A Black Day.

*Depressing post, mentions suicide. Bad language also*



Today’s a black day. A sickeningly lonely day. A day of remembering. A day I’m paralysed by life. A day I can barely move for the bleakness in my mind. Although I’ve been pretty motionless today, it intensely contrasts the state of my mind today. It’s a very loud kind of day…. too much to think / feel and no way of releasing it…


So here I am yet again, speaking into the void of the internet… feeling as flat as a pancake. Sitting in the dark, having barely moved all day…. not seen anyone all day. Here I am writing stuff that could never save my life, as it’s all so disconnected from the people in my life who I need to care. Nothing can change the way things are.


I cannot have my best friend back. I will never understand what the hell I did to deserve to be ditched in such a callous way. I will never forgive it. I will never recover from it. I will never get through what I’m now going through, because of it.


I will never get over losing Liv. Not being able to talk to her ever again in my life. Knowing that she’s gone for good. That I should’ve known and done something. I never got to see her again. I’ll never be able to say all the words I should’ve said, and I’ll never understand what happened and why.


I have nothing left.


The loss I feel is too intense. Over ten years ago I was starting to come out of my shell. I went from having no friends or connections, to feeling accepted by people. I was doing DBT, I had three individual friends, then a group of people…. I was finding confidence… I even did karaoke during one strange phase of my twenties…. wine was needed though. But I belonged. I felt normal. Men were occasionally attracted to me. They were pretty much all jerks who only wanted one thing from every girl, but this also made me feel better about myself to start with.


2012 all of that changed overnight….. I went from having a social life to virtually nothing…. most of my friends hurt me. The guy I liked hurt me. I lost everyone but my best friend.


Life changed. No more social life. No more getting out meeting people or building confidence. My life became about my best friend and her impending child… the blessing… the one thing that kept me alive through that awful time of betrayal and loss. Life then became about her and her family… I became Godmother to her two lovely children. They were everything to me. Life was different though… it took a lot of adjusting to.


One of my old friends reared her ugly head in 2016, driving a wedge and thread of doubt between me and my best friend. And then my granddad got ill and passed away eight months later. I almost lost another family member to a heart attack in that time. Life became so real seemingly overnight. Until then I never believed I’d lose anyone in that way. Suddenly life was a waiting room… waiting for the next person to die. It was a scary, dangerous and uncertain world….. I needed certainty and stability around me in the form of friendship. I didn’t have this.


Last year my friend was so absent from my life. I could literally feel the abandonment in every cell of my body. I was right to feel that way. Voicing my fears only sped up the process… that’s the most sickening part. Due to grief and mental illness I made mistakes. I wasn’t in control of my thoughts or actions. It was terrifying. She held it against me. We fell out. I  extended an olive branch at Christmas but was totally snubbed.


This year she wouldn’t make up her mind if she wanted to try and save our friendship or not…. I deserved better than that. In the end I had to make a decision for the sake of my mental health and paranoia. I had to take a step back by unfriending her on Facebook – that way she was free to write what she wanted and it wouldn’t affect our friendship or my mental health. I never got to unfriend her. I told her my intention and the reasons and she immediately blocked me. She blocked any way of me ever reconnecting with her. She made it so I couldn’t message her or re-add her when I feel better (which I never will now). She made it permanent. She made it perfectly clear that she wants nothing more to do with me and never wants to hear from me again. She moved house without telling me a thing about it. I found out through someone else on Facebook.


My bond with my Godchildren is broken now, forever…. you can’t get back two years, not at that age. They won’t remember me. But I have to live in this world for the rest of my life having lost them. And I fucking hate my ‘friend’ for doing that to me, at a time I’m grieving my first loss and also the loss of my only other friend to suicide. It’s unforgivable. I cannot live life now because of this. It’s too much loss. I have nothing left.


