Six Months On: I’m Drowning.

*Mentions self-harm, suicide & contains bad language – apologies, it was an emotional piece to write*

 

It’s six months to the day since I had my breakdown at therapy. I know some would say to forget such things, and not remember dates. But I only do so with major events – like 7^th May is the closest I’ve come to ‘doing something stupid’ (as those not affected by mental illness like to say!). This year will be three years since that day. I vividly remember what led to it… I remember how I felt walking towards the top of the bridge…. I remember what stopped me doing it, and the actions I took afterwards. It was a very dark day for me.

Likewise six months ago was the first time I have self-harmed outside of my house, and been caught. My self-harm has always been immensely private. I carry the burden which leads me to cut, I do it behind closed doors, I don’t tell people, I hide the scars. I had been for treatment once in my life, about ten years prior to last year, but otherwise I had always coped alone. I invested in steri-strips so I could treat the wounds myself. I never wanted to experience that again – not because it was a bad experience, but because I felt so embarrassed and ashamed. I vowed never to need external help again. I learnt to ‘control’ my self-harm, so it was never bad enough to require special treatment.

That’s why the incident at therapy was such a shock. Clearly it was daft of me to have something on me, to do myself harm with. I was in a difficult place, and I was trying to deal with something challenging, which I couldn’t share with anyone else. I just had something with me, as insurance, in case it all went very badly. But I didn’t expect it to. I didn’t expect to use it.

But when faced with having to go back into the group, in the state I ended up in… I just couldn’t do it. I went off to the toilets, crying… I wasn’t in control of myself anymore. It was like I was watching someone else. Like it wasn’t really happening. Before I knew it I’d harmed myself worse than I ever have before. I vividly remember the sight of it, the panic, how angry I was with myself. I remember the throbbing pain. I remember being found out and the shame that brought. The guilt for making someone else feel to blame. The fear I’d be in trouble with the therapists. Having to tell people when I got home, and going to the hospital… how unreal it all felt… I remember how out of it I felt, and how focused I was on how sparkly the floor was in the waiting area. I remember all the times I had to go back to have the dressings changed. I remember the weeks of tendon pain radiating up into my hand. I remember saying it would never happen again…. but it did.

As ridiculous and twisted as it sounds, ever since then I’ve been chasing that feeling. I don’t know why. I can only assume to bring me some comfort, in the reminder of the support I had… and the people I lost. My transference issue is not resolved. Although I talked to a therapist about it afterwards, and left feeling positive about it, like it was attached to my grief, the reality is it’s not. I can’t get over my feelings for him. I don’t want to. I just want to see him again. And I guess in some distorted way I feel that repeating this incident would achieve that. But the reality is it won’t. No matter how many times I hurt myself, or how deep the wounds… I’ll never see him again…

I didn’t choose this. That’s why it feels so bad. It’s not like a death, where there is no choice – the person is gone, and isn’t coming back. Losing someone who is still alive is worse. Because it doesn’t have to be that way. So in a sense it feels like a punishment. Like it’s being inflicted on me… this loss.

He was a light in a long period of darkness for me. And now that light has gone and it’s pitch black. I don’t feel I’ll ever see light again. Someone once said to me that I’d likely feel this way again in a similar situation… I don’t believe I would. This is specific to him. I’ve got to give credit where it’s due – he was a wonderful human being from what I could tell, and it’s the person I liked, not just the role, or the fact he was a man – I’m not the sort of person to just fall for everyone… Maybe it’s not transference after all. Maybe it was just attraction… and attachment. I know that the loss linked into my personal loss last year. But my feelings for him didn’t.

I can’t believe it’s been six months since that event. I can’t believe it’s been nearly four months since I last saw everyone… it feels longer than that. The time with him went so fast, and the time since has been an age. I switch between wishing I never had therapy, and never met him… and being thankful that I got the chance to have him in my life, even for such a brief time… to think I could have gone through my whole life never encountering him…but then maybe that would’ve been a good thing – to never know someone like him existed out there… someone so lovely, who couldn’t be in my life. Sometimes it’s worse to be shown something good and have it snatched away, than to never have seen it to start with.

