it.

So now I’m on another waiting list – this time for a psychologist to become free to take on my treatment. Apparently its six to eight weeks, though it could be shorter because I was one of the earlier ones to receive a round one assessment after the summer break and they still have a lot behind me. The psychologist may decide that I’m not suitable for treatment with IMPART at all so again, it’s scary. I tend to think that everyone will see that I’m not deserving of help so I always assume people will think I’m completely fine and don’t need their help and be told to go away. The second assessment tries to work out what the best course of treatment is for each individual. It also screens for any axis I mental health problems which may need to be treated before treatment for BPD can begin. Thankfully, because many people with personality disorders have suffered trauma, PTSD won’t rule me out, and because substance abuse is high in people with BPD, that won’t rule me out either. Both are treated within the service. If, for example, I was still suffering with anorexia, that would have to be treated for that first so IMPART wouldn’t take me on. I don’t consider myself depressed (even though I have that diagnosis right now) and I don’t think anxiety would be too much of an issue for them as it’s probably part of the BPD package. Seeing as I have no other diagnosis and don’t think anything else is wrong with me, I hope it’ll be ok. I’m worried about it though. If they take me on, I could be offered 6, 12 or 18 months treatment of CBT or DBT, but the woman who assessed me thinks it’s pretty likely I’ll be offered 12 or 18 months DBT, considering my high risk behaviours and BPD score level, with options to continue treatment if necessary after the completion of the initial time frame. That’ll involve a weekly group session and a weekly individual session. There’s also a possibility I’ll be put into other group therapies like mindfulness group or anxiety group, but that’ll be worked out at the next assessment. She also thinks my treatment will involve regular telephone consultations with whoever my psychologist ends up being. It all sounds pretty intense and apparently it’s actually a lot of hard work, but so was my eating disorder treatment so I’m hopeful I can manage it.

For now though, I have been given her work mobile number to contact her with any queries or questions, either through call or text. I’ve also been invited to join a group session specifically designed for people in this phase of treatment – all the people with personality disorders who are waiting for their second round of assessments. I don’t know if I’ll go yet. It’s quite far away from my house and in an area I don’t know that well and I get pretty scared in places I don’t know. It’s essentially a starter group for CBT and DBT style treatments and to get comfortable working in a group, as well as keeping in contact with the service in order to remain more likely to comply with treatment. We’ll see I guess. I also got a self-help pack. No lie – the NHS have stated that if I’m feeling distressed, I can comfort myself by smoking a cigarette. They also suggest making a secret code, smashing a watermelon, having a polo, trying to wake up before lunch time, building a house of cards, staying in bed, eating chocolate, asking a friend to hold me and creating my own cartoon legend (yes they did use the word legend). There are other things as well, but those are the strangest. There’s also some stuff on relaxation exercises, emotional health and mindfulness in it, as well a lot of numbers to call in a crisis. I got given a crisis card to keep with me as well (in case I ever need to contact crisis services out and about).

All in all, it’s been a very emotional, hard, happy and stressful day. So much to think about – both good and bad. I’m both optimistic and devastated. Excited and anxious. Happy and sad. It’s a lot to take in and I think I might need a little bit of time to recover from it all. Lots of sleep and puppy times ahead I hope.

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love and other things.

02/10/12 – After Therapy

So I hardly blog at the moment. I don’t really read any either. It’s not because I have better things to do. It’s mostly because I’m finding myself pretty much permanently doing not very much and just trying to get by. The therapist told me today that I wasn’t doing badly. I even made him promise and everything. Getting by is actually not that easy. It’s all about keeping my thoughts occupied with as little thought as possible. It’s not always optimum productivity or anything, but I can keep myself stable enough with varying levels of destructive activities and not one of them is starvation. I spend too much money, take too many drugs, distract myself with confusing relationships with confusing people, drink more than I should, self-injure and have prescription drug abuse problems, so productivity is basically out of the question. It’s ok though because as long as I keep doing what I’m doing, I never spend too long actively suicidal. Friends help a lot too. A lot a lot. I have a lot of fun when I’m able to get out of my little, angry world and just have a silly time. Friends are really good. They have lots of patience with me.

