Breaking Through A Breakdown.

*Self-harm / suicide*

 

Right. I feel about ready to start talking about the last week…. I had a breakdown last Friday. It’s related to things I’ve written about recently. I don’t fancy going back over it all. Let’s just say I gave the Wellbeing Centre something to read, and wasn’t given the opportunity to say necessary things as I did so. I didn’t get to explain that I was not requesting what I had originally asked for from them. Nothing needed saying or doing. Only acknowledgement it had been read if anything. I didn’t get to say I didn’t blame ‘X’ for any of it and I didn’t want him to blame himself. I didn’t get to say I had blocked emails from ‘Z’ because I was so triggered by her response. I didn’t get to say the most important bit … that I needed to feel I was in control of what happened next. I needed to be the one to decide if I continued at the group and the Centre. If that choice was taken from me and made for me, it would render me powerless. And powerlessness, alongside humiliation, is one of my most massive triggers. Always has been. It would also have shown they weren’t listening to me – as the group is not the problem…. my feelings for X are not the problem…. the problem was the handling of the situation and how it made me feel. If I was told the Centre was no longer the place for me it would be the worst thing in the world.

 

So I was not given the chance to explain what I was handing over to X. I had to just throw it in front of him, sit through the group massively triggered, and then leave, knowing that was it…. after I handed the writing over I wasn’t going to talk anymore, so I didn’t get that closure I needed, and didn’t get to explain anything. It left a whole load of uncertainty because I didn’t know what they’d make of it, and without the explanation I needed to quickly give, it was likely there would be misunderstandings on their side. X said he would read it after the groups and he’d email (text) me later. I wandered around town, considering how to end my life that day. I had my first breakdown of last week when I got home. I think I’ve written about this already.

 

I waited all week, dreading a response yet longing for one too. I thought he had forgotten. Or that he was avoiding dealing with me. I had sent a text on the Wednesday saying:

 

Hi X. If you’ve read what I wrote, then I hope you can understand just how difficult it was for me to ask to have that final conversation at the end. I feared that rejection I got.

I understand you felt you couldn’t and I know you said I could talk to someone else but you guys were the only ones I trusted. I don’t want to talk to anyone else about this anymore. I only needed 5 mins to explain a couple of things associated with what I wrote. After nearly 3 weeks of sheer hell I just needed a minute to feel heard & to relieve the anxiety I felt, all alone for the longest fortnight of my life. It’s all I would’ve needed. Being denied that was like being denied what I asked from Z… it replicated the very thing I needed to tell you about. Z made me feel worthless… like a number… a burden. Yesterday confirmed that for me. And again I’m sorry I took up so much of your time and made you late that one time. I felt awful about it. Now I pay the price for that.

So yes, I’m extra triggered now and have to get through at least another week of feeling even worse than the last 3… knowing there will be no relief because I’m never opening up again. That was to be the last time. Once I handed the writing over that was it… no more talking. So I had no closure. Everything’s a giant mess. And I don’t know the way out of it anymore.

L

 

I waited for a response. I wasn’t even sure he received that text. I waited and waited, and on Friday at 16:59 I got a reply:

Hi L, I understand it was difficult for you to ask for a conversation with us at the end of the group. I’m sorry you have felt rejected and not heard. As I said to you on Tuesday, we have been late for the second group on more than one occasion and you are not the reason for that so try not to feel responsible.

After reading your letters we appreciate this situation has triggered a lot of distressing feelings for you and we respect and support your decision not to talk to anyone connected to the Wellbeing Centre, about this anymore. It is sad to hear you feel stuck in your head and are feeling this badly about it all. Although we want to support people’s mental health recovery, we are unable to support your recovery in the way you have requested.

I would urge you to seek support from outside our service. Like you have suggested _______ is one possibility but there is also _____ that covers more general matters as well as bereavement. Another option would be to contact your GP and ask to be referred to the CMHT. I believe they may be better suited to support your recovery needs.

Kind regards ‘X’

 

Can you imagine how that would feel? Not only was I being denied the help I needed (even though I wasn’t still asking for it – and he’d have known that if he’d given me a couple of minutes at the end of the group!!), but that last paragraph sounded very much like being abandoned by the whole service. Like being passed on to someone else as they couldn’t cope with me. The last sentence – ‘I believe they may be better suited to support your recovery needs’….. wouldn’t that make you think you’d been ditched? Especially if you were already in a heightened emotional state like I was.

 

The worst part was that I received that perceived total abandonment at one minute to five on a Friday…. and then his phone would’ve gone off and it would be too late to contact anyone else regarding this. That’s what caused my breakdown. I felt entirely rejected and abandoned, and had no options left. The Centre closed at 5pm. I knew I had to cope over the weekend by myself – entirely by myself, because nobody in my family knows about this – I don’t want them to. So it was kind of like ‘It is sad to hear you feel stuck in your head and are feeling this badly about it all… but here you go, have some more to feel bad about, stuck in your head all weekend on your own!’ … it’s what made me feel I couldn’t survive the weekend. I couldn’t even survive that night.

 

I immediately harmed myself, quite badly. But I wasn’t in my body as I did it. I was watching. I was totally numb. I felt nothing. That was really scary, as I could so easily have continued and I’d have felt nothing. I did something that was actually quite risky and I wouldn’t normally have done, but at that point I didn’t care if I lived or died. That’s the truth. I wanted to die, but what I did wasn’t an active bid to do so. It was more an indifference. But mainly I wasn’t in control of myself anyway. So it just was what it was.

 

It didn’t make me feel any better. I texted X back, knowing his phone would be off, so he’d probably never get the texts anyway, as usually if you text while his phone is off he won’t get it when he turns it on next (which wouldn’t be until Tuesday just gone)… in my mind he probably knew that, so that’s why he left it to the last minute, so I wouldn’t respond. That’s my opinion. I said:

Guess that’s that then. Should never have said a word. This is worse than ____ ( – the other place I went to). Sounded from what you said that I’m no longer welcome at the group / centre … I’m sorry for all this. I never wanted any of it. L

And a bit later, added:

And my recovery need was just to know I mattered and wasn’t an awful person. I guess the opposite is true. Human kindness and compassion was all I needed. I didn’t know that was asking too much. I won’t be asking for help elsewhere. This was it. I can’t go through this ever again. I’m done. Thank you for everything. Sorry it had to end this way. L

 

At that moment I wanted to die. I thought I was going to. That was my goodbye. I don’t know if he even got those replies in the end. I regretted sending them once I was out of my ‘dissociation phase’… but part of me hopes he did get them, so he knows the pain I was in.

 

I did many things that night that I regret… some I don’t properly remember. One was potentially dangerous. I sat in the chaos and mess for three hours, afraid to move. Too overwhelmed to begin to clear things up. I didn’t know where to start. It took me that long before I got up, washed my face and cleaned / patched myself up.

 

During those three hours I phoned the Samaritans. Self-harm wasn’t helping. I knew diazepam wouldn’t calm me down either. I was trapped. I knew I had to phone them or I’d end my life one way or another. I spoke to a man there, which concerned me at first, given the topic that had triggered the whole thing, but he was really helpful. Talking to him, and talking to someone online who’s been a rock for me lately, helped me to see things in a different light. It brought the emotions down to a more manageable level. I did end up taking the diazepam after that, as my mind was obsessing over things and I was too emotionally delicate. I needed the noise to stop. All I did was tell my family that I wasn’t okay, but didn’t want to talk about it. It was just so they knew I was fragile.

 

I talked with the Samaritans about how hard it is in that moment to see beyond that moment. The possibility of things feeling better (or different, as he said it might – rather than ‘better’) in the morning or in a few days, was impossible for me to see. In that moment all there was, was that moment. The pain of it. The despair of it. I couldn’t imagine surviving the weekend. I couldn’t see me surviving that night. I can see why people do end up taking their lives… because in that moment there is nothing else – there is no chance for change. There is no feeling better in the morning. They’re caught up in that intense moment and if they don’t reach out and get another perspective, they can’t see beyond it. Had I not reached out to the Samaritans that night I would’ve been consumed by that moment too.

 

But the next morning not only did it feel different… it felt better. I had anger. Anger at X. It’s almost as if getting that text on the Friday evening broke the spell…. if he could do that to me, then maybe he wasn’t as special as I first thought. He kind of fell off the pedestal I’d put him on. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. That’s not to say it’s a good thing. I won’t ever let them think they did right by me, by pushing me to that point I had to fight for myself. But that’s where I got to the next morning. I found fighting spirit in me. I thought ‘Hell no, I’m not going to let them destroy all the work I’ve done to recover as much as I have’. I wasn’t going to let them dictate my story. I wouldn’t let them win.

 

How it was left, I was unsure if I was even welcome at the group on Tuesday, but rather than avoid it, I decided I would be there, even if I wasn’t meant to. Even if it made X uncomfortable. I would not be forced out, without even being consulted on it. I seriously went there on Tuesday, full of anxiety at the prospect of being turned away and told I wasn’t welcome anymore. Because that’s how the text had made me feel on Friday.

 

But I turned up and everything seemed normal. It was as if nothing had happened at all. I kept quite quiet in the group. And then when it was my chance to talk I mentioned I had a breakdown on the Friday. I didn’t say what had led to it. I didn’t give anything away to anyone, but X would’ve known what I was referring to. It was hard talking about it. It’s not like I took joy in doing it, but I figured I needed to get it out there, to explain how I feel. I talked about how much I learned from the experience. I spoke positively about moving forward, putting all this behind me and starting from here. Anyone who knows me would know it is most definitely not behind me. I just said that to be able to feel more comfortable there and to be a people pleaser. I talked about giving myself the things others won’t give me – so liking myself, valuing myself, being proud of myself etc. – screw those who don’t feel that way, I’ll do it myself. That was a subtle dig obviously… I know that even if I do those things it’s not enough. Only I seem to understand what it was I needed and most importantly WHY. But I’m done explaining it to people now. They clearly don’t want to help me, so I’ll pretend to help myself. My ability to do these things for myself actually hinged on getting that validation from X. But never mind.

 

Now I will do what I said I would in my letter. I’ll pretend I’m better than I am. I’ll go there and act normal, talk about boring stuff, smile, keep people happy. It was nice to be able to go there and act normal. It kind of gave me my power back a little bit. I did what I will always do at the end now. Swiftly got out of there. Won’t be talking to them anymore. Limited interaction. They know everything now. It’s their fault for not listening.

 

I had asked to speak to someone after the group, so I did that, and I talked about the three things that happened, that if done differently would’ve saved me from a breakdown… starting with Z – if she had just been honest to start with and told me what I asked for was not possible, however…. then I would’ve known. The way she dealt with it seemed rushed, like I was being fobbed off and not being listened to… then she was off, and so was the group for a fortnight. So I had two weeks of resentment building, thinking people were ignoring what I was saying. So I wrote what I did…. the second point was that if I had been given two minutes to explain it as I handed it to X, then I would never have received the text on the Friday from him, because he would’ve known I wasn’t making a request, nothing needed doing, he wouldn’t understood the manner and tone of what I wrote, and he’d have known how I’d feel about having the decision made for me that I couldn’t attend anymore. He’d have known I’d be sensitive to that feeling of abandonment and powerlessness. And the third point was that if X hadn’t left it until the final minute of the working week to send that message, then I’d have had options that didn’t include suicide.

 

If he had done it at exactly the same time but on the Thursday, that’d be different. It would’ve allowed me to have my breakdown on the Thursday (which might not have been so bad, as I’d have not felt so trapped without options!), and then on the Friday I could’ve got in touch with someone else from the Wellbeing Centre to confirm the situation, ask if I was even welcome there still, and to talk about it all if necessary. The same could be said if I’d been contacted Friday morning…. I could’ve done something about it. It was the fact I had to wait until at least Monday to do anything at all. That’s what nearly killed me. I hope that’s fed back to him so he understands the impact that would have on someone like me.

 

So I let my feelings be known about the handling of the situation. For once it would be nice to hear ‘We cocked up, we’re sorry…. how can we fix this with you?’ But pigs might fly. Nobody takes responsibility anymore. It’s a shame, as that’s the story of my life, socially too.

