“Pathetic Slut”

*Self-harm & suicidal references*

 

Wrote this the other day…

 

Wednesday 15th January

It pains me to have to write this post. I’m filled with shame and embarrassment. But I need to get this out there, to organise my thoughts and make sense of everything I experienced yesterday.

 

Despite saying I’d never do it again, I tried to tackle a problem head-on by being honest about my fears and my feelings. It backfired and resulted in the same things I experienced at the IAPT service I used two years ago.

 

I was afraid that I’d go through the same problems in a group setting again. When I started one of my groups, I was horrified that it was run by two young men. I was scared I would catch “feelings” again (which last time I referred to as ‘transference’ – but this time I’m saying that phrase is BS and invalidating of what I’m experiencing… which is simply attraction). I did indeed catch the “feelings” and now everything’s ruined… again.

 

I don’t know where to start so I’ll just dive into what I’m feeling right now. I’m feeling like a pathetic slut. Or that that’s how the world sees me. I feel these mental health services are so concerned about doing the right thing, and ‘boundaries’ and ‘procedures’ that they forget their service-users are actually individual human beings, with different needs, personalities and histories.

 

I was unable to say what the problem was, so I wrote it down. Now it’s on my record. I didn’t want it to be, but I lost control of that. That loss of control / power made me angry with myself first of all, for ever saying anything, and now I’m angry at them, for not respecting my wishes to not keep it. I feel violated. Now it’s there in black and white, how I feel and why. And I feel it’s probably led to misunderstandings of me as a person too, and that’s what I want to come on to….

 

I’m going to refer to a couple of people as A and B, as I can’t be bothered thinking up fake names…. I was meant to speak to A before the group yesterday about the issues I raised in what I wrote. When he came down B came with him and I was asked if it was okay that he joined us. I could of course have said no – but I never feel able to say no – it’s like when doctors or dentists say they have students in… I can never say how I really feel. And to be honest I read into this decision as being based on what I wrote, and that A needed a ‘chaperone’…. you know…. in case I were to pounce on him whilst alone – as huge sluts like me do, naturally…..

 

So anyway, I had to sit and talk to both of them about the issues, and I disclosed more information that explained why I was struggling with my self-harm issues at that time. It was the longest silence I’ve ever sat through, waiting for A to read it… knowing I was completely effing up my life. I was regretting it already, but I think a part of me at the time thought ‘what the hell, why not…won’t be around much longer anyway!’. Basically A was just finding out that I was attracted to one of them in the room, and the shame attached to that (which I will come on to in a bit) was making me hurt myself for being a bad person for having feelings again. B didn’t read it, so didn’t know what was being referred to when we discussed it afterwards. It was an awkward talk.

 

I’m apparently going to have help from someone else for a couple of sessions… but they said it might be a good idea if it’s a female…. yeah…. because I can’t be trusted around the male species can I?! Can’t leave me alone with one of them for five minutes or I might jump his bones or whatever the cool kids call it nowadays….. this is how these mental health services and the way they handle this sort of thing, make me feel….. they make me feel like some super slut who fancies anything in trousers. And that I’m a risk to them all and their jobs. I doubt it’s for my own safety, no matter what they say… they just don’t want a situation where they could get in some kind of trouble themselves. I know that. And that’s why I’m offended. Because they don’t know the first thing about me as a person. I’m not someone who acts. I admire people…. I may even admit to admiring them. That is the extent of it. I will never make a move on someone. I never have and I never will, because I used to be the person who admitted my feelings for guys, and they either rejected me, or they led me on, messed with my emotions for a while and then ghosted me. So I stopped making the first move. I stopped seeking a man. I stopped believing that anyone would want me. Because they never really did. If I’m ever to end up with a guy, he will have to be the one to admit his feelings to me first. I’m not going there again.

 

So while these people are so preoccupied with procedures and boundaries, I’m over here like ‘Hello? Never broken a rule in my life! Never made a move on a guy… never even had a guy…. pretty much a nun… quiet, reserved person here, hello?’ … I feel they’re assuming that I want every man. I don’t. At all. Admittedly A and B are lovely and attractive in many ways of their own. But there is only one I have feelings for. I don’t feel attracted to any of the others working in that building. I’m not a super slut. I don’t ‘fancy’ everyone. I’m very selective and always devote my attention and feelings to one person at a time. And even that one I like is under no threat from me. Even if no rules were in place, he was single, straight and interested in me too, I still wouldn’t make the move, because of my past experiences and because of the type of person I am, the morals I have and the respect I have for boundaries – both professional and personal.

 

So this concept that I must be kept away from the men… and not allowed to speak to them one-on-one…. it’s BS. I feel I’m going to be ‘watched’ from now on… it’s really bad for my paranoia and self-esteem. God help them when they offer me the self-esteem course…. not much point… I don’t think I’ll be too receptive given they’ve already trashed that.

 

I feel totally mischaracterised. I feel painted as some temptress… whose sole aim is to seduce these men, and that I must be stopped. The ‘wall of women’ must be brought out again…. ‘DEFEND THE MEN FROM THIS SEX-CRAZED HOPELESS ROMANTIC SLUT OF A WOMAN!!’… that’s how I feel. That they see me in that way…. I’m nothing of the sort. But they made me feel that way. I took it on as though it were a fact. That’s how I felt. That, and pitied. I felt pathetic last night.

 

I was inconsolable. It took scarring myself for life with the words they made me feel, to stop me crying…. to stop me wanting to die. Nothing was working. Earlier in the day I had called the Samaritans. I had taken my emergency medication. Nothing was working. I had to reach that point where the pain, the shame, the regret and everything that was tearing away at me, became anger…. anger at THEM. Anger for the way they made me feel about myself. That’s the only way I could sleep and make it to another day.

 

I don’t doubt that there are probably people out there who would make a move on a mental health professional, but I am not that person. I don’t want to be treated like I’m that person… just because others are like that. OR because they’ve had so little experience of people having feelings for them in their position – that’s just as bad really, because they then don’t know how to respond best, and I realise they don’t know what they’re doing, because it’s rare… and then I feel like a freak and a ‘problem person’.. which is the last thing I want to be.

 

I hate asking for help. I hate admitting I’m struggling. I hate asking for their time for anything. I had that conversation before the group, which overran… then I was allowed to take five minutes to gather myself before joining the group… in that time I took a couple of diazepam because I didn’t feel good at all. I wanted to harm myself. I would’ve done.

 

But I went in and I did my best at pretending everything was fine. I talked when prompted. I sounded normal. I nodded along to other people. And then as the end came along I had images of what I wanted to do. I felt zoned out by then…. I knew where I would end up if I walked out the door, and it would probably have led to me not sitting in that room again next week. I wanted a permanent solution to what I was feeling. I knew where to go to get that. The thought of the Samaritans crossed my mind, and I thought where I could go locally to phone them… even the thought of phoning them having left the building I felt unsafe. I felt I would still end up at the place I had in mind.  I knew I couldn’t leave the building. I wouldn’t make it home.

 

So I stayed behind at the end and told A and B that I didn’t feel safe. They asked what I meant. I told them I wanted to do something stupid. At least I think that’s what I said… it’s a bit hazy now. I asked if there was a room I could use in the building to sit and phone the Samaritans. They said yes. So I sat in a room downstairs – everyone worked upstairs so I didn’t have to worry too much about being overheard. A and B had to leave and go somewhere else, but they said a colleague would pop down and check on me in a bit. When this person did come down I was still talking on the phone, so they gestured to me then went back upstairs.