The thing is, my life is pretty static right now. I’m not making progress. I’m not working on anything. I’m in treatment limbo. I cannot stand being in my own brain so I do whatever I can to blast myself out of it. I spend a lot of time in a bit of a daze, not really knowing what’s going on. I’m thinking with surprising clarity for me right now. Probably won’t last the entirety of this post though considering my current situation. Ah wells. It just means I don’t have progress to report on and I don’t like it. I’m not moving forward. I’m basically good at eating now. I can eat whatever I like, whenever I like, with no real drama. Sometimes it’s more difficult than other times and I still get the occasional eating disorder thought, but I weigh myself once a month or so, don’t count calories, sometimes eat chip sandwiches, always get dessert and use a whole load of real life fatty foods in my baking. It’s basically normal eating. That part of me seems pretty fixed at the moment. The therapist thinks I’ve traded an eating disorder for drug and alcohol misuse which is kinda sad, but at least I feel like I’m not constantly worried about food. I duno. I just really don’t like having time to think and right now, I don’t really have healthy ways of avoiding it.

Apparently when I finally get seen by IMPART, I’ll be treated in three areas – parasuicial behaviour; behaviours which negatively impact upon therapeutic relationships (like leaving halfway through therapy, not being able to look at anyone in any of my treatment teams in the eyes); and raising my quality of life (which involves fixing how I view my relationships, keeping me more in my own head and in the present, being less obsessive, stop having panic attacks blah blah blah). The therapist thinks it’ll all start to get better if I start to like myself more or some rubbish. Actually feeling like you have some worth and can achieve some sort of aim or something. We talked a lot about aims today, but I’d never really thought about it before. Especially aims in relationships. I don’t really know what that even means. He asked a lot about if what I’d like from a friend, from my fam and from a boy. I don’t think of people that way though. I don’t think of them in terms of what nice things they do and say. I think about how to hide myself and make it so that if they go, I don’t lose face. Even if it reall hurts. I don’t like to be the social loser. Relationships with friends and boys are built upon the primary idea of protecting myself from the shame of having people hate me or decide to go, so that’s my primary aim. I honestly don’t know how else to relate to people. It’s weird to think about. Therapy is weird. Once I’m satisfied that someone actually likes me, it becomes a different game. It becomes a game of proving your worth as a friend or girl or whatever. You have to give just the right amount, but not too much, whilst not care too much that you become vulnerablee at the same time. It’s complicated. People are complicated.

Anyway, I’m still waiting to hear from IMPART. I don’t even know if they know I exist. I had serious problems with my referral to my EDU and the CMHT. The Psychologist is gonna try organise some sort of big meeting with me, him, some people from IMPART and people from the CMHT to try figure out how my care should be handled from here on out. The idea of that terrifies me. I still think they won’t believe me and that there’s nothing wrong with me because I’m fine. The Psychologist really doesn’t think that’s true, but I do. I duno. I really like the Psychologist today because he’s taking extra effort to make sure I don’t “fall through the cracks”, which I know happens to a lot of NHS mental health patients. I love him a little bit.

I was going to focus a little bit on love in my post today because I’ve been thinking a lot about it recently. I don’t know if I can phrase it right.

(then the internet broke and then I got distracted and blah blah so now it’s now)

I heard from IMPART yesterday, so I guess I take some of that back. They do know I exist. I have a two-hour assessment with them in eleven days and I’m terrified. I’ve put a lot of hope onto this treatment and I might not even get it. I spoke to them for ages on the phone about what they offer. Apparently they usually only take on high risk, “red zone” patients (those at real risk of suicide, self-injury, substance misuse and abuse) and the nice lady (called Siobhan) looked over my referral and said I look like I fit that category. We then talked a bit about the types of treatment they offer and it sounded really great. Generally, for people with my sort of history, they offer individual, weekly CBT based therapy, which links into a weekly DBT group. They also have loads of other groups depending on individual needs. Plus if needed, you are able to contact your therapist out of standard hours in order to help put therapy theory into practice. They don’t do too much work into past events, mostly concentrating on how to manage problems now. That sounds really good for me. But they might not even take me on so obviously it’s not all good.