The dark patch I’m in is more than to do with ‘a guy’ though. It’s grief. It’s the whole experience of therapy which worsened my mental health and self-harm, which I can’t get over now. It’s just an illness, where I feel nobody gives a crap about me. It’s the fact my friends don’t talk to me anymore. They either don’t like me, or they forget I exist, leaving me to deal with my mental illness, my poor health and my grief all alone. I know it shouldn’t be a big deal, but last week it was a year since my granddad died. The first ‘anniversary’. I posted on my Facebook about it, and not ONE person said they were thinking of me, or hoped I was okay. Not ONE. They all completely ignored it, save for one ‘like’. I’ve never felt as alone and unsupported as that. I don’t know how to forgive that. And then I was really ill, and still there was silence, no sympathy. I felt either they have unfollowed me, so didn’t see my posts, as I’m that much of a nuisance, or they genuinely don’t care about me. I know I’ve been told to not expect too much of people, but FFS this is ridiculous. I’ve just had a really difficult week, and where the hell were they all??

I know that when you’re mentally ill… when you have depression it can trick you into thinking your friends all hate you, you’re all alone and you’re a terrible person… but this is more than that. This is proof they all hate me, I AM all alone and I must be a terrible person. Not ONE person gave a fuck about the grief. I’m sorry, but when I’ve seen others post about their previous losses, years back, they get comments of support and caring. This is my first loss. My first year after it. And where was the fucking support??? WHERE?! I’m seriously despising people right now. How can they do this to me? Why does everyone else get support, particularly when they ask for it, but I go ignored?! It makes me think they wouldn’t give a shit if I killed myself. It makes me think they’d be relieved, as they’re all obviously pissed off with me now.

If mental illness tricks you into thinking you’re all alone, then shouldn’t my friends at least be trying to convince me they do care? Shouldn’t support come from them, rather than from strangers on Twitter?? What the fuck is the point in having friends if they NEVER have your back?? I’m so through with people. I’m so sick of feeling so alone all the time. And no matter how many times I reach out to people and say this is how I feel, they never change. They never care. They never say a word. I’m going to close down my Facebook, there’s no point in it anymore. It only makes me feel more isolated and left out. Even with the group I thought I was going to be a part of. I said I couldn’t see everyone as a group right now. Now I feel excluded. I didn’t mean I didn’t want them to talk to me. I didn’t mean I don’t want to see them one-on-one. I just couldn’t handle the whole group, as it would remind me of being in therapy, and would make me hurt over losing ‘him’. But I see them all talking to each other, seeing each other, and I’m just a nobody again… like I felt in therapy. I felt like an outsider, because of the struggles I was going through privately. I isolated myself, and it seems I’ve unwittingly done the same again here. So I give up. All my life I’ve been excluded – even at primary school… this has been my fate. I’ve felt left out… left behind…. this is only reminding me of group stuff from 2012, where my life plummeted down. I can’t take any more of this.

That year was hard. Last year was harder. Last week was hard. Today is hard. Tomorrow will undoubtedly be hard. And I feel people are training me to cope with it all completely alone. I’ve never known so much indifference to my pain, from friends. It’s sickening, and breaks my heart. I really must be that worthless in everyone’s eyes.

Nothing feels right at the moment. It’s such chaos in my head. I’m so irrelevant to people. Some would say I’ll matter to someone one day… no I won’t. If in my 32 years of life I haven’t mattered enough to one person, then it’ll never happen. It’s the pain of realising how forgettable I am, and unimportant… and having nobody to help me challenge that… and having met someone and lost them forever… and going through my grief alone… and feeling nobody understands me, or wants to understand me… feeling like a burden and an annoyance to people… thinking it would be better for everyone in this world if I wasn’t here anymore… how much easier it would be for me to not have to bear this agony every single day…. alone.

I feel like my friends are watching me spiral downwards, and don’t care enough to stop me… to help me. In what universe is that okay? If it was anyone but me, they would be there for them. They would step in and save their life. But it’s me. I’m just a tiny speck of shit on a muddy shoe.

I know people have probably seen sides to me they don’t like lately. But you know what, if they can’t see and understand my increasing problem with my mental illness, and just think I’m a shit person instead, then fine, they don’t deserve me on my good days. I want people to acknowledge I’m struggling, and not hold it against me, but help me hold on to hope. Because I see none. I want them to go out of their way to show me they care. I want to matter to someone! Seriously if that makes me ‘attention-seeking’ then so be it, but nobody knows the lack of these things I’ve had in my life. Nobody knows what it’s like to have been made to feel worthless for 32 years – not by family, but by the outside world. I’ve never felt like I’ll fit in, and if friends can’t even make me feel that way then what bloody hope is there??