The pain I feel in my heart, thinking about the early days with my God-daughter…. holding her for the first time at a few days old…. seeing her smile at me for the first time…. her learning to walk…. her trying to say my name…. to having actual conversations with her. The bond we had…. it’s gone, forever…. all I have now are photos and videos – and they just break my heart now. My friend would never appreciate this, but losing them was the closest thing to losing my own children. I may never have kids… especially if I’m right that I won’t even be alive in a year… but I loved them like they were family. So to have them ripped away from me, because of some unknown issue between their mother and me – something I don’t even fucking understand myself, it’s not fair. It’s not right. And I violently hate that woman right now. She has destroyed any remnants of my life.


I have had identity issues throughout my life, as part of my illness… I’ve gone from being a loner, to having a social life, to not having a social life but having the responsibility of my best friend’s kids, to losing them all – at a time I’m experiencing the most traumatic loss and grief I’ve ever known. I’m left with no friends or support. I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m nobody. I’m nothing.


I had this last year… I expressed to my friend that I had lost ‘fun Lily’… I didn’t know how to be ‘fun Lily’ for the kids anymore – because I hadn’t seen them for six months at that point. I felt I wasn’t good enough to be around them if I couldn’t pretend to be okay, which I seriously wasn’t okay…. The remedy would’ve been my friend saying they’d love me whatever, and helping me to find that part of my identity again. She didn’t. She did the opposite. She took it as me not wanting to see them anymore. And she didn’t see me either. So I ended up misunderstood and isolated. Forgotten. Neglected. Abandoned. I kept losing more and more of my identity as a result. Now everything I had is gone I feel there’s nothing left of me. I have nobody to remind me of who I am either.


Living with BPD without a support network is fucking impossible. I can’t do it. I want to scream right now. I close my eyes and see violence. I see myself raging inside – smashing things up… tearing my skin off and that of others…. deafening the world with the pain I feel…. I want to make the whole world know how far from okay I am. I contain it most of the time. I wish I didn’t. It’s hell.


Nobody talks to me. Nobody replies to me. I don’t exist. Life is awful. I feel too much pain. I don’t want to carry on. Nothing changes. Yet everything has changed. I’ve lost everything. And no amount of talking about it will change that or make anyone else pay attention or care about me. They just don’t and never will.


I’m hanging on now, just waiting to see if the Wellbeing Centre will be able to help me. That’s all I’m living for right now.


I even give up on ‘Brexit’ now. I hoped I would get to see how it turns out… that I’d still be alive to see us leave the EU. I don’t think I can hold on that many years. If it’s overturned I’ll be going anyway, as it’ll show just how irrelevant I am. But even focusing on Brexit doesn’t help anymore. I’ve got to the point I feel none of it matters…. nothing matters, as I won’t be around much longer. I’m just weary of everything. Nothing feels right.  I want everything to stop.


Even when I was on holiday I thought about walking out to sea…. I didn’t want to come home to the reality of life. I’m hanging on but I have nothing to hang on for. My life is empty. The way my ‘best friend’ treated me has left me hating myself, hating her, feeling powerless and frustrated. I have no way to let that out other than to blog or self-harm. This is my existence now. I’ve been using stars on a calendar to mark days I don’t self-harm. I’m good in that there’s only been one day this month, so far, where I haven’t earnt a star. The trouble is I struggle so much with the level of despair and sadness I feel today – that’s harder to cope with than just anger….. it’s an incapacitating emotion and usually leads to me feeling suicidal. Anger can be released and let go of…. this state of mind can’t.


