*Bad language, self-harm, suicide*


I’ve not written a post in a while. Things haven’t been good. I’ve tried writing, but have several unfinished posts, as I can’t keep my mind focused on one thing at the moment. I’ll hopefully get round to finishing them soon and will share them when I do. I thought I’d write about my inner experience for now, in the hope it might unclog my mind.


I have come to a point in my life where I’m accepting the inevitable. I am starting to realise I will never get anything in my life that I want. We will never have snow here, it will always skirt around us (this trivialises my feelings a bit, but thought I’d lighten an otherwise heavy post by talking about the weather!!). I will never be happy. I will never find someone to love me. I will never be walked down the aisle. I will never be a mother. We won’t get what we voted for in the referendum. Labour will probably get in and ruin the country. I will never succeed, have a job, own a house. I will never get over the past. Nobody will ever allow me closure. Nobody will ever have my back. Nobody will ever apologise for their wrongdoings. I will never stop self-harming. I will never be ‘normal’ or fit in to society. I will never get the help I need. And I’ll likely end up dead in the next few years. Inevitable.

I used to believe in recovery. I used to count how many days / weeks I had gone without harming myself, now I spend every day longing to be triggered, so I can legitimately do it again. I’m in self-sabotage mode. I’ve shut down from everyone. I’ve felt invisible. And then I expressed a view, had it challenged, and now feel I can’t express myself even on my own private social media page. Everything else went unnoticed. But as soon as I mention politics my friends are there, arguing my points. Which then highlights the fact that among my friends I AM the minority. I suppose in my age group I AM the minority, even though my views align with the majority. It’s a lonely way to live. I feel I can’t express my anxieties, frustrations and depression, in relation to politics and other such topics where I feel strongly. Those on the opposite side seem perfectly content saying whatever the hell they like, putting us down, sharing their concerns, but if I do it and they don’t agree with it, they’ll rapidly let me know. It’s invalidating. I’ve lost ‘friends’ because of politics. Not because I’m intolerant of their views, or can’t accept a difference of opinion but because they have turned offensive, have felt the need to challenge my views, and could not accept an opinion different to theirs. It’s sad, but it’s the reality of the state of this country now. If you’re ‘right-leaning’ or voted to Leave you are looked down upon and abused, whilst those on the other side claim it’s the other way round. We’re being bullied into silence yet again, only this time it’s actually dangerous to admit we voted how we did. People are afraid to admit it because of the level of abuse and threats of violence that have been opened up, by Labour and its far-left supporters. We used to live in a more tolerant country, whereby we had a vote, and whilst some might be unhappy about it, we accepted it and got on. What the hell happened to us? The rhetoric around Brexit is driving me insane – the constant whinging about the bloody bus, which wasn’t even a factor for us making that decision! Saying we didn’t know what we were voting for. Calling us racist, selfish, uneducated, when we did months of research, educating ourselves about the EU, and did what we felt was in the best interests of future generations – okay you can’t freely go anywhere you want, but some things matter than what you can ‘get’. And the constant talk of ‘extreme Brexit’ / ‘hard Brexit’ – there’s no such thing, and the language used is irresponsible scaremongering. It’s not extreme it is complete. Hard is complete. Soft is remaining in the EU. So can people just stop saying they want a ‘soft Brexit’, and be honest and say you want to remain in the EU, but hope that by calling it ‘soft Brexit’ you’ll fool us ‘thickos’ into thinking we actually got Brexit. We’re smarter than that and know that you have to leave everything in order to fulfil the result. I find the constant chatter and ongoing argument about Brexit wearing, and frankly quite insulting.

Anyway, this isn’t all about politics. It just stemmed from that. In all fairness not much was said to me in opposition. I did overreact to it I suppose… but it triggered off memories from this time last year when someone on my social media kept jumping on my posts, arguing against them, wanting to put me down…. and the fact she went on to attack me personally how she did. It sparked off that anxiety, and adrenaline I experienced last year. It felt like an attack, even though I know it wasn’t. But it’s made me feel I shouldn’t express myself like I do. I’ve even seen friends post things before about ‘what to post on Facebook instead of politics etc’, and I think ‘hang on, it’s my page, I can say what I like…’ but when I have an experience like this, I feel it’s wrong to have the views I have, or to talk about them anyway. I FEEL cowed into silence. I feel like my opinions offend the majority of my friends, so I shouldn’t put them. But the thing is, as I stated to my friends this time last year, I occasionally post my political opinions on my Facebook because it’s private – it’s just my friends who can see it. If I said what I want to on Twitter, I would be abused, left, left and centre-left. Facebook was my safe space to talk about my feelings, and correspond with those who I know agree with my views… but those people have quietened down now too… in fact not many people talk to me at all now and that’s killing me. So it’s like I’m talking to myself. But that felt better than putting myself at risk of abuse from strangers.

But now I feel I can’t be open with my friends. I have to keep my mouth shut, to keep them happy. This is the exact feeling I had this time last year. It made me isolate myself, push my friends away, just at a time I would need them, as we’re heading towards the one year mark of losing my granddad now.

I’m sick of these BPD aspects of me. I’m tired of splitting on my friends. I’m sick of questioning who really gives a shit about me… and the fact that I shouldn’t have to question it. They should be making enough effort that I know they’re my friends, and never have to question it. I know I don’t help matters. I don’t always reply to people. It takes mental energy I just don’t have. It doesn’t mean I want people to give up on me. Not really. There is that self-sabotaging part of me that wants to be abandoned by everyone so I can end my life. But in reality I just want to know beyond any thread of doubt that I’m truly cared about. I want effort. When I’m in this zone I’m in right now, cutting myself off from everyone, it’s not some attention-seeking choice. It’s debilitating depression and being convinced nobody gives a shit about having me in their lives. This paralyses me socially. I switch off and if you get a reply from me you’re lucky. For instance I had to force myself to reply to someone a couple of days ago, but that was because I had to RSVP to something coming this weekend. It took everything I had in me.

My other experience has always been people approaching ME, choosing to talk to ME, starting conversations, and when I suddenly think ‘Ooh, someone DOES care about me‘, they either don’t reply anymore, or the conversation dries up and I feel like a nuisance – like they didn’t want to talk in the first place, and I think ‘Why bother if you’re not bothered?‘ … So that makes me shut down to people too, as I think they’re not really invested in being my friend. I can’t trust that people are committed to being there. So I shut them all out. And that’s what I’m doing now. And it’s what I will continue to do, as I can’t do anything else.

I push people away, and then break inside when I realise they don’t even notice, and aren’t going to pull me back. Nobody has ever given enough of a shit about me to make an effort.

I was told in therapy that I need to widen my network. I need to make new friends. But do you know how bloody impossible that is when left with all this baggage from past and present friendships?! Do you know how hard it is to trust that new people won’t make me feel just the same, and leave me?! Do you know how paralysed I feel, that I don’t even want to leave the house to have to meet new people? Do you?!

I have given up on everything right now, and I don’t think I can be fixed. No amount of therapy could help me right now… that’s what I believe. And reading people’s tweets saying that CBT and DBT don’t work for people like me, and that this is a lifelong illness… I just think what’s the point? Should I just pack it in now? If I can’t get better. If therapy won’t help me. If this is what my life is always going to be, then I don’t want to live it.