 

It turns out I am welcome there… it’s just unfortunate that message didn’t shine through from X last Friday. One thing I talked to this other person about is that the IAPT service left me unhealed, therefore I feared this happening again. And it did. And now they want to leave it unhealed too. So I said I know it WILL happen again, because it’s unhealed and always will be. So I talked about how difficult it is that I’d been denied healing at the last place and now here. I can’t go through it a third time. I won’t survive that. I can barely survive this. I don’t think anyone understands how distressing and intense it is to develop these feelings in this setting. And the handling of it is so important. But because few people talk about these feelings, little is known about it or how to handle it. As I keep finding out. Apparently people aren’t usually as open and honest about it as I’ve been. Trouble is it makes me feel abnormal because they handle it wrong. So I know I must be the only one they’ve faced. I wish they could’ve helped this time. I trusted them to. Now I will leave with open wounds. And will have to avoid mental health services in the future, because I know this will happen again, thanks to the Wellbeing Centre denying me a very simple nod of the head, which could’ve prevented all of this and a future of pain for me. That’s what bugs me. It was so simple. That one little gesture could’ve fixed my whole life. Now it’ll never be fixed.

 

The thing that’s troubled me since discussing this with that other person afterwards, is I was given the sense that it was actually X who didn’t want to help me in the way I’d asked. I’d always assumed it was his supervisor (Z). It’s tough now, thinking he is the one holding me back from my recovery. Changes my view of him. But also throws up lots of questions and theories about why it is. Could it be he’s uncomfortable with his emotions? Could it be he fears me or is disgusted by me, and can’t fathom forcing words out that could heal me, because they’re such lies? Could it be he has some sort of feelings towards me too, and worries that by helping me in the way I’d asked, it would make them stronger? It feels big-headed to suggest that last one, but it’s something I’ve not really considered before. Maybe it’s not as fully one-sided as I’ve always stated. Doesn’t mean he feels the same for me, or that anything could happen. I’m a realist here. But everyone’s human. He could feel something. It may not be about me being a risk to them, but him being a risk to me… It could be to stop him falling for me and risking his own job. That’s what I mean – it’s so open, the possibilities for why it wasn’t granted. It makes my mind go haywire. It could be the one I believe most – that he wants me to suffer… he thinks he knows best and that denying me it, will help me more. In which case f*** him / them. Had that at the IAPT place, them making me push myself instead of helping me how I asked. All it did was damage my trust in them and stopped me asking for help.  Or the other possibility is that he’s just like all the guys I’ve known in my life, and likes the ego-stroke – I had mentioned that being allowed the closure might stop me from longing for someone as long as I usually do in the absence of closure. It might help me move on. Maybe he doesn’t want me to move on. Maybe he wants to know that I still want him and can’t get over him….

 

Do you see how this one little decision to deny me the healing I needed, has thrown every possible explanation into the air and confused the hell out of me? Denying me what I needed to hear drags me in two very different directions – one where he couldn’t confirm the things I needed to believe, because the opposite is actually the truth, and the other one where he can’t confirm them because he has feelings too… him reassuring me of the things I asked for would’ve settled the question for good. It would have firmly told me he feels nothing for me, but he still values me as a person. It’s what I needed. The denial of that tells me he either doesn’t value me as a person or he does feel something, if he can’t say those words on a professional level. If I had been allowed what I asked for, or even a quarter of what I asked for, none of this would’ve happened and everything would be right in the world again. I know it. No matter what anyone says, it would’ve been enough for me.

 

I do honestly believe that everything I needed to hear but was denied, is now untrue. That the opposite is felt instead. I do feel inferior in the group. I feel uncomfortable. At times I felt that X was saying things broadly to the group, but as a means of saying some of the things I’d needed to hear… almost like making up for not doing it….  but I don’t know. It missed the point anyway. I accept my fate now, that I am a number in mental health services, and they don’t care that I feel that way. Because it’s a fact. To them it’s a fact. The person I spoke to at the end also said that he thinks the things I asked for are all true anyway. That didn’t help because did he mean he thinks they’re true from his perspective? Just like Z said things… or did he mean that he thinks X would agree too? That wasn’t clear. And the point is if X doesn’t think those things it doesn’t matter what anyone else tells me. They just don’t get that.

 

I’ve told them I need to turn this around because I won’t seek help elsewhere in the future. It’s fine them saying the CMHT are more suited to my needs, but that would mean I have to find someone I feel this way about in the CMHT and pray to God they will help me in the way these previous two places refused to. I wouldn’t hold my breath. The mental health team would probably reject me anyway. So I’m not being passed on just to avoid them dealing with me. The point is, going to another service to discuss how I feel about X, makes no sense. I know what it is I need. It was very simple to do. They refused to do it. There could have been a way they could’ve done it that would’ve satisfied us both. They just didn’t want to. No amount of talking about him to someone else will deliver what I asked for. And their withholding of what I asked for is cruel. It was very basic, yet left me feeling I was asking too much. That I was too demanding. Imagine what that does to the self-worth…

 

I’m not okay with the Wellbeing Centre. I’m not okay with Z. I’m not okay with X even. Yes I still have feelings for him. But they’re not all love and light now. But I won’t let them / him beat me. I will make them face me every week, reminded of how they let me down… how they destroyed my recovery…. I won’t leave. That would be too easy for them.

 

This will always hurt. I don’t know how I can cope with it to be honest. I feel so angry. I feel frustrated, resentful, paranoid, untrusting, trapped, humiliated, worthless, ignored, silenced and very, very hurt. But my options are to push on through it all, or to die. So I will fight for as long as I can. I won’t be a bother to them. I will be pleasant. I will put on a mask. I may even accidentally make them feel like they’ve helped me, that I’ve turned a corner and feel better…. but they haven’t, I haven’t and I don’t. It’s all a lie. I’m just a stubborn bitch who doesn’t give up. My heart will close now, for good. I will make others feel comfortable. That’s my aim. And I will stuff down everything I feel. If this affects me badly further down the road, so be it… they could’ve prevented it. And they will always know that.

 

 

 

Poem: Hell On Earth.

Hell On Earth

*Sorry about the length / quality of this poem…. been many, many months since I wrote any poetry, so rather rusty and had a lot to get out*
*Rare for me, but the use of a swear word in this one, and also violent imagery, mention of self-harm / suicidal feelings etc…. i.e. not a happy poem!!*

 
Hell On Earth

I’m trapped within a blind scream,
Starved of oxygen,
A sense of direction,
A place of safety.
The knives in my back twisting with every tumble
Through the unknown.
I try to pull them out, but they’re lodged right down to the bone.
Frightened, alone,
I pray to hit the ground and know peace…
The peace of Heaven.
This world is beyond my darkest nightmares,
A Hell on Earth.
A walk so uncertain and so full of pain;
For years I have soldiered on… now it feels it was all in vain.
Anyone I once called ‘my rock’, is dead or gone –
Giving up on me, or giving up on themselves
And taking the step into darkness,
In the quest to find the light once more.
Some left this Earth, others still walk it,
In blissful ignorance of the damage they caused.
Burning violence courses through my veins… but stays contained within.
The only time it ever shows is when I slice into my own skin.
Pain is the one thing I can control, in this fiery Hell.
I can’t make them love me.
I can’t make them stay.
I can’t make them treat me well and not walk away.
People are uncertainty, pain, danger.
Any moment they can let you go, leave you for dead,
Scarring you with their words and those left unsaid.
There’s nobody left…
Nothing….
I’m merely an empty shell,
A crazy girl in a prison cell,
A crippled mute down a deep, abandoned well.
No-one can hear my screams,
They never hit the air.
I cannot escape… I need help but there’s nobody there.
All I needed was someone to care,
To venture out on a limb,
Wear their heart on their sleeve and show me a little light,
But they turned their backs, strode away,
Gifting me the pitch-blackness of night.
The inner scream is torment… deafening.
I rip my own face in two to set it free
And destroy the universe with its power.
Every ‘rock’ from my past who walked away,
Threw me to the gutter, spat at me,
And stomped on my heart,
You belong in this Hell I’m living.
Fuck you, and all those who say I should be forgiving.
You are the ones deserving of suffering.
Yet here I lie, flattened against the wall,
Melting into oblivion,
My words of affection splattered next to me, rejected,
A stain of a memory of who I used to be,
You fractured my spirit until I no longer resemble me.
You made your choice,
You stole my voice,
Bound my hands,
Stabbed my heart,
Slit my wrists,
Made it intensely unbearable to exist,
Left me to die a bloody death all alone.
I wish I had a heart made of stone,
Just like you all, then maybe I could live,
Cope with the torture of breathing, in a world such as this.
Hard, raw, vivid, painful, terrifying in its reality.
Nothing is safe.
Everyone’s dying,
And nobody will care when I do.
They’ll celebrate my demise,
If they even notice at all, having severed all ties.
Neglected by the living,
Abandoned by the dead,
In order to survive I’ve cried, I’ve screamed, I’ve bled.
My knuckles bruised, my skin scarred and red,
Living is too hard.
The instability of life,
The accumulation of knives in my spine,
The loneliness, the trauma, the loss…
I’ve nothing left,
You killed me.
Leaving me, with no goodbye,
Now take your seat and watch me die.

 

 

Unbearable Pain & Depression.

*Suicide references & as it became a rant towards the end, a lot of very bad language, I’m sorry*
*Will likely offend those who know me, in one way or another*

 

 

Yesterday I was grouchy. Today it’s mainly sadness and depression.

 

I’m not coping with life anymore. I really feel like I’m living in a bubble….or even the cliché ‘dark cloud / fog’, which is often used to describe depression. There is nothing positive about life anymore, not for me. There is nothing safe about it. I feel so scared, so alone, so fragile and broken, and so hopeless.

 

It’s been this way since my granddad died. That changed everything for me. Ever since then things have continued to get worse and worse…. I’ve faced so much more loss since then, and there’s no light left. There’s no point to anything anymore. Life is loss, illness, pain and death. There is no joy. There’s no love. There’s no hope or reason. It’s just all black.

 

There are so many things I’m meant to be doing at the moment…. I haven’t even reached out for the beginnings of help I need, as I feel so paralysed by grief and depression right now. I can’t start any of the things I’m meant to be doing. I don’t want to go out again. I don’t want to work. I didn’t today. I couldn’t. I had to take diazepam last night because of how awful I felt. I can’t face pretending to feel better than I do. I can’t face being around people, triggers … And the monotony of life – the fact it goes on and on, particularly after significant losses, it’s too much to cope with. I want life to stop for a while… let me catch up mentally with all the chaos and the trauma. I want a break from it all. I don’t want to just carry on. I can’t. I’m falling apart. And nobody’s even noticing.

 

Life changed forever in 2017 after my first major loss. After that, nothing felt certain anymore. Everything was flat, harsh, heavy, dark and pointless. I battled on. I had no other choice. I had group therapy. It made me worse. I faced another loss as a result. Last year the full effects of grief kicked in, after medication wore off. Nobody was there for the first anniversary, bar one. I isolated myself as a result. I was neglected by people, even my best friend. I had been crying out for help and support, and friendship. I used the only voice I had left – this blog. I couldn’t reach out to anyone anymore. This was my only outlet. Rather than being praised for using the only tool I had to reach out for help, I was attacked for blogging about my feelings, when they concerned my best friend. She was committed to misunderstanding me. She doesn’t understand mental illness and doesn’t even try. She couldn’t understand why I did the things I did.

 

I had paranoia. I still have it. But not as intensely as last year. Either that or I’m delusional and paranoid, and don’t even know that things aren’t real anymore. Doesn’t feel that way though. I have no evidence to the contrary. Anyway, my mental illness pushed my friend away. She gave up on me. She abandoned me, right at a time I needed care and support. She gave me more loss to deal with – hers and the kids…. the one reason I had to live besides my own family. I’ve not seen them for almost eighteen months. I’ve not seen her for over a year. It’s over.

