The (Not So) Merry-Go-Round.

* Contains bad language towards the end, and suicidal feelings*



I have struggled lately. I’ve felt overwhelmed and severely isolated. I was totally on my own for a date that was particularly hard for me. I reached out, I admitted I was struggling, and as usual nobody was there. I lie – one person was and has consistently been there in the last couple of weeks. Other than that, nothing. I blogged about my invisibility issue, and silence there too. Nobody else has spoken to me, neither light-hearted chit-chat, nor support. I feel dead to the world.


I messaged the one person who has been there, to tell them why I was doing what I was doing, and then closed my Facebook account. At least now there’s a reason they don’t talk to me, because they can’t. I know people are just living their lives, not ignoring me to hurt me, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t have an impact on me. It does. It makes me feel like a ghost. It makes me feel worthless and lonely, and like I could drop dead and none of them would even notice, let alone care.


I decided as soon as I got back from my break, if nobody was talking to me that was it, I was closing my account, isolating myself and focusing on me. I might as well be as alone as I feel. I no longer need to stay in contact with family through it now I’m back, so no point being on there. I’ve had enough.


Of course as soon as I do something like that I hear from people, saying they were about to send me a message. Sorry, but where were the messages when I needed people? Where were the messages when I needed to not feel alone? I’m not saying that people don’t have their reasons for not talking to me. I know full well they do – they have a lot going on. So many of my friends are going through major changes, problems, their own mental health struggles. I’m more aware of it than they give me credit for! That isn’t what I’m annoyed about. I’m annoyed that I keep feeling this way. I’m sick of the (not so) merry-go-round. I’m sick of the battle in my mind. I’ve given up and I’m going with the hijacker. There’s only so many times you can fight your own thoughts, and tell yourself it’s paranoia, whilst people do nothing to prove otherwise. Eventually the evidence stacks up that it’s not paranoia. If nobody will help me see another version of the truth then I’ll listen to the hijacker in my mind. I’ll let him drive me away from everyone. Better to be with him than to be sitting around watching shadows of old friendships, whilst chasing after crumbs. I’ve been through all that with ‘Joe’. I deserve more. Or I need more. The lack of care and support I’ve experienced in my life tells me I don’t deserve it…


Nobody seems to get how desperately lonely and broken I feel. Each time I feel this way I try and explain it, in the hope people won’t leave me in this state again, but they always do. So what else am I supposed to do? I’m so sorry, but I give up on people. It shouldn’t take me having a breakdown, disappearing offline, or harming myself before people take notice and show their care. I’m done. I can’t keep going through this.


I hate who I’ve become, but it’s this illness. It’s the last year or two, on top of an already painful past. I’m spiritually done. I can no longer care for the niceties and pretending everything’s okay. It’s not. I want all the pain to go away. I want to be happy. I want to be who I used to be, and have what I used to have. But it was all taken from me. That destroyed me. My experiences last year have changed me forever. This year has been so isolating… so excruciatingly lonely. People I care about and who brought me joy, I’ve not seen in 6 months. I feel everything and everyone slipping away. I can’t take that pain. I’ve already lost so much, I can’t take any more loss. People I talked to, suggesting meeting up, they never got back to me and we never met up. What more can I do? I’m sick of the silent rejection, it’s a killer. Just tell me you don’t want to know me! Stop speaking to me in silence. Stop expecting me to get the message. Stop delivering the message through other people, it’s not fair.


I see people living their lives, having no time for me anymore, and it’s crushed me, because I’m always met with the same ‘I’ve had a lot to think about… I’m busy….’ routine. I know that. I can see that. Please stop implying I’m being selfish in wanting to maintain a friendship through it all. It hurts. I’m sorry I want to matter to friends. I’m sorry I have an awful mental illness that makes me need more from you than you’re able to give – I didn’t choose this. I’m sorry I’m really sad at how much our lives have changed – well yours has… mine has stayed the same or got worse even…. and now we hardly see each other. I’m sorry that I feel I’m losing you and that I no longer matter… that I’m being forgotten. I’m crying as I write this, because that’s how upset I am when I think about the friendships I used to have, and now everyone’s grown up… they have different priorities… and I’m not one of them. It’s hard. People would say it’s a part of life, but they don’t understand I have nothing in life. I need friends. I rely on them because I have nobody else.


I’m really ill at the moment. It’s emotional torture. Perpetual hell. I’m trapped. The past and the present hurt me so much. I’m afraid of the near future – the things I have to get through soon. Feeling invisible to people who are meant to care is just too much on top of that. So I can’t deal with that right now.


I used to have a ‘poetry fanclub’ where I’d share my poems with friends in a group on Facebook. I eventually stopped posting in there as I realised nobody really looked at them. I felt invisible then. I felt nobody cared what I had to say. I felt what’s the point? It’s like an endless experience of rejection… that’s what my life feels like. Being ignored or not noticed is a form of rejection and abandonment… the very things that destroy someone like me. That’s why I’m withdrawing. People may not mean to hurt me by their neglect, but that doesn’t mean they’re not hurting me. And I hurt double because I know it’s not deliberate, so I blame myself for expecting too much of people, and for reacting how I do. But I’m sick of it all.