 

I spoke to a lovely woman. The Samaritans really are incredible people… they tend to know what to say / ask… and before you know it you’re spilling everything to them. I kept catching myself saying things, and thinking ‘You do realise you’re talking to another person right??’ … ‘You are speaking out loud….’ … it helped a little. I talked for almost an hour with this wonderful lady. I talked through what had upset me, and how I felt… some background stuff too… at that point I wasn’t aware of why I was so upset. I hadn’t pinpointed how the actions taken in response to what I said, had made me feel like a pathetic cheap slag basically… that came later that night. I cried a bit. I once again answered the suicide question honestly straight away… I never used to, but if someone asks me now if I have thoughts of ending my life, I straight away tell them yes. No more bullshitting people.

 

Once the call ended I wasn’t sure what to do… whether to just sign out and leave, or wait downstairs, or what.. so I ended up calling ‘hellooo’ up the stairs. Let them know I’d finished my call and then went. The Samaritans couldn’t stop me doing what I did later that day, but they stopped me making a permanent choice. They got me out of town and back home.

 

At home I pretended nothing was wrong. I think that made life more difficult… but I couldn’t tell anyone what had happened. I only told them today that I made the phone call yesterday. I didn’t say why. I only did it so they know I’m a bit delicate at the moment.

 

I made some bad choices in terms of self-harm… things I regret now. But can’t do anything about it now. I wasn’t fully in my mind last night anyway. I was distraught and medicated, so didn’t make rational decisions. It was a breakdown. I do really stupid things when it’s that bad.

 

It really was a bad day. Even talking to the Samaritans I told them I hate using the phone, but I knew I had to anyway. And she said I must have felt really desperate to push through my fear of using the phone, in order to call them. It’s true. Yesterday was the worst day of my life since my friend Liv took her life eight months ago.

 

Now I have to pick myself up and carry on. From now on I’m not going to open up again. I won’t ever pour my heart out or share my feelings with anyone, for any reason. The exception being telling them how it makes me feel, what they’ve done. That’s only so they might learn from it. And as much as I could write that down so they can again put it in my record, I think I’ll brave the conversation if possible and then draw a line under it. After that they won’t even notice I exist. I’ll just become a nobody again, speak only when I’m spoken to, get through the courses I’m doing, be discharged and either never ask for help again, or likely experience this same problem again the next time I need help – because yet again it’s been dealt with wrong and scarred me… it’s a wound that’s not been healed and has been made worse, so very likely to have it happen again in the future. Nobody wants to help me with this shame / attraction issue. I’m not sure anyone really can…

 

The whole point of admitting how I felt, was because of the shame attached to it – that shame was making me self-harm every day. The response I’ve had has only confirmed it’s right that I’m ashamed. That it’s wrong to feel how I do. And they may well say that in the ‘real world’ it’s fine… it’s just in this setting… but what they don’t get is that I’m attracted to someone in this setting right now…. it’s a current problem…. and more importantly, what I experience in this setting translates to what I feel about the ‘real world’. If I have to be kept away from men in this setting, as I’m thought of as an intensely desperate, pathetic slut and temptress, then what bloody hope is there for me around any man, any place?? If that’s really how I’m viewed. It tells me I should stay away from men full stop. It tells me that it’s indeed wrong to be attracted to a man. Having BPD I already feel I’ll never fit in to this world…. this experience only makes me feel the same in terms of relationships… that I’m incapable of having a man in my life. They’re doing so much damage to someone who already doesn’t see a future for herself in this world.

 

I’ve called it ‘attachment’ because of the shame of saying I’m attracted to a man. This has probably led to some misunderstandings. Of course when the time comes I won’t see him again the ‘attachment’ element will kick in and I’ll be devastated. But it’s attraction right now. And I feel it’s wrong. They’ve confirmed it’s wrong by saying I should see a female, and if I speak to a man, he seems to need a chaperone. So not only was it wrong to have these feelings for him… it was also wrong to say it. So basically, in a nutshell, I’ve f*cked everything up, yet again, just because the shame of being attracted to someone makes me hurt myself. This is so messed up.

 

I’ve lost control by seeking to gain it. I’ve gained more shame by trying to ease it. I’ve given myself more reasons to self-harm by trying to stop it. I have to deal with one-sided feelings yet again, which I can do… I’m so used to it, but it’s the shame that was the problem. But I just have to accept that shame is part and parcel of feeling anything for a man from now on.  I will now bury my feelings. I won’t bother anyone any further with any of this. I let out too much. I can’t take it back. I will feel what I do for him, alone… I will keep the shame to myself and deal with it the only way I can. I just have to accept I’m a self-harmer and a loner, and always will be. I should never have reached out about this. I regret it, and it will never happen again. Even if it kills me. From now on I keep everything to myself. This has proven that I can’t trust anyone. They’re all as bad as each other. And I’m beyond help. My heart is closed from now on. No more outpouring of feelings, for any reason. I live my life on the inside from now on. There is no other way.

 

 

 

 

Tried But Failed.

*Self-harm & suicidal references, as well as bad language*

 

 

I’m trying my best to get to the end of this month without self-harming…. it’ll mean I only had one incident this month. But it’s so hard.

 

Last night I was researching my options for leaving this world. Today I see all the political news, plus our side of the argument is turning on itself. People are posting the same thing as me and getting likes and comments of support, whilst I have silence… nothing. Someone asked me if I was going to go back into my place of voluntary work, and when I said not at the moment their look and ‘Oh’ was like a stab in the heart. It was like a sign I’m a failure and a disappointment… like I’m just being lazy or a coward for not going in. The reality is the last time I went in, before the holiday, I had someone’s bad mood taken out on me. I felt unappreciated. I felt I was in the way and doing everything wrong. I self-harmed. So I don’t exactly feel up to facing all that shit again right now. I can’t pretend to be okay. I know this person doesn’t know how not okay I am – nobody does, that’s the problem. The only people who know how bad things are for me are people who read this blog. But I’m not okay.

 

I want to not be here anymore. Admittedly my emotions are likely up the wall at the moment for reasons probably only women would understand… but I feel I need to hibernate this week…. I need to stay off social media, avoid the news, avoid work, avoid everyone and everything…. but that one look of disapproval this morning makes me feel trapped. I feel I’m not allowed to keep myself safe. I’m expected to carry on and push myself. I now feel guilt for not going in to work, and for not caring if they’re okay with it. But I’m struggling so much and can’t do it. I could go in, to appease the disapprover, to stop my guilt, but I’ll be coming home with new scars probably… In fact I was just asked why I’m not going in…. in order for them to know so as not to put their foot in it….. bit late for that. It should be obvious the reason I’m not going is my mental health. If they can’t see that, then WTF!? They just keep digging the hole. As someone else said it’s none of their business. They should just accept I’m not going, as any questions about it will only make me feel bad for not going. I’m sick of all this shit.

 

I’m not ready to get on that merry-go-round of work. The never-ending stress machine where I embarrass myself and then can’t go in, then come back and struggle to cope and feel shit about myself. Where things are expected of me, people talk to me in tones I can’t handle because I’m right on the edge of ending my life, where one nudge and that’s it. I can’t do it. But then I feel I’m not allowed to not do it, because not going in makes me a disappointment, a failure and a burden to my loved ones. They don’t understand how bad I am right now, so they don’t understand why going in to work right now would kill me.

 

And I just feel the pressure building – from work, from home, from the job people imminently going to talk to me…. from myself, from time. I just want the world to stop so I can grieve. So I can recover. So I can want to live life again. Then I’ll continue and not miss more years of what should be ‘life’, to this mental illness. I’m just sick of existing and having to go through the motions just to keep others happy. And I’m sick of having to feel like a fucking failure for being unable to go through the motions. And I’m sick of not being able to TALK to anyone about the fact I can’t do this life anymore.