I feel so traumatised by the last couple of years, on top of what I already experienced in the past. Every new bad experience just adds to that feeling of trauma… nothing ever gets resolved. Nothing ever heals, and I can’t take any more of it. It’s like every bad experience slices off another layer of emotional skin. I’m down to the bone. I want someone to come along and fix me. Not just give me a toolkit to help myself, ‘go away and fix yourself’. I was told in therapy to ‘grab hold of my potential’…. I cannot do that. I feel so broken and so utterly depressed right now that there IS no potential. The potential is my death. Nobody has a clue what it’s like to be me, to have gone through everything I have, and to have NOTHING…. to have NOBODY. Nobody gets that. Nobody can understand that I just can’t ‘think positively’ and change my life for the better. If I could then I would have by now.

I’m so sorry to the mental health services – I know that you want people to get better, and when faced with someone who can’t get better, and can’t cope on their own, and who is spiralling down even with your help, then you probably lose hope, give us up as a lost cause and you probably would blame me for being stubborn, wilful or not trying hard enough. It would deflate you that you can’t help everyone. I’m sorry I’m that person . And trust me I feel like a lost cause.

I don’t want to be asked what help I need. I want someone to ask the relevant questions, take the time to find out everything that is a problem for me, and then tell ME what can be done to help me. I want someone to give me hope, but not by telling me about ‘my potential’ and then packing me off to cope on my own. I want someone to ride out the storm with me and help me see the sunshine again. I want to feel they really understand how stuck I feel…. how hopeless, and how painful my life is. I want validation. I want comfort. I want sympathy… empathy. I want to feel safe.

I don’t feel safe. Everything in this world is a means to do myself harm. Life is overwhelming. I don’t want to participate in any of it. I feel I’m waiting. But with nothing to wait for. It’s like I sit here, listening to the ticking of the clock… each second moving me closer to the end, and seeing my granddad again. An end to this turmoil. Peace. An end to the traumatic onslaught that I have to face alone.

And then I feel so guilty and ashamed, because that would be like wasting the gift of life that my parents gave me. It would all have been for nothing. I don’t want to let them down. But I already feel like a failure to them. Not because they think I am, but because I think I am. Nobody knows what it feels like to have all these problems, to have very little to be proud about, and to have such a painful conscience about it. I’m constantly beating myself up for my mental illness, for not having found someone and starting a family with them, for not having a job, for living at home…. I just feel such a failure. But I can’t break out of it. Because it’s such a tangled mess. In order to achieve those things, I have to tackle my mental health, but I’m hearing that there’s no help out there for people like me. I’m hearing it’s hopeless. I’m hearing this is my lot in life. In which case I will never succeed. I will never be happy. I will never be loved. And I will die alone. As lonely in death as I’ve been in life. Having made no mark on Earth.

But you see, my feeling of being trapped even extends to making that choice about ending it all. For a couple of years now I’ve talked about wanting to lose my conscience. To not think about others. Not think about the image I want to maintain. To not give a crap how my actions will make people feel. To say ‘to hell’ with the consequences. I want to switch off the more rational part of me. I want to act and not care. I had one moment of doing that last year, when I harmed at my therapy group. I didn’t think of the consequences. I wasn’t in my mind. I just did it. But the rest of the time I have to be ‘sensible’ and ‘sane’. My damn conscience guilt-trips me whenever I want to do something bad to myself, because I think how my family would feel. So then I feel trapped in this ‘life’, going nowhere. I can’t win.

I’m still struggling with the same things I was last year. The transference and trauma from therapy. It was probably assumed once I got away from the situation (i.e. him) I’d feel better. And now I’m discharged it’s no longer their concern. But it doesn’t mean I’m okay. I still have flashbacks. I still get upset. I know I’ve had it explained to me that my feelings for the therapist, are actually something tangled up in my feelings of grief for my granddad. And that once I deal with that loss, it will resolve itself. But that doesn’t mean it’s healed. It doesn’t mean that the feelings I had for him aren’t there anymore. It doesn’t stop the hurt. It was a very traumatic and highly embarrassing experience for me. And whilst I may not cry as much now, if I have to talk about it… about him, I have to stop myself from crying. So it is still there… they just don’t have to deal with it anymore. I’m ‘done and dusted’. Forgotten. Perhaps a ‘lesson learnt’, perhaps not… The self-harm is a prominent issue. I’m chasing a feeling, unable to find it. I cannot go deep enough. Violent visions towards myself plague my mind, and I fight every day to not act on them.

Things that brought me joy before, don’t anymore. Not now. I feel disconnected from everything…. hobbies… people… even the things I have to look forward to this year and next, I’m not excited. I feel guilty for being this way, and seemingly not caring about anything or anyone. But I just don’t feel anything anymore. Everything is flat. And I don’t have it in me to fight it at the moment. I wish someone understood that. I wish someone could see how strong I have been, and that I just can’t do it anymore. I’m tired of people saying ‘keep fighting, stay strong’… I want permission to stop fighting and to be weak, and just fall apart, knowing they will catch me and put me back together. It’s this ‘stay strong’ mentality that’s got me where I am now… where I bottled up everything, put on a front, until I could no longer hide my struggle from people. Staying strong, whilst well-intended is an unhelpful attitude. We need to be allowed to fall apart and for someone to look at all the broken pieces, and offer to glue us back together again. I don’t have the strength to do it myself. Why can’t that be okay?

Poem: Razorblades.

*Self-harm & suicide theme, read with care*




Skin… how can something as thin, hold such immense spiritual existence within?

Skin… the broken mask I wear in this life.

Skin… you found your way under mine…

I’ve razorblades for fingers;

When I think of you I touch myself,

And the blood runs rivers over my withered bones.

My decaying waste of flesh awaits a higher purpose,

Free of this hideous cage, this mortal coil, this abandoned life.

Lord, won’t you take me home?

Too timid for this world, too broken to journey on;

None can hold my hand, lest they cut themselves.

Alone I battle,

Memories of you staining my skin, green, red, black and blue,

Green, the colour of envy for those who keep you…

Red, the colour of love, and that of passion, of anger and of pain…

Blackest black, the colour of a starless night; no hope in sight…

Blue, the colour of sorrow and the tears in which I wallow.

Stroking my arm, to comfort myself –

The cold steel opens a vein

And my heart falls out, a fraction at a time,

And with it pours a little of my mind.

I’m finished with reality,

There’s nothing left in life for me.

The war is lost…

I’ll soon be your ghost,

Loving you from afar, willing you to succeed,

Being your angel in your time of need.

At least in Heaven I can love you.

At least there I can see you, though you cannot see me.

And from this zombie corpse I shall be free.

My brain rots inside of me, I feel it every waking moment.

There is no hope,

No rest long enough to save me,

No joy strong enough to keep me.

I’m a scrap of crumpled paper, tossed in the dustbin,

Awaiting recycle…

God grant me a better life in the next, this mountain was too high.

I am strong, but I can’t work the impossible, no matter how I’ve tried…

No more parting, no more loss, no more with goodbye;

I grasp my lonely wrist tonight,

And step on through towards the light.




*Just a note to say not to worry about me – this is just my way of expressing thoughts creatively and having something productive at the end. Though I do feel incredibly depressed right now, I’m not an imminent danger to myself.