I needed people to be there when it mattered. They always wait until it’s too late. I can’t cope with it anymore. Either care while I’m there or let me go. I shouldn’t have to keep going through this. It’s destroying my self-worth and self-esteem. It’s making me hate myself. It’s making me close off from everyone. It’s making me give up on life. It would be different if it was one person not being there for me, but it always happens the same… I’m invisible to almost everyone at the same time. It’s like they all suddenly decide I don’t exist for a few weeks at a time… there’ll be just the odd one who actually steps up and recognises how I’m feeling and the care I need. I’m so grateful to those who do this. They tend to be single people most often, who understand mental illness, in particular this one I’m battling. Others just don’t get it. And how can they if they’ve never been there? If they’ve never felt the agonising loneliness, the crippling fear of abandonment, the feeling of not belonging to the world, not existing, being scarred both physically and mentally, and wanting to die nearly every day, and that feeling of every emotion being felt so much more intensely than they could ever comprehend, then how could they ever get me? How could they ever understand what hell this is, and what I need from them? I feel so misunderstood, but I have no energy left to explain it to people incapable of understanding it… people unwilling to understand it.


So I’m done being polite. I’m done with friendships of convenience. I’m done with being repeatedly rejected by society. I’m done with uncertainty. I’m done with being a ghost. I’m done with it all. if it makes me selfish so be it. I seem destined to be cast in the role of ‘the selfish one’ whatever I do – want people’s time, I’m selfish. Want to be alone, I’m selfish. Fuck it. All my life I’ve had selfish people accuse me of being selfish. If giving a fuck about myself and only myself, because nobody else gives up the time to give a fuck about me, then so be it. I’m fucking selfish. I have to protect myself from being treated this way. It’s not okay that they all make me feel like I don’t exist. It’s not okay that they make me relive my past. It’s not okay that the blame is put on me. It’s not okay that I’m left until it’s too late before anyone ‘cares’. And it’s not okay that they come back, make me think things will be different from now on, and then make me feel the same way. I can’t trust anyone anymore because of this unreliability and the sickeningly predictable unpredictability.


I hate that it seems like I’m asking too much of people. But things used to be okay.  I never had this problem with friends. Not to this degree. And now I’m at one of the worst points in my life, the most ill I’ve been… I no longer know if this is just my illness seeing this and telling me nobody cares, or if in fact people genuinely do not give a shit about me anymore….. I feel if they did give a shit they’d communicate with me more. But then am I being too demanding? Am I asking for too much attention?  Then I hate myself, and isolate myself more for being a bad person. Then I hate them all for making me feel like I’m a bad person for wanting to be loved and cared for. It just never STOPS. And I need it to stop. I feel sick. I don’t know how to make it stop, other than to pull away from everyone and be as alone as I feel. There is no other way for me.


Life is insanely hard at the moment. I don’t want to be here. I actually reached a place of calm earlier, thinking about the peace I would feel in death. I no longer cared about the things holding me back from doing anything. I just wanted all the noise and pain to stop. And I envied those who have gone from this world and don’t have to experience any of that anymore. I’m sorry, I know that’s bad to say. But I have very little to hold on to as reasons to live right now. My little family is about it. Everything else is bleak. It’s blackness and resentment. There’s no joy. No purpose. No hope. I have to keep telling myself to hold on another day. Things will feel better in the morning. Just get through it and keep going. But to what end? Everything is in tatters. I have no hope of finding love. I have nothing to aim for. I have no connection with friends. I have no role to fulfil. I have nothing to add meaning to life. What is the point in me limping on through life, hating every minute of it? What, just so that I don’t upset others by killing myself? I’m guilt-tripping myself into living in permanent pain. Nobody gets what that feels like. And I have to do it alone, because nobody talks to me. Not when I need someone. They’re never there. It just adds to the hell I feel.


I’m just so beyond done.

Allow Me To Be Frank.

The Hijacker is running the show again.

I feel friendless again.

I feel guilty and like an ‘attention-seeker’ for wanting to not feel invisible.

I do feel invisible.

I feel like I don’t exist in this world.

I feel like I’m floating around in an invisible bubble, watching the lives of others around me, and I’m not really here. I’m not real.

I feel forgotten.

I feel neglected.

Nobody really talks to me anymore. There’s one or two perhaps on FB who show care when I’m not good. There’s one who always comments on my blog (thank you!), and the only ones who talk to me on Twitter are ones I share political views with more recently. It’s like everyone’s stopped talking to me all at once.

I tried reaching out to people before, talking about meeting up. Never happened. What more can I do? I’m not chasing after anyone ever again. They obviously don’t want to see me.

I’m in a bad state atm. I am alone. I feel lonely. So I go on social media to feel ‘connected’ to the world. I’m told I should do things, other than social media. This makes me want to shut down all my social media and just suffer alone. People obviously think I do nothing else with my time. Therapists said before to stay offline and focus on real connections. I don’t have any. I feel alone. I don’t have the friends I used to have, where I’d see them every week. Life has changed. Sadly I haven’t.