 

And then there’s my ex-friend. She doesn’t know what it’s like to always be the one who is abandoned…. left…. she made the choice to turn her back on me. She didn’t even give me the option. I tried to work things out with her. I put in effort. I told her the next steps. She just didn’t want to take them.

 

So now she’s free of me. Her life is probably improving without me in it. It’s allowing HER to heal. It’s allowing HER to move on. It’s allowing HER to distance herself from the hurt and the guilt, so that MAYBE one day we can be friends again as she’ll be in a better place. Utter bullshit, as I won’t be. Her leaving me without even talking to me has destroyed me and any chance of us ever being friends again. Whilst she’s out there healing and improving her life without me, I am paralysed. I cannot do the same because I have nothing left. She may be able to switch off from my existence and move on with her life and let go of the hurt, but I never will. Her way of ‘coping’ is a way of killing me.

 

 

^ ^ ^

Wrote the above this morning. Unfortunately something bad happened this afternoon and I’ve now failed to make it to the end of the month without hurting myself. My choice was either to do that or to throw myself out of a moving vehicle. This is the second time in two months I’ve found myself in this situation, and if it continues then I’ll opt for the latter. Almost had a crash earlier caused by some idiot on the road, which was terrifying enough, but it’s what happened afterwards that was the problem. I don’t think certain people get how awful it is for someone with BPD to be TRAPPED inside a vehicle, with no control, with raised voices and not being allowed to voice their feelings or fears. It’s NOT okay. I WILL fucking jump out next time. This has to stop or my life will stop. Simple as that.

 

So yeah, very shit day. Was shit before that, but there we go. I was going to continue on from earlier by saying I feel so completely isolated that I’ve considered getting in touch with people from my past… friends who hurt me in the past…. simply because I have nobody now. That’s how bad it is.

 

Oh and now we have another extension and no sign of a General Election anytime soon….. Parliament might as well hold the blade that kills me. They might as well push me off that ledge. They’ve pissed on my vote for the last time. I hope they all fucking rot in hell for the traitors they are. I’m as invisible to them as I am to supposed ‘friends’ and family. I’m irrelevant to everyone. I’m nothing. My voice means nothing. My voice should be ignored. I really am at a point of saying ‘FUCK THE WORLD AND ALL THE PEOPLE IN IT!!’ – I hate being that person, but I’ve put up with so much more than anyone should ever have to put up with. I hate everything and everyone, and I’m just done.

 

I’ve had my diazepam today. Not sure how much it’s helping at this point. I’m really annoyed I haven’t earnt my star on my calendar today. I’ve worked so hard to resist the urges to self-harm. I didn’t have another choice in this situation, and I’m SO angry with the person responsible for doing that. I’ll never forgive them for what they do to me with their anger. Never. They will be the death of me.

 

I really wish I could hibernate. I wish people would leave me alone, not give me any responsibilities or make me feel any guilt for just hiding away. I want to do that. I need to do that to keep safe. Why can’t I just be left to do what I want for a couple of weeks, alone? Why? I’m just so fed up with life right now. And people are an endless source of misery, pain and stress. I need peace. I need a break from life…. please.

 

 

 

 

Pain Is A Constant.

*Depressing, self-pitying ramble about self-harm and life*

 

 

Why do I self-harm? To punish myself. To express an emotional wound physically, as that’s easier to cope with and treat. To stop feeling overwhelming emotions. To bring myself back to reality.

The main one is because it’s the one damn thing in this life I have control over. I can’t choose how people will treat me. I can’t choose if and when they’ll abandon me. I can’t choose not to lose people to death. I can’t choose what I look like and who I am. I can’t choose the physical and mental illnesses I have. I can’t choose to matter to anyone. I can’t choose anything about my life. I’m powerless. This is how I feel. And self-harm is the one thing that I can choose. It’s the one thing that never leaves me. It’s the one constant. The one certainty in my life.

I know that’s depressing to read. It’s depressing to say. I’m actually trying to hold back tears as I write this, having relapsed again after nine days without any harming.

I try so hard not to hurt myself now. But when words start coming out of my mouth that scare me… vile, nasty, violent words against other people… saying things that I wish would happen to them, or things I would do (not that I ever would do them, I hope), I don’t like that person, and I’d rather take out my anger on myself than hurt anyone else.

I can’t control what’s happening in life. I can’t control the monumental betrayal that’s happening in our country right now. I can’t be heard. I can’t control the situation with my friend who abandoned me at my lowest ebb. I can’t be understood. I can’t control certain people in my life who are toxic and make me feel like shit, just because they won’t look at themselves and change their behaviour. I can’t escape these people. I can’t control death. I’ve lost someone. I will lose more. I can’t stop that.

Nobody has my back. Only self-harm. It’s my only friend now. I choose what I do and how much I do it. It is certainty. Yes there are uncertainties about the outcomes of what I do. But for me, pain is a constant. It is certain. I needed certainty after losing my granddad. All I’ve had is people walking away from me and rejecting me. People hurting me. Ignoring me. Forgetting me. It’s been loss after loss, after loss. And I hate them all for it. Nothing is certain now. Friendship isn’t certain anymore. My belief in it has been completely shattered. I cannot trust anything or anyone anymore. Only pain. Only the pain I inflict on myself.

I’ve had a few good days again. But the more you hope… the more positive you are, the further you fall when you do…. and you will. Nothing lasts. Nothing. Not even self-harm wounds / injuries. But in my mind at least I can do it again. I can bring back that pain. I never have to lose self-harm. Everything else that ends gets ripped away from me and I never recover from it. I never get it back. I never get anything close to it again. Every single time I lose something / someone, a piece of me gets taken away, and my trust is obliterated. Every time, I say I’m never getting that close to anyone again… never getting that attached. I will never have a best friend again. Ever. I can’t afford to let anyone that close to me because the wound they leave when they turn their back on me is too big a risk. I’ll never get close to a man again. They all hurt me. Even the ones who are good, never quite go that extra step to be what I need.

I’m just tired of being me, and of being hurt… and nobody ever going quite far enough to keep me in their life. Life is loss. But I will never lose the ability to cut myself or hit myself. It’s the one thing nobody can ever take away from me when they’ve taken everything else I have left in me.

Progress.

*This is a positive post but I do talk about self-harm and you may find it triggering, so please don’t read if you’re feeling vulnerable*

 

 

I feel in a different mindset today. I had a moment yesterday when I realised my energy has been focused on the wrong things… I’ve been trying to give a voice to all the painful emotions I feel, by explaining what’s gone on, defending myself, expressing my anger and my hurt and thinking about how to ‘fix’ things that are broken in my life.

I finally realised all of that energy is being wasted… I should have been focusing on giving myself the things I wanted others to give me. I need to be a friend to myself… I need to forgive myself… I need self-compassion… I need to apologise to myself and comfort myself…. reassure myself and build myself back up.

I have also decided to try and stop self-harming. It has become such a problem recently that I have hurt myself every single day, at least once, mainly by hitting myself with an instrument. I found myself in a situation where I have cut myself so much in one area, that my skin isn’t behaving normally anymore, so I am unable to tell how deep I am actually going. It always looks like I’ve not gone as deep as usual, so I keep going, not realising I’ve gone deeper than usual – I now realise how dangerous it is … and it was only a few days back that I hit something… I don’t know what, but I felt a different sensation and it freaked me out. I would hazard a guess I nicked a tendon. The problem is I cannot tell. I have bruised a tendon in my arm twice in my life… both within the last year or so…. I know what it feels like…. but where I’ve been hitting myself, sometimes in that area, I now don’t know if I’ve damaged the tendon by cutting, or if it’s just bruising from hitting. So in a way that contributed to me feeling something has to change. I have to let that arm heal so I can tell what damage exists. I’ve not given it a moment to heal. I’ve felt like I have to be in constant physical pain, partly because I felt like I deserved it, but also because it felt better than feeling how I did emotionally. It’s been hell.