Lost In Grief.

lost in grief.jpg


*Names have been changed. May be upsetting as I discuss grief and death*


I’ve noticed I’m dealing with my transference issue in the same way as my grief. In that I’m not. I’m not letting the pain in. I realised this the other night when a memory of *James entered my mind, and it hit me like a lorry. I burst into tears and couldn’t get myself under control. It was just such a silly little flash of something… just how he used to sit, talk, smile and laugh – I could see him and hear him, and it was like an emotional dagger plunged into my heart.

But I’ve noticed for a while now I’ve been putting off truly thinking about him. Just like with my granddad, James is always in my thoughts, every moment of every day… I know this isn’t normal by the way… I don’t claim to understand why someone I hardly know holds as much importance to me as my own granddad, but it’s the way it is. Anyway, although they are both in my thoughts, I don’t allow myself to delve into the reality of their loss. It’s almost as if on some level I’m in denial of reality.

With my granddad I accept he’s no longer here – I can’t see him, hear him or hold his hand. But I try not to let in the whole truth… to try to shield myself from the pain. If I think about all we went through with the hospital, nearly losing him; the change in him mentally afterwards; the months of watching him waste away; saying goodbye; the day he died – all the grief of that day; his body leaving the house; the funeral; never seeing him sat in his chair again; never being able to ask him anything or tell him anything; not seeing his nose crinkle up in a smile; not having him insist I have a biscuit; not having him worry; not hearing his stories; knowing my nan has lost her life partner; knowing he won’t be at my wedding nor see me have children; knowing he’ll never see me be happy…….. if I let all that in, you’d have to scrape me off the floor. Just writing this paragraph has left me in tears. But I’m still trying to keep it all held at a distance. The reality is I never pictured a world where I didn’t have my grandparents. This was my first loss that’s affected me deeply. Now the world feels unsafe. It feels uncertain. I spent so many years being prepared that one day they wouldn’t be here anymore… I never thought that ‘one day’ would ever come. He should be here. I wish he was here.

Sorry, I’m getting upset again, because I’m having flashes of feelings and memories like I had the other night with James, where I can hear my granddad’s voice in my head, I can see him. It’s the good memories that kill us.

But one thing that still haunts me, is the last time I saw him, as himself, before he was hospitalised, whilst he was lucid, and I went to say bye to him before going home, there was a moment where we just looked at each other, and it felt like we were communicating ‘I love you’ to each other, but I couldn’t say it, because I have such issues with saying those words to anyone. And he didn’t say it, but I felt as though it was silently said. That haunted me because I then didn’t see him for a while, and the next time I did, I was in a hospital, holding his hand, effectively saying goodbye to him. Everyone had given up hope, but I would tell him to keep on fighting. And sure enough he did. The hospital had stopped treatment, but his own body fought back and kept him alive. But he didn’t recall anything that had happened. He didn’t know what we’d all been through, nearly losing him. He wasn’t himself after that. He was distant… frail. He would live out the remainder of his days in bed at home. Until almost a year ago when he went downhill, and we knew the end was coming. One night, I think it was a Monday we went to see him, and I went upstairs, closed the door, turned off the monitor so nobody could hear me, and I stroked his head and told him everything I wish I could have told him in life… everything he deserved to hear. But I had waited too long, because no matter how much I told him how much I loved him, he couldn’t say it back. I don’t even know if he heard me. His breathing was shallow, his cheeks were hollow, and his eyes wouldn’t close fully… but he was unresponsive. Seeing him like that scarred me. In less than a year he had gone from the man I shared that silent moment with, to this. I still remember saying goodbye for the last time… knowing it was the last time. Every other time I had said goodbye I followed it up with ‘I’ll see you again soon’…. I didn’t that time. That time it was simply goodbye. I walked out of the dimly lit room, partially closing the door, looked back one last time, knowing I would never see him again. (The next day my parents would do the same, and the following day, the Wednesday, he passed away with my nan and aunty by his side… I still remember getting the phone call just after it happened…) It’s odd, because at the time I don’t recall being too emotional about saying goodbye. I think I wanted to be strong for everyone, so didn’t let my emotions show. Also it didn’t feel real. It was a new experience for me. It’s only thinking back on it now, that it leaves me sobbing into a pillow like I just did.

But this is what happens. I don’t deal with the pain and sadness. I don’t let it out, because I never fully let it in. And then one little random thought will set me off without warning. And this is how I’m dealing with my grief for him, but also for James. I was in pieces to begin with, for weeks. I wouldn’t stop crying. I was harming myself. And as I started getting support for it, I shoved the thoughts and feelings away. I didn’t let them close enough to hurt me. Some might see that as a good thing. I see it as bunging it all under the rug for now. I don’t know the alternative.

All I know, or rather can assume from self-analysis, is that I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to my granddad. I had a certain build-up, knowing the end was coming and I would have to lose him. I had a chance to say goodbye, which many people don’t get, but it was too late to hear anything back that may have helped me. I will never see him again. James… I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him. There was the build-up towards the end of the course, so I knew that I was going to lose him. I had a chance to say goodbye at the end of the course, but I didn’t say it properly, and I didn’t say thank you to him, as I was too emotional about the loss, so just left. I could have done with a closure in the form of being wished well personally, after the trauma of the course, but circumstances don’t allow for that. So I couldn’t hear anything that might help me. And I will never see James again… ever ….. I face the rest of my days without both of them… two men I admired so much, wasn’t ready to say goodbye to, but had ripped away from me. And I don’t know how to cope with that.

Two losses, both feeling the same, in the same year. I know it sounds wrong, but I’ve said on several occasions that losing James feels worse than losing my granddad, for a few reasons –

  1. I had years with my granddad. I had hours with James. I didn’t have long enough with him.
  2. I’m the only one to feel this pain. When losing my granddad, the whole family felt it and understood it. This is only my burden to carry.
  3. We didn’t have any kind of relationship to legitimately mourn.
  4. But worst of all…. James continues to live.

I can do nothing about the fact my granddad has gone. There is no way to bring him back. I don’t have another option. He’s gone. I can believe he’s watching over me. But with James, he’s long forgotten who I am. He’s carried on with his life, he has his own personal happiness, I’m just a number to him, and I have to keep on living knowing he’s out there still. It is so hard to mourn the loss of someone still living. Because it feels like something that doesn’t have to BE. I have to accept a death. But a part of me still fights reality that James cannot be in my life…. it feels like there’s a choice. And while he’s not dead, and I don’t have to accept eternity without him, why do I have to choose/accept eternity without him?? I will never do anything about this way of thinking, but I’m just saying it causes conflict in my head, that he’s still here, and in that way it feels like the loss is being INFLICTED on me, against my will.

I know that death feels like that too. But death is a fact of life. It’s what happens, hopefully at the end of a long well-lived life, if we’re fortunate. My granddad was 90 when he passed away. I guess you could say it was his time. I wish it wasn’t. But with James, he hasn’t died, but I have to live my life as though he has. I find that incredibly hard to do. It’s the same feelings – that I’ll never see him again. It’s beyond my control. I feel powerless. Whilst my granddad may be watching over me, James isn’t. He’s about my age, and living his life. He’s not and never will be watching over me! Simply forgetting me. That makes it even more painful, to know I’m that irrelevant, and I feel so emotionally attached to him, to this degree, not understanding what the hell is wrong with me. So I have this replica of grief with no comfort in the fact that James will be watching over me. With no hope of being reunited with him in a better place after this life. With no personal memories to hold on to like I did with my granddad. With no shared stories from other people. With no pictures. With nothing. Just my memory. This is grief multiplied. It makes no sense whatsoever, and that makes me feel even worse, like I’m a weirdo and an idiot.