What people don’t understand is that they’ve all grown up, found love, got married, had children, have jobs, have it all and have no time left for their friends… not the single ones anyway. Their worlds have changed, their lives have moved on. But mine hasn’t.  It’s not their fault, but I feel so frustrated that life has repeatedly stabbed me in the heart; it has scarred my mind… and I’ve been left behind. People don’t have time for me anymore. This leaves me isolated and trapped. I wish I could change my circumstances, but I can’t… not while I’m so alone. I have nobody to take my hand and say ‘I’m going to help you out of your shell and make you like life again!’  – they’re all too busy living their own lives, to notice I’m struggling to merely exist in a world where nobody notices me.

I’m sick of the paranoia. I’m sick of sitting questioning why nobody gives a damn about me. I’m sick of going backwards and forwards, fighting my own mind to be rational. I want to quit. I want to say that I agree with the hijacker, that nobody cares and they’d be better off never hearing from me again… that I should cut everyone off and be a true loner.

I already feel like a loner.

This makes me think about Sam. How he thought he’d be alone forever – ‘the awkward loser’, as though that’s what we all thought of him. I didn’t. If anything I was an awkward loser too. We could’ve been two awkward losers together. Now he’s settled with Gill and I will eternally be an awkward loser, and a loner, and he will never know that I feel exactly like he used to. He won’t care, because he’s happy. That’s all any of them care about… as long as they’re happy, screw how Lily feels. And that’s fine… that’s what life should be about – your own journey. The world doesn’t revolve around me. I just wish they’d all understand what it’s like to have your suffering ignored by everyone around you. To have them all coupled up, lots of friends, achievements, and I’m the one stuck behind unable to get these things, because I’ve been abandoned and it’s totally paralysed me with depression.

The past won’t let go of me. Some things still really hurt… and it’s been six years. Six years these people have gone on with their lives, forgetting how much they hurt me and screwed me over. Six years of happiness and good memories made without me. Six years I’ve been traumatised and accomplished nothing. I’m going to be blogging about ‘time’ when you have a mental illness. Six years and my life is still in tatters because of them. I’m stuck.

Maybe people don’t know what to say to me. Maybe they’re scared to talk to me. Oh well. Nothing I can do about that now.

I feel bitter and angry, and hurt.

I feel so sad about how life used to be. I get flashes of memories with my old friends, before it all went so horrifically wrong… remembering the sort of person I was then. It feels like a totally different person. No wonder my friends don’t like me anymore; I’m a completely different person. I don’t like me now. So how I can expect anyone else to, I don’t know.

I feel like I’m in a nightmare. I see those around me having what I want. I have the memory of how much better things used to be. I see how much has changed around me, preventing me from ever finding that person again… it’s sickeningly sad. I feel trapped. Helpless. Hopeless. I can’t wake up from this nightmare I’m living in at the moment. Why won’t anyone help me??

I’m angry about therapy still. The way they handled it. It’s created a permanent frustration in me, that I just want to punch out. I want to scream. They messed me up, and now I cannot get back on my feet again.

I’m not over Matt. And having someone email me recently mentioning him, upset me. I’m not coping with it. He keeps popping up in my dreams which makes things worse. I wish I never met him. It hurts so much.

Got appointments coming up that I can’t deal with – Job Centre, hospital appointment, and now CMHT referral stuff.  I don’t want to deal with any of it. I just want to be a kid again and hide away from it all.

I have to deal with really difficult emotions, experiences and memories, without support – neither professional nor social. And then people tell me to not go online. They want me to be totally alone. Fine. Goodbye all.

Too many times I’ve explained what I needed. I’ve been open about how I’m feeling. Nobody changes. Maybe for a moment in reaction to what I say, but they soon forget and neglect me again. And saying I feel neglected makes me feel like an attention-seeker who always needs people talking to her. I don’t. I spend 99% of my time alone, and about 85% of my time not reaching out when I need to. The bits people see when I say I’m not coping and feel alone, that’s only when it’s got too much. Which it now has.

I’ve been fighting the hijacker for the last two or three weeks. Nobody knows how hard I fight, not to let him win. I tried not letting him fill me with paranoia and doubts about friendships. Believe me I tried. But radio silence in that time doesn’t help, and now he’s won.

I’m done.

The Lonely Mountain.

The Lonely Mountain


*Self-harm & swearing*


13th July 2018

Life is hard at the moment. I haven’t been coping very well. I’ve been unable to talk to people. I’ve been incredibly stressed out about politics. I’m still trying to recover from being attacked by someone because of it. I’ve been so fragile emotionally.


When we got through to the semi-finals in the football I felt good, but had an awful headache so went to lie down in the garden as it was so hot. Some prick let off fireworks almost over the garden… in the middle of the day! You can’t even see them, so they were obviously doing it to be noisy and anti-social! I tolerated it for a short time… well, when I say ‘tolerated’ I mean quietly swearing at them, telling them to kill themselves with a firework…. but eventually I went indoors, slammed the door, stormed upstairs swearing and punched the wall. I knew it was an overreaction but I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t in control. It was someone being unnecessarily annoying and I had a bad headache, so wasn’t able to keep control of my emotions like I normally might.