 

It hurts, because I was ill. … I couldn’t help that. My mind wasn’t my own. It still isn’t a lot of the time now. I had been calling out for her friendship, yet she chose to interpret it as me not wanting her friendship, so pulled away more. When I talked about my paranoia, how it manifested through apparent jealousy and possessiveness, but wasn’t really that – it was insecurity, low self-esteem, thinking she didn’t care about me – she clearly didn’t get this, and started to do things that triggered that paranoia more than ever before. She cut me out of her life. I am aware that she is moving or has moved house…. don’t know when or where to. I’ve been left out of the loop for about a year now at least. For all I know she could be going to the other end of the country, without a goodbye or closure. Could be down the road… who knows? That’s the point!

 

She got offended at my blog and had a go at me for it, while I was in the midst of a breakdown. That blog had been my only means of communication. It was intended to help the situation and stop us never talking again. It clearly backfired. But the intention was good, so to be attacked for it was upsetting. More than upsetting – I had to call the Samaritans that night as I didn’t want to live anymore. Over the next month I calmed down. My position shifted from never wanting to hear from her again, to having compassion and understanding for her…. I wrote to her and sent Christmas presents etc. – she completely snubbed me. No card. No text. No thank you. Not even acknowledgement of receiving the presents. Found out a month later (after I had to chase her up again), that she never opened anything. She didn’t give the kids the presents I’d bought / made for them. I’ll never forgive that. Taking it out on the kids. That’s wrong. I’m never bothering with any of them anymore. I’m done.

 

After chasing her up, she wasn’t sure if she wanted us to be friends again or not. She wasn’t ready, and wasn’t sure it could be like it was before. She had said to me last year that ‘nothing will ever be the same now’… so in effect nothing was ever going to be the same after that comment. What, all because of my mental illness?? This was telling me that she couldn’t see me the same anymore… the biggest fear of letting people in on how bad my mental health had become. If she was saying things couldn’t be the same, because of the things I did last year – things that came as a result of my ill state of mind…. then she was basically saying she couldn’t forgive me my mistakes made due to mental illness. It was saying to me that she obviously would never forgive me for anything – even in a good state of mind…. if she cannot even forgive it in an ill state of mind, when my mind wasn’t my own – then what hope is there? We all have to be perfect all the time…. one strike and you’re out. Is that it?

 

If it’s that things would never be the same, because of her behaviour, that’s different. If she felt ashamed of how she spoke to me and felt bad for abandoning me when I needed her…. I could understand that, and how she might find it hard to look me in the eye again. I’d get that. But she needed to convey that to me, that she felt to blame if that was the case. She needed to say she couldn’t be my friend and that I deserved someone who could be my friend. She needed to say something, anything that didn’t make it seem she was blaming me. The fact she didn’t do that tells me she does blame me. And if that’s the case then I can’t understand it. I honestly cannot understand what the hell I ever did to deserve being treated the way I was. I was unwell. I am still unwell, but I have fought bloody hard in the last six months, to scrape my way back to who I am. Nobody will ever know how hard it has been to keep on living this year, totally alone.

 

Her behaviour this year has been worse than last year if that’s possible. She was indecisive about whether to sort things out with me. I pushed through my mental illness, my paranoia and my isolation in order to not lose her – in order to fight for our friendship of thirteen or so years. I thought she was worth it. She was like a sister to me. Clearly she didn’t feel the same about me. This makes me sad. I respected she needed more time for whatever reason, but I had to put my mental health first and suggested I would unfriend her for the time being. That way she was free to be herself and post what she wanted, but I didn’t have to tolerate being hurt by it… I didn’t have to see her rave about her better friends, whilst neglecting me. It felt like a sensible idea. She obviously didn’t like that idea, and instantly blocked me as a result. She blocked me on another account too. She then took herself out of my Facebook group, after hearing it would upset me. And then she added a past mutual friend who drove a wedge between us three years ago now. I recently found the letter my friend wrote, where she said that she ‘didn’t know adding __________ would cause us to not talk for so long’. So either she didn’t learn, or she was doing it deliberately to spit in my face, now she was free of me.

 

My heart lurches at the things she’s done, and the vindictiveness that I know is behind it. The passive-aggression. It’s been denied. I’ve been told she hasn’t done anything with the intention of causing me pain. She’s just trying to be herself. I know that isn’t true. But the person who said it can go on believing what they wish. It doesn’t change the truth. There’s no other good reason for doing these things. Had she had any intention of resolving things with me, she would never have added that former friend again…. not after knowing what it did last time. I feel sad that instead of putting energy into making things right with me, she was doing everything wrong she could possibly think of – and I even gave her further ideas to hurt me, which she did too. I feel sick and sad that she’s not the person I thought I knew all those years.

 

It’s making me question reality. If this is who she truly was all that time, then the last thirteen years of my life were fake…. they were based on a lie. I’m finding that hard to cope with. I can’t trust anything or anyone now. I’ll never be close to anyone again. And I’ll never believe anyone who says they’re my friend and they’re not going to leave me. Because she did.

 

Did she even understand that adding that friend in 2016 actually HURT me? That it caused me anxiety, depression, made me cry every day and feel suicidal? That I felt BETRAYED?! Or did she just know that it ’caused us not to talk for a long time’. Did she not understand the emotions? Is that why she accused me of giving her an ultimatum and telling her what to do? Because she sees things as cold, black and white facts….?

 

I have – I’ve tried ‘diagnosing’ her, simply so I can understand why the hell she’s treated me how she has…. I’ve felt so lost and confused. I’m still confused. And frustrated that I could never get her to understand….. but now I’m thinking is that even my fault or my problem? If she can’t comprehend what I’ve said to her, then the fault doesn’t lie with me…. at least I tried to explain things to her…. I tried to tell her the emotional consequences of things like that. If she was unable to take that onboard and understand me as a result, that’s not my fault. It’s hers. Sorry, I’m having to try and be my own friend here and stick up for myself, because I’ve been made to feel it’s all my fault for months now, and I’m just realising now that it wasn’t…. and the situation was hopeless. I did the best I could. You can only explain your illness and your emotions to the same person so many times, before you have to give up and realise they’ll never get it. They don’t want to get it. And until they get it, you will always get the blame. I’m not taking the blame.

 

It absolutely sucks what has happened. I HATE that she became this different person and left me, at the worst point in my life… I HATE that this happened. I wish it hadn’t. But I am understanding the quote that says you don’t lose friends, you just learn who the real ones are. I may not have many real friends as such now, but it’s better to be alone than to be with people who are not really your friend…. who could at any moment just turn their back on you and walk away. If she had really been my friend she would’ve done anything to not lose me. She wouldn’t have given up on me.

 

Knowing this though doesn’t help with the pain I feel right now. I’m desperately upset about it. I feel so alone.

 

The one person I had whilst being neglected by everyone else, was a friend I knew for about the same amount of time – thirteen years….. mainly online. But she was a wonderful person and the only stable person in my life besides my family. She never hurt me, judged me or let me down. She encouraged me. She cared about me and believed in me. She praised me. She was everything my best friend wasn’t.

 

Two months ago she ended her own life… five weeks before I was meant to finally see her again. Grief associated with suicide is different and complex. You go from sadness, to anger, to guilt and all around again. I still remember finding out…. I went into shock. I couldn’t eat or drink, or stop crying. I hadn’t seen it coming. I should have. I didn’t know things were quite that bad for her. She was happier than I’d seen her in ages. We were looking forward to seeing each other again and seeing our favourite band reunited again. We never got to do that. I had to go without her. Thankfully I had a good friend come with me, to help me enjoy it. Now that’s over though, the thoughts are creeping back in…. the ‘Why…?’… and also anger that she didn’t say goodbye. She didn’t say sorry for leaving me…. she didn’t give me the opportunity to help her. She just went. And by leaving she left me with nobody and nothing.

 

Now I have nobody to confide in or ask advice from. I have people I can chat to, but they’re all more recent friends / acquaintances.

 

I’ve lost the two longest friendships I’ve ever had, and both happened in the space of two months…. one due to suicide, the other because they simply gave up on me. This is unbearable to live with. I have nothing left. My life was looking bleak already, and then the one friend I had left decided life was bleak for her too, and ended it. Now I’m often left thinking why should I have to keep living and suffering? Why can’t I just join her?  Nobody would miss me. Not like she is missed. I have nothing left now. I’ve done nothing great with my life. I’ve made no impact at all. All it seems I’ve done is burden everyone and been used and discarded by them all. Everyone abandons me. Even my friend abandoned me by taking her own life. She left me on my own.

 

I have nobody to cheer me on…. to make me feel I matter or that I’m even visible….. I have nobody saying they love my photos from the concert I had to go to without her. I have nobody showing any interest in my existence now. I can reach out online and be honest about how I’m feeling and be met with silence. It makes me feel nobody cares and I might as well end it. They wouldn’t notice. I feel so invisible. It was an increasing problem in the last year or two…… my deceased friend was the only one who really made me feel I was real and had any value. Now she’s gone.

 

When it happened I reached out to my former best friend, as I was desperately in pain, and wanted to not have that loss on top of the grief. I regretted it the next day, as I realised it was opening myself up to more potential pain at her hands. I was still upset and angry about her adding the other person. I’d actually only written a letter to her that day, which I was intending to send before moving on with my life… and then I found out and that got shelved. So it was confusing. I didn’t want her to think I’d just be okay about it. So thought it best not to get involved. She had unblocked me to try and get a message to me, which never came. When I showed doubt she instantly blocked me on both accounts again… showing not only was she immature, reactive and passive-aggressive, but that she had no compassion in her heart whatsoever…. to block me at a time like that, when I had just found out my only friend had killed herself. It was the exact pain I had decided I needed to avoid at a time like that. It’s the very reason I had second thoughts about reconnecting.

 

We eventually spoke through a couple of texts, but that didn’t come to anything. She asked if there was anything she could do, and my thought was ‘No, not really….. not given the distance between us now…. I mean, you’re not exactly going to offer to meet me for a coffee are you?!’…. it felt empty… hollow…. pointless. For a while it felt better to not feel at war with her. But a couple of weeks with no follow-up texts to check if I was okay, I realised that really was it. She didn’t unblock me. She’s still friends with that other girl…. she’s moving on with her life, whilst she’s left mine in absolute tatters.

 

That’s what annoys me most…. she doesn’t even realise the mess she’s left me in. What she has done to me. She said she didn’t blame herself for how our friendship went. She should have. I had a mental illness that I was fighting really hard, with no support. I was grieving, alone. I made effort for her when she misunderstood and hurt me. She snubbed me. She did a series of things to hurt me this year… even blocking me while I was still in shock at losing my friend.

 

No matter how she may feel in her life, she has other friends. She has a family. I’ve lost my Godchildren. I’ve lost my best friend. I’ve lost my only other friend to suicide. I don’t understand any of it. I don’t even want to exist anymore. I don’t know why she gave up on me. It was either because of my grief, my illness or the symptoms of my illness which offended her, and made her see a side to me she can’t forgive as me being ill. Or she just got bored of me and used it as an excuse to ditch me, and chose to blame me so she didn’t look bad. It has to be one of those – it can’t be that she thinks I’m better off without HER. She’s done everything possible to punish me. That says she hates me and blames me. This is no longer paranoia, it is a fact. If she didn’t blame me then she would’ve communicated that to me. Her behaviour has communicated it so much clearer than her words ever could. She meant me harm and doesn’t want to know me anymore. I just wish I understood why she was so intent on ‘punishing’ me. I’ll never forgive her for all these things she did to me, at a time I was just grieving and seriously mentally unwell. And in the lead-up to the worst and most traumatic experience I’ve ever had…. the suicide. Now I’m left on my own, with nobody to help me through it. Nobody to live for. No hope. No light. No point. She did all this to me.

 

If I die, then it’s her fault. She left me. I would never have got as low as I did if she had shown me her friendship early on. And then attacking me for being ill and reaching out the only way I knew how at that point…. hurting me so badly…. ignoring me at Christmas…. blocking me….. stabbing me in the heart as revenge for some perceived crime….. I even thought naïvely that she might step up after hearing about my friend’s death. I was wrong. That’s how I know she 100% doesn’t and likely never DID care about me.