I’m not a nice person when I’m mentally unwell. That much is clear from things I say and write. I know writing blogs about my feelings might upset people, but I wish they understood I have no other option. It’s my only way to cope right now, given that nobody talks to me. It’s that or do something bad. I’m not meaning to make excuses for what I’m like right now. I just wish my friends could see me drowning and care enough to hold out a hand to save me… or at least throw in a life jacket to keep me afloat. It’s gutting to see them standing on the bank, turning their backs on me as I go under. Nobody could understand that feeling unless they’ve been there. It’s enough to make someone want to end their life.

I may not be dealing with things in the way others think best. But who are they to judge the way I cope and stay alive, if they don’t offer me another option? Some may wonder why I choose this road, but they fail to see that for me it is the only road. By all means if you can think of another way of helping me, I’m all ears. But if not, then please don’t stand by and judge me. I do what I do because I have nobody to turn to.

My depression and BPD already make me feel like the lowest of the low. It makes me feel I’m a bad person. I’m sorry I’m asking too much for people to remind me it’s not true. Silence only confirms my worst fears. And I’d rather swim off and drown alone, than with those who ‘care’ idly standing by.

I’ve never felt this alone.

Remembering Him.

Today was tough. A year ago today I experienced my first major loss. I can’t believe how quickly that year has flown. It’s deeply affected me. Life isn’t the same now. My mental health is down the drain.

 

I remember someone saying to me that between 4 – 8 months after the loss, their mental health suffered the most, and I have to say I agree with this. At the six month mark I had my breakdown at therapy and caused myself some damage. I can’t believe it’s been six months since then…. From then on, life has been a struggle.

 

The grief itself doesn’t make me self-harm oddly enough. I can go through the sadness, the tears… all of it, and not hurt myself. In fact because it’s grief for someone I love, I see it as my duty to not harm because of the loss of him… he wouldn’t want me to do that.

 

But what has happened is that the grief… the loss… makes me unable to cope with other things, such as friendships, work, matters of the heart, therapy etc… and it’s these things that cause me to harm myself. For instance I’m more sensitive, paranoid, vulnerable and depressed, so pressures, fears and isolation make me feel the need to self-harm. But I’ve never self-harmed because of my loss… not directly.

 

So in a sense I feel I’m coping with it okay – but clearly I’m not, in regards to other areas of my life. I feel if I just took time out of ‘life’ to grieve, I’d probably be okay. It’s having to soldier on through it that seems to be damaging me. But isn’t that what’s expected of people? ‘Life goes on’ and all that. The world doesn’t stop for your grief. But my world has stopped. That’s why we’re a year on and I feel it was only yesterday. I don’t know how people do it…

 

 

I Choose A Slow Recovery.

*Self-harm references*

 

 

I’ve realised I’m my own worst enemy at times. I have very high standards and expectations for myself, and consequently I live most of my life feeling like a failure. I need to start accepting where I am right now, and not let it define who I am as a person. I need to stop telling myself what I should be doing / where I should be by now and respect how I’m feeling and what I need in this moment.

It’s taken a lot to get to this realisation. It’s involved conversations with people at work, family, as well as responses to my blogs… but I finally see that I have to put my wellbeing first. If that means distancing myself from people… having time away from work… going back to basics, then so be it.

I’ve got to the stage I no longer seem able to do my volunteering without harming myself, either when I get home or even while I’m there. My confidence has taken a massive knock and I need to start again to build it up. Several times I’ve tried to ease myself back in, but the only time it seemed manageable was when I worked upstairs, alone. Being around people is too overwhelming right now… and feeling like I’m useless and everything I do is wrong. The risk of getting things wrong, or being shown up in front of customers, it gives me awful anxiety. I don’t feel confident or happy. I used to be able to joke with them, and serve people… I felt I belonged and it helped me to feel better about myself. I feel like a totally different person at work now.

I feel like an alien. I feel everyone thinks I’m useless, as I can’t do the things I used to do. They can’t understand I’m different now, because my mental health has deteriorated. So many times I don’t go in now. And when I do go in I’m anxious, on-edge, I’m not as chatty. I avoid getting stuck serving people or dealing with customers. If there’s not much else to do I feel it’s pointless me being there, and I’m just getting in the way. I felt that way last week when I was told to go out the back if I wasn’t happy serving people. I went out the back and hurt myself.

I’m not going in anymore. Not at the moment. And when I do I need to talk to the manager and explain that I’m not feeling good at all, and need to start from the bottom and build up again. I just don’t feel I can have that discussion at the moment, as I don’t want it to be dismissed like it has been in the past. I feel as though nobody understands the severity of my mental illness, and people just think I’m being silly, and need to stay positive.