I had a really bad day today. A little bit because I’m scared of IMPART, a little bit because there’s an absolutely terrifying day next week as well. A little bit I think because I’ve stayed sober since I woke up this morning. A little bit because I only slept three hours last night. Today has been a bad day. Wave upon wave of literally unbearable loneliness, guilt and shame. A lot of shame. I’m on self destruct today. Lots of moody walking, sitting on curbs, starring over bridges and thinking about how much I literally cannot cope with how I feel. And tears. I’ve been an unbearable mess. I’ve also made a lot of lists of what exactly all my problems are and realised I’m stumped by every single one. And as with all these kinds of lists, they end with “no one will ever see me and I’ll be alone forever and no one will glue up the cracks I spill all over the place with so I’ll always just be losing more and more.” So now, after a bit of a rant, I feel like finishing my post. It’ll probably be markedly more depressing than it would have been if I’d finished it before the internet broke.

I don’t know if I can phrase all my thinking about love. I don’t only mean romantic, couple love, but all interpersonal love. I love a lot. I’m in love with all of my friends and the fam and my pup and a million other things. Not just loving them a little bit, but in active-mind-never-stopping-over-idealising love with so many people. I fall in love with ideas of people all the time, then I fall in love with them because I’m in love with the ideas. Then that person gets it wrong and I can’t be near them and they have to leave forever. Then they do something nice and I’m all ideas all over again.  The thing is, people always fail because what I need from other people is totally ridiculous.

I don’t feel comfortable if I’ve not got someone to call. If everyone I know is working or something, I start to get really anxious and I really need someone to talk to. The longer it goes on, the more overwhelming it gets. My skin starts crawling because I’m just so uncomfortable. Obviously, no one can be there all the time, but I really need to have people who are there else I start to freak out. This is an entirely unrealistic way to view other people. I can’t expect people to be there for me all the time, yet I can get really angry if someone isn’t there when I need them.

I love with every bit of me. I really do. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by how much I love someone. Like the Brother or Samani or the pup. It’s physical and raw. I expect people to have the same need that I do to always be there. I always have to prove how much I love people else they’ll go away, but no one needs me the way I need them, so it’s not like I’m giving more than I’m getting. I need to call people in the middle of the night. I need to turn up at people’s houses sometimes just because I ache for that human contact. It feels like I’m nothing at all unless there’s someone to see. I need attention else I feel empty and non-existent. I need reassurance else I feel worthless. But because I’m so worthless, I’m always hiding behind concepts and ideas, so I can’t ever get that reassurance or attention because it’s not really me earning it  because there is no me.

See, it gets kinda complicated to phrase.

I just wish sometimes I didn’t love at all. That I didn’t obsess. That I didn’t spend time trying to work out how to get someone to realise I need them to not go to work today. That I didn’t spend nights awake dying to call someone just to know that they’re there and that they care. That I could just believe that they liked me and maybe even love me a little too. I wish so much that I felt like I had the same thoughts about people around me that other people seem to have. It’s horrible.

I’m tired of being hurt and let down because I need more than the vast majority of people have the time to give. I get angry at people all the time because they don’t understand how much I need and I’m fed up of being angry. I’m fed up of disappointment. I’m fed up of effort. Basically, I’m fed up of other people. People are so difficult.

But the thing I want the most is for someone to finally understand what it is I need from other people and actually see me and understand that I’m burning and make it better. I don’t think that’ll ever happen because I don’t even think it’s possible. I put so much stock into love and what I might earn back, but I can never earn enough. I do things I hate in order to be loved and it never works. Then I just hate myself more.

I know this is miserable, but I’ll probably get over it soon and be all happy to love again. I’m just sad because I realised I backed myself into a corner because everything I do to get someone to understand and really help is based on concepts which mean that no one will ever see me. I can’t win, yet I keep idealising everyone, thinking that maybe they finally get it. Then I’m hurt because they don’t, but of course they don’t because I’m hiding and I don’t even really understand. So then I create more, but none of its me and I’ve only just got more hidden in the process. It just can’t work. No one I know or love can ever give me whatever it is I’m burning for. Not even the Fam. It sucks.

Maybe the Psychologist is right. Maybe I do just need to learn how to like myself a little bit more.

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