 

It all hurts too much at the moment. All the loss. I feel paralysed by it. I don’t want to participate in life now. There is no life. Not my life anyway. Others have their lives. I’m back in that invisibubble of gloom, murkiness and despair. I watch…. detached from reality…. praying to not wake up one day….. I don’t feel any good feelings right now. All I feel is a rage, a despair and a desire to piss all over who I used to be, and become a bitch…. I don’t accept this reality. I want a different one. I don’t want to be me anymore. I want to be someone who tells people to go fuck themselves. I want to tell my friend what a bitch she was. I want to not give a shit about the kids anymore. I want to be as vindictive as others have been to me. I want to dish out a bit of karma myself. I want to have a breakdown, cause a scene and genuinely not give a shit about it. I want to not care about ending my own life. I want to not have feelings. I want to not miss people or care about them. I want to feel no remorse like others seem capable of doing towards me. I want revenge. I want to hurt other people (emotionally, not physically).

 

But at the same time there’s that fucking annoying part of me called my fucking conscience, going ‘Excuse me, sorry to trouble you, but that’s not who you are…. you need to keep the spirit of those you’ve lost alive, and be the best you that you can be…. live for them and not let these experiences harden you…’ – that conscience is an irritating little bastard. It’s the only thing that keeps me normal and ‘me’. It drives me insane at the same time as I’m in constant conflict with myself, and can never find peace. But it keeps me in line with my morals. I just wish I could turn that off and dish out a little of what the world has dealt me. It’s not fair that so much has happened and so many people have hurt me, and none of them give a shit or face any consequences for it. They’re all happily getting on with their lives while I face the life sentence because of my fucking mental illness, and my inability to just ‘let things go’. I fucking hate it. They’ve all messed me up and made me unable to live life. My former best friend is the worst of them all. I hope one day she’ll realise she fucked up and feel bad about it. It’ll be too late by then, I’ll either be dead or I’ll have moved on to better things. What’s happened isn’t fair. It isn’t right. And I have to pick up the pieces alone, and tell myself I didn’t deserve it. I have to tell myself I’m not an awful person, I just have an illness she didn’t and never will understand….. that’s not my fault. I have to tell myself that, because the one person who could’ve told me that, took her own life.

 

This is the state of my life now. Going in circles about how fucked up everything is. And how one traumatic loss impacted another and another…. No medication, no therapy, no amount of happiness with other people right now can fix what’s happened. Nothing can take away the seriously fucked up things that have happened in the last year. Nothing. I have to live with the scars of that for the rest of my life… however long that turns out to be. I feel crippled by the trauma of it all. And nobody can help me with that. The mental health team won’t see me until I’ve started at the bottom. They’ll never diagnose me, even if it was something to do with trauma, and would help me understand and get the right help, they won’t diagnose me. So I have to battle on, with nobody understanding why I just can’t live life anymore. I have to stay alive so it doesn’t upset my family. That is the only fucking reason I’m not dead right now. Do you know how fucking wrong it is that life has fucked me up that much that the only reason I don’t kill myself is to not hurt my family…. that that is the only reason to live….!? And it’s no life at all. All those fucking bastards who hurt me in the past and this year have seen to that! They carry on with the lives they have, leaving me stuck in hell because of them, not wanting to live but having to because of my fucking conscience! I hate everyone. I hate my former friend. I don’t wish her well. She didn’t give a shit what happened to me when she discarded me like I was nothing to her….. so why the fuck should I care what happens to her from now on?? Sorry, I’m really upset.

 

I hate living. I hate feeling. I want to take a pill that makes me forget everything that’s come before. I want a clean slate. I want to want to live. because right now I don’t want to. It feels so surreal what’s happened – like a nightmare. How can this be real? I don’t want this life…. or rather what’s left of it. I wish I could sleep forever. It’s the only time I don’t feel the pain of living. I’m just not sure someone like me is meant to live in a world like this. If I am then I have zero clue how…

 

 

 

All I Wanted Was…

All I wanted was my best friend back.
That’s all I wanted.
To know she cared about me, worried about me, and appreciated me.
To have her reassurance…
To feel safe in our friendship….
To know she wasn’t going anywhere…
I needed that stability and safety…. my world had collapsed after my first loss.
I needed to know she wouldn’t abandon me when my mental health deteriorated.
I needed to know I could count on her.
I wanted her to love me at my worst, because that’s when I needed her most.

 
I wanted my best friend to research my illness.
I wanted her to try her best to understand BPD….
And the concepts of paranoia, splitting and trauma.
To do this much for me, as I would for her.
To learn how to better support me and preserve our friendship.
To not hold my illness against me.
To understand why I am the way I am.
And why I do the things I do.

 

I wanted to see my Godchildren – the reason for me living.
I wanted my friend to help me find that lost part of me again.
I had lost faith in myself and thought I wasn’t good enough for them.
I needed my friend to help me see this wasn’t true.

 

I wanted to be a part of their lives… to watch them grow up.
I felt so proud watching them learn new things.
It’s been 15 months… so much has changed. They will not remember me.
I wanted to continue being there for them for the rest of my life.
I pictured the future with them. Now that future is gone.
And I will never see them again.
It’s not like a divorce where both parents see the kids.
I have no rights.
No way of seeing them.
I’ve lost them forever.
I’m heartbroken.

 

I only wanted to matter to my best friend.
For her to want to talk to me, to see me, to fight for me.
For her to not turn her back when I needed her most.
For her to ease my fear that I was being replaced.
I wanted her to understand how worthless I felt…
That I didn’t feel I deserved her.
That I was scared of losing her.
I wanted her to ease my pain, not add to it.
All I wanted was for my best friend to not be like the rest of them.
To apologise and make amends.
To not blame it all on me.
To use the difficulties to make us stronger.
To prove to me that bumps in the road don’t mean the end.
To make me feel safe to be honest with her if I felt hurt.
To not just give up on me at the first hurdle.
To not ‘ghost’ me and walk away making me think she hates me.

 
All I wanted was my best friend to show me empathy and compassion.
Even if she couldn’t understand my illness.
I wanted her to tell me words I needed to hear –
“I care about you”
“You’re my best friend and always will be”
“I miss you”
“I love you”
“I’m so thankful to have you in my life”
“I’m not going to leave you”
Is it too much to ask for caring words whilst suffering?

 

All I wanted was my best friend to make effort for me.
To send me a note that she’s thinking of me.
To ask how I am.
To give me a photo of us, to remind me of our bond.
To send some flowers.
To invite me for a coffee.
Anything to let me know I existed and mattered to her.
To match my efforts.
All I wanted was for my best friend to notice how hard I was trying…
To cope with my illness. Alone.
To cope with my first major loss. Alone.
To sort things out with her, despite my illness, even though she had given up on me.
All I wanted was to feature on my best friend’s list of priorities.
I knew I was nowhere near the top anymore.
But I wanted to feel I mattered on some level.
I wanted to not feel like a burden to her.
I honestly believed I was.
I wanted her to treat me otherwise.

 

All I wanted was to put my mental health first.
For my friend to put my mental health first.
For my friend to agree it was important.
For her to understand why I had to make the decision to step back.
For her to realise if she couldn’t make a choice then I had to.
That it wasn’t fair to string me along.
That it didn’t mean we couldn’t talk.
That she overreacted by blocking me.
All I wanted was my friend not to hurt me.
Not to block me.
Not to remove herself from my group after finding out it would hurt me.
Not to reconnect with the one person who came between our friendship before.
To stop doing these things she knows would hurt me.
To stop doing these things TO hurt me.
To want to ease my pain, not cause it.

 

All I wanted was my friend to put thought into how to make it up to me.
How to resolve things with me.
To focus on that, and not do anything further to jeopardise it.

 
I just wanted to be fought for.
To matter enough to my best friend to not let me go without a fight.
To matter enough to just one person, to not simply give up on me.
As though I’m worthless.
Nothing.

 

I wanted to be able to live life.
I wanted my friend to wish the best for me in life.
I wanted my best friend to care whether I live or die.
For her to stop doing things that push me closer to the edge.
I felt she actually wanted me to kill myself.
I wanted this to not be true.
I wanted her to do anything to have me as her friend.
I wanted to believe I meant as much to her as she did to me.

 

Most of all I want this all to be a nightmare.
To wake up and have my best friend back.
And for none of this to have happened.
I want to be okay again.
I want to not be alone.
I want trust.
And hope.
I want peace.
And I want the pain to stop.

 

 

 

Life Of Loneliness.

*Suicidal feelings discussed*

 

 

I feel gut-wrenchingly alone. I’m caught between just accepting this is my lot in life, and total despair and suicidal feelings as a result.

 

I have had a lonely life. When I was a child I didn’t have friends as such. I had a lot of difficulties with friendships growing up. My friends either left and went to another school or they just didn’t last. I also had an issue that whenever I felt people were getting too close I’d apparently push them away and the friendship would fade away… I say ‘apparently’ because I do not remember my childhood. I remember snapshots – usually the bad things that happened in my life. I remember standing alone at lunchtimes, at the side of the playground, watching everyone else having fun because nobody wanted to be my friend. Nobody wanted me around. I was the good girl who worked hard… I was shy and quiet and didn’t smile very often… so I was ‘different’ to all the other kids. I remember having to practically beg to tag along with people – this was at the age of 10 or 11… no child should have to do that…. no child should feel that isolated and desperate. I was socially excluded by my peers. I feel sickeningly sad about that to this day. I had friends abandon me and replace me – when I was about 8 or 9 this happened with my best friend – she replaced me with the girl who bullied me.

 

Throughout the rest of school and college I hardly had any real friends. I talked to people, but I still felt that sense I wasn’t accepted… I still felt nobody wanted to be seen with me. I faced more bullying… at one point it was in front of a whole class, including people I considered ‘friends’ and nobody did anything to stop it…. nobody stood up for me or checked if I was okay.

 

I had one good friend who I would’ve called my ‘best friend’ at secondary school – a Chinese girl who used to do piano duets with me …. that just came to an end when we went our separate ways for college. I do feel sad about that as she was lovely. It didn’t come without its issues though… a girl we shared classes with became very possessive over her, and kept trying to stop her seeing me at lunchtimes and getting her to hang around with her instead, and to sit next to her in classes. From what I understand those two are still friends even to this day.

 

I often spent my lunchtimes at the school library, where I started volunteering as a librarian. It kept me busy and I felt less lonely – less like the loner I was at primary school. Other times I went to the music block rehearsal rooms and just played piano.

 

They were difficult times… feeling unwanted…. feeling ashamed … judged. I doubt there are many people who could understand how that felt… especially not many that went to school with me. They probably never even realised what I went through. People bullied me and picked on me… again because I was quiet and shy… an easy target. I didn’t stand up for myself. They picked on me because of my looks as well. I was a relatively hairy child and had spots… probably all part of my PCOS. Not exactly something I could help having. And believe it or not I was a child, not a woman, so I didn’t need to shave all my hair off to be sexually attractive – I wasn’t a child-slut like other girls in my year must’ve been. I was picked on so much I ended up shaving my arms and I’ve only just in the last six months finally managed to break past the mental barrier, to grow the hair back… so many times the memories of such judgements tempted me to shave it all off again, but I pushed through, and now I accept them… although I have my moments of disgust. Your young years do scar you for a lifetime….

 

They picked on me for not shaving my legs…. but I was an innocent child. I didn’t know little girls were supposed to shave their legs. A boy once jokingly asked if I was a virgin…. I had never heard of the word (this was at primary school mind you), and I thought he meant Virgo, so I said no…… people liked to laugh at my innocence. Just like the time my tutor group tricked me into saying ‘maths-a-pation’ and thought it was hilarious that they’d made me say ‘masturbation’, even though I hadn’t…. I didn’t even know what that word meant at that point. There were some boys who obviously knew my name, but they were in the year above, and they called me Lily Savage (the drag-act), because of my hairiness. The girl who bullied me most of all at secondary school called me ‘spot’, because of my spots. These fucking awful children made me hate myself for the rest of my life, and I really do hate them all for it. Because they’ve carried on with their lives, no problem. They’ve all settled down, got married, had children and have no idea about the impact they had on my whole life.