Wednesday was hard. Someone close to me said something I found hurtful. The trouble is they have their own issues, ones that make them unable to see how their words could be hurtful, so I have to accept it’s how they are. I love them and I know they wouldn’t really want to upset me. Their issues and mine just don’t always go together very well. So I had to pretend it didn’t upset me. But when I got home I self-harmed… those words spinning in my head. I was upset because the words attacked who I am – they rejected my care, told me I was doing something wrong, that I was an annoyance, and being the caring person I am is wrong … I felt I couldn’t say anything after that. I’d been lumped in with someone else who they think is ‘overbearing’ – they don’t recognise it’s called caring and being concerned – loving someone! Also I was asked to care on behalf of someone else, so I was put in the firing line. The annoying thing was that I had told myself a second before the question came out of my mouth ‘ they’re going to say *this*’… so when they did it was instant regret for opening my mouth. I went quiet, excused myself and went and punched myself for saying anything. I then went back and pretended everything was fine, until I got home and cut myself.


Later on we lost the football…. not really that big a deal. Just a shit ending to a shit day. I blamed myself for buying the flags…. told people…. thought they blamed me. I’d ‘done the wrong thing’ again. So went away and punched myself again. It’s become my preferred way of hurting myself lately. I know it makes no sense, but then self-harm of any kind makes no sense to those who don’t know the struggle.


I couldn’t stop causing myself harm. I was really upset about life. I self-medicated. I took a diazepam, hoping it would calm me down. I wanted to just sleep, as at least I’d be safe then. It helped. It made me very tired. I’m thinking of asking the doctor if this would be an okay thing to do in a crisis or if there’s something extra I can take if I just can’t stop hurting myself. I know it’s not the answer – I need to use skills I’ve learnt, but for times I’m beyond that it would be good to know there’s something that can keep me safer.


There’s only one other time I ever self-medicated, and that was during my therapy course last year. The anxiety got too bad that I took a diazepam before the group once. That was a low point for me. Nobody ever knew I did it. I wrote about it on my blog, but never told anyone. I know it’s not good, but the other day my body was telling me what I needed. I needed ‘restraining’ and if the only way I could manifest that was through medication making me too tired to do anything, then that’s what I had to do. I won’t make a habit of it, but it was that or break my hand.


25th July 2018


A couple of weeks have passed since writing the above. I had my doctor’s appointment on Monday, and I’m being referred to CMHT, to see if they can be of any help to me. I don’t hold out much hope, but the doctor does… so we’ll see. I’ve also been told that in a crisis it’s okay for me to take the diazepam… my doctor knows that I won’t abuse it, and will only take it when all else fails. And that just having it there as a ‘just in case’… a safety net, might help too. I won’t be using it all the time… only when absolutely necessary like the other week.


Things don’t feel good at all right now… I’m on a break at the moment, but very soon I’ll be back to normal and expected to continue as before – doing my volunteering, I’ll have my hospital appointment, job centre stuff to worry about… it’s all too much to cope with.


I’m in one of my depressions again, where I feel nobody outside of my family really cares about me. One person has spoken to me to see if I’m okay. Other than that people just ‘like’ things. Nobody chats to me. Nobody seems to care when I’m not okay. Nobody offers support. Nobody acknowledges my existence. And when I’m alone that’s a very hard thing to deal with. It is TRUE ISOLATION. Don’t get me wrong, I like being by myself. I often find socialising overwhelming and prefer my own company. I don’t always have the spiritual energy to respond to people. But it’s quite possible to enjoy your own company but to not want to be forgotten. It’s the whole ‘I don’t want to join you, but I’d still like to be invited’ thing. It’s nice to be thought of.


Where I have got a lot of time to myself at the moment, I have to stop myself from letting in the thoughts of being neglected. I’ve almost gone there a couple of times on my break, and I don’t want it to take me to that place of anger at the world. I don’t want to give air to the paranoia. I just have to switch off from it and focus my mind elsewhere. I have to tell myself that I don’t matter that much and to stop being selfish. I have to tell myself I am alone, and that will just have to do. It’s the way my life is meant to be.


The prospect of life continuing as it is when I get back… I don’t want to do that. It feels like an impossibility. My mind goes straight to self-destruction at the thought. But I have to tell myself that although things are going to be hard, there will be the possibility of help by the mental health team. I feel sure they will reject my plea for help, which will make me so much worse, but I’ve got to have hope for now. I’ve got to hold onto it as my one chance for life improving. I can’t go on like this.