I’ve pushed myself to try and go back to work but I fall each time. I did speak to the manager at one point about it, as I felt I was letting her down, but she said I wasn’t, and that it’s fine to not come in, as I’m ill. And after a discussion with my nan the other day, I realise I have to look after myself. My problem is that I was always viewed as one of the ‘reliable’ ones. And now I feel they’ll see me as unreliable, for not going in and not being as useful. This may be the case, but it equally might not be. Maybe I’m piling this guilt and pressure on myself. I know that when I’m well I AM reliable. But I can’t control what I’m going through right now. I didn’t choose to be this unwell. If I had a choice I’d have continued to build my confidence, and volunteer, as it was helping. If being mentally ill makes me unreliable then fine, I’m unreliable. But as a person I’m reliable. It’s the illness that’s making me this way at the moment. I have to stop thinking my inability to work defines me as a person. When I’m mentally WELL I am a person probably capable of working quite well – reliable, trustworthy, honest, hard-working… these are my qualities. But when I’m unwell these qualities can’t shine. It doesn’t mean I’m the opposite though. It’s just a time I have to put myself first, in order to find those qualities again in the future. I have to stop beating myself up for my mental illness.

Likewise with friendships – I have a tendency to think I’m a rubbish friend as I can’t be there for people. I feel things became quite one-sided, as I feel it is on Twitter and with my experience of blogging right now too…. I feel like a ‘taker’, not a ‘giver’ – and I always used to be the other way round. I used to give and not get anywhere near as much in return. That was my way of life. But now I take what little I can get, and have nothing left to give. I write blogs, but I don’t so much read. I ask for help, but cannot give it. This makes me feel selfish. This in turn makes me feel I don’t deserve friendships. I don’t deserve help or care from friends, if I’m unable to return it. So I pull away. When I do that and nobody questions if I’m okay, I assume they hate me. I feel like nobody cares, and I don’t blame them. It’s a self-pitying cycle, but it’s started by my mental illness making me unable to do the things I did before.

I used to think I was a caring, giving, generous, thoughtful friend. But when I’m as ill as I am, I ‘split’ on myself and feel I’m an awful person to have as a friend. I have to start challenging this, and hold on to the hope that I’m still that person underneath… that I still have those qualities that make me a good friend, and that they’re just hidden from view because of the depth of my illness right now. I don’t know…. I fear I’ve been changed forever. What if I never find myself again?

I hate that my family have to see me go through all this again. Whenever I harm myself I initially hide it from them, but after a while I don’t worry about it so much – it helps that I have such an understanding and supportive family. I know they accept this as a part of my mental illness. They don’t judge me. They don’t think badly of me at all. But I know it must hurt them to see me this way…. hurting myself so much again. Every time I do it I feel guilty, and like I’m letting everyone down. I want them to see me getting better, succeeding and being happy. I don’t want them to see me like this. I’m not the daughter I once was. Not at the moment. In some ways I am, but in some ways my depression has changed me and I’m not as present as I used to be. I’m really hard on myself for this too.

But again, I have to stop seeing myself as a failure, and just deal with the here and now. I shouldn’t think about all the things I haven’t achieved by this age. I need to think of the things I have overcome… the small successes… the fact I’m still alive and trying my best to keep it that way. I have to let go of the frustration of going backwards in my recovery. I have to submit to it, and prioritise self-care in order to move forward in my recovery. It will take as long as it takes to get back on track. But if I keep fighting what I’m going through, it will take longer.

If I rush through the steps, putting that much pressure on myself to be ‘better’ for those around me, I will end up going nowhere, except perhaps further backwards. So for now my life will be different. It might sound ‘lazy’ or ‘irresponsible’ of me, but I will be taking a break from the pressures of life. I have become that ill that even my hobbies bring me no joy, so I stopped doing them. This is my starting point… for the last couple of days I have been focusing on trying to bring some enjoyment back into my life. As silly as it sounds I have been playing Animal Crossing on the Wii – a simple, chilled out game which brings me comfort. I’ve also been playing guitar almost every day. Writing is another thing I’m trying to do a bit more now.

As much as I should be focusing on work, or on taking up courses or exercise, I have to do what’s right for me at this point. For now this is what my soul needs. I will gradually build on it, by venturing out walking, or joining a group… but in my own time. I’ll hopefully start going out for my ‘write nights’ I used to do… going by myself for a hot chocolate in the evening, whilst writing poetry. Just little things that can build my confidence back up. And then hopefully I’ll gradually be able to be more present for friends, and to start back at work too.