 

I spent the later part of school and my college years not knowing who I was… I tried so hard to change, to be accepted by others… I tried to be ‘louder’ and more fun. I tried to be who they wanted me to be, because I learnt early on that I would never be accepted how I was.  People used to ask my mum (because she was the librarian at primary school), why I was so quiet.  She used to say it’s who I am, and that it was like asking why they are so noisy. She tried to help me out but kids are evil. If you’re one of the quiet ones you don’t stand a chance.

 

I didn’t have ‘friends’ as such at college. I tended to hang around either with my brother or with a couple of guys – one who I knew from school, but who nobody else liked, so it alienated me from everyone else, and two guys from music. I liked their company. We used to sit under the stairs at lunchtimes. Guys were much easier to hang around with. No bitchiness, less drama. They seemed to accept me. I remember sitting with a group of girls in the corridor once, and after a bit they all just got up and left, without telling me where they were going. They abandoned me. This has been my life.

 

And then I left college. By that time my mental health was awful. I had started self-harming whilst at college and told my family towards the end of it. From then on it was taking a break from the stress of college, and working on getting well – seeing doctors, going on medication, therapy etc., voluntary work… I didn’t have friends then. It was difficult. But in a way, looking back it was probably actually an easier time.

 

Then I met someone through volunteering who happened to like the same band as me. We bonded over that, went to see them together, and a friendship was born… the best and longest friendship I ever had – 14 years. The first real friend I had.

 

I heard from someone I knew at school, we met up, became friends… sometimes all three of us would meet up – I introduced them to each other… big mistake. Through all the friendship dramas I’ve endured in the last few years I have realised never to introduce friends to other friends. You should always keep your friends for yourself.

 

I then did my therapy course of DBT – over ten year ago now…. towards the end I became friends with a woman on the course, and she became a good friend, who also understood my illness, because she had it too. In fact she was the one who drew my attention to the term Borderline Personality Disorder, and that that’s what I was being treated for. I hadn’t been told that.

 

I suddenly had three friends! After all my years of loneliness I had three people in my life I counted as good friends. We all met as a group sometimes too. And other people sometimes joined, who knew the others. But mainly it was us four girls. Then my best friend introduced a guy friend of hers into the group, and also her boyfriend at the time joined in too. I’ll be honest, it changed the dynamics of the group having guys there too.

 

The guy wanted to date my best friend – she wasn’t interested…. I secretly liked the guy…. the school friend always seemed flirty with him, and the therapy friend kept it well hidden that she liked him too, so one day when I was out of the country for my brother’s wedding, she broke up with her fiancé, moved back home and got together with him instead. She knew I liked him, as I confided in her. It broke my heart and she broke my trust. I couldn’t be in their circle anymore, so I lost my group of friends. I had already lost the girl from school because she started playing mind games with me and bitched about me to the group. She was a narcissist. So I felt excluded from the group anyway, plus just like at school nobody defended me against her backstabbing and treatment of me. At the same time there was another guy I was interested in, in a different way, who I had found out was using me and playing games with me… only finding this out just before I left the country…. so it really all happened within the space of a month.

 

My whole world fell apart. I lost the friend from school, the one from therapy (which made me resent therapy and recovery too), the guy I liked who played games, the guy I had become friends with and wanted to settle down with… it all happened at once. From having no friends and feeling excluded all my life, and then I had a group of friends. I remember eight years ago now, sitting in the local pub at a table, with all of them around me, and I never felt happier to be surrounded by friends. And then suddenly in 2012, less than a year later, it all came crashing down at once. Excuse me if that year completely fucked me up and traumatised the hell out of me. I hate the lot of them for what they did to me.

 

Out of it all I managed to keep one friendship at least – my best friend… the original one. She never gave up on me. She had a baby the next year, and that saved me from destruction. I loved that little girl so much. She gave me a purpose. She gave my life a new meaning and taught me a lot about myself. I became a different person – a person I liked. A couple of years later, another little baby joined the party. I loved him just as much. Those two kids became my Godchildren and I will always love them. Nothing can change that.

 

I may have lost most of my ‘friends’, but with my Godchildren I never felt lonely. They looked forward to seeing me. I felt wanted. I felt appreciated. I felt proud of them and proud of who I was becoming. There were times, quite often, when I felt I didn’t deserve them. I sometimes voiced this to my friend. I didn’t feel good enough. I felt I was letting them down, particularly when I was going through hard times mentally. Sometimes I wouldn’t be up to seeing them… I knew I couldn’t put on an act. And I didn’t want to make them feel rejected or like a nuisance, and I didn’t want them to be worried or upset. I babysat them in February last year. I found it overwhelming. I was seriously unwell mentally at the time. I don’t think my friend even knows how much I struggled that day. I was good at hiding how I felt. I didn’t want her to feel like she’d imposed by asking me to watch the kids. I wanted to help. I wanted to feel helpful. But it was difficult with two of them at that time. That was the last time I saw them….

 

Soon after that was the first anniversary of my first loss, and when nobody was there for me, including my best friend, I isolated myself because I was splitting on everyone. I thought nobody cared. I thought they all hated me. I thought they all wanted me dead. I withdrew from everyone. I felt so detached from reality… so paranoid… and disconnected from life and other people. I would turn up to work and smile and nod, but feel emotionally dead inside, and like I wasn’t really there. I’d sit on the bus, looking out the window at people walking around, and I’d feel like it was the last time I’d see the world. I was that suicidal that it felt certain to happen, and soon.

 

Being isolated is hard…. once you get into that rut it is very difficult to get out of it. You need people to make the effort for you. I often wrote about that, or made videos as my way of communicating from the prison inside myself. I talked about ‘the hijacker’… that I didn’t feel in control anymore… that I was being led away from my friends, and I needed them to rescue me. They didn’t. They let ‘him’ drive away with me and then blamed me for not sticking around. I needed them to put in the effort for me, where I couldn’t. I was calling out for help and nobody answered.

 

I didn’t see my best friend. I saw her in March once, and then after a couple of months of not talking, we met for a coffee in June and saw a film a day or two later, and that was it. I’ve not seen her for 10 months. I’ve not seen ANYONE socially for 10 months. I’m afraid to now. As I didn’t see my friend, I couldn’t see her children. I was losing that part of my identity. As such, I didn’t know how to be ‘fun Lily’ for the kids anymore, and I was worried I wasn’t good enough to be around them. My self-esteem was low. That was the problem. But my friend didn’t understand it that way. She thought I didn’t want to see the kids. I NEEDED to see the kids. And I couldn’t do that without seeing her. But she’d go weeks without even talking to me.

 

I understand communication works two ways. And she had got it into her head that I didn’t want her friendship anymore. But that’s not the case at all. And if she had read my blogs or listened to my videos, or read my statuses then she’d know that. I was unable to reach out to people, and I made that clear in blogs. I needed her to reach out to me. She knew that. If she felt the same then fine, but I didn’t know that. She never communicated anything like it. As far as I could see she was simply ignoring my cries for help. I was calling out and begging for people to show me friendship. I may have said I felt like I didn’t have any friends, but that was because people were not treating me like I was their friend. I felt lonely and neglected. It didn’t mean I didn’t WANT them as friends, it meant I NEEDED them as friends but they were failing to be friends. She seemed to misinterpret so much that I said last year, and the damage that did is now not fixable, because I don’t think she understands that it’s her misunderstandings of me and of what happened, that have driven us to this point and broken our friendship.

 

Our friendship died last year. My last friendship… gone. The moment it died was when she reacted to a blog of mine… one that was trying to break the deadlock and save a friendship – we would never have spoken again otherwise… most of what she said did damage to our relationship, but the killing line was ‘I did miss you. Do miss you. But nothing will ever be the same now’. She had just villainised me for trying to rescue our friendship. I may not have gone about it the best way. I was in a painfully desperate state… a lot of the trauma of 2012 was going through my head at the same time. All the loss, the mistreatment…. I did what I thought was best at the time. And she had concluded that we would never be the same from that moment on. The actual PROBLEM last year was her neglecting me when I needed a friend… it was her seeming to replace me, and pretending I didn’t exist, yet somehow I ended up with the blame. And I don’t think she’s let go of that one incident ever since. That’s why we’re not friends now.

 

She blames the demise of our friendship on me. On what I did – blogging…. forgetting the fact that I had nobody else there for me. I was having a breakdown. I was trapped within my own mind. I was suicidal and self-harming most days. What did she expect me to do? Did she want us to never speak again? Perhaps. And maybe it would’ve been better. What’s happened since has destroyed me. I’ve faced so much more rejection from trying to save the friendship. It’s heartbreaking.

 

I removed the blog. I apologised. I extended the olive branch at Christmas. It was snubbed. I was snubbed. The kids weren’t even given their presents for Christmas. I didn’t get a thank you, a card, a text, or any acknowledgement. I had to chase my friend up at the beginning of this year, to ask her if she even wanted to sort things out. This made me feel how I felt back at school, begging people to tolerate me at lunchtime. I’ve always had to chase attention, affection, love and care. I’m rarely shown it willingly and freely. This is sickening. It makes me feel worthless and pathetic. This will never change until people start to be consistent in their friendship and are emotionally available.

 

My friend couldn’t decide whether I was worth fighting for. She needed more time. In the meantime I was expected to sit with my insecurities and paranoia about being replaced by her other friends, who she often wrote about having a great time with them. I felt rejected and forgotten.

 

So I had to do what was right for my mental health. I had to step back. I had to unfriend her until she was ready to sort things out with me. I had to allow myself to get well. Her husband seemed to understand this and said it was important to look after myself. I don’t feel she was as reasonable. Her behaviour definitely didn’t communicate it anyway. Having said I felt upset about the Christmas presents, saying that I felt continuously rejected by her, and saying I needed to look after my mental health by removing her, she said nothing to me… she just blocked me.

 

Not exactly the actions of a friend. I know I was going to remove her, but I explained the reason why – I respected her enough to not just ditch her like others had ditched me throughout my life. In all these years I’ve just wanted someone to respect and care about me enough to allow me some closure… to finish on a decent note. The pattern is that they just get tired of me or hurt me, before ghosting me. It’s hurtful for anyone, but damaging for someone with BPD. By saying absolutely nothing to me and just blocking me it communicated that she didn’t accept my decision, and therefore didn’t care about my mental health. It was passive-aggressive. All it did was make it so I couldn’t get in touch with her. It stated that she doesn’t want to hear from me again. It was a punishment with the intention to gain power and control of the situation. It was unnecessary.

 

My last memories of my oldest and best friend, are her blocking me (on two accounts), and removing herself from my Facebook group, after hearing from her husband that I was paranoid she’d done that to hurt me, just like others did to punish me when leaving my life. She made conscious choices to do things she knew would hurt me. I’m finding it hard to come to terms with the REALITY that she’s either become this person who wants to hurt me, or she’s always been that person and I never realised. I’m now thinking that my paranoid thoughts were not ‘paranoia’ but rather ‘gut feelings’ based on reality. I don’t know what to believe anymore.

 

What matters is that I am now left friendless. A year ago I felt like I didn’t have any friends… because of the lack of friendship I was shown. This year I actually don’t have any friends. Last year my friend wasn’t there for me on the first anniversary of my loss. This year she wasn’t there because she had blocked me. I thought things couldn’t get worse than last year. Maybe I was wrong.

 

Yes I have people I occasionally talk to. Acquaintances. Or even ‘friends’ in the looser sense of the term. I mean no offence to these people – but I think they’d agree I’m not one of their closer friends. There’s nothing wrong with that. I can still care about people and like them without us being close friends. It’s just the reality of things. We’re not that close, and probably never will be. So I feel justified in saying I have no friends. She was the last one. My one and only friendship left after muddying the waters by bringing all my former friends together…. how different life might be now had I kept them all separate. It sickens me to think about that…

 

I felt isolated last year. This year I feel lonely….. alone. Being totally honest there are people I’ve prompted several times about meeting up, and nothing has materialised. I know people are busy and forget. I’m guilty of it at times. And I’m sure some people have felt the same way towards me as I do towards others right now… but you just get to a point where you think I’m not going to suggest meeting again…. there’s only so much ‘rejection’ someone with BPD can face. Although it’s not a rejection as such – it’s a loose agreement to meet, so in a way it’s acceptance, it’s like broken promises… it’s a disappointment… it feels like rejection. And I can’t keep putting myself out there and being rejected. It’s dragging my self-worth even further down. So I’m starting to isolate in my mind again.