I want to remember what it was like to want to live…  ten years ago, when I was doing DBT, my life was improving…. I had a group of friends, I was starting to consider the world of dating. I had a lot of problems sure… I didn’t suddenly lose my depression and anxiety – it was always there. But the social network I had gave me confidence – even if it was just a front… it’s more than I can do today. Even after a glass or two of wine I would do karaoke! This was totally out of character for me, but it was a phase I went through with friends at the time. I felt I mattered. I felt stronger. I felt a part of something and more connected to life. My group of friends would meet every week, sometimes twice a week – I’d see them all individually. Men found me attractive. I’d get beeped by cars as I went about my business. I started to have more control over my self-harm and my mind because of the DBT. I wasn’t ‘cured’ by any means. But I was on the right path. My granddad was still alive – I didn’t know the horror of grief… our family was still together so I felt connected to them all too. I had none of the cares I have today.


Now I have days I feel I don’t even have one friend (though I know I do). My group of friends fell apart because of two of them seriously betraying and hurting me. Any friends I have I’ll see once a month if I’m lucky. I don’t want to think about dating – I don’t trust men. I hate my body. I hate myself. I’m not attractive anymore… I have health issues which have contributed to my weight problems etc.. I don’t have any confidence – any that people may witness is a complete lie. It’s a mask. I will never do karaoke or any kind of performance again – even with wine… I wouldn’t drink wine nowadays. I did it to be social… I don’t do social now. I don’t feel I matter. I feel weak. I feel disconnected from life and like I’ll never fit in. I’m shown no interest by men… possibly because I’ve closed off from them… but more likely because I’m fat and ugly as fuck. I get no beeps anymore. I have no control over my mind or my self-harm – I’m a slave to both. My mind shares a space with a ‘hijacker’ who dictates where my thoughts are going to go for the day. I have no support with my mental health right now. When having help from an IAPT service I got the sense that because I’ve done DBT once in my life, I won’t be offered it again. That once you’ve done the course, that’s it… you either look at your folder and do it all by yourself, or you’re screwed. I always felt mental health services have wanted to wash their hands of me… they always have. But I didn’t know that DBT is a once only offer. I know they want to offer it to people who haven’t learnt the skills before – I get that. I don’t want to be a burden and take up the space of someone else. But I’m asking for help. I know it helped in the past. I’m desperate for something to stop me harming or killing myself. I know I have the folder, but that was over ten years ago now… am I meant to just drown now then? Now my granddad is gone… I know the full horror of grief and my family is split. My world is very small and I’ve never felt as troubled as I do now.


Where I once wanted to live, I now don’t want to live. That’s not to say I want to die. I just don’t want to live. I know that would make no sense to those who don’t understand mental illness and suicidal thoughts. But it’s less about death and more about life. What I want is life to be how it used to be. I want it to be better than it currently is. I want a reason to live. I want to feel connected, important, valued. I want to like who I am. I want to feel worthy and attractive again. I want to trust people. I want people around me who genuinely care and go out of their way to show me they care. I want people around me who want to see me happy, and would never hurt me. I want to feel safe and secure. I want to be accepted. I want to not have all the cares and worries I have. I want to love and be loved. I want to achieve something. I want all the hurt to go away. I want to forget the past. I want to enjoy life. But none of that is possible. My reality is the previous paragraph. I can’t see beyond that. Sure I can say what I want it to be like, but I can’t make it so.


I am alone with all this. That’s why I want to give up. I’m being expected to climb a mountain, having never done so before, with only a couple of tools and instructions… no company… no guide… no protection from the elements…. no way of avoiding rockfalls or avalanches. I’m expected to figure it all out myself. So you know what… I’m going nowhere. I’m sitting down on the side of the mountain and giving up. I can’t do this alone. It’s a powerlessness – feeling trapped, because I can’t climb, and nobody’s coming in a helicopter to save me. I’m on the mountain, and I could easily jump down to my death – that isn’t what I truly want though. So I just sit instead. I give up. I don’t want life to end. I want the struggle to end. I don’t want life to end. I want it to begin. But it’s beyond my control. And nobody understands that. They think I just need to do ‘XYZ’ and I could have the life I want. No. Not with current circumstances I couldn’t. You don’t get it. Nobody gets it.


My life has changed so dramatically in the last ten years. Ten years ago I was at the start of my life, with a world of possibilities before me… with people I could count on, a feeling of belonging and a hope that things could improve for me. It’s all gone. I am a different person now. I feel I’m at the end of the road. Too much has happened to me. I’m not who I used to be. And I hate who I have become. My experiences have changed me. And the only thing that could change me back are better experiences. But my story in life has always been that nobody gives me a chance. Nobody is prepared to be the change I need. Nobody is prepared to put in the effort to help me. They all expect me to save myself or die trying. They don’t realise how close to the latter part I am. My spirit doesn’t want to do this anymore. It’s had enough. Existing in this world right now is hell… knowing what life used to be like, traumatised by the things that destroyed it, and certainty that it will never be like it again. It’s torture. And I don’t want to live with it.


I don’t want to die. I just want all the shit to be over. I want to be happy again.

Poem: Footprints In My Dreams.