I have to realise I’m ill. If someone had a serious physical illness, they would do what was necessary to recover. They’d rest and take their time to get back on their feet. I have to do the same for my mental illness. It’s not wallowing in it. It’s not using it as an excuse to do nothing. It’s not being weak. It’s being strong enough to recognise what my mind needs, and allowing myself to do it, without piling the guilt on myself.

Just as with a physical wound, you wouldn’t leave it gaping open, untreated, susceptible to infection… you’d patch it up… cover it… protect it… allow it to heal… and you wouldn’t pick at it and re-open it. You’d allow it to become a scar – making it something in the past. I have to allow my mind to heal before exposing it to more potential trauma. This is my theory. Some may disagree. But having tried the alternative and it only adding to my illness, I have to try something new. Some may call it avoidance, I call it self-preservation. If avoidance saves my life then it’s worth doing anyway. I have to protect my mind from the world for now. I have to allow it to heal.

I hope my friends will still be there once I come out the other side. If not then I’m sorry they couldn’t understand mental illness. Work will have to wait. I’ve been putting pressure on myself as next month my colleague won’t be in, so I felt I have to be there to help out the manager… but I will crack if I push myself to do that right now. So I have to do what’s right for me. And the best thing I can do for my family is to listen to my needs, and stop fighting them. Even if people tell me what I should be doing, or what ‘might help’ me – I have the right to say no. Only I know what will help me to pull myself out of this. And I should be allowed to try it my way, without being made to feel it’s the wrong thing to do. It’s a stepped approach – starting with hobbies / interests, to at least make me think there’s something good in life, worth living for… and then getting out… socialising and working… and then hopefully I’ll get back on track to taking the next steps, beyond where I got to before. I really have gone that far backwards that it is like starting again. And the first aim has to be to get back to where I originally was. It won’t happen overnight.

My mind… my ILLNESS is telling me many unhelpful things right now, about myself… about my friends… colleagues… the world. Some may be true – others not so much. That’s why I have to just let myself feel how I feel right now, and give myself some space from these things, so as not to react to my paranoid thoughts.

I know I may have upset or offended people in the last few weeks – or at least that’s what my mind is telling me. I’d never want that, and I’m sorry. I hope in time they’ll understand this is the trouble with mental illness. I hope they never find themselves in such a dire mess as me. I also have to run the risk that people at work will talk about me, or think of me as unreliable from now on. I have to accept that as part of my decision to focus on me. I can’t do both. I can’t be reliable to them, AND look after myself. Something’s got to give. And my reputation doesn’t matter as much as my mental health. Besides my character matters more, and my character is reliable. Who cares what people think and say about me? What I know about myself matters the most. And part of my break from life will be about reminding myself who I am when I’m well.

I will practise self-compassion and listen to what my soul is trying to tell me. It’s the only way I’m going to get well. Life will have to wait for now. I will take it a little at a time, at my own pace. It’s that or I won’t take it at all. But I’m choosing a slow recovery over a swift demise, and I hope those around me can accept this, and will stick by my side in my bid to get well.  

xxxx

I’m Sorry I Exist.

*Personal rant, sorry. Swearing & suicidal references*

 

I’ve shut down. I’ve withdrawn from friends, from work, from the outside world. I’m the worst I’ve felt in many years. I’m worse than this time last year, and this time last year I was about to lose my granddad, so that’s saying something. This time last year I’d increased my meds, and they subdued me. I felt flat, but in a good way… a welcome way. This way I feel now is gnawing away at my heart. I have seriously given up on everything. And I feel everything and everyone has given up on me.

I’ve had more support from complete strangers on Twitter than from my own circle in the last couple of weeks. The response I had to my tweet about friendship woes with BPD was unbelievable. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one who struggles with maintaining friendships.

And whilst some think I shouldn’t push people away, expect too much of them, or abandon the friendships, in all honesty I’m the one feeling abandoned. And I have been conditioned to expect nothing from friends. It doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed when they let me down. Even if my expectations are low, my hopes haven’t completely died yet. Although that may be changing now. I’ve become so apathetic about friendships… I’ve come to accept I am alone, and have to face everything alone.

The fact is I am about to face a difficult time next week, as it’s the one year mark of losing my granddad. I don’t have the mental strength and emotions to chase after people for their support. I know everyone’s having a hard time of it lately, and I know I don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. I know people are busy and I know I’m not there for them either. I just sometimes wonder if they’d be too busy to go to my funeral. Morbid thought I know… but when I’ve spent the last few weeks not wanting to be here, and nobody’s really said a word, it makes me wonder if they’d even notice if I wasn’t here anymore. Will I only matter to people once I’ve gone? Or not even then…?