 

I feel so painfully lonely. I have nobody close to me anymore. Nobody to confide in. Nobody to share the good or the bad with. I feel nobody cares about me. I feel I’m nothing to everyone in my life. This is partly due to my former best friend making me feel I meant nothing to her, but also just the voice of my illness.

 

My illness is bad again at the moment. I’m wanting to do bad things. I want to do something self-destructive. I’ll write about that separately.

 

I just feel so empty, flat and invisible. I always have to ask for people to notice me and care, and it makes me feel worthless and demanding and like an attention-seeker. I can’t keep doing it. Not only do I feel irrelevant to those I know, but I now don’t have a best friend. I live in world where my best friend hurt me and abandoned me so coldly.

 

It’s hard to accept the journey I’ve been on – from a childhood of loneliness and isolation, to a group of friends, to one friend but the Godchildren too, to nobody and nothing…. I’ve gone full-circle. It’s really upsetting.

 

I know I’m not the only person with BPD who feels life is easier not having friends or relationships. Experiences like this make me want to live my life without anyone else…. people just bring complications… especially if those people don’t try to learn about and understand our illness and how to help the relationship flourish. It feels easier somehow to avoid people. You feel that way you won’t get hurt. But at the same time it’s incredibly lonely not having anyone in your life.

 

This is how I feel right now. I feel trapped. I feel either way I end up hurting and wanting to die. Relationship tensions and abandonment hurt me to the point I don’t want to be here anymore. And feeling so alone and invisible makes me think I might as well not be here. I’m feeling suicidal at the moment.  Everything about my life is hurting…. from my childhood, to 2012, to the last couple of years, to the present. I’d say the future, but right now I don’t see one. I hate how people have treated me in the last few years, after the things I went through as a child. It mirrors what I went through. It all hurts so much. And I feel like that little girl, standing by the wall by herself… nobody wanting to play with her… just watching others enjoy their lives whilst questioning her own existence and asking ‘why?’. Life just hurts and I hate everyone who abandoned me, betrayed me and made me feel this worthless. They’ve made me not want to live any longer.

 

 

Full Stop.

Blocked.

 

I’m struggling at the moment. It’s a difficult time of year for me. It was hard enough last year, not having the support I needed from friends. I’m anxious about that happening again and that I’ll end up isolating myself again. But this year it’s even worse. Not only will my best friend not be there for me, she’s given me even more to think about by blocking me.

I am so angry with her at the moment. I hate her for what she’s done. But that anger comes from feeling hurt, confused and frustrated. I don’t understand what the hell happened to us. I know I’m far from perfect. I’ve made mistakes… probably more than I would like last year, as I was having a breakdown. But as far as I see, the only thing I was guilty of last year was… being mentally ill … and trying to express my emotions and explain my thought processes, to help others understand why I am the way I am and how they could help me. I did nothing to deserve being treated the way I have been, and I really don’t understand what’s going on.

She said to me that I must think she’s heartless and doesn’t care about me … I’m afraid to say she’s very right at the moment. I didn’t think she was heartless until she blocked me. Who does that?? I had just expressed hurt at feeling rejected by her, and she thought the best response to that was to block me – the ultimate rejection of a friend.

I’ll tell you just how hard I’ve tried. Anyone who knows me or reads my blog knows just how ill I was last year. I was isolating myself. I was experiencing paranoia for the first time. I had no support, professionally or socially. I was splitting on everyone. Despite being too ill and too at risk to myself I pushed myself out of isolation and through paranoia, to talk to my friend, to try and save the friendship. Any effort I made was rebuffed. I WAS rejected by her a lot. And that bloody hurt me. It made me isolate more and made me more ill. I feel like she found every symptom of BPD and triggered each one off. And in my paranoid mind I feel this was deliberate. I do feel she did things to deliberately make me feel insecure, jealous, hurt and angry. If she read this she would be offended, rather than appreciating that her behaviour contributed to my state of paranoia. Rather than feeling bad for me that I felt a certain way, I think she’d be annoyed that I thought such things about her, and particularly that I SAID them! The only reason I’ve talked about these things is to explain my thought processes… so that she and other people understand how I form my beliefs… what they’ve done to make me think such thoughts and how it makes me feel. It’s never been about attacking her, and I’m so annoyed that it obviously came across that way to her. I just feel no matter what I say, nothing will ever make her see things as they are. And in my over-active mind that is because she’s just done with me and wanted an excuse to ditch me. So she’ll never listen to reason. Just like a previous mutual friend…. she didn’t want to change her view of things because she’d already discarded me. She obviously feels her life is better without me. So here we are.

But I fought for her. Even when I had very little fight left in me for even myself. I put our friendship ahead of my mental health… because she mattered that much to me. As soon as I said to her I had to do what was right for my mental health and take a step back, she blocked me.

I told her what she meant to me… I told her she was like a sister to me… that I loved her, cared about her and worried about her and all the family. I signed off my last message to her saying I miss having my best friend. She blocked me.

She didn’t like that I blogged about my feelings. So I stopped. At Christmas I wrote to her directly. She didn’t respond… I chased her up on it, putting in yet more effort for her that she would not reciprocate…. we discussed things a little…. I talked about feeling rejected a lot by her. She blocked me.

I sent her and the family cards and presents at Christmas along with a letter. The letter was for after Christmas. She read the letter, but didn’t open the presents. She didn’t give the kids the presents I made and bought for them. I wanted them to have them. I didn’t hold our falling out against the kids. I don’t understand why she did. This really upset me to hear. I had wondered why I heard nothing from her about it. She had snubbed me over Christmas. No card for the first time in however many years we were friends…. no text…. no thank you for the presents – no acknowledgement at all. I guess she thought if she didn’t open them she wouldn’t have to acknowledge them…. she was wrong. It was rude and very hurtful. I expressed being upset about this. She blocked me.

She told me she runs away when things go bad. I expressed concern about this as my illness means I have a fear of abandonment and rejection. I also expressed sadness that she could work things out with other people she’s not known as long as me…. so why not me? Was I not worth it? She blocked me.

I told her I needed to take that step back so I couldn’t see her posts anymore, as they were feeding my paranoia, and causing me pain seeing her move on happily with her life and her other friends, whilst dithering over whether to be my friend or not. I think this was not only quite reasonable but actually a sensible and mature decision to make. She blocked me.

I do not know her reason for blocking me. But as you can see above there are many possibilities. It could be because I was going to unfriend her. Maybe she thought ‘Well if you’re going to do it to me, what’s the difference me doing it to you?’… there’s a huge difference. I was only going to unfriend her. I hadn’t yet done it. So I was still friends with her when she blocked me. It was also done without an explanation from her, so was taken as yet another rejection / abandonment. It was quite a ‘final’ action. It’s a bit like slamming a door in someone’s face or sticking your middle finger up at them. I had explained quite reasonably why I was taking the action I was. It was to stop my paranoia and preserve a future friendship. It was for both our sakes. It was so she could continue to write freely about her better friends, and it wouldn’t hurt me. Win-win. Had I been able to do it that way I would have been the one to make that choice, and the paranoia would’ve ended. By blocking me she took away my choice. I had no say in if and when I could communicate with her again. She’s effectively said she never wants to hear from me again. I was afraid she could unblock me at any time and say something hurtful. Then I discovered you can block people who block you. So I can now take my power back. But she still ruined everything. Because where there was going to be an end to the paranoia she has denied me that. By doing something as stupid and dramatic as blocking me, I now have an endless amount of chaos in my head… so many bad thoughts about her and what her motives were. I wish she hadn’t blocked me. If she’d just accepted what I said and agreed it was best for now, we could have had a peaceful break and come back together again. But because of what she’s done I don’t think I will ever feel good about her again. She has spun my paranoia and splitting out of control. She can’t expect to close that door on me like that, move on happily with her life and then reconnect with me again in the future, with everything being flowers and rainbows. Blocking me was at least a passive-aggressive action…. if not an aggressive one.

I wish she could’ve communicated with me like an adult. I tried my best to do that with her, even though I wasn’t up to it. She didn’t know what the next step was. I told her it was to meet up. She wasn’t ready. Funny that…. I was the one who was wronged and yet I was prepared to meet her and talk, to save our friendship. Yet she needed more time. I don’t understand why she needed more time, but it’s fair enough if she did… I had to make that call in the meantime though. It wasn’t fair to leave me hanging, like certain other people did in my past. I deserve better than that. That’s why I did what was best for my mental health. I just wish she hadn’t crapped on that by blocking me. Right now my mental health is no better than before, because of her stupid action.

 

The only things I am guilty of last year, are being mentally ill... and trying to express my feelings and my thought processes, to help others understand why I am the way I am. If people misunderst

 

 

I’m frustrated because I don’t understand what the hell was going on in her head. And it was having such a huge impact on my life. And I was expected to keep it all to myself. She has a support network. She has other friends, a husband a big family. I only had her to confide in. It was unfair to expect me to know how to cope with things totally alone. I’m frustrated because no matter what I did I couldn’t turn back time. I couldn’t make things better. I couldn’t understand her or be understood. She wouldn’t listen to me. She wouldn’t be compassionate. She just kept getting colder and colder. I’m frustrated because I didn’t deserve that. I needed warmth. I needed love, care and compassion. I needed effort. I didn’t get it. But I damn well put it in, especially recently. I gave the effort I wish she gave me. And not only was it wrong that I did that when she wouldn’t do it for me, but she didn’t appreciate it at all. This tells me she gave up on me ages ago. And what frustrates me is I don’t understand WHY.

I can only assume it’s because of my mental illness. Either that or she just got bored of me. A lot of people do. I clearly didn’t mean much to her. She was prepared to let me go without a fight… thinking she hated me. She interpreted me isolating myself as not wanting her friendship, despite me repeating over and over again that it meant the opposite. I was pushing people away to see who cared enough to notice and pull me back. I wasn’t doing this knowingly or in a manipulative way… but it was a protective thing… to find out who I could trust and count on. Those who pulled me back I could then feel safe and secure with, and those who let me go were never really on my side to begin with… it saved me being abandoned further down the road. I needed more than anything to feel safe, secure and certain about the people around me. Nothing else in my life feels certain. With my illness nothing feels certain. It’s unpredictable. I don’t always feel safe – from myself, but also with my paranoia I don’t know what’s real.. I don’t know who I can trust… or what I can trust. I feel like people mean me harm. But also since my granddad passed away two years ago, nothing feels certain anymore. It’s changed the way I see life and the world around me. I need people around me who add stability and security to my life. I thought she was one of those people. But when I pulled away she made that wrong assumption, against what I was saying, and just let me go. I cannot express strongly enough just how much this hurts me. It is a hard pill to swallow, realising that someone who had been my rock all those years suddenly didn’t have my back at the worst time in my life… that they’d let me slip away without a fight. It’s not okay. I hope any reasonable person would understand why I’m upset about this.

When my granddad passed away I had just had my medication increased, so my emotions were numbed. I truly felt this. And at the time I was grateful for it. I’m now informed that this stopped me grieving fully until the effects wore off. By the time that happened other people had moved on and forgotten I was grieving. But for me it was new grief. It was all the things I hadn’t felt before when I was newly medicated. So a year ago, in the lead up to the first anniversary of his death, I needed my friends’ support more than they knew. So when nobody (except one person) was there for me it started off a spiral downwards in my mental health and how I related to other people. That’s what caused me to split on absolutely everyone and isolate myself as a result. The problem though wasn’t that my friend wasn’t there for me on that date… it’s that I didn’t hear from her for a couple of months and it was a reluctant message when it came. She thought I was annoyed with her when my problem was more with everyone else. I didn’t feel it was with her at the time. But it became about her as she appeared to assume it was so didn’t talk to me! We met and talked and said we’d never go through this again – we’d talk to each other next time…. fat lot of good that talk did! I saw her once more, this was in June last year, and then things started getting worse.