Nobody understands it. I don’t understand it. I just know how painfully real it feels. How sickening and devastating it is for me. I’ve never felt something like this before. I’ve never experienced such an intense emotion that makes no logical sense to anyone, that in some way terrifies me, isolates me, and destroys me inside.

I don’t want to do life. And anytime I say things like that, I feel nobody gets it. Nobody would ever understand why losing James makes me not want to do life. I didn’t ‘love him’ they’ll say. They’ll tell me it’s not real. They’ll tell me it was unrequited, as if I actually thought I stood a chance. They’ll tell me to find someone else, but they don’t realise this is more complex than that. This is not about me being with James. This is about never seeing him again. Just the other day I was disturbed to experience jealousy… of his baby. I wasn’t wishing to trade places with his wife. I was wanting in that moment to trade places with his baby, because that is one lucky baby… whether he/she likes it or not, they will have James in their life forever… they’re family. He will always be there for them. He will protect them and love them, comfort them and dedicate his life to them. They’re lucky… that the only way they’ll lose him is when his time comes. And then he’ll watch over them. Do you know how utterly messed up I feel, that when I first met James I was physically attracted to him….. I grew to like him in a different way…. this morphed into a feeling of love and attachment …. and has ended up with me wishing I was his baby… that he would be my father, so that I wouldn’t have to lose him from my life against my will. This is so messed up!!! 

I don’t know if this is some kind of a mash-up between losing my granddad, and all the losses I’ve had in life, of people I didn’t want to lose – friends, guys etc. I’ve had one guy I didn’t want to live without, but he was a dick, to put it bluntly. I had a ‘nice guy’ as a friend, and lost him to a ‘best friend’ who stabbed me in the back. It took me a while to come to terms with that, as that felt like it was against my will. But now I pretend these people are dead to me. I don’t know how to cope with loss any other way. I have to pretend it’s eternal and was beyond my power to choose… beyond the power of those people to choose to leave me. Or I have to hate them. It’s going to take a lot for me to come up with reasons to hate James. I don’t want to pretend he’s dead. I can’t. He’s very much alive in my head. I can’t escape reality. But I keep fighting it.

So I think I’m in the ‘bargaining’ stage of grief. ‘Depression’ being the other I’m experiencing, hence not wanting to live life anymore. I know I can use a bereavement service for my grief about my granddad, but who on this planet can help me with grief from losing someone like James? It’s not even like I can say it’s a break-up… it’s nothing like that. I don’t even know what you’d classify it as! So how anyone can help me with it, I really don’t know. I just wish someone out there truly understood what I’m experiencing…. so they could tell ME… because I haven’t the foggiest. I feel like a freak. I feel beyond help.

Do I just grieve for him like I do with my granddad? It feels like a disservice to my granddad, that I would grieve the same for someone I spent a total of 24 hours with! Simple fact is I don’t want to grieve, I want it to not be this way. But then I know that’s the ‘bargaining’ bit… the ‘denial’. Which I guess shows I AM already grieving for him. I just can’t take any more loss. But I’m slowly learning that life is loss. Life is pain. Life is hard. And right now I really don’t want to partake in any of it. Nothing could make this right. I just want to take a pill, fall asleep for a very long time, have a break from the world, and wake up with no memory of any of this hurt…. no attachment to anyone I’ve lost… no ties to my past, and only hope for my future. Life feels bleak right now. And I wish I’d never gone for help last year. It backfired spectacularly. Now I’ve got double the problem. No wonder I want to give up. It was bad enough this time a year ago…

Poem: Tiny Fingers.



Tiny fingers grip your own;

Mine grasp the pen I last held in your presence.

Your heart is full of pride, and love unimaginable;

Mine full of torture and despair.

You hold a fragile life in your arms and kiss it goodnight;

I hold a thousand hopeless wishes, and kiss my arm with the knife.

Tears of joy you shed…

The tears I cry are crimson red –

The colour of love, and that of pain.

If I could bleed you out and cleanse my veins

Of the stench of you I would;

I would drain you from my memory if I could,

But I can’t, my soul is latched;

My heart is irrevocably attached.

You’ve a future before you, a life-long adventure;

I’ve no wish for a future in which you do not feature.

I’m a hazy memory now – distant, vague;

You’re my ghost every waking minute, distressingly vivid.

Please take my life, I do not want it, I cannot live like this –

Knowing I’m forgotten by the one soul I miss.

Comfort and soothe me, then lay me down to sleep,

And then warn your child to avoid my path and don’t fall in love so deep.

Protect them from this sorrow,

From it I could not be saved.

Oh to be that child, your world, your everything,

With a whole life safely within your heart.

I’d never lose you, until the day of parting came,

And then I’d meet you in Heaven.

But that shall never be…

We are strangers, drifting further each day,

Not even Heaven will save you for me.

I stagger on without you, broken for all eternity.

I hold this pen, these words I write,

As you tuck your little one in at night…

Those tiny fingers grip your own.

I cling to love… and I love alone.

Mental Health Q & A.

A little Q & A about my mental health. Saw this idea elsewhere, and thought I’d join in xxxx



  1. What is your mental health issue?

I have a few! The main ones are BPD, depression and anxiety. My anxiety tends to be social anxiety. I have difficulties using the phone, going to appointments, going shopping, eating in front of people unless I’m comfortable with them, going to new places, and dealing with official stuff.

My BPD is not officially diagnosed, but I was being treated for it years ago, and it certainly explains a lot in my life. At one point I started to come out of my depression … I can only say that, because I felt myself slipping back into it. I also have emetophobia (fear of being ‘physically ill’ / others being so too – so bad I can’t even stand to see the word), and I have trichotillomania (compulsive hair-pulling, where I pull out my hairs, and / or obsessively cut any split-ends). I will be writing about this soon. I also self-harm.


  1. Do you have medication / therapy?

Yes, I take a mix of medication – two anti-depressants and an anti-psychotic, apparently for the anxiety symptoms… though this was prescribed at a time before I was told about my BPD, so for all I know it could be linked to symptoms of that. If it is, it’s not exactly working right now!

I’m in limbo at the moment in terms of therapy. I’m just about to have my last session with a mental health service, and after that I’ll see the doctor to be referred to the CMHT…. depends if they’ll help me or not. So no, I’m not officially in therapy.


  1. What therapy / medication have you tried and has any worked for you?

I think the first medication I took was Fluoxetine (Prozac). I was a lot younger then, and my memory of that time of my life isn’t too clear. But I seem to think it made me very suicidal. I tried Olanzapine, but can’t recall why I didn’t get on with that one. I know I tried Risperidone, but I developed an embarrassing problem, where I began lactating, which can be a side-effect of such a drug. As it turns out that was actually caused by a pituitary tumour and needed treating… but at the time I was changed to another drug. I ended up on Mirtazapine, Quetiapine and Venlafaxine.