I’m tired of feeling this way towards my friends… but it’s an aspect of BPD that I don’t feel I can control right now. I know that people who don’t have it can’t understand my thought processes, and how it affects our friendships. All I can say to those people is I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m so messed up that I doubt your friendship at times, and hate myself, and push you away. I’m sorry you’re lumbered with me as a friend. I don’t deserve your friendship.

But at the same time as saying that there’s another part of me screaming I deserve more. I was advised to not expect much from friends – but what the fuck are they there for if not to support you in your darkest times?! Am I meant to think so little of myself that I don’t deserve to have that shoulder to cry on… someone to lean on… someone to give me hope… ? Because believe me, that’s how shit I constantly feel about myself. I obviously don’t deserve anything in life – that’s been the model I’ve built my beliefs on. Am I honestly being told I’m being ‘too demanding’ of my FRIENDS now?? Sorry, but I went through that bullshit with a guy – made to feel like I was being too demanding when all I was asking was for basic RESPECT and manners. He made me feel worthless… like I didn’t deserve my basic human needs being met… and now it’s asking too much for my friends to hear me when I say I’m struggling, and to care…. seriously??

You see I have this anger inside about this, but at the same time I feel split… like the other part of me says “Shut up and accept your lot”… “It’s your own fault you don’t have friends around you when you push them away, and speak out about your feelings”. I feel like a speck on a dirty floor. I feel that’s where I belong, but enraged that that’s where I am. It’s a constant conflict inside me, just like EVERYTHING is at the moment. I can’t get a moment’s peace in my mind, as everything is a battlefield. And I’m having to face this alone. No friends. No therapy. Nothing. I have to suffer in my own head – left alone too long with my own thoughts and paranoia, until it’s too late and friendships can’t be salvaged. Well I’ve given up now. I feel like a shit person for the way I feel right now. I feel guilty and ashamed of my thoughts and behaviour… for my depression and everything else that comes with it. It made me believe I don’t have friends, and I’m no longer going to fight that thought. I am on my own until someone wants / needs me.

It’s as much being sick of myself as it is being sick of the uncertainty of their friendship. I’m sick of inflicting myself on them. And I’m sick of the rollercoaster of friendship. I know they must be sick of me too. I don’t blame them. I just can’t do it anymore. So yeah – I won’t have expectations of friends. I won’t even have hopes anymore. I’m here to be used when necessary, and I’ll keep myself to myself the rest of the time. Guess that’s what is expected of me – no demands… no needs… no visibility. Just a quiet little speck in the corner, like I used to be in my teenage years…

I know some would take offence at this, rather than understanding how I feel. That’s part of the problem. I just can’t do it anymore. I’m releasing my friends from the burden of having to understand me and my mental illness. I’m not their problem anymore… if I ever was.

Family is my focus right now – getting through next week. Would I have liked the support of friends? Yes. But you know what… this is not meant in a lazy way, but rather a depressed way, I just cannot be bothered reaching out anymore. More often than not it goes ignored anyway. I’m done.

If it was my political opinions that did it, I’m sorry okay. I’m sorry I have an opinion. I’m sorry I used my voice. I’m sorry I dared to speak up. I’m sorry I’m alive. Okay?? If it’s my mental illness then I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I didn’t choose this. I would rather be dead than have to live my whole life with this illness. I don’t want it. I just want my life back how it was ten years ago – yes I was mentally ill, but it was before certain people totally fucked my life up. Now I have NOTHING. I’m grieving. I’m heartbroken. I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if you judge me for my illness. I’m sorry I’m a burden to you. I’m sorry I can’t be all rainbows and sunshine for you. I’m sorry. This is my life right now. And to be honest I don’t want it. But I will keep it all to myself from now on. I’m sorry for existing and for hoping my existence might matter to the people I call friends. I’ll know better for the future now… assuming there’ll be one.

With no partner and family of my own, friends mattered to me. I don’t have anyone to confide in. I just have family, which I’m fortunate to have. But it’s a small world for me. And it only became smaller after the loss of my granddad. I can feel my world caving in, and I know when I’m buried by the rubble, people will simply stand by and watch me die.