Any time spent apart was time for my paranoia and splitting to convince me that she didn’t really care and was simply tolerating me. She’d go weeks without talking to me at all. I was still isolating very badly. It was next to impossible to reach out, to anyone. It was nothing personal. I had to send the kids their birthday presents last year as I didn’t get to see them after February and only saw their mum in June. It was kind of her to post me my birthday presents, but at the same time I read into it that she didn’t intend to see me. It was bittersweet. I felt at that point she was done with me. I’m sorry but that’s how paranoia works. It infected my mind, and every action and every word was seen through the lens of paranoia. It was not a very nice way to feel about her. It’s partly why I kept to myself because it wasn’t fair to inflict that aspect of my illness on her. I knew that. It was not deliberate and it actually distressed me.

One aspect of the paranoia I found particularly distressing was in relation to her other friendships. This did not come from being possessive and thinking she shouldn’t have other friends. It came from insecurity about our own friendship because she didn’t show the same appreciation and effort for me as she did for them. We were rocky – not talking most of the time, and she was writing about the great time she had with other people – the great company and laughs etc. – I wasn’t jealous but I felt I was being replaced. And I actually started to think I deserved to be replaced. This is because I felt so badly about myself. My self-esteem and self-worth were six feet under and I felt inferior to these other people. I felt my friend deserved better. I thought she preferred the other friends – that they had more in common, being married with children, plus they aren’t as completely messed up in the head like me, and could be more supportive to her, more than I was able to be last year. I was also scared of losing her. She meant such a lot to me and I was afraid of losing her…

I wrote about this… about the fact that the fear of losing someone can actually lead to it being manifested. I was right. When I blogged about this – about paranoia, my fears and insecurities, I don’t think she was very happy about it. One thing I noticed after she read it was that there was definitely an increase in her writing about her other friends. Even a rational person would be forgiven for thinking it was deliberate. I was paranoid, so of course I was going to think the things I did. I thought she was doing it to punish me for not meeting her right away to talk about it (I couldn’t as I was overwhelmed and terrified of her. I thought she was angry with me and I felt under threat, so left it a week) …  I thought she may be doing it as a way of saying ‘I’ll do what I want’… as though me expressing my feelings about her posts was me saying she shouldn’t do it. This was not the case at all. All I was doing was explaining what was going on in my head and heart. I was pretty much seeking reassurance if anything. That’s all it would’ve taken. She gave none.

Every post since that was ‘evidence’ that she was trying to hurt me. Posts about Christmas with all their favourite people were digs at me, telling me I’m no longer one of her favourite people…. hinting about moving house was to make me feel abandoned and like I was going to be left behind now we’d fallen out…. the point was everything was hurting me. I didn’t want to stop her posting what she did. But equally I had to protect myself from it all. Taking that step back seemed a logical thing to do. I don’t understand her reaction to that.

She’s confused me so much. She twisted many things in her mind… thinking I asked for space when she was the one who told me her priorities, as though I was a burden. I gave her space she needed. This is a fact. She made it seem like the opposite. It worried me that she would never have spoken to me again based on this misunderstanding. It tells me how little I meant to her.

I knew that the only way to clear everything up and sort things out was to meet up and talk. We couldn’t afford to write to each other anymore as there appeared to be too many misunderstandings as a result. I felt far too upset by her to resolve anything in any other way. Things would only spiral further downwards until we met up. But she wanted more time. More time may have helped her be ready but it would also have made our situation worse, as it would’ve added to my paranoia and illness. Time is not going to heal this for me. Effort is what will heal it for me. Her effort. Time will only add to the ‘hatred’ I feel towards her. I’ve been put off for long enough… time is not what is needed… a difficult conversation is. If she didn’t have the balls to do that then that’s too bad. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it myself. But I knew nothing would improve until it happened. In my mind the next step wouldn’t actually have been meeting up. It would’ve been making up for what she’d done. Acknowledging where she went wrong, apologising… thanking me for the presents… and maybe making some sort of gesture to match my efforts. I feel that her reluctance to do that, or to know that’s the next logical step shows that she doesn’t think she did anything wrong. That she thinks it’s all me. That I’m the one in the wrong.

Everything she’s said and done has painted that picture that I’m the one in the wrong, and that she needs more time (to forgive me presumably)… it is usually the hurt party who ‘needs more time’. She acknowledged there’s a lot of hurt and upset, but it wasn’t clear whether she was taking accountability for that hurt and upset or whether she was blaming me for it. I hate that it looks like I’m in the wrong…. that she snubbed me, whilst I was chasing after her apologising and trying to make amends… I made effort for her… she showed indecisiveness about progressing, and then she blocked me, as though I was harassing her or something!! It pisses me off.

The fact is I was mentally ill, paranoid, trying my best not to inflict that on her or anyone, kept out of her way, felt shit about myself and inferior to others, thought she deserved better, wrote about my symptoms, apologised when I was in the wrong, kept a lot to myself… I was hurt, rejected, neglected, misunderstood and abandoned … blamed for everything…. yet I still made the effort, extending an olive branch at Christmas, which she snubbed…. I further chased things up, for peace of mind…. when she couldn’t make up her mind if she wanted my friendship or not, I made the tough decision of stepping back for my mental health, whilst leaving the door open to talk and meet when she was ready…. and then I got blocked.

It doesn’t make any fucking sense. It’s confusing. It’s not fair. I feel angry that everything she’s done has made me feel like it’s all my fault… even if that’s not how she feels about it, that’s what her actions have communicated to me, and that just adds to my paranoia and splitting and makes me hate her, for lumping that shit and blame on me, when the above paragraph is the truth. When I was the one who put in the effort for her that I needed from her. I get blamed and blocked. It’s not right. And I’m rightly upset about it.

I will not accept the blame for any of it because I know the reality. I was trying to communicate the reality. She knows her reality for sure, but wouldn’t level with me. It’s like in her mind she knows her truth and that’s enough to make the decision to ditch me. And I feel like ‘How dare you blame it on me?! Just admit you don’t want to be my friend anymore. Own it. Say it’s your fault. Don’t abandon me and then make me feel like I deserved it’. … I’m just at a loss for what to think and how to feel.

I’ve been unable to put it into words for a long time. I’ve tried. But because she misconstrued a blog post before and had a go at me for it, I lost my confidence in writing. I felt anything I said would offend her, so I started censoring my posts so much that I didn’t get the feelings out and it was a total waste of time writing them, so I gave up. None of my posts have ever been or will ever be about attacking her. They’re about explaining what the fuck’s going on in my head. It’s exploring my thoughts and feelings and making sense of why I feel the way I do. Sometimes I’ve wanted reassurance and understanding from others… it has been to communicate… communicating my needs. But if people are on the lookout for insults they’ll see them where they don’t exist. It upset me that she saw attacks where there were none. I remember the post that upset her she said that people will think she’s a total bitch who doesn’t deserve my friendship…. I was baffled by this because I had just written about the fact I felt she deserved better than me. How could anyone interpret from that that she didn’t deserve me. I have to understand though that she was obviously in a delicate place herself and on the defensive, so prepared for battle with me on anything I said.

I know I didn’t do anything wrong. I know it was a misunderstanding that got out of hand. I would’ve forgiven it had she had the courage to admit it and make up for it. But blocking me was the exact wrong way to go. Trouble is I’m an understanding person… I give people the benefit of the doubt… I defended her and made a lot of excuses for her that she’ll never know about… and I’m doing it now. I’m thinking about how she might be stressed or struggling with her own mental health at the moment, and has her own fears that manifest in the wrong way too. But I’m sorry… the time for making excuses is up. It’s been two weeks since she blocked me. That was a bad choice. I’m not responsible for her choices. I’m responsible for my recovery, and that’s something I need to focus on now I don’t have to worry about her. I spent so long fearing being abandoned, and being paranoid about her intentions that it was making me more ill. Now she has officially abandoned me and solidified the split and the paranoia, as upset as I am about it, I have to see it as a positive… no more uncertainty. I needed certainty… although I don’t know the reason she blocked me, blocking me is a sign of certainty. It is a ‘goodbye’ (more like a ‘fuck off’ but yeah…). I wanted certainty, I got it. Just unfortunately the opposite of what I wanted. But now I have to move on.

She may or may not regret the mistakes she’s made, one day in the future. It’s not my problem. That’s her problem. And if she wants to make things right one day then it’s 100% up to her to do so. I will make no more effort for that girl. I did enough and got snubbed and blocked for it. The loss isn’t as big for her – she’s only lost me. She has other friends. I don’t. She was my one and only real friend. I won’t ever have another like her – even those who say they’ll always be there for you will eventually let you down and walk away. I can’t trust anyone anymore. I can’t afford another loss like this. Not when so many wounds from losses are still wide open like they are today. I lost her, the family, the kids, my one and only friend… it seems like a bigger loss for me… I definitely think it’s more traumatic for me based on that alone. But I’m being told it’s her loss. Because she gave up on someone who wouldn’t have given up on her… someone who cared about her, put in effort for her… tried to be understanding and forgiving… someone who fought for her even whilst I was very ill. And she just let me go. So I’ve lost someone who doesn’t see me as worth fighting for… someone who refused to understand… someone who didn’t appear to care…. someone who didn’t put any effort in and who needed telling what to say and do next…. someone who just gave up on me. I’ve heard it said that ‘Is that really a loss?’

The loss I feel is the loss of the kids. I will never bond with friends’ kids again. It just means extra loss when the friend abandons you. I loved them so much and always will, and I’m heartbroken that I may never see them again. I already missed a year of their lives…. they won’t remember me. That bond was special and made me a better person. They were ripped from my heart against my will and it’s hard to not be angry at my friend for that, as I couldn’t see them if I didn’t see her. I need to take time to grieve for that loss. No other kids will ever be as special to me as they were… only my own if I’m ever lucky enough to have any. Even then, they’ll always be so important to me. They taught me a lot about myself and made me so proud to watch them grow. I hope they turn into lovely people. I’ll miss them so much. I wanted to be there forever. I never saw things ending like this….

 

_New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings_

 

 

This is a very difficult time. I find myself feeling similar to how I did a year ago… but I have to try and remind myself that’s in the past. Yes I’ve lost this friendship, but it doesn’t mean other people don’t care. And I’m going to start branching out soon hopefully too. All I can do is have faith and hope that things won’t feel this awful forever.

I’m trying my best to battle on… trying to return to volunteering again… physical illness seems intent on holding me back, but I have to try and push through. I am doing better than a few months ago. Heck I even managed to go to a concert on my own a few days ago – had to take a sedative to do it, as my anxiety was through the roof, but I actually enjoyed it and had a good night…. I then had a better feeling week… I even managed eight days without harming myself in any way. Yeah I’m annoyed that that’s all I managed at this point, but I’ll aim for nine days without it next time. Progress is progress. And I’m trying my best. That’s all I can do.

Nobody will ever know how hard the last year has been for me. It’s a miracle I’m still here, breathing. I guess pain means I’m winning… that I’m still alive and fighting… Trying to frame things more positively. It’s a work in progress!

Hope everyone’s well, and I hope to get back to blogging more soon… this one was about breaking out of the shell I was forced into, and assessing my feelings. I know it will have offended at least one person should they read it. But it’s helped me start to make sense of something that’s messed my head up entirely. It helps to let it out. I don’t ever want to let someone silence my voice again. It’s dangerous to stuff it down. I should know… it’s what I do best.

 

All the best to you all,

 

 
xxxx

Rants On Reality.

*This is venting so very strong language and self-harm / suicide references*

 

Time to be honest, I’m not okay. Yes I’m taking little steps. Yes I have some wonderful things to look forward to next year. And to many people I’d probably seem like I’m doing better than I was two or three weeks ago. But inside is chaos and sometimes I just want it to stop.