Days like today I wish ‘happy pills’ existed…. nothing else would lift my mood right now. In the past with friends I’ve lost, my ‘revenge’ would be me moving on and forgetting them – but I always had other friends to move on with and was able to forget and find happiness. This was my best friend…. my only real friend and she turned her back on me, for reasons I don’t understand at all…. Liv is gone… I have no other friends. It’s impossible to put on a front and get my revenge by moving on. I can’t move on. I have nothing to move on to… nowhere to turn and nothing to survive for. I’m too ill to move on. I want revenge. I hate that I want revenge. I’m not a nasty person. But I’m fucking hurt, and I don’t understand why this all happened. It’s not okay and I have no way of moving on or communicating with her or anything. I’m fucking stuck, and she knows that. That’s why it’s so vindictive of her to cut me out like that. She knows what it would do to me. And she didn’t give a fuck. So I no longer give a fuck about her. I want to move on and be happy and for her to regret losing me but that can never happen. So I have to go for hating her at this point. My only other options for myself when I close my eyes are extremely graphic and disturbingly violent ones.


I just wish I could take a pill and forget everything and everyone I’ve known and lost. A pill that makes me happy, and makes me able to trust people therefore form new friendships. I wish I had friends. I cannot survive without any. I used to be in this state, but having had years of friendships and support, and a sense of belonging, I cannot go back to this level of isolation…. too much has happened in my life for me to be able to survive without friends. But any friends I had either hurt me, ghosted me or died. I can’t take anymore pain or loss. I can’t trust anyone. I don’t believe I’m even likeable anymore let alone lovable. And life is loss… therefore life is pain. I can’t face that pain alone. So how am I meant to live in this world?





Poem: When The Darkness Takes You.

When The Darkness Takes You


When the darkness takes you, and you’re floating in eternal space,
The tunnel is no longer a tunnel, no eventual light,
Darkness came and robbed you of hopeful sight,
And everything is tinged with the blackness of a starless night…
When the darkness holds you, and you crumble in its embrace,
You cannot breathe, for the thick, poisonous, smog-like air,
The arms of darkness grip you and you’re a prisoner in its lair,
The loneliness strips you of hope, love and the capacity to care….
When the darkness pushes you to the most sinister place,
You speak often of destruction, of death and inflicting pain –
To others, as a whole world against you turns you insane;
To yourself, as you contemplate stepping in front of a train…
When the darkness stabs you and disappears without a trace,
A stealthy offender that the darkest shadows conceal,
A deep gaping wound which can’t be seen, but you certainly feel,
No witness to vouch that the pain you feel is real….
When the darkness swallows you, and it shows not on your face,
It consumes all hope you can recover, to see a better day,
In the hollow of its belly there’s not one flicker or a ray,
The last remaining specks of you have all been blown away…
When the darkness kills you, your soul it slowly will erase,
The light in your eyes will be snuffed out by gloom,
Your conscience turns off as you welcome your doom,
You bleed to death in your cold, desperate and lonely tomb.

Can’t Escape My Mind.

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


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


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


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


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


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

Depression: The Permanent Resident.

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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


This existence is hell.










Floating Away.

It’s been a while since I posted on here. In all honesty I’ve been keeping to myself more, plus I was away last week, watching my brother’s place and pets. It was meant to be a chance for me to get my head together…. to gather my thoughts and figure out what I wanted to do about things… it was meant to be a holiday. It was anything but. It was hectic and stressful. I hardly had any time to myself, and any time I had I was too tired to write or figure things out. So yesterday was the first day I’ve had time to reflect and get back to reality…


The truth is I don’t know how I feel about anything. I don’t feel too different to how I did before I went away. I feel as detached from others as I did then. A great chunk of my life I’ve been isolated and life has gone on for others. For me it’s as stagnant and miserable as ever. The amount of things I’ve gone through in the past weeks, and had nobody to share it with…. the amount others have been through, and they didn’t share with me…. I feel so disconnected from the world. It makes it feel like I’m not real or necessary.


I honestly feel so closed off from people, that it makes me isolate myself further. It makes me shut down. The more you distance yourself from others, the harder it is to come back from it.


In reality I know things are different. People have spoken to me here and there. But I still feel like I’m in that episode of X Files, where Scully is in a coma, and we see her sitting in a rowing boat attached by a rope and she’s just staring back at those on the shore… expressionless, silent… I feel like life is happening on the shore and I’m just sat drifting in the water, with no motivation to reach land anymore. It’s like I’ve forgotten what it’s like to stand on solid ground.