I’m sorry if my words seem harsh and extreme, but this is honestly how I feel at the moment. I’m sinking, and have been for months, and nobody has even noticed. My self-esteem has eroded away and I have nobody to save me from this illness. I feel like nobody can help me now. I feel I was neglected by mental health services and allowed to get to a point where there is now no return. And I feel the same about friendships now too. Everything has gone too far and there’s no way back. If people leave me too long with a problem in my mind, it amplifies and becomes fact to me. I’m sorry if this is abnormal. I’m sorry if it makes me a burden. I used to chase after people and try to GET the truth, but after so many people hurt me, I have just come to accept my fate. That’s why I shut down, as I feel it’s already a done deal.

Don’t get me wrong, I feel so shit for not being there for my friends – I feel guilty, and if I was to delve into that too much I’d want to punish myself for it, so I try and block it out. So please don’t go thinking I expect you to be there for me, whilst thinking I don’t have to be there for you. I’ve never felt this mentally unwell, I’m barely holding it together. I cannot be there for others right now. And I understand others probably feel that way towards me too… this is what feeds into me feeling I don’t deserve friends. I know others are going through awful things. And it’s selfish of me to want help. I have just had a build-up of things said and done in the past year, that prove to me you’re all going to leave me in the end… most of you already have. The amount of people who have suddenly stopped talking to me – it kills me. It’s clearly something wrong with me… something I’ve said or done. So for that reason I will keep myself firmly away from everyone. Can’t offend anyone with my existence that way. I was advised in therapy recently to expand my friendship net, but fuck that. If this is the way it’s going to be, what is the point? How many more people do I have to meet and lose, before I realise I’m a highly unlikeable person, and a worthless piece of shit that nobody will ever care about? ….. I know my place in the world now… under the feet and needs of everyone else. I won’t dare come out from under there again. I’m trash. Pure and simple. Fact.

Sick Of Myself.

 

 

I can understand why the suicide rate for those with BPD is so high…. because for the first time in my life I am thoroughly sick of being me. I’m sick of this brain… these thoughts… and what a difficult person I am to know. I hate myself, and I realise I’m always going to be this messed up, so how on earth can I live with that? Don’t worry, I’m not saying I’m about to end my life just yet, but I have had enough of myself.

 

So much of my currently undiagnosed illness occurs on the inside. Nobody knows what it’s like to be me. Obviously if you follow this blog you may have some idea, as you yourself may have it. But I mean those around me don’t know what it’s like. It’s lonely.

 

I’m currently at war in my head. I’ve got it in my mind that people don’t like me. I posted a video the other day, explaining the emotional mess I’m in – I thought I’d ‘talk to myself’ as nobody else appeared to want to talk to me. I felt I didn’t have anyone there for me. And this is one of the most shit times of the year for me. Anyway, several times I’ve ‘reached out’ in the hope someone would notice my struggle and check in with me. Nope. Invisible. And to top it off, once I posted the video, something was said that made me question if I’d offended someone. I felt they were having a pop at me. Which is a replica of this time last year. I know you’d say it’s a sign of a guilty conscience if I think it was about me. But yeah, I admit I referenced something said by the person, but nobody would’ve known. And I wasn’t having a go at them, I was having a go about what happened for me, at this time last year which I’m still not over. What they said was merely a trigger for that memory, and those feelings about myself.

 

Fact is I am struggling so much at the moment, and that video allowed me to let some of it out – I was shouting, I was crying. And that’s the tip of the iceberg. I’m sorry, but I had to let it out somehow. If comments were made and they were about me, then I am not very happy. Not in the slightest. That would be a double whammy of triggers for me, from my past with an ex-friend. Not sure I could forgive that. My video was essentially a ‘cry for help’. It was to tell my friends I’m not okay, and I need their help. I’ve got a flipping mental health problem, why can’t anyone understand that?! I’m aware the comments may not have been about me. But I have a lot of paranoia at the moment. I feel abandoned by all of my friends. I feel excluded from a group of people, because I said I wasn’t up to seeing them all together yet… would’ve been happy to meet one-on-one, but a group is too overwhelming right now. But I feel they’re all getting on and being friends and I’ve alienated myself. It makes me think I am an outsider, and they don’t really want to know me… nobody wants to know me.

 

I feel nobody cares about me, and I’m sick of myself for constantly feeling that way. It wouldn’t matter how many times someone proved their friendship to me, I’d still have these episodes where I feel utterly, painfully alone and hated. And I HATE that this is my life now.