I’ve been so focused on what I’ve lost, that I have overlooked what I have. I have had people be so kind to me recently… caring, supportive, encouraging and showing me the love I’ve wanted from others. I’m going to take all their kindness, pair it with self-compassion, and I’m going to write…. every time I feel angry, upset, or feel like hurting myself, I’m going to write a compassionate letter to myself (first one will come in the next day or two) – I may share them here… I might not. But I’m not going to let what’s happened destroy me. I have allowed it to… especially in the last six months… but not anymore.

A lot of my anger has been about how unjust a situation has been for me. It’s anger that I’ve not been treated right. Instead of focusing all that anger at those not treating me right, I want to try and transform it into treating myself right. Stop chasing them for things I fail to give myself. I don’t need them to see my worth in order to see it myself. I want to try and fix what they’ve broken in me.

It’s a long road ahead. I know stopping self-harm won’t happen overnight. I’ve managed to get through today without any at all, although I had a couple of urges. It will be hard. But for months I’ve not even contemplated stopping. I wanted to keep going. I didn’t care. So it’s a major step to even think I need to stop. I just know I need help.

I have my assessment with the CMHT this week. I don’t expect much to come from it, but you never know. Otherwise I’m just taking things a day at a time. If I slip up then so be it. At least I’m facing the right direction at last, even if I have quite a few large steps yet to take, to get to where I’m going.

I’m facing away from what has hurt me and towards a better future. I didn’t deserve the things that happened in the last year. I know that. This is where I make a change. This is where I stop giving my energy away and turn negatives into positives and keep it for myself, and for those who love me on even my darkest days. They mean more to me than they will ever understand.

xxxx

 

 

 

Bad Mental Health Day… (Rant)

*Strong language, self-harm and suicide references. Read with care*

 

 

There is no such thing as a ‘good mental health day’ for me, not for a long time now. But I can tell the particularly bad ones apart from the rest. Today is one of those. In fact all week has been. There is no imminent reason. Nothing’s changing. Nothing is happening that hasn’t been happening all year…. just sometimes you can’t cope with things as well.

 

If you looked at me you wouldn’t think I was any worse than usual. My usual has become more depressed – so not going out, getting dressed, brushing my hair has become the new normal. So although you’d know things aren’t ‘good’, you wouldn’t know that I spent this morning trying to research where to cut myself to do more damage. Or that I went onto a site to find out the least painful way to kill yourself – of course it was one of those sites that reels you in and tells you not to do it and to reach out to Jesus instead! But looking up these things is something new. I’ve been self-harming for half my life now. I’m not new to it. So I have no reason to research, other than I want to cause more damage. That’s how bad I have become with my mental health.

 

I know I have probably already damaged my hand from punching a wall weeks ago… I still have pain and it seems deformed. But that doesn’t stop me wanting to make it worse. A professional could say to me ‘You might break your hand’… but the state I’m in now, that’s not an incentive to stop hitting the wall… it’s more like ‘…. good’. If you’ve never been in that state of mind you would think I’m a psycho. I don’t have the energy to tell you why you’re wrong anymore. Not today. It’s like when I lost my friend a few weeks ago, I harmed myself so badly I bruised the tendon in my arm again. And I want to do that again. I want pain. I want blood. I want bruising. I want damage. I have nothing left.

 

My mental health has become so bad it cost me friendships I thought I’d never lose. Mental health services won’t help me. I’m too unwell to do my voluntary work. I don’t leave the house. Unless it’s to do something with family. That’s all I have now. Nothing else. And I hate the world outside my family. I hate them with a passion.

 

My existence is just tolerance now. Tolerating uncomfortable emotions, which seem to always be there. I have no professional support. No social support from friends. Yes there are one or two people I talk to online. But no close friends in real life. ‘Make some new friends – take up a new activity’….. fuck off. Do you actually know what it’s like to feel how I do today? Do you know what it’s like to have lost everything and to feel so suicidal and to just want to keep cutting yourself over and over again? And how hard it is to have self-worth buried six feet under the floorboards. To have paranoia and anxiety about going outside the front door, let alone to meet new people and have to trust them to not abandon you, like even your most trusted friends have?? Do you know what it’s like to not want to live anymore, therefore how hard it is to do things that would improve your life? And to have to cope with this all on my fucking own?

 

Mental health services I think, are too fixated by this ‘You have to want to get better…. you have to put in the work, I can’t do it for you’ crap. Yes, of course I have to put in effort – it’s what I did at therapy, at DBT… I’ve always been the one to help myself, with support. But what about times like now? What about when someone can’t help themselves anymore, because they’ve been allowed to spiral to the point of apathy and despair? What about when I can’t even picture feeling better…. when I can’t even see a future…. when I feel so paralysed and isolated and unsafe in this world….. what then? If I’m unable to help myself straight off the bat does that mean I’m undeserving of help? Do you have to be able to help yourself otherwise you’re just seen as a lost cause? Because the trouble is I’ve felt like a lost cause all year. Nobody has proven otherwise. My friends left me. CMHT won’t help me. They think as I’ve done DBT there’s nothing more they can offer me. As if ‘Well if that didn’t help you, nothing will….. just look at your folder and use your skills’. Thanks. I’m beyond being directed to a folder I made over ten years ago. I need actual human help to dig me out of this grave I’m existing in. I’m being buried by pain and nobody wants to help me with that pain. Nobody wants to understand it, validate it, or tell me what the hell is wrong with me and how to treat it. I need help. I need compassion. I need effort. I need to know I’m worth something in this world. Because I’ve lost that and I see no other reason to live than to not hurt my family.

 

Why won’t anybody HELP me? 

 

Nobody gets how difficult it is to keep living right now. I am constantly wanting to hurt myself because at least that’s the sort of pain I can ‘tolerate’. Tolerating paranoia, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, chaotic thoughts, disturbing images, crippling depression, isolation, self-hatred, guilt from wanting to die, fear of abandonment, feeling helpless, hopeless and a failure, and the biggest desire to just not feel anything anymore…. that sort of tolerance is something I can’t do. Not without help. The help I can’t get. So I live in hell, experiencing all those things because I can’t get help, and I can’t kill myself because I love my family. So I suffer. And people leave me because I’m suffering. But they have no clue that I’m going through all this hell. So I self-harm to externalise my suffering. To take the focus off the inner turmoil. And I live with the physical pain too. The emotional pain would kill me otherwise. On the scale it is right now it’s not something I could deal with.

 

I feel pain because of abandonment. I feel pain because of grief – that’s been particularly hard this week for some reason. I don’t tend to self-harm because of the sadness of my loss. I don’t think I ever have. I usually just let myself cry. It’s only this week that the pain of grief felt too strong that I thought about self-harming to stop it. But I didn’t. But I do self-harm as a result of other things that I can’t cope with so well now, as the grief has made me vulnerable. I view life through a different lens now. Life is just a waiting room… waiting for your appointment with death. My outlook on life has become morbid. I know I have to do some work on grief, but grief is not the biggest problem in my life right now. Other people are. And I can’t cope with them. I can’t cope with being around people, or talking to them. It’s too much.

 

I  also feel pain from things that happened over the years. I feel pain at realising my closest friends didn’t really care about me. I feel pain at the loss I experienced at therapy last year. That keeps trying to rear its ugly head. I have to try and block it out at times like this. I have enough trying to kill me without that joining in. It’s just when times are like they are at the moment, I want to run back to those days and the therapists who ran the course. I have nothing now. I feel pain about all the online abuse I’ve had this year too. I feel pain at not receiving help. I feel pain from everything and everyone. There’s that saying –

 

“People with BPD are like people with third degree burns over 90% of their bodies. Lacking emotional skin, they feel agony at the slightest touch or movement.” ….. 