Footprints In My Dreams


No sight can be seen, so bittersweet
As your footprints in my dreams.
The soothing sound of your footsteps
Walking the labyrinth of my mind all night,
Searching for my weak spots –
Sweet memories, unresolved feelings, desire.
You sing your lullaby straight to my heart
And I fall all over again.
You whisper my name so beautifully,
Caressing my soul with your shy, loveable smile.
You speak of love … with love,
And we both know it’s forbidden
But the truth cannot remain hidden …
I know it,
You know it.
Your affections cannot walk the daily plane of existence;
It can never be in this life,
I have my illness; you have your wife.
But somewhere inside you dwells a seed of a feeling,
An intrigue,
A wish.
For things to have worked out different to this.
You cannot sleep at night
So you stray into the realm of dreams,
Wandering through my mind,
Hoping to find some hope or chance
To share with me, one kiss, one romantic dance,
One single moment to be alone
And make it known
You miss me too.
Dreams of you bring pain,
But only in the waking world –
It’s why I’d sleep forever if I could,
For when I am with you, life is good.
A part of you is with me always,
You’re a treasure locked within my heart.
And as nobody is aware, they can never rip us apart.
Only I can choose to let you go …
I never will.
I adored you once and I love you still.
Come meet me in my dreams,
Each night if you may,
And tell me all the words we never got to say.
As fate has sent us our separate ways,
We now must love in dreams.

Can’t Escape My Mind.

I’m in a bad place mentally. Even now, when I should be feeling good, I’m not. I’m ‘on holiday’, not an actual holiday, but having a break from my ordinary life. I should be having fun, forgetting real life. I usually do when I have these breaks. But for some reason this time I just can’t  switch my mind off. I can’t block out reality. I can’t lift my spirit.


Yes I’m here, away from the world, but soon I’ll be back to normality and be expected to carry on like usual. I don’t want to do it. I can’t. I want out of this life. Nothing is right. Everything’s too hard. And I’m expected to leap when I can barely even crawl right now.
And I’ve just found out I’ve got something very difficult to deal with when I’m back, and they’re going to ask me to leap. Everything’s going to change for the worse. I already can’t cope with how I’m feeling about life. It’s not about to get any better.


Things just feel so dark at the moment. I feel so detached, from everything and everyone. My heart hurts for all the loss. My mind is filled with thoughts about harming myself, but I didn’t bring anything with me to do so. I was meant to be feeling better for these couple of weeks. I was meant to forget ‘real life’ and relax. It isn’t working. If anything I’m feeling more stressed and anxious, and totally alone with it.


I can’t win. If I keep busy I get overwhelmed and can’t cope. If I stop and relax, I think and can’t cope. Sometimes it feels death is my only answer. I can’t cope with life whichever way I live it. At least in death there’d be no struggle. Don’t worry, I’m not about to do something – I’m just expressing how trapped in life I feel right now. That there’s no way it can get better.


I’m so terrified of this appointment I have to deal with when I get back. I’m terrified of everything. I’m even terrified about my appointment with the doctor next week. Going to appointments is a real struggle for me again, like it used to be. I’m also going to ask to be referred to the CMHT. This is scary, because I don’t know what happens from there… I’ll lose control. I don’t know the process. They might turn me down. What if they can’t help me? What if nobody can help me? What if I have just reached the end of the line?


Finding out about this appointment/interview – which happens to be a phone one… not so great for someone with social anxiety centred around using the phone – it’s really messed me up…. the timing of it. Just when I’m trying to forget about the stresses of life and find enjoyment again…. and then this. One of the things that actually dragged me backwards last time I encountered them. I can’t afford to go any further backwards. I’ve been trying my best to pull myself forwards. I just really want to pack it all in right now. Give up. I feel life is trying to break me. This time I think I might let it.

The Lonely Night.

I feel painfully alone tonight. It’s a combination of things – politics is really getting me down at the moment. This Brexit deal – it’s divided people even more… even people I was united with in my views, this latest twist has made me feel completely out on my own with my views… in terms of ‘friends’ anyway. I feel so lost and confused about it all. I’m not happy with how it’s going, and I hear from some people it’s a disaster, a betrayal and then from others that it’s good. The trouble is my trust in the party I’ve supported all my life, is shaken. It’s hard to believe anything they say anymore. I’m really upset by the rhetoric in the media and in Parliament. They talk about it all as though we’re not PEOPLE who voted to leave… as though we’re mindless drones who were led up the garden path by Russian-backed propaganda. I’m sorry but that is fucking offensive. They say the division on this plan means we should have another referendum. They say the apparent ‘cheating’ by the Leave campaign means we should have another referendum. They say the stalemate in Parliament means we should have another referendum. NO!! Just stop disrespecting me. I’m sick of it. I’m so sick of it I’m actually crying as I write this. Stop ignoring my voice. I’ve been ignored all my fucking life. I’ve never got anything I wanted. And for once in my whole fucking life something went my way – we won the referendum, and now the people who always have it all, want to fucking rip it away from me. Well fuck you all.