It’s hard to say what has helped in terms of medication, as I’ve been on it for so long now, I don’t know what I’d be like without the medications. One thing I will say is that Mirtazapine makes me sleepy… which is a good thing! Last year I went to the doctor as my depression had worsened, and she increased my Venlafaxine. As soon as that happened it flattened my mood. It mellowed me out. I didn’t care about anything… and I didn’t care about the fact that I didn’t care. While some would see this as a bad thing, it was welcome to me, as I was about to lose someone I loved. It softened the blow. This effect wore off after a while and now I feel spikes in my emotions, that I can’t always cope with. It might be time to think about a change of medication, though side-effects and withdrawal fill me with dread, because of the emetophobia. I guess the medication must work to some degree, because if I miss one dose then the next day I will be down and emotional. I’m unsure if this is withdrawal though, as I also get ‘brain zaps’ … which remind me I have forgotten to take my meds.

In terms of therapy, I’ve had counselling, CBT (very short course of it though), and DBT. The one thing that helped reduce my self-harming and improved my quality of life was DBT. This was the therapy of choice for those with BPD. It’s a shame it’s not as accessible nowadays. I wonder if I could ever do another course of it. I’m a different person now to who I was when I did it ten years ago.


  1. How long have you had problems for?

I probably had problems even in school, but I don’t remember that time of my life much. After I finished school and started college that was the beginning of the downfall. That was when I started self-harming, aged 16. Just as many years later I’m still struggling. But at the same time I’m in a different place. I’m not hiding my problems. I’ve been through a lot of life-changing experiences. I have slightly more self-control than in college. I’ve gone from harming almost every single day, hiding in the toilets at college… to managing to resist the urges and only caving once or twice a month, except in tougher times. I’m stronger now. But I’m sick of being ‘strong’.


  1. Do your family / friends know?

Yes. I hid my self-harm from everyone except the college counsellor, for a year and half. Breaking the news to my mum was one of the hardest things I ever did, but her support and willingness to research and learn has been so important to my recovery. She told the rest of the family… but they’ve never really spoken to me about it. It’s only since having a bit of a breakdown in therapy last year, that I started talking about my mental health more openly in front of my nan. I’ve also started to be a lot more honest about my feelings and the struggles I face, with my friends. I only have a few friends on Facebook – those I trust / those who understand these things. So I started speaking out about it all on there. Then I branched out onto Twitter and my blog. This has connected me to many people who understand the struggles of BPD and other mental health issues. I see it as my purpose to break the stigma, by speaking out and hopefully giving others the courage to talk openly about their mental health too. I must admit, since opening up, and after my breakdown last year, some friends don’t contact me anymore. But some do, and it means a lot. I don’t hold it against the others – some are going through their own troubles, and some probably don’t know what the right thing to say is. I’m not always honest about how I really feel. But generally people know the challenges I face.


  1. Does this affect your work and daily life?

Yes. I’ve struggled to be able to work. I’ve done various voluntary roles, but that’s about all. I still volunteer now, but I’m struggling so much with it. I had felt I was taking steps forward, but the last year or so has been an assault on my confidence, self-esteem and my mental health. I sometimes have to take a couple of weeks off for my mental health. I’m in that situation now, where I feel if I keep pushing myself I will have a full-on meltdown or an angry episode in public. I came close to it last week. I actually found something on the floor, put it in my pocket and hurt myself with it, at work. That is when I know I have to step away.

Social anxiety aspects also impact work, as I don’t like answering a phone. I struggle with the public sometimes. I’ve mastered the art of ‘the face’, whereby I’m friendly and polite, but there are times I can’t maintain it, like last week. I often get overwhelmed and have to hide out the back. I’m lucky the others understand to some degree and let me do so… but they still don’t understand the level of my problems. I don’t let my true feelings show. I also find everything so incredibly draining, and don’t have the energy I need in order to work full-time.

In terms of everyday life… I have no motivation to do anything. Everything is neglected, and put off. I don’t always look after myself. I don’t have a social life anymore. I have little enjoyment. Quality of life is next to zero at the moment. Having a mental illness is no picnic. Just because I don’t work, doesn’t mean I’m having a party. It’s no life to aspire to.


  1. What makes you feel calm?
  • Nature.
  • The ocean.
  • The stars.
  • Clouds.
  • Meditation.
  • Music.
  • Animals.
  • Bubble bath with candles & classical music.
  • Slow breathing.
  • Painting.
  • Bird watching.
  • Fossil hunting.


  1. What do you do in a crisis?

Most of the time nothing good unfortunately. I called The Samaritans once, which I would recommend – but I’d suggest doing so before resorting to unhealthy coping strategies, not after. But it’s still better than ending up doing something permanent. I have a crisis box, which has things in it to distract me, and to pamper myself. Or I’ll try and be around other people. Not necessarily talking to them, but just being in a different space to where I might usually harm myself, it sometimes helps. If I’m angry I’ll strum a guitar. If I’m upset I’ll cry, and then try and cheer myself up with a stand-up comedy. If needs be I write about my feelings, and blog sometimes, if I feel I need someone to hear me.


  1. What advice would you give to others suffering?

Don’t suffer in silence. Reach out for support to anyone you can… whether it’s a family member, a trusted friend, a teacher, a colleague, doctor or mental health service. You don’t have to battle alone. Although life can be difficult, and problems don’t just go away, one thing to remember if you’re in crisis at night… if you can just get to sleep things will always feel better in the morning. They may get worse again during the course of the next day, but you follow the same mentality, that things always feel better in the morning. It’s got me through quite a few dark nights lately. And you just take it a day at a time. Self-soothe – look after your wellbeing before anything else. And always remember that as alone as you may feel, you’re never truly alone – there’s so many of us out there who experience the same feelings as you… we’re all in this together, and I hope we all make it.


  1. What makes you smile?
  • My Godchildren! So much. I can’t explain how much I love them. I’ve watched them grow from tiny babies into little people I can actually talk to! I love seeing how much they’ve learnt. And I like being someone they look forward to seeing. They keep me alive.
  • Kind gestures I see in the world, between strangers.
  • Animals – birds, cats, dogs, anything… I love animals – much purer souls than ours.
  • The beauty of nature – sunsets, rainbows, shooting stars, the moon.
  • Kind messages from friends.
  • My little family being together.
  • Taking good photos.
  • Snow!
  • Yummy food!
  • Purple!! 
  • Finding perfectly formed, whole ammonites!
  • Being by the sea.
  • Love… or the dream of love.
  • Babies & children – I love communicating with them and making them smile.


  1. Describe your mental health issue in five words…
  • Isolating.
  • Relentless.
  • Painful.
  • Unbearable.
  • Confusing.


  1. Insert a picture to make people smile.



Born In The Wrong Era: A Grumpy Old Woman!

*This may contain swearing, self-harm and suicide references, among other issues… and may offend everyone at some point – not intended… just an expression of the turmoil I’m in at the moment. Warning I do sound like a grumpy old woman. Some people feel they were born in the wrong skin… the wrong gender… I feel I was born in the wrong era! Read at your own peril*


I’ve not been feeling too great lately. My depression is the worst it’s been. I keep thinking of reasons for why this is… but the reality is likely to be that it just is. It’s an illness and it’s worsened at the moment. I know that grief is playing its part. I know that my experiences with mental health services last year and a subsequent loss is playing another great part in it.