 

Usually I feel the agony at the slightest touch …  as in ‘how people treat me’… but now I feel it from every movement I make …  as in ‘nobody has to even do anything bad to me, just living hurts’. People talking to me and people NOT talking to me both hurt me…. so it’s better just to deliberately stay away from people. But it still hurts, because they don’t come looking for me, fighting for me. So whatever I do… or don’t do… hurts. Living just hurts. 

 

It’s taken all day to write this. I ramble so much and yet never feel I’ve said enough. I can’t ever release the chaos I feel inside, and I worry I don’t express it well enough for anyone to understand the hell I’m in.

 

Today is a very bad mental health day. It’s 5pm and I haven’t had my morning meds… (don’t worry, I’m about to). Those are the days I know are bad. Now some might say they’re bad BECAUSE I’ve not had my meds…. could be… but this has been ongoing for the last few days. Medication won’t actually make me feel any better than I do right now, because even if I do have a need for medication, the problem is life…. lack of support, so much loss and pain, and just being weary of life. No pill will change my circumstances and all the shit that’s happened to me. And there’s been a lot of shit. I don’t know how I’m still here. I need something that will make me forget all the bad things, or remember all the good things….. I need more good things to happen…. I need more people to be the sorts of people I need in my life…. I need them to be kinder, gentler, warmer…. consistent. I need to be understood. I don’t want people being super positive to me or saying we all feel that way sometimes – fuck off. I know you don’t know what to say to me but you’re making me feel worse and more misunderstood and alone. No more of the ‘What you need to do is blah blah blah’…. no….. what YOU need to do is shut the fuck up and listen to what I’m saying and acknowledge how I’m feeling – comfort and support me, without advising me or comparing my suffering to yours or anyone else’s.

 

I’m always being told I need professional support – sustained support from secondary mental health services. Other people with lesser demons than mine seem to have that support. Why can’t I? Being denied that help communicates to me that they wouldn’t give a fuck if I did end it. They’re supposed to be there to help people. What a shit job to take, whereby you just sit back and let someone end their life… turning your back on them as a lost cause…. how the fuck do they sleep at night?

 

Guess I’ll have to pay over £300 to see a psychiatrist for an assessment then, to get a diagnosis in order to get the help I need, and then I’ll have to go private to be treated for it – whilst other people with the same illness get given the help for free…… I have to pay other people to keep me alive…… what fucking incentive is that? We should be given the money to stay alive. All these people who’ll have to do that – they’ll recover from the depths of their illness and have no fucking money left, which will cause life problems and worsening of their illness. It’s ridiculous. WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO PAY TO STAY ALIVE?!! I’m already giving enough effort and paying the price just staying alive for the sake of others…. why do I also have to pay someone else money just so I don’t die?! This country is fucked up. And I’m always the one left crawling on the floor, BEGGING for help. It’s not fucking right. It makes me more suicidal.

 

I’ve had enough. There’s no point to this post. I’m just sick of the chaos. Today was a very bad day. At least I see the doctor this weekend. That’s something. I guess.

 

 

 

Keyboard Warriors.

*Self-harm*

Today has been an intensely traumatic day for me, which I will be writing about in the coming days. I just felt I needed to say something somewhere, as I’m in the process of closing my Twitter account, and my Facebook account is closed atm too, so as this is my ‘journal’ of sorts, I thought I owed it to myself to state the fact that I’m not coping at all well right now. I’ve been abused online all day, resulting in many wounds, both psychological and physical. I’ve had to take some diazepam to calm me down and stop me doing further harm to myself.

 

The spite and nastiness of people online is shocking, and I won’t be pulling any punches in telling those responsible just what I think of their behaviour. But that will come in the next few days. Right now I’m trying to stay calm and focus on self-care. Actually I’m struggling to stay awake! Hoping things will feel better in the morning… psychologically at least.

 

People just have to stop being so rude, divisive and hateful, especially when they preach tolerance, love and inclusion. They pushed me to self-harm a lot today… the next victim might not be so ‘lucky’…. the next one might kill themselves…. how would they feel to learn they were responsible for someone’s death?

 

These sociopathic keyboard warriors have taught me how vital kindness is. They are bullies through and through, and they need to take a long hard look at themselves in the mirror, and ask if they really like the person looking back at them… because I bet what they think they are, and what they truly are, are not the same thing… They’re the most revolting specimen of the human race, and they’re lucky they have their anonymity, else I’d be naming and shaming them like they did with me. I will be making their comments public though and thoroughly dissecting their behaviour to try and understand what drives these narcissists to bully.

 

Right now, painkillers and sleep… try and forget the horrors of today. And hope I can find the light again… right now my faith in humanity is next to zero, and I feel closer to disappearing than I have in quite some time. I’m all alone in dealing with this. Anyway, goodnight to anyone awake, and remember the importance of kindness, and respect. It could save a life xxxx

 

 

The Lonely Mountain.

 

*Self-harm & swearing*

 

13th July 2018

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

25th July 2018

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

Silence My Voice.

*Self-harm & bad language*

 

4th June 2018

 

It’s official. This is my only space where I have freedom of speech. If it upsets people fine, don’t read. But I’m tired of being picked on. I’ve just been on my self-harm support forum, and got a message from a moderator telling me they’ve deleted some of my posts, for ‘excessive political discussion’ – this was a targeted, politically motivated attack on me. I didn’t ‘discuss’ politics – it was in a rant thread which gets no replies. It was not aimed at anyone on the forum. It was letting out my emotions while I watched a TV programme – I chose there, as I get attacked anywhere else. I thought it was safe. I was very brief and succinct… it was aimed at people on the panel. What is this world coming to, that I’m not even allowed to criticise a politician that others obviously like…? This is what I received, and I’m going to explain why it’s wrong….

 

 

---

 

 

 

Dear ********

We have removed the following sections of your recent ranting posts, as we felt that they tipped into excessive political discussion, which is only really suitable within a new/debate thread, and even then would be considered ‘flaming’ of people whose opinion differs from yours,

Quote:

Utter bullshit Umuna. Tosser. Like your tosser party. Bunch of twats the lot of them.

Quote:

Oh here’s another dick, repeating the same line – ‘it wasn’t on the ballot paper’ – do they not fucking watch the programme…. they keep repeating the same bullshit, like lemmings. You all sound like utter idiots when you say those words.

Quote:

Aw fucking lefty twats on the panel and the audience. Why the hell did I watch this. Disrespectful pillocks.

Please be mindful that this is not a politically based forum or a place where it is appropriate to be insulting towards people of a particular political affiliation (in this instance, pro-remain voters) and try to be more respectful of people whose view differ from yours.

*****
On behalf of the Forum Moderators

 

 

---

 

 

A moderators decision is final, and must not be questioned on the forum. It can be discussed privately with them, but given that confrontation triggers me, that’s not a possibility for me. This sent me into one of my episodes last night. Rage, self-loathing, hatred of the human race, suicidal feelings, self-harm.

 

I am going to talk about it here, because this is my space and nobody has the right to shut down my voice on here – it’s the one place I will not let them touch. I’ve been shut down everywhere else, and as the rules state I can’t discuss it on the forum, I’ll take it outside the forum instead, if that’s the way they want it.