This is what I mean – before the referendum we were bullied. It still happens now. People think we should just be ignored. It makes me feel violent rage and it scares me. I’m so fuming that this country is trying to ram it down my throat every single day that I am WORTHLESS. That my voice, my vote means nothing. That I’m wrong… a bad person… a xenophobic, stupid, uneducated, gullible, racist bigot. That I didn’t know what I was voting for. That I was brainwashed. That I was influenced by the Russians. That I believed the ‘lie’ on the side of a bus. That I’m a ‘self-harmer’ (well duh, but don’t bring mental health into politics). That I’m taking everyone with me off the edge of a cliff. Sorry, I’ll just throw myself off it, alone. An actual cliff though, not a mythical one.


Politics is mirroring my life. Bullying. Disrespect. Being ignored. People projecting onto me. The feeling of isolation and invisibility is sickening. I have a few people on Twitter who I can talk to about these things because they feel exactly as I do. But most of my friends don’t feel as I do about things. In fact they probably secretly despise me for being one of those ‘xenophobic, stupid Brexiters’. I feel like I’m the only one fighting the good fight, with everyone against me, thinking they’re fighting the good fight. It’s lonely being on this side… on the side of the silent majority… it makes you feel like you’re alone when you hear people on the other side make such noise between them, at your expense – trying to alienate you from the rest of the ‘decent, tolerant ones’. It’s emotional abuse. Trying to keep a barrier up to such abuse and not let it get to me, it’s so draining. I don’t think people realise that us voters have emotions and mental illnesses in some cases… they claim to be the kind ones, but when they’re pushing people towards suicide I don’t think they can rightly claim that kindness.


I’ve gone into one of my episodes of feeling disconnected from everyone. I obsess about people not interacting with me online. I’ll see so many things I share go unnoticed… which is no big deal – I don’t expect people to respond to everything. But I start thinking nobody’s acknowledged me for such a long time… then I’ll scroll through and see the last time someone ‘liked’ something was two or three days ago, and I feel stupid for thinking it was longer, and feel like such an attention-seeker. But then I’ll check to see how long it’s been since someone even commented on something I posted – 10 days… and I’ll start thinking that my friends aren’t bothered about talking to me. Is it something I’ve said or done? Then I’ll check my messages – there aren’t any. There’s one, that I haven’t replied to yet, and until I do, my inbox will be empty for all eternity.


Then I feel I’m alone with my mental illness. The most isolating, misunderstood, painful illness.


Then the physical loneliness of actually being away from people at the moment.


And then the thoughts of my granddad come in.


I tried a few things to stop myself from resorting to the usual… I immediately picked up my knitting and went and sat with the gerbils. I had a shower. I made myself an ice cream in a cone and started watching a film… couldn’t focus on it, so started writing this… was getting upset so messaged someone…. but I feel so ill now I just want to finish writing this and go to sleep.


The fact I’m alone is glaringly obvious tonight. The silence is gut-wrenching. The scream in my chest is overpowering. The hopelessness is drowning me. But all I can do is pray for a better day tomorrow.

Depression: The Permanent Resident.

I’m going into one of my dark depressions again, I can feel it. Depression never goes away. I know some talk about it like it’s a ‘friend’ who visits now and then. It’s not like that at all. It’s a permanent resident. Now and then it’ll go upstairs and give you some breathing room, but you can hear it stomping around on the floorboards above you. It never leaves you. You know at any moment you could hear it thudding down the stairs to come and torture you some more. The threat is always there.


Some clever so-and-so would say ‘Just leave the house then!’ – as if getting out will solve everything…. to them I say ‘You haven’t got a clue…’


It’s not a real house. The house is inside you. It goes with you. It’s like a spiritual house. You can be out enjoying yourself and still hear the thudding above you. Have you ever been having fun with someone, they’re laughing, carefree, talking away… and then seen as the light fades from their eyes…. the sparkle dies and it’s like a cloud of anguish has appeared behind their eyes? That’s depression coming downstairs. That’s the reminder that they’re never alone. That’s normality setting in… right before your eyes.


I very often catch myself in a moment, feeling relatively okay, smiling, chatting, showing my fun side…. and then seemingly out of nowhere it’s like I float away from it all… like it wasn’t real… like it’s a blip. Depression has come down to remind me that I don’t deserve to be happy.


This has been gradual in the last few days. It’s for a combination of reasons. I can always tell now when I’m slipping back to a bad place… I stop replying to people – it becomes too much for my mind to cope with. I don’t do my volunteering, and don’t even let them know I’m not coming. I don’t want to do anything. I have all sorts of urges. I pull my hair out more. My paranoia gets worse, and I start isolating. Everything everyone does irritates me. I stop trying to participate in discussions, as I’m always talked over and can’t cope with the feeling. I feel hateful and like the world is against me.


The future looks bleak; the past seeps into my present; my present is just survival.


I feel so irritated right now… whenever anyone talks I’m screaming inside. There are people I ought to reply to, and I just don’t want to, to be totally honest. I’ve gone in to my ‘selfish’ mode. And I know it’s selfish. And yes I do feel guilty about it. But at the same time I know I don’t have another choice. I don’t have it in me. When I get into this state of mind it’s hard to get out of it.