The rest of it lies with the state of the world and the people in it. I’m going to try and do this in the calmest way I can, as the other day I wrote a rant using the most colourful language imaginable. I was extremely angry. But that anger comes from a place of powerlessness. I feel like I can work on grief. I can work on my past and the emotions attached to it. I can recover from loss. But one thing I can’t do is change the mess the world is in. I can’t change the people in it. I can’t make people be nicer human beings. And the powerlessness and inability to make people see how harmful their attitudes are, is dragging me down deeper into my depression.

In a nutshell, the issues I’ve identified are:

  • Politics…. apparently if you’re not a Labour voter, or a Remain voter you’re a piece of shit who should kill themselves. You’re stupid, worthless and your voice should be ignored, as the votes were so close, and it apparently wasn’t a binding referendum anyway (Hint: It WOULD have been deemed one, had Remain won as narrowly!!). Basically we’re scum and people can’t wait for us to drop dead. That is what a section of society and a lot of politicians / celebrities seem to imply. They don’t think of the impact of this on people like me. I’ve been bullied and socially excluded all my life. I’ve felt worthless and tell myself I’m stupid all the time. I’m ignored a lot. And it’s given me the mental health issues I have now. People would have sympathy for me, but if I disclose my political persuasion then suddenly that trumps everything. I can drop dead for all they care. Even mental health goes out the window when you don’t agree with the more vocal Labour supporters and Remainers. They claim to be the majority, but if they were then they would have won. The trouble is they shout down and abuse those with a different opinion so we’re all bullied into silence. So this creates the illusion that we’re a minority. I don’t want to make this blog have anything to do with politics. But everything feels so political right now, and people like me have been made to feel like shit since long before the referendum. It’s a fact. We’ve been called names for months and months… endured a lot of abuse, and it still hasn’t stopped. And I’m speaking out about this now, because if you yourself are one of those people calling people like me stupid, racist, fascist, uneducated, gullible, saying we were lied to, and saying our voices should be ignored, then PLEASE, stop and think. How would you like it? I know you have your political opinion, but think about mental health. That is so much more important, and if your behaviour, your attitude and your words are making someone feel like shit, and like they want to kill themselves, then it’s time to stop what you’re doing. The trouble with politics is people feel so strongly about it that they forget the human being behind the views. They forget that I have a mental illness, that I’ve been through a lot of painful experiences in my life. They forget that I am a person with emotions, memories, passions, fears, hopes and dreams – they just see me as whatever label they choose for the day for ‘scum like me’. This country is savagely divided, and until a certain side of the argument learns to accept defeat graciously, and stops disrespecting our equal voices, those rifts are NEVER going to mend. It’s not our duty to heal the rifts. That will not come through pandering to the wishes of the losing side, as that’s not possible, and would not have happened had it been the other way around! It will only come from ACCEPTANCE. Fighting reality only causes stress and suffering, for all. It’s time to get on. Having people constantly fighting against a decision we made and were allowed to make, and did so for a good reason, is draining, demoralising and makes me want to give up on more than just voting.


  • I hate that I live in a world where you’re attacked for having a different opinion. This relates to politics but also to religion, race, sexuality… everything. If someone is uncomfortable about homosexuality for instance, they are made out to be a monster. They have sexuality forced in their faces everyday and are told they have to be tolerant and accept it. Well I say no. I personally have no problem with anyone of any race, religion, sexuality. But I do have a problem with people forcing their opinions and way of life on other people. Some older people grew up in a time when things were different, and homosexuality was illegal. Some people are religious and their religion tells them that it’s a sin. Whatever someone’s reasons for their personal beliefs, it’s nobody’s business, and they’re entitled to hold those beliefs. There’s a lot of people out there who hold these ‘intolerant’ beliefs but you’d never know, because they’re not shitty people like they’re painted to be. They may feel uncomfortable, but they treat everyone as a person, and with respect and kindness – that’s what being human is about. Treating people the same, but not being forced to think the same. As long as your beliefs don’t hurt someone – as long as you’re not going out attacking people for their colour, their religion, their sexuality etc, and you’re not openly abusing people, then you’re allowed to think and feel however you want to about such things. Freedom of thought cannot and will not be shut down. It shouldn’t be. The moment it is, there is no point in human beings – we’ll all be drones. We’re having the notion of ‘tolerance’ being forced down our throats by the most intolerant of people. If people want certain religions, races and sexuality to be accepted by everyone, then there’s got to be the willingness to accept those who cannot accept those things – without judging them as ‘bad / ignorant’ people or talking them down. We’re humans, we are allowed to be different to each other. Those trying to force tolerance on others should practise some themselves, and tolerate a difference of opinion, without thinking they’re right and others are wrong. It’s just different. They should stop seeking acceptance from the world, and learn to just accept themselves, and work on their immediate surroundings. As long as they are happy in themselves and the people around them can accept them, then who cares what some woman down the street THINKS about them?


  • We also live in a world where people aren’t held to account for what they say online. People feel empowered to say anything they like, however rude, disrespectful and harmful it is. Just the other day a load of people with experience of mental illness and possibly suicidal thoughts, were celebrating the suicide of an actor. He had done something terrible, being in possession of child pornography, so I can understand the anger surrounding this. But the lack of compassion and respect, not for him, but for his FAMILY was shocking and actually quite sickening. I feel ashamed to share this world and this species with people with that mentality, that they would wish death on someone, and celebrate them ending their life. I’ll tell you, even when Gaddafi died, I felt very uncomfortable with the celebrations. I can understand the sense of relief for some people when someone who hurt them passes away, but to openly express joy about it online?? There’s something very inhuman about that. It’s concerning. Where are the consciences of these people? Have they never lost a family member? That’s all I can assume, because if they knew what grief felt like, then they’d know that having people spit on their dead relative and cheer their death, is not going to help the grieving process. I’m not saying don’t be angry at him. I’m not saying don’t be pleased he’s dead. I’m just saying where has the decency in this world gone? Some thoughts ought to remain inside thoughts, for the sake of other people, i.e. the family. They didn’t ask for a son who would do that. And they’ll be in a lot of pain right now. The respectful thing to do, if you can’t pass on condolences is just to remain quiet… what has happened to this value, this idea? The internet has a lot to answer for. This extends beyond this case – and even merges with politics again, as some people think it’s acceptable to post death threats on Twitter and urge people to kill themselves. I will have you know that I report such vile people and their tweets. It’s nice when I get reports back that they were in violation of the rules. People have to be responsible for what they say online. They have to relearn how to behave as decent human beings. Blurting out whatever is in your head every minute of the day, is not normal or acceptable. Particularly if it is offensive to someone else. It’s called ‘self-control’ / ‘self-discipline’. You learn to hold your thoughts inside your head, not needing everyone to hear all of them. If you don’t like someone or their opinion, just scroll past… it has a better effect, giving the person less exposure, and also reflects better on you as a person. These people celebrating his death feel they’re right to do so… that’s fine, if they want to do that then that’s great… but as long as they are aware they sound like sociopaths, and they are arseholes in regards to his family. Free to say what you like, but it does paint an image of who you are. That’s all. Something I wrote in my rant yesterday which I will share is this: “If the mentally ill mock someone who killed themselves then they have no right to campaign against stigma surrounding suicide. It’s hypocritical.”