 

This theory that it’s ‘flaming’ people with a different opinion to me… I feel like testing that theory on the forum, and posting my opinions on other topics…. I could equally say that meat eaters are murderers (I don’t think this by the way – I just wonder if I’d be discriminated against for being a vegetarian). I could talk about my thoughts on abortion (not that I would, as it doesn’t affect my emotions that much that I need to let it out!!), and would they accuse me of ‘flaming’ those who don’t agree with me? I could say that watching porn is disgusting and perverted, and I’d be accused of ‘flaming’ those who like watching it! Or would I…….? Is it just because they’re discriminating against me based on my political stance?

 

My point is that it seems they’re policing my thoughts and feelings. My comments were aimed at a politician, the people in the audience and on the panel. If I had said that all Labour voters are dicks… or that you’re an idiot if you voted Remain, then fair enough – that would be out of order, and even I can see that! But I was commenting on the people they keep having on that programme. If people want to take what I say about a TV programme and make it about themselves then fine, but that’s a bit egotistical to be frank. These people are being offensive every single day in what they say in the media and online… they’re being disrespectful of those who won a democratic vote, and their attempts to overturn the results offend me – but fuck my feelings, they don’t matter do they? Only the precious little whiners’ feelings matter…. I’m not allowed to say how pissed off I am about their relentless bullshit, as I suddenly become ‘offensive’, well screw you all. That’s like someone being bullied for years, and the moment they stand up to the bully they’re accused of being nasty. It’s not on, and I will not stand for it… not after the many years of bullying I’ve endured in my life. Shutting down my right to express my views and my emotions is having a hand in my death.

 

The forum is a mental health support forum, not a political one, this is true. But am I only allowed to say the words – ‘mental illness’, ‘mental health’, ‘self-harm’, ‘depression’, ‘anxiety’, ‘suicidal’, ‘cut myself’, ‘I want to die’…..? Am I being policed that much that I can’t even mention other words in passing…..? That I can’t express the reasons I feel upset, angry and potentially like ducking out of this life??? Okay, from now on I’ll spam the forum with ‘I want to kill myself!’…. ‘I want to cut myself’….. ‘I’m depressed’. If we’re only allowed to mention mental health on the forum!

 

I was bloody careful about masking what I meant. I didn’t mention ‘Labour’ I said Umuna and his party (i.e. the politicians – not the voters!!!!), and I said about ‘the ballot paper’ – so I didn’t mention the EU or referendum – so that it wouldn’t offend people and they couldn’t have a go at me for it!!! Okay I said ‘lefty’ but if you’re offended by the word lefty, then should I get you a new dummy?? It was brief and masked, and anybody who would bother to go into the thread of someone who is an utter outsider on that site, doesn’t know anyone, and they are then offended by that, should really get a fucking life.

 

What this was, was the moderator in question, IS a ‘lefty’….. IS a ‘Remainer’…. and has a personal grudge against me for having a view different to her. It’s clear. I once had a discussion with her about politics – she’s the opposite to me, and was very argumentative and even had to apologise to me for it, whereas I wasn’t… I simply explained things to her politely. She is one of those in this country who wants to shut down free speech for people like me. And she’s succeeded…. she deleted my posts. Well fuck her, and fuck that stupid website. It should be taken down. Hardly anyone uses it nowadays.

 

What pisses me off the most though, is “try to be more respectful of people whose views differ from yours.” ………. fuck you. I am extremely tolerant of different views… I am respectful. I don’t have any respect for you now. But I never said that people who have different views to mine, are bad people… I never disrespected them. I was rightfully pissed off at people on the television….. I have grown intolerant of their intolerance!! I am allowed to say whatever the hell I like about people on the fucking television!! So if someone commented about Boris Johnson on this forum after seeing him on TV, saying what a moron he is, should I be offended because I like Boris???? How does this double standard forum work? The world is full of different opinions. It’s no reason to get rid of those opinions!

 

I’ve just composed my complaint, and will be sending it today. I harmed myself because of them – not that I’m allowed to tell them that, as I’d get ‘infraction points’…. they’ve got so many rules that you’re not even allowed to breathe anymore. I’m going to find a better site that actually respects the feelings and needs of the people using it.

 

---

 

5th June 2018

 

I wrote most of this post yesterday. I have since sent in my response to the moderator, and I have copied my complaint to the webmaster so that he can see the discrimination of his moderators.

 

 

 

In my opinion this forum has shown itself to be left-wing. They removed my posts for daring to criticise left-leaning people on the television, but took no issue with the countless posts about us ‘xenophobes, racists, oldies and bigots’ who voted for Brexit. I reported such posts – never minding that they’re a couple of years old now – it still demonstrates the double standards they have, and how intolerant they are of any more right-wing views whatsoever.

 

It feels like discrimination based on my opinions. In every sector of my life I feel like an outsider. I feel like a minority in terms of my views. I’m always shouted down by the opposition and I’ve had e-fucking-nough of it. The bitch is going to come out and play. You want to argue with me, or try to silence me, I’m going to shout it from the rooftops what a bigot you are. Try to show me up… I’ll show you up more. I’ve been a doormat for too many years, and it ends now. You’re going to get what you give and you’re going to get what you deserve. Don’t push me anymore. 

 

These posts will show you the emotional turmoil I went through as a result:

 

 

This site was a support forum for self-harm and mental health. This moderator and the actions of this site resulted in me cutting myself and punching the hell out of myself. I also went into self-neglect mode, where I don’t take my meds, eat, drink, sleep or anything else. I stay up late, thinking about everything. I’m still utterly exhausted two days later – this is my quiet day this week, and I haven’t enjoyed it. I don’t feel rested, because I feel stressed, on edge and unsettled. Somehow I have to get through the rest of the week, and the next, and every one after that. I feel shattered and really don’t want to exist right now. I want a month’s sleep. The anger I feel scares me. I have to bottle it up really. These people keep shutting my voice down. And every time they do that it builds the monster inside me….. I feel like a volcano about to explode, and I’m scared of who’ll get hurt in the blast. I feel a rage in me every single time people stop me from speaking…. I feel it bubbling violently, and I want to smash things… I want to scream. I want to punch the crap out of everything in sight. I feel such burning anger at other people, and I’m afraid of my thoughts…. I would never hurt another soul… I know that…. but the rage scares me. So I hit myself. I would rather beat myself black and blue than to lose control of my anger. But I resent all those people who stopped me being able to speak out about my feelings or my views. I have a right to freedom of speech – be it about politics or mental health, or my feelings or life. I have a right, and I should be allowed the space to do so, without being attacked for it. I am so angry that people think they can silence me, just because they don’t like what I have to say. 

 

My opinions may differ from yours…. my truth may upset you…. but demanding that I keep my thoughts to myself leaves the blood on your hands. You are asking me to bottle things up. You are saying that your opinions are all that matters, and you don’t want another idea out there to challenge yours. You are judging me as a person for not thinking the same as you. You are saying you don’t care about the consequences for me, even if that means me harming myself. You are silencing me, isolating me and pushing me towards the edge of the cliff. 

 

The last few times I have self-harmed have all been for the same reasons – that people tried to shut down my voice. They argued, they attacked, they accused, they played the victim and they made me feel like total shit. They made me feel I don’t have the right to a say… that I shouldn’t use my voice. That I have to keep my thoughts and feelings to myself and hurt myself, just to keep them happy. I cannot and will not take any more of this. From Twitter, to Facebook, to my blog, to this forum, I feel I can’t say anything without someone objecting. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of feeling like this is some team effort to get me to kill myself. It has all happened in the last couple of months and feels like a systematic shutdown of my voice. It feels like it’s been orchestrated so that I have to close up on every platform and be more isolated. This makes it feel like the whole world is against me. It makes me angry at everyone. It pushes my views even further and makes me hate the opposition more and more. If they could all just shut the hell up, and let people like me have our views without question, then life would be fine. It’s this dogmatic hunger of theirs to win arguments and score political points, at any cost… they’re making the situation in this country worse. Live and let bloody live. Do they not teach this nowadays? 