For a little while I’ve experienced a feeling that I used to have many years ago…. I used to say to my family that it feels like ‘something’s missing’. I have no clue what. It’s like I have a need, but don’t know what that need is… so I try and cater to them all – I stuff my face with food… no that’s not it. I write… nope. Maybe I need a hug…. no. I think of all the possible things I could do to fill the void. I could pick an argument with someone. I could self-harm. I try all sorts of things. Some I just think about. And I never seem to find what it is I need. It’s still missing.


This is a problem I’ve had on and off for many years, and it’s only just dawning on me that this is something people with BPD experience. I mean, long before I’d even heard of ‘BPD’ I would have this feeling (along with many others)… I found it distressing as I didn’t know what it meant. Very often I interpreted it as me wanting to self-harm but without a reason to do it. I think I used to make myself upset so that I could do it, to see if that would help. I wasn’t sure also whether I was just bored. The thing is I’m not a person who GETS bored. I never have. I always tend to find something to keep me occupied. I’ve always been quite creative, imaginative and okay with my own company – I could write, play music, paint, watch something… all sorts of things. So it’s rare for me to be bored. But maybe it is the feeling of boredom, and as I’m not used to it I find it unsettling.


I once had to have tests done where they put something into my system and then took my blood every so often. What they gave me made me really restless. I was so bored. I didn’t want to write or use my puzzle book – I just wanted to get out of there… I kept saying so, but I couldn’t go as I was having the tests done! But the feeling of boredom was quite distressing. It’s not the same as what I feel at the moment though. This isn’t as intense as that. It is just a feeling like there’s something missing. I don’t know if anyone else experiences this and what you do about it?


But yeah, the depression side of things… it’s strange, because it’s like there’s two aspects of me – one is saying ‘I should send an email to so-and-so’, ‘I need to go into town’, ‘come on, go into work’, and the other part is like a screaming child refusing to budge… holding on to the fence at the playground while the parent tries to pull them away. You’d think that having the sort of insight I have into the workings of my mind, I’d be able to alter my way of thinking and break free of that aspect of me. But it’s not like that at all. In a way it’s worse because I feel people think I’m knowledgeable enough that I should be able to help myself, and the fact I can’t makes me feel guilty and ashamed. In a way I wish I was ignorant and knew nothing about my mental illness.


I see the voice that says what I ought to do as me. It’s who I am at the core. The bit that’s resisting feels like it’s not me. It’s not that it’s someone else – it is an element of me, but not one I recognise as myself. Perhaps it’s a teenage me. It’s rebellious enough to be a teenager. Yet has tantrums like a toddler. It’s an angry and silently violent part of me. When people suggest something helpful for instance, I almost instantaneously visualise the response of that part of me. It shouts, swears, throws stuff around, punches walls, sometimes even attacks the other person – it yells ‘YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!!!’…. before my actual voice says to them, ‘Yeah, I could try that, thanks’. I have the tantrum raging inside, but don’t convey it to people around me. I maintain my ‘nice’ image.


Though people sometimes witness my ‘episodes’ where I explode and externalise everything I said I visualise, more often than not it happens inside me and nobody would have a clue what I’m experiencing. But what I experience in my head is pretty much exactly the same as my physical episodes. When I do externalise it I feel out of control. It’s like it’s not me saying and doing the things I’m saying and doing. In that way those episodes often feel like I’m taken over by something that is not me. I almost feel ‘possessed’. I know that’s ridiculous and not the case. But it’s how I feel when it happens. I feel scared of what I’ll do. I can’t stop what I’m doing, and I feel great embarrassment and shame afterwards. So when it’s all internal it’s much the same – I have this side of me raging, resisting, defying… and it’s like a possession in my mind. Like my mind is not merely my own. It shares a space with something that doesn’t want me to be well. It doesn’t want help. It doesn’t want to live.


I don’t know if it’s the same character as ‘the hijacker’ that I’ve spoken about, or if it’s a separate part from that. But either way I feel powerless. I feel there’s nothing I can do… I keep trying to push through their protestations, but it takes every effort in me. There’s an email that I need to send for example, and I’m going to have to push myself to get it done, because this part of me doesn’t want me to do anything. It wants me to sit and mope… spiral… isolate… give up…. be selfish and do things I want to do instead. I often have to force myself to talk to people when I don’t want to – more often than people would know. It’s not that I don’t care about the people, but more not caring about anything, and just wanting to hide away from life. I find communication draining at the moment, because of the amount of strength and determination it takes to actually get it done.


It’s an uncomfortable state to live in, but I do it most days…. loneliness, paranoia, anger, demands, hopelessness, guilt, constant conflict between who I am and the illness. And it all happens in my head, behind my eyes. So people expect things of me that I look capable of, but I’m not capable of because of my inner state. There are expectations on me. I’m treated as though I’m as normal as anyone else, because I appear that way. So I let people down.  I neglect them. I seem like a failure.


Depression does this to you. It paralyses you, and the BPD attacks you in your head. I’m caught in a psychological prison and a part of me rages when someone suggests I break out of that prison. But as stubborn, irrational and even insane as that sounds, my answer to you will always be ‘YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!!’ … and just thank God that you don’t, and pray that you never will.


This existence is hell.