  • Another issue is this sexualised world we live in. What happened to good old-fashioned courting, wooing, romancing a lady? What happened to chivalry? What happened to respect for a woman, rather than asking her ‘what she’s into sexually’?? I have very little in the way of experience with men, I’ll be honest about that. But what little experience I have had has tainted my view of men and society as a whole. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll laugh at an innocent innuendo. I have got a slight dirty mind. But the point is it’s private. And I don’t expect men to be openly suggestive to me like that. I’ve had experiences of men being forward and crude, and at the time I was naïve and vulnerable, so I may have played along, which led me down the wrong path. So that now I believe all men are only interested in one thing. They have no respect for me as a person. I feel none of them understand who I am and what I expect. I am not a distraction. I am not a friend with benefits. I am not a casual hook-up type of person. I am not the other woman. I am not second choice. If that means being alone forever, because no man can match my standards and expectations then so be it. I will never again let a man make me feel cheap and worthless. I want consistency, respect, honesty, loyalty, kindness, companionship, love and friendship. I want a gentleman. Don’t make sexual jokes. Don’t message me at 11pm asking what I’m up to. Don’t think that just because I used to exchange texts with one guy in the past that that’s the type of girl I am – I’m not… that was a mistake, pure and simple. If a man wants to be with me, he will have to either be old-fashioned like me, and woo me, or be my friend, but with no expectations that he will ever become more. I’ve been badly hurt by men I’ve encountered in life – even the ‘nice’ ones! I want to believe someone exists out there, with the same values as me… with respect for women… someone who would treat me like a lady, and value companionship, marriage and a family above ‘sex’. Why does everything have to be about sex nowadays? Why are people so openly crude about things that should be private? Why are people so openly into weird things? I feel like the world is harsh and graphic, rather than loving and gentle… it seems to be more about a ‘connection’ that gets you into bed, rather than truly connecting on a spiritual level. It makes me think real love doesn’t exist. I shy away from the world of men because of being hurt before, but also because I don’t think what I need exists out there. I don’t want to be seen as a sex object. I don’t want someone who wants me based on what I can offer them in the bedroom…. I want someone who wants me because they love my soul and can’t imagine a lifetime without me. I want someone to feel for me, the way I’ve felt for others… the way I feel for someone out there right now. Surely such a thing must be possible…. but my faith in men is zero right now. I don’t know how to change that and learn to trust. Damn those bastards who hurt me. They have no clue how much they ruined my life.


  • Young people…. they seem to be getting more gobby and more ‘entitled’ every year. In the past children were seen and not heard. They had respect for their elders. When I was sixteen and there were elections, I accepted I wasn’t 18 so didn’t have a say. That’s life. We all went through it. Yet young people nowadays seem to feel they are more important than older people so should be allowed the vote, or that their votes should count twice as much as an old person, since the old person will be dead soon anyway. This disrespect and self-righteous attitude from youth these days is troubling. It’s disgusting in fact – I’m appalled that they find it okay to talk about people like my parents / grandparents in the manner they do…. let alone their own elderly relatives!! I had a discussion with a friend / acquaintance about this last year… they were a teenager themselves and were giving me all that about how important young people are, as they’re ‘the future’, and the old people who voted for Brexit won’t have to live with the consequences very long. I said that’s the very attitude I don’t like – the ‘young people are more important than old people’ opinion…. they’re not. Old people have lived in this world a lot longer, have experienced first-hand for instance, being outside of the EU and within it… they have life experience. They’ve wiped the backsides of young people and look at the thanks they get for it! They’ve contributed a lot to society, and to then have some snotty nosed kid straight out of school / college, telling them their opinion should be ignored as ‘we’re the future!’ – well so are babies…. do you want 6 month old babies to vote too?? It’ll affect them the most after all. Newsflash 17 year olds – there is no guarantee that you will live to 80 or 90….. just as there is no guarantee that 70 year olds won’t live until 110. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it. Older people might live with it just as long! Plus the young will be thanking the old one day… they can’t see it now, but they will. Anyway, my ‘friend’ turned on me personally and said it’s good I don’t have children…. which given that I’m uncertain if I’ll be able to have children, was a vicious thing to say to a friend so publicly, especially as she is a mental health campaigner. She made me have a panic attack and harm myself. We’re not friends now. But this is the level of nastiness that came from young people after the vote. They don’t think of the consequences of their actions. And they think they are right and everyone else is wrong. This proved my point perfectly. Everyone’s opinion is important. Everyone over the age of 18 should be able to cast their vote equally….. and when dealing with a vote, the majority wins… you don’t count people who didn’t vote. You don’t say they wanted the status quo. If that’s the case then they should have voted for it. You only count votes that were cast on the day. That is how democracy works. After the referendum, the young people took to Twitter and spilled bile, which proved WHY young people should not be allowed a vote. They are sore losers. They haven’t learnt to graciously lose a vote. It’s a skill that takes time to learn in life, that you don’t always get what you want. But this entitled culture has led children to believe they can have anything they want…. BE anything they want… do anything they want…. and when the realisation hits them that this isn’t true, and sometimes you have to admit defeat, they come thumping back down to Earth…. I believe this is why so many young people have mental health problems… they were set up, expecting life to be a certain way, and the reality is very different, as many of us ‘old people’ over 30 learnt quite early.


  • Another point on children, is why can’t they just remain children? You’re a child until you are 18. Children should not be having sex. They shouldn’t be drinking / smoking. They shouldn’t be wearing make-up and acting like adults. I’m not judging people who do these things, I’m just having a go at society, the internet and magazines. Please… childhood should be cherished – life gets tough after that. Please let children remain children as long as they can. It’s the one thing I wish I could get back…


  • People flit from relationship to relationship. Some even have two on the go at once. Some stab their so-called friends in the back and swoop on their love interest when they’re out of the country. Where are the morals? Why are people so afraid to be on their own? Why do they always need to be in a relationship? Why do they rebound? Why can’t they take the time to recover from the previous relationship, and discover themselves again before launching themselves onto someone else? Yes I’m a little bitter as my friends have never lacked a potential new partner… and I never get a look in for one in the first place! I just think when people leave someone for someone else, it pisses me off, because I could have made the previous person happy. I could’ve been with the next person. It’s like some women hog all the men. No wonder I can’t find one for myself when they’re all either recovering from a break-up, or they’re lining themselves up to be a rebound!! Helloooo??! I’m right here – not tangled up with someone else…. not rebounding…. no? Okay….. I know I’m messed up in the head… I’m jaded because of men in my past….. I hate myself…. not wonderful qualities. But if a man treated me well, I would have so much to give him. I wish someone could see past all my bullshit and see my heart, and stop wasting time on people who might change their mind. I wish the nice guys would stop being rebounds. And I wish they’d step up to the plate and be the white knight for someone who is actually single and hurting, rather than someone already in a relationship they’re not happy in. Sorry, this is a personal issue for me that I haven’t recovered from yet… as I’ve just discovered.