 

I’ve been a member of that forum for ten years, but no more. They say it’s not a political forum, yet they’ve shown their political bias in this targeting of me. I will seek out a better site, with a more relaxed attitude. The infraction points system is a joke – you talk about politics, religion, self-harm (in the ‘wrong way’), complain about actions by moderators, let people know their actions made you self-harm…. you so much as BREATHE and you get points which add up towards a ban. I’d be far too paranoid to use the site now. I would always be questioning ‘Can I say that?’… they’re clearly watching me and picking on me. You need to be able to speak your mind, especially in a rant/vent thread, otherwise what’s the point? If you have to edit your angry thoughts how will that work? It’s about getting it out so that you don’t hurt yourself. I feel they’re encouraging bottling up emotions instead. This is not healthy for a self-harm support site. I’m being kind in not naming it, though I really want to. I’m sure there are some good ones out there… this unfortunately is not it …. not any longer. I want to belong to a more open and tolerant forum, where different ideas are welcome and encouraged… and where I won’t be accused of disrespect and intolerance, by a disrespectful and intolerant person. She could not tolerate my views so got them removed, and had the audacity to lecture me on being respectful. It’s infuriating! And demonstrates the battle we non-left-leaning people face daily!!

 

I do apologise to those who would rather my posts not be political – that’s what I’ve wanted to avoid too, but since freedom of speech doesn’t seem to exist for me, unless I want to cut myself as a result, this is my only space left. I don’t intend to make it political, only to express my emotions and the difficulties I’m having in my life, that make my mental health worse. I respect different opinions. I promise you I have no issue if any of my followers have different political views. Any rants I ever have are based on people I’ve encountered and the general attitudes I’ve seen from certain groups of people. If you support a particular group I am ranting about and you are not one of the people I describe I apologise, and I don’t mean you – I only ever mean the unpleasant ones among your lot. Unpleasant people exist in every area of society, but my rants will tend to only be aimed in one direction as they are the opposite view to me, so are the ones most likely to personally give me trouble!

But respect and appreciation to you all. Thank you for always allowing me the freedom to speak freely on my own blog. It means a lot.

Hope you’re all well,

xxxx

 

“I Hate You, Go Cut Yourself!”

*Will definitely contain very strong language, self-harm & suicide references*

 

 

And another thing – does anyone ever feel they can’t do anything right? I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t. The world fucking hurts when you have BPD, am I right? We feel our emotions more intensely. We’re more sensitive to everything around us. We feel a hollow emptiness… a chronic loneliness…. we feel misunderstood and immensely isolated. The depression we feel is darker than black; emptier than a void; deeper than a bottomless pit. The fear of loss and abandonment controls our lives. Our self-esteem is next to nothing, and we feel we’ll never fit in, in this world.

 

Sometimes we get hurt by people, or feel like they don’t care about us. And it cuts to the bone. This is how I have felt for at least the last two months. And I have the choice: Say something about it, or put up with feeling like shit… alone.

 

It seems people would prefer me to do the latter. But I can’t keep living with this sense of neglect from people. Asking me to shut up and put up is abuse. It’s asking me to live with my insides being shredded and spat out every single day. It’s shrivelling up any residual feeling of self-worth – not that I have much now anyway. And it’s asking me to suffer.

 

But I cannot do the alternative either, as it upsets other people. Using my voice and speaking up about my feelings… being brutally honest… doesn’t make me very popular. In fact even after posting my previous blog I’m eaten up by guilt and shame.

 

The thing is I shouldn’t HAVE to say the things I did. I shouldn’t have to explain to friends that I need them to care about me. If they actually did care about me then I wouldn’t need to say how I feel, and that wouldn’t then offend people. I just can’t win. I suffer either way. I have a choice of pain and loneliness, or guilt and shame. So you know what? I’m closing my account down again. I’m sorry my friends think I’m such an awful human being. You know what I agree with you all.

 

The fact I need to post about how isolated I feel, and how unloved I feel, and asking for what I need, naturally makes me feel like a worthless piece of crap. To know it then offends people too… I feel awful for having to be honest and say such things – I FEEL like I don’t deserve friends. Straight after posting my last post I hated myself for it. And it made me feel like closing my account, as I’m such an awful person. And I have offended someone. Probably more than one someone. And I deserve to fucking die for it. Don’t worry, I’ve punished myself for it already, which I’m sure I’ll do again later. And my psychological punishment will be isolating myself again… probably for good this time. If people didn’t hate me before they bloody do now. And I don’t fucking care anymore. All those people saying nice things to me the other day, they shouldn’t have. It’s not true. I’m not a nice person. I only deserve pain. So now that’s all I’m going to have every day.

 

I just wish someone had stopped me from spiralling before it was too late. I can’t come back from this.

 

At one point I believed I deserved an apology for people not being there for me. Now I don’t. Now I’m the ‘bad guy’, and I owe the apology for being me, having needs and expressing them. I will get no apologies. I will  get no care. I deserve none. And I shouldn’t blog anymore.  I only did so as I had no other way of expressing myself.  I thought it would be better than hurting myself. I thought my friends would rather I express myself in words, than to cut into my own skin. But clearly I was wrong about that. They’d rather I stay quiet. So bottling it up and taking it out on myself it is. I’ve gone so far backwards in my recovery I’m feeling as bad as I did when I used to hurt myself every day. So why not complete the transition back to my teenage years…. no friends, terrible anxiety, pulling my hair out, hurting myself every day, not wanting to do anything or go out, wanting to die. Complete set. And fuck everyone who contributed to this downfall. Fuck therapy. Fuck friends. Fuck work. Fuck everything. Fuck asking for help. Fuck recovery. Fuck hope and self-worth. None of it matters anymore. Now I’m just a loner, existing, waiting for it all to end. The world has destroyed me. I have nothing left in me. I have so much self-hatred that I want to tear myself apart just to apologise for existing. I hate myself for speaking out about my feelings, when I should’ve just done what everyone wanted – kept my mouth shut and continued spiralling until I killed myself. This is worse than that now anyway. By putting myself first for a change and trying to make a situation feel better, I’ve only succeeded in alienating myself further, and pissing a lot of people off. People will be pleased I’ve disappeared again, and I won’t be showing any signs of existence towards anyone now.

 

These people couldn’t love me when I needed it. They couldn’t care. They couldn’t save me. Now I don’t want to be saved. Now there isn’t enough care in the world to drag me back from the edge. There is no hope that any soul on this planet could feel love towards me. I’m the definition of evil. Any coping strategy I try is rejected by those around me. So the blade is my new best friend. This is what you all wanted right? You might as well have just sent me a barrage of private messages saying ‘I hate you, go cut yourself!’…

 

I’ve never felt this level of disgust at myself, and pain when reflecting on my life. I just saw lots of photos… of happier times…. of people from my past… of people I’ve loved and lost. And every single photo stabs me. How can one person bear so much pain? Why was this done to me? Why do I have to be me? I can’t live with this past, and this present. There is no future. If there is it’s a lonely and painful one. Nothing worth living for.

 

I had depression. I had severe problems with my mental health. I asked for help. I received none. I felt I’m a terrible person because nobody talked to me. So I talked about the fact I felt like a terrible person, and saying what I needed. And people think I’m an even worse person. I can’t win. Some people are going to hate me whatever. They left me to feel like shit, and then get upset with me when I get upset about being left to feel like shit. Story of my life. I’m always the one being hurt. And I’m always the one being blamed for being hurt. I’m always expected to just accept it, for the sake of other people’s feelings…. fuck my feelings. Fuck me entirely, my life doesn’t mean a damn thing in this world.