There are things I should be doing, people I should be contacting, but I feel so lost for how to approach these things now. I had intended to do it during my break, but there was hardly time to think about myself let alone anyone else! So now it’s been put off, and I’ve not thought about things, I feel more distant again. I feel the block there. I should have done things straight away, but the days before I went away were extremely busy. This was the first day in ages I’ve had time to stop and think, and it’s not a nice feeling.


The trouble is I should be showing concern for other people. I should be there for them. I should be trying to fix broken relationships. I should be feeling bad for not being there… maybe in a few days I might get to where I need to be, when I actually allow myself to think about these things. But right now I feel as lost and broken as I did before. There are reasons, good reasons why people weren’t there for me. And being the person I am I should be responding to those reasons with compassion, understanding and caring… but knowing why I was neglected doesn’t mean I’m suddenly feeling better about it… it doesn’t change the fact I was left alone for so long… too long… that now I can’t claw my way back from this. I understand the reasons people weren’t there… I always knew that people have their own lives and problems… I knew that was a strong possibility… but it doesn’t change how I feel. It doesn’t change the predicament I’m in now. And that bitterness I feel is stopping me from expressing what I should be expressing to the people I care about. I didn’t know what was happening for my friends. I do now. And my natural reaction is to care, to forgive and understand. But I can’t shake the fact that I never hid what was going on for me, and their reaction was not to care, forgive or understand. This prevents the care coming from my mouth. I do care. I care too damn much, but I’ve also been alone so long now I had to learn to care about myself too. This means feeling annoyed and let down by others. I then have to feel guilty for not readily accepting the explanations of those who weren’t there. I should be forgiving. I should be understanding and compassionate. I should let go of my own ego and patch things up with people. But I feel too damaged.


Explanations rarely make me feel better… they sound more like a way of dodging responsibility for how I feel, and trying to turn it round so that I’M the one who feels bad. That never makes me feel better. I’m feeling better than I was… because there are reasons for it now. But those reasons don’t take away the suffering I experienced in the last few months. It doesn’t make it all better. And I have to decide on my own which path I’m going to take going forward. I have no sounding board. So it’s taking a long time to do anything, and in the meantime I’m pulling away. Some people care. The majority don’t. But whether they do or don’t care no longer matters to me. I’m as detached from those who care as I am from those who don’t. And I don’t know how to put it back to how it was.


I’ve never experienced this before. When my friends hurt me in the past I hated them for a while, and then they got filed under ‘I no longer care about you / you’re dead to me’.  But I always had someone else to keep me open. This is new… this is a whole other level. This is ‘no longer caring’ about anyone…. even if I do care, it’s not enough. It’s not that they’re dead to me. It’s that I’m dead to them. I’m dead to myself. And as much as people may have tried messaging me and keeping me open, it’s not enough. I’m closed. I was already closed by the time they tried to help. They waited too long. I’m closed to hope. I’m closed to friendship. I’m closed to life. I’ve never felt so far away from the things I want in life. I’ve never given up to this degree.


There’s no happiness. No joy. No belief in love for me. No children in my future. No ambitions. No hope. No excitement. No light at the end of the tunnel. No recovery. I’m being consumed by darkness... it’s all I see when I think of the future…. it’s within me, encasing my heart in a bitterly cold tomb… it’s changing me into someone nobody likes, not even myself. It’s all I see when I look within now. I can’t possibly tell you the good things about me right now… all I see is darkness and every excuse under the sun to turn and run away from me. Everything I touch dies. Everyone I love leaves. And every second of this existence hurts me.


I’m sorry for this negative post. I should have left that door closed.

Six Months On: I’m Drowning.

I'd rather swim off and drown alone, than with those who 'care' idly standing by.

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ve never felt this alone.



*Bad language, self-harm, suicide*


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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