  • You get conflicting views on body image – you’re told to love yourself warts and all, and that someone will find you attractive whatever you’re like. And then you have people telling you nobody likes a ‘chubster’. Don’t you think I hate myself enough already? Is it your aim to make sure I don’t stop hating myself for a second? Don’t you think I feel helpless with the health issues I have that make it hard for me to lose weight? Don’t you think I feel unlovable as it is? Don’t you think I’m paralysed with depression? Don’t you think I feel ugly? But what, am I supposed to hate myself forever unless I lose weight to attract a man? Am I less deserving of love because I put on weight? Ten years ago I was underweight / borderline anorexic… apparently that’s more attractive to men, from my experience. Does my size really indicate my level of worth? Do I not deserve to experience love, for once in my life?


  • People let you down. Friends stop talking to you. You feel all alone in the world. Someone with BPD needs stability and certainty. Half the time I feel I don’t really have friends… just one. I’ve tried to reach out to people, but it led nowhere. I can’t keep putting myself out there. And since they don’t make the effort with me, what’s the point?


  • People say I’m too sensitive and need thicker skin – how do you grow skin then? Because I’m painfully aware I won’t survive in this world as I am, with the level of INSENSITIVITY displayed by others. Why do I have to change my gentle soul just because some pricks don’t know how to be nice? Learn to treat others with more kindness. That is easier…. but no, of course I would have to be the one to change – I’m always flawed… you’re always perfect… nothing wrong with you…. it’s not your actions and words, it’s my ‘sensitivity’. You don’t want to change – that takes effort, and stopping to consider the impact of your behaviour…. it’s easier for you if I’M the one to change. Screw you. It’s a way of dodging responsibility again, for what people say and do. We need more people who hold themselves responsible for their behaviour, and think about others for a change.


  • Narcissists. People who wrong you and fool the world and more worryingly themselves, that you were the one in the wrong, and they’re the victim. They will crap on you at the worst time of your life, hurt you, and rather than doing the decent thing, like apologising and making amends for the sake of everyone else, they use special occasions to ‘make a point’ they’re displeased with you, and don’t speak to you for almost a year. We’ll never speak again. We’re done.


So it’s hard to want to live in this world when people pigeon-hole you, and judge you for your political opinion, and isolate you for it; there is no tolerance of independent thought; people can say the most atrocious things and get away with it; everything is about sex and how physically attractive you are; children are no longer children, and the respect for elders is gone – they think they’re better than older people; people have no morals or loyalty; I don’t deserve love because of how I look; people let you down; nobody takes responsibility for their actions and words – I’m expected to grow thicker skin; and those who do wrong don’t apologise, they make you out to be the villain instead. These are just some of the things making me feel hopeless about the future.



Another thing that has recently come to my attention, is that there have been calls to put a safety barrier on a particular bridge after a woman ‘fell’ from it. I have mixed feelings…. in the past I might have said yes… in order to save people’s lives. But the simple fact is if someone wants to die, they will find a way. The thing that troubles me the most is that I feel angry – that I would have my option taken away from me. I have often thought of ‘falling’ from that bridge too, and to have people decide I’m not allowed to make that choice, and I’m FORCED to continue life, when they have no idea what it’s like to be me right now, it pisses me off.


They shouldn’t prevent people from ending their lives UNLESS they’re also going to give people the mental health support they need. It’s wrong to ask people to stay alive if you’re not going to help them battle the demons that make them want to leave. So no… don’t spend money putting up a barrier – use that bloody money to provide help for people like me!! That is more important.

And that is what also fills me with hopelessness at the moment. Someone I know has been in hospital, and has said that when they’re discharged there won’t be much in the way of help for them, on the NHS at least… if there’s no hope for them, then what hope is there for me? What’s the point of trying for CMHT? Are they going to turn me down? If I see them is it going to be minimal help then? If I lose the plot entirely and try to take my life, does that mean I won’t get the help? Is it only if you’re inpatient you get the help? This is wrong. I feel there’s no hope for me. I’m trapped. I want help before I get to utter crisis point. Am I to understand that help doesn’t exist for me? Should I just give up now? And that’s what I mean about the bridge – you can’t take away that option for someone if you don’t replace it with real support. It’s not fair.

All those troubles in the world and in the country…. all those people with questionable morals …. honestly feeling I’ve been born in the wrong era … the world being different since my loss … feeling irreparably broken after therapy and losing yet another person I wasn’t ready to lose … and the lack of help, yet feeling trapped and forced to live regardless of lack of support … How do I live like this? What kind of life is this? These are the feelings I battle daily at the moment. I’m not inspired to get better, because of all this. I honestly need someone to come along, wave a magic wand and make my life better… make the world better. But I know it’s useless hoping for that. It’ll never happen. So I have to either choose to live regardless, or choose the alternative. That’s where my head’s at right now.


Apologies for the rants. Keeping all this inside has driven me to dangerous lows in the last few weeks. I just don’t know how to have hope for the future, with so many unpleasant people and things in this world. It would be bad enough if I was happy and had someone who loved me… positive things in my life. But with an empty, pointless life I’m just in the worst place I’ve ever been. Neither the past, the present nor the future fill me with anything other than pain and misery. I’m sorry if that makes me ‘too negative’ for others. It’s my reality right now.

Working Isn’t Working.

*Self-harm & swearing*


I couldn’t even manage two hours at work today. I left early. I feel such a failure. I just felt useless and like nothing I was doing was right. It was a slow build-up of things, until a certain point and my switch was flipped. After that I was in destructive mode. I was using my environment to try and hurt myself. I wasn’t fully present. I could no longer put on a front for customers. I couldn’t talk to colleagues. I had shut down.


I knew I didn’t want to go in this morning. I wasn’t up to it. But I put on my happy face and forced myself out the door, thinking it might make me feel better. It didn’t. I didn’t feel good at all today… and they would’ve know that if they’d waited for my answer, after asking how I was. But I seemed invisible today. I wouldn’t have been missed. I wasn’t particularly contributing a lot anyway. I did a certain job, to try and keep me occupied and out of trouble, and then was made to feel it was wrong to do it. That’s when I phoned someone and went home. I thought what’s the point in being there, if what little efforts I make are not appreciated?


One of them won’t be in next week as she needs a break from the stress. Well my plan to do the same is out the window then. I’m not coping and work is triggering me this week, so I want a break. I’m already going to have to go in throughout April as my colleague won’t be there. It’s too much pressure. I’m not okay right now, but that doesn’t seem to matter to them. So I’ll slave on. But there will be repeats of today I’m sure. I felt close to having a complete meltdown.


At one point I hid behind the scenes, doing a job, I let one of them in on how I felt, and their answer? Pull yourself together…. be positive. Fuck you. These people don’t understand a thing. I’m going to do a post on things NOT to say to someone with a mental illness. Trouble is the people who NEED to read it, never will. I went away thinking I was hated and judged for how I was today. Not feeling good at all.


So for now at least I’m home and safe. Going to try and use my crisis box now, and not harm like I did after work on Monday. Don’t want it becoming a pattern of coping. How I’m feeling right this minute I am NOT going in next week, or the one after… or for a little while now. But will decide on Monday. Going to try and erase the memory of today. A total flop, and not a good feeling Friday like I usually have. Oh well. Can’t win them all.