 

This is how everyone made me feel. But I’m not blameless. I am a horrible person. If I was a nice person people would’ve cared about me when I needed it. If I was a nice person I wouldn’t be hurt by so many people. I must deserve it. I deserve to die alone, a painful death. If I was meant for anything better then people would’ve treated me better in my life. I’m a waste of oxygen. I am nothing.

 

I’m sorry I add nothing good to anyone’s lives. I’m sorry all I am is a burden. I’m sorry all I am is a dark cloud in the sunny skies of others, and that my depression gets so heavy sometimes, that I strike out with lightning and cry some of the heaviness away. I’m sorry I’m nothing to you. I’m sorry you wasted your time on me. You won’t have to do that anymore. You’re all free of me. I hope you enjoy your lives better with me gone. That’s what matters right? Your lives… everyone’s lives apart from mine….? I’ve always known it. I’ve always known I’m irrelevant. I’ve always known my absence would make no difference… not a negative one anyway. Anyone who’s ever tried to help me, I’m sorry for wasting your time. I can’t be helped. This has gone too far. Every bit of effort in my recovery, was for nothing. It’s all gone.  And I no longer care. So come on, do your worst… I’ve given up on life now anyway. I just want it to go away. I want to go away. I know I won’t be missed. And I won’t miss the pain. The pain only stops when I sleep. Sometimes I wish I could sleep forever…

Working Isn’t Working.

*Self-harm & swearing*

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

Poem: Drowning.

Drowning

 

Inadequacy bouncing around in my skull…

Unintelligent babble of a loon who knows nothing.

Attempts at help always slap me in the face.

The snowball begins –

The isolation, the grief, the despair

All whirling round and down, and down, deeper and deeper,

Dragging me down by the ankles.

I can’t breathe,

I can’t see.

Tears and thoughts of the letting of my own blood, flood my eyes,

A hollowness in the centre of my chest,

A sickness in my stomach.

I try and ride this wave of emotions…

But this is no mere wave,

This is a devastating tsunami,

A vicious whirlpool,

A violent riptide,

All at once, pulling me in every direction;

I can’t find the ground… there is none…

I’m drowning, and my God I just want to let go

And submit to the waves,

Let them take me.

Only then might this pain end.

Only then may the world be free of me,

And my incessant rambling,

My pathetic neediness,

My intolerable being.

I disgust myself,

Pitiful human

Not deserving of love,

Happiness

Nor acceptance.

Revolting inside and out,

I belong in the ground –

Only there will peace be found.

So come on waves, take me now,

Pull me under and end this torment,

For us all.

Forever Etched.

* Discusses self-harm and scars – read with caution *

 

At the time of writing this I am two weeks self-harm free. It may not sound a lot, but with how things have been lately it’s a massive achievement for me. Not only have I survived two weeks since the end of my CBT course, which was a traumatic loss for me, but I’ve also not harmed myself since late that night, before I called the Samaritans.

The urge to do so has lessened, but it’s an odd experience to be triggered by your own scars. I’ve written before about how I feel about my scars, and the strange, complicated relationship I have with them. A part of me hates them and wishes they didn’t exist. Another part of me doesn’t want them to fade and is fascinated with them.

People who don’t self-harm would think it’s crazy that we could ever like our scars. But it’s an odd sort of ‘like’… it’s detesting them, yet being afraid of losing them. Not that you ever lose a scar, they just fade… they’re always there, just not as visible.

I want to talk about my scars, because it’s troubling me a little bit at the moment. I’ve just been through a period of my life where I have harmed myself quite a bit, and quite badly at times. Whilst I was in that zone I wasn’t bothered by the wounds and scars. In fact I wanted more of them. I’d always be eyeing up the next space to add another. I’ve always tried to keep my harming to a small area that can be covered with a plaster, but unfortunately over the last couple of months I broke out of this zone, and once I did that I no longer cared about containing it.

Certain emotions set me off and I couldn’t stop doing it. I honestly didn’t care about scars – I didn’t even think that far ahead. And after a wound had healed, I would crave a new one. It sounds insane when I think of it, but when you’re in the state of mind I was in, that need is overpowering. Pair with that the fragile emotional state I was in too – I was controlled by my self-harm.

Whilst I have a long way to go to recover, and I’m still battling some very deep, intense and distressing emotions, I feel more in control in this moment. Don’t get me wrong – some nights I’m up until the early hours of the morning, crying my heart out in desperation, and my urge is to end that emotion the only way I know how. But so far this fortnight I’ve managed to resist it.

It’s only now I’m away from what was causing me distress that I am clearly seeing my arm and the damage I caused. I see line after line of almost parallel scars, like rungs of a ladder, as though they’re symbolic of the desperation to climb out of the pit of despair I found myself in. And even from saying that you can see I see them poetically. But at the same time I hate to see them. I hate that I have them and will now have to hide them for months until they fade. I’m disgusted by them. I’m ashamed. Some of them I remember the event that led to them.

Out of all the scars, I can still pick out which one started it off – I can see the one I did at therapy. I can see the second one I did at therapy. I can see the one I did after a bad session and interaction with the therapist I was transferring on. I can see the one I did once the course ended. Those stand out in my mind. The rest have blurred together. But I recognise some of my scars for the events, and in that way it’s a painful reminder of things I’d probably be better to forget.

Oddly enough the worst and biggest scar I have came from after that bad interaction with the therapist, and I went home and harmed – but I ended up going to the hospital to have it treated, and they used steri-strips and glue, to minimise scarring… the one and only time I’ve had a wound glued and it’s turned out quite a bad scar. It’s peculiar because it healed so well to begin with. It was closed well, a small line and suddenly it started growing bigger, it’s itchy even all these weeks later, and red around the edges, and it’s bumpy. This is where the fascination comes in. I feel my scars, especially if they’re raised ones… and the feeling’s the same – it’s a slight interest, but mainly disgust and it freaks me out.

But the thing with scars, is although they’re reminders of bad times, they are also reminders of hard times I survived. They also have memories attached to them of self-care and love. For instance, the one that started this slippery slope of self-harm has memories attached to it, of being found by one of the therapists, and her treating it for me…. having the hospital look after it…. me looking after it. In fact because I damaged the tendon, it has memories of that and the fact I didn’t self-harm for three or four weeks after that, as I was looking after myself. It was only once I’d really begun healing from that, that I started chasing the feeling again… wanting to recreate it – for very complex reasons, which I will cover in a future post.

So there’s actually a lot of emotions connected with our scars. They’re not just a physical sign on our bodies. They’re an emotional experience forever etched in physical form. And at least for a little while, we can call to mind that experience and the emotions we felt, just from seeing that one scar. I find it takes about as long as it takes for a scar to fade, for the emotional memory to fade with it.

So whilst at the time self-harm feels like a good choice – actually, at the time it feels like the only option if I’m honest – all it does is keep the bad experience around longer. It might bring the emotional intensity down in that moment, but every single time we look at our scars we will be reminded of what made us cut in the first place… and in that way we give the situation or person more power than they are worth.

One day I will forget this period of my life. I will look at my arm and these scars will be white. I won’t recall what happened to cause each particular scar. The emotions attached to my scars will weaken, and I will be in a different place, fighting different battles.

But right now I’m in recovery. All I have are my scars, my memories, my emotions and my strength and determination to beat this addiction. I’ve done it before, I can do it again, and although I will likely never stop entirely, I can have control over my urges to harm, instead of them controlling me.

I may feel guilty, ashamed and repulsed by the sight of my arm, but at the same time I have to love and accept myself, scars included. They are not the sum total of me, but they are a part of me, and I have to learn to like and love every part of me, in order to recover. This will be my aim in the coming months.