 

In the past I would’ve begged people to stay, or to talk to me. But I’ve become so used to being abandoned, and people disappearing on me, that I just give up. I go quiet. I pull away from everyone …. to see if anyone notices. They usually don’t. Or if they do it’ll take a good two or three weeks. Really tells me all I need to know about how much I’d be missed if I wasn’t here anymore…

 

I’m sick of not knowing what’s real. There are some things I’m not sure if they’re true, or if I’m just paranoid, or delusional. It scares me that my mind may not be telling me the truth about situations. I feel I can’t trust myself. But I also can’t check out the stories, so have to just go with my assumptions, as I have with the video thing. I may be very wrong, but I’ve gone with it, and have felt shit all day, because of the comments made in response, that make me feel effectively like I’m being ganged up on by my friends… not that they know anything about it. But this is why I can’t do a group again. I’ve been there and was severely hurt before. I had a friend in the group, run to the rest of the group when she fell out with me, and tell them all our business, and talk about me behind my back. It made it impossible to be in the group, and it all fell apart from there. I cannot go through that again. I already feel like an outsider with them, it would only make it worse if it turned out to be the reality.

 

But this is what I mean – I don’t know what reality is anymore. All I know is hardly any of my friends talk to me anymore. And I don’t know what I did wrong. Did I disclose too much about my mental illness? Do I express opinions they don’t agree with? Am I a horrible person? Because that’s how it makes me feel. I’ll admit, I don’t want to see anyone at the moment, and I suck at replying to people… but it would be nice to know they still care and hope that I’m okay. It would be nice to know they’re there for me in the bad times. Perhaps friends assume it’s a given, but that’s the difficulty with having a mental illness like this… nothing is a given. I need reminding, often, that I matter. And I’m so sorry that makes me a nuisance. I can sometimes just switch and forget anyone’s ever said anything nice to me, or done anything nice. All I’ll remember are the bad things, or the silence of my friends when I asked for their help.

 

I’ll remember the emotional distance. I’ll remember nobody ever letting me be there for them – they always come back with ‘I don’t want to talk’… makes the friendship feel uneven. I’ll remember that nobody ever says they love me. It’s not often been said throughout my life. I’ll remember that nobody ever showed gratitude when I’ve taken the time to do something nice for them. It’s not that I did it for a thank you, but it would be nice to know my effort was appreciated. Heck, even further, it would be nice to know I’M appreciated enough for them to put as much effort in for me! It’s not giving to get. But it’s knowing they value my friendship as much as I value theirs. I wanted to be treated the way I treated my friends. I wanted them to go that extra mile for me. And perhaps at some point some of them have…. but the state of mind I’m in now, I can’t remember such a time.

 

This is what I mean. I’m splitting, and can only really see the negative right now. This is the most severe and prolonged episode I’ve ever experienced of this. I can’t see myself coming out of it with friends on the other side. If they hadn’t already abandoned me, they will now. But I am so close to the edge, it almost doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t keep living like this. I can’t be me.

 

It’s like the transference issue I had last year, I’m writing a post, and spoke about it in the video, about how I’m convinced there was something there… even the most minute thing – be it curiosity… caring … concern … or just being flattered. I sensed something, based on my observations… on an energy level. I can’t say that to anyone, as they would tell me categorically I am wrong. That I’m imagining it. They would rule it out, without even knowing the situation or the observations. Now, I accept that I could be totally wrong about this. But again, this is a case of not knowing ‘reality’. I feel like I’m losing the plot… I’ve gone mad and I’m delusional. But I felt it. To me it was real. It didn’t mean a thing, it was harmless and I was in no way led to believe anything was there. It was more of an intuitive feeling. It’s all irrelevant now anyway, as I’ll never see him again. But it makes me question my sanity. And it’s very invalidating to constantly be told it was unreciprocated / unrequited, when my heart tells me something else.

 

I’m so tired of life. I’m tired of doubting my importance to those who I call a friend. I’m tired of pushing people away and of them never pulling me back. I’m tired of being such a burden and nuisance to my friends. I’m tired of being so depressed. I’m tired of feeling alone. I’m tired of the ups and downs of human interaction. I’m not strong enough for it. And I feel everyone must hate me… and if they don’t, I wonder why not.

 

BPD sucks. No matter how we may try and dress it up, or laugh it off at times. It’s emotional hell. It’s isolation. And it’s endless turmoil. Nobody would choose a life like this. Nobody. And I’m sorry to all those who know the suffering like I do. I empathise with you. Anyone who manages to survive with this deserves a medal. Some people don’t realise how easy they have it. I’d give anything to not be experiencing this illness.

xxxx