 

I need help… the help I’ve been denied by mental health services. I need someone to tell me what the fuck is wrong with me. I thought I knew, but now it feels there’s so many layers to it that I don’t know how to do life now. I feel like my mind is going… my concentration and memory are rubbish. My stress level is constantly high, so the slightest thing is too overwhelming for me. Whenever I go out I feel exhausted and ill afterwards. It’s like my brain is so full of noise and traffic, that being around other people and having to pretend to be well, is too much and will make me snap. I’m worried about going back to my voluntary work. I tried taking steps towards that this week, but already I’m panicking about it. I know that having to work with the public is not something I can do right now. It’s too overwhelming.

 

Also being around people is too dangerous… people only have to say something wrong, even in a banter kind of way, and it’s like I’ve just been emotionally stabbed. People would have to walk on eggshells around me, or I’d have to constantly be hurt by those around me.

 

I’m not okay with friends. I’m trying to block out how I feel about it all, so I don’t feel the full effect of it again. I’ve been trying to stay in touch casually with people, but still feel so detached. The nagging feeling like none of them really care is always there, contributing to the chaos in my head. Pressure to talk to people too…. I have times I can talk to them, and others like right now where I don’t even keep up to speed on what’s going on for them. I can’t open up. There are people I’m supposed to have got back to… I haven’t. I feel really guilty about it but at the same time I still can’t do it. I’m having a problem with words right now. I feel emotionally imprisoned.  I feel if I start talking to people a whole world of emotions and thoughts will tumble out. So I’d rather live in denial of other people. I feel bad for it.

 

I keep trying to write my feelings out about losing my best friend. I can’t do it. I don’t even know how I feel anymore. I’m pissed with her. I’ve been hurt by her. I hate her. I miss her. I feel calmer and more resigned to a life without her. I feel misunderstood. I feel guilty. I feel bitter that I feel guilty. I feel scared…. scared to ever try and sort things out with her. So I don’t. I won’t. Part of me feels it’s her fault so she should  approach me and apologise for abandoning me because of my mental illness. Part of me realises she probably thinks I’m the one in the wrong and abandoned HER… because she doesn’t understand mental illness or how her last message came across to me. She made me feel like a burden and like she needed space. So I’ve given her that. I’ve had a life of feeling like a burden and a worthless piece of shit, which she knows about, so she shouldn’t expect me to go crawling to her begging for her friendship. Won’t happen. She did me wrong. Who abandons someone at their lowest ebb?? But then a part of me thinks she didn’t deserve to have me ruining her happy life with my misery, so she was within her rights to walk away.  But that feeds the low self-worth monster. I can’t work out if I want to be nice to her or tell her how much she’s hurt me. So I say nothing and can’t complete any bit of writing I do about it.

 

I always stop and pull my hair out instead. That became a problem again. Just like the self-harm… particularly punching. I really want to self-harm so much but often can’t muster up the energy to do anything like that. I feel numb yet like I’m drowning in emotions at the same time…. like there’s so many feelings going on inside me, that they’ve filled my airways and they’re pinning me down and stopping me from acting or speaking. So nobody knows how I’m really feeling. It’s like someone having their voice stripped away, having their heart dug out of their chest and screaming in agony but nobody can hear them…. or even more than that, being paralysed and being tortured but showing no signs of the hell you’re going through on the inside.

 

Paranoia. Nobody can know what it’s like to be mistrusting of people’s intentions, even your own family members. My best friend didn’t understand that a lot of the changes she saw in me this year were as a result of paranoia, and probably took it personally. But do you know what it’s like to be scared of your own loved ones, for no reason? To feel they’re going to hurt you in some way….. with no evidence that it’s true…. just your own mind convincing you of it. It’s scary. I spent a long time when I was younger, not wanting to be around the males in my family as I had convinced myself that I’d repressed something and that they weren’t safe to be around. I know this is not true, and when I’m in a healthier state of mind I never even think it, but it comes from a place of not trusting anyone – I’ve always been particularly mistrusting of men because of some of the jerks who have hurt me over the years. But it also comes from feeling disconnected from reality. I don’t know what’s real sometimes. I have dreams where I get really angry with people I love. I wake myself up shouting and swearing things like ‘I’ll fucking kill you for that!!’ …. sometimes kicking my legs in the air or punching the pillow next to me. In the last few days I keep having dreams where I’m desperately trying to punch a wall and injure myself, but it’s like I’m doing it under water, so can’t hurt myself as much as I want. It’s frustrating.

 

Times like right now I want to scream my way into a new reality where none of the last six years happened. Life doesn’t feel real. Not the life outside of my house. Even going on the bus the other day, people didn’t seem real…. or they seemed TOO real…. like they’re on another plane of existence from me. Like I am floating around in a bubble of invisibility while they live life…. that’s how I’ve felt all this year. It’s unsettling.

 

My mind keeps jumping to different thoughts. I’m thinking about the fact I cannot remember growing up. I remember tiny snapshots of experiences. I remember when I had a nosebleed at primary school and the dinner-lady pinched my nose so hard it hurt. I remember when someone stole my favourite teddy ‘Freddy Teddy’ from school when we had to take a bear in… not sure I ever got over that! I remember a few of us (we were the good kids) running back to our classes at the end of the day after a music group, as we didn’t want to be late, and a teacher came out and shouted at us really loud for running through the playground past all the parents, and how humiliating it was. I remember standing alone at lunchtimes by the wall, watching everyone else have fun. I remember begging to tag along with other people so I wasn’t alone. I remember being bullied. I remember being teased so much about my hairy arms that I started shaving them. I remember the amplifier not being switched on for a jazz band performance and the teacher embarrassing me while I was on stage. I remember being stalked by someone I befriended when he was new to the school, and how nobody wanted to be around me if he was there. I remember a boy in my tutor group putting his thumb through my clay work I did in art – he was later expelled for other reasons. I remember a girl telling me a group turned down having me in their limo for the prom because I’m ‘boring’. I remember a teacher giving me a dressing down for reporting her to my parents instead of talking to her myself. I remember a teacher grabbing me by the wrist and shouting at me, calling me a ‘stupid girl’ for accidentally picking up a hot tray and burning myself. I remember when my cat died. I remember having a car accident on our way on holiday – don’t recall the details now. I remember when I started self-harming. I remember being ‘abducted’ by a bus driver playing a joke on me one evening when I was alone. I remember the look on someone’s face when I made a mistake at a voluntary job, and me going to my bag and self-harming in the room I was working in. I remember cutting myself under the table in psychology, for doing badly on a test. I remember sneaking scissors into the pocket of my jeans at college and going off in the break in biology to harm myself, for not knowing the answer to a question, despite knowing the answers to everyone else’s questions. I remember flipping out on the biology trip because the people I was working with wouldn’t let me do the job I was meant to do, so I said ‘YOU DO IT ALL THEN!’ and I remember how they looked at me, and I remember wanting to walk out into the sea and drown. I remember …..

 

I’ll be honest. At this point I have a mental block. Everything I just wrote came pouring out in an endless stream of memories…. flashbacks. And at this point I re-joined reality and a part of my brain has yelled ‘STOP!’ as it’s too much… too many bad memories…. the point is the parts I can remember about my childhood and my teenage years are generally bad little snippets – the bits I’d rather forget. And all the good stuff that I wish I could remember I just don’t. I look at photos of me and I don’t remember that person… I don’t remember those times, how I felt or even doing the things we did. It’s like it was a different person.

 

There HAS to be something wrong with my mind…. be it trauma/stress related, amnesia, BPD-related or degeneration of my brain. A part of me is worried I’ve inherited Parkinson’s. I know that’s rubbish, but what if it’s true? What if my brain is dying? Will I ever get my good memories back? I don’t even remember my childhood – growing up with my parents or spending time with my grandparents when I was younger…. which is very upsetting when I’m grieving for my granddad. I have very few real memories to hold on to. Only the knowledge that I loved him, and he cared about and worried about me. The main memories I have of him were after he got ill and as he passed away. Nobody can understand how hard it is – they say to hold on to the good memories, but I cannot remember them now. For whatever reason. I’ve been robbed of my past.

 

On top of that I keep getting really vivid images in my head… like when I’m walking down the stairs – I was carrying a little kitchen knife down the stairs earlier and I had an image of me falling down the stairs and falling onto the knife…. and it plays out in my mind’s eye… graphically… to the extent I can imagine it stabbing me, as well as the pain of just falling down the stairs. Sometimes in the car (as a passenger) I imagine a car coming down the road on the wrong side and us having a head-on crash…. or on the motorway I have visions of a pile-up just ahead of us, and it makes me really anxious. I sometimes imagine situations where people upset me or humiliate me and what my response would be – and it’s like my body reacts as though it’s happening and I feel the emotions it would stir up…… these images happen so quickly and without actual intent to think about them. They’re usually very brief but very detailed and sickeningly graphic. I don’t feel in control of my own mind anymore. What’s wrong with me?

 

I feel so trapped and lost because nobody will help me. Did CMHT reject my referral because they think I have BPD, therefore they’re discriminating against me?? That’s not fair on me to not even be able to see someone to be told what’s wrong with me and what I can do about it. They should at least signpost you to people who can help you… and no, not the IAPT service…. they don’t want to know either.

 

There seems to be this atmosphere of ‘You have to help yourself’ around mental health services nowadays. Whilst I acknowledge that is true, some people need help to be able to help themselves. I will be blogging about this separately, but being told by mental health professionals, ‘You’ve done DBT in the past, just look at your folder and use your skills’ is fucking stupid and neglectful! Don’t you think if it was that easy I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place?! I need human interaction, support and someone who can offer me hope…. I need someone to figure out everything that’s wrong for me, and once that’s established to perhaps review my medication situation…. not to just tell my doctor that ‘medication won’t help in the long-term’….. okay Sherlock….. so what will?? Because you sure don’t seem to want to help either? So what’s your magical solution for me?? The thing that sickens me is that they would’ve all sat around discussing me and they either thought ‘Oh no, not her again….’ or they simply based the decision on my past…. how the fuck is that meant to help??? I’m not the same as I was in the past. I cut my arms so badly that I bruise my tendons for over a month…… I punch walls so much I have deformed my knuckles……. I pull my hair out so much I leave bald spots….. I feel suicidal most days…… I have no support network anymore…… I have faced so much loss since before…… everything is different but these morons want to base it on the fact that they once offered me the most intensive help they could … there’s nothing more they can do for me… wash their hands of me. Fuck them. And fuck the whole fucking world at this point.  So let’s say I received no support for twenty years, then had a serious relapse…. would CMHT turn me down saying I did DBT once twenty years ago…. ‘that should be more than enough – help yourself’. Warning guys, it seems once you do DBT you’ve signed a contract saying you’ll never seek mental health support again. That’s what it feels like. It’s like they got me to do it, and secretly it meant they could then wash their hands of me. Then once I was discharged there’d be no way back in….. oh, unless I had a serious problem within six months, therefore they’d fast-track me back in………. sorry that I managed to go several years without crawling back to you fuckers. Believe it or not I actually liked not having to report to someone every week or two. I liked the freedom from mental health services. I’m not choosing it as a hobby. I chose it as a fucking lifeline. It took me months to finally decide to be referred. I’ve been through hell this year. And then this.

 

To not even assess me….. you know what, if they were to change their minds now I’m not sure I could attend, as I feel like an utter fucking burden to the services now…. just what someone like me doesn’t need. I feel like a burden to IAPT, a burden to CMHT, a burden to my best friend. ARE YOU ALL TRYING TO FUCKING KILL ME???! All these people who should be there to support you in your hour of need and I’m treated like I’m nothing. Like if I did kill myself what would it even matter? Mental health services should be there to make people feel better, but my experience has been the opposite. At my most fragile times I’ve been made to feel like shit for not being well again. DO YOU THINK I WANT TO BE ILL AGAIN??? This is the most detached from reality I’ve felt in my life. I’m scared. Scared of the world, scared of people and scared of myself. And each rejection and abandonment deepens the wound and makes it that much harder to repair me. Why couldn’t anyone help before I reached utter despair?

 

I’m upset now, so better stop writing. Sorry if there’s typos etc. – was just ranting, can’t be bothered to check right now.