*Suicide theme*



I never recovered from Adam disappearing on me.
I never recovered from the things Nick said.
I never recovered from the things Joe did.
I never recovered from Gill’s betrayal, and losing her and Sam.
I never recovered from how Hannah treated me.
I never recovered from losing Grampa.
I never recovered from therapy and my attachment to Matt.
I never recovered from being neglected on the first anniversary of my loss.
I never recovered from all the abuse online last year.
I never recovered from the way you treated me.
I never recovered from you ghosting me, like everyone else did.
I never recovered from you blocking me.
I never recovered from Liv taking her own life.
I never recovered from your absence in the wake of that.
I never recovered from losing Chloe and Logan from my life.
I never recovered from losing you.


I never recovered.

Not from any of it.

Do you get it now?

Do you understand why I changed?

Do you understand why I’m desperate to end my own life?

I never recovered from any of it. The experiences I had, built up and became too much.

I wasn’t just battling one thing at a time. I was being hit by all of these things over and over again, each time a new loss, a new traumatic event or anything remotely painful occurred.

I can’t recover from any of it. I never will.

And you turning your back on me when you did, that was the terminal moment of my life.

That was the moment I knew I’m destined to take my own life sooner or later.

When I had you I had at least the hope of recovery. I had something worth recovering for. I had the kids. I had someone I thought cared. I had someone who never gave up on me.

But you did.

You gave up on me too.

Now there’s nothing left.

To fight against that mountain of loss and trauma is hard enough.

To have to do it without your best friend by your side is impossible.

To have your best friend jump up and down on top of that mountain, increasing the load, is unbearable.

The worst part is that you never were to understand the layers of trauma and pain I felt.

You could never sympathise, as you didn’t know the mountain of memories and emotions on my shoulders.

You didn’t know the burden I had to carry.

I carried it alone.

I didn’t want to burden you or anyone else.

And somehow I still did.

Even keeping my distance from you, I was still ‘too much’.

You walked away.

In my mind and heart I feel you never thought of me again.

You were happier.

You were free.

You forgot all about me.

You were friends with Sam, with Gill, with Hannah – you replaced me with her.

What a win for them all… to know we’re not friends anymore… that you cut me out.

Eight months… eight months since you blocked me… the first time.

You blocked every way of me connecting with you again.

You moved house, and told me nothing of it.

Can you not see the pain that would cause?

What did I do to deserve all this?

I can’t recover.

I won’t recover.

This is too much.

I have no life to return to if I do recover.

Everything is gone.

Liv is gone. You’re gone. The kids are gone.

Everything has changed.

All the people who were once my friends have grown up and created lives for themselves. You would know – they’re your friends now.

And I’m stuck here. Powerless. Paralysed. Unable to change. Unable to survive. Because you all destroyed me. You all took my trust and my care and crapped all over it. You left me a broken mess on the cold floor. You left me too traumatised to even move anymore.

With you in my life I could see a little light.

Now there’s pitch black.

There’s only the desperate urge to end this life.

There’s silence.

No friends. No connections. Nothing.

Just emptiness and anticipation of death.

You did this to me.

I wish you could’ve understood the weight I carried in my heart and my mind, from all that’s scarred me forever.

I wish you would’ve helped bear the load.

I wish you hadn’t added to the pile.

I remember at therapy, with my attachment to Matt, saying that I knew I was facing another loss, which would add to the pile of loss and pain… the unresolved trauma. I was right. That’s what happened.

A lot has happened since then, to add to that ‘pile’.



So much more.

What makes it the worst is I didn’t want any of this.

I didn’t want to lose you.

I mentioned stepping back for my mental health and our friendship.

I never would have blocked you.

You made it permanent.


Why do you hate me so much?

Do you not understand what you’ve done to me?

Do you honestly want me to kill myself?

Is that it?

Because if not then you’ve gone about everything so utterly wrong.

Do you know that I’ve written you a note for when that time comes…. and something I wanted the kids to know too….God knows how I’ll get it to you, now I don’t know where in the world you live.

But do you really want me to leave this world thinking you mean me harm and hate me? Do you want to have to live with that on your conscience for the rest of your life? That you could’ve sorted things out with me and not pushed me towards this certainty with your cruel abandonment, when I was already breaking under the weight of everything else in the last ten years…

How will you live, knowing you could have done something to prevent this?

I deserved more.

I deserved enough respect to talk to me, and not just abandon me so casually.

Did thirteen years really mean so little to you?

Did I mean so little?

In the last three years a lot has happened…

I had to learn to live in a world with grief in my heart. Real grief. My first loss.

My world changed. I never recovered from that.

I had a breakdown at therapy and went down a slippery slope with my self-harm. I never recovered from that.

I was neglected by everyone… I was isolated whilst experiencing this new grief, and the breakdown of my mental health. I never recovered from that.

I felt you pulling away from me… a long abandonment over about a year. I was right to fear losing you. That fear affected me in ways I never expected. I will never recover from losing you and the kids.

I lost Liv…. five weeks before I was finally set to see her again in person. It would never happen. I’ll never get to talk to her again. I’ll never get over that….. now I want to be with her. I don’t want to exist in this hell of a world, where nothing is right, and nothing is left, and I’m buried under that mountain of hurt and loss. That mountain you stuck your flag in, to claim a victory over me, as you blocked me… taking all the power for yourself to decide when I may talk to you again.

You won.

You defeated me.

Well done.

You were in control.

All the good it’ll do you when I’m gone.

But I feel you don’t care an inch about that.

But let me tell you, from experience…. losing a friend to suicide is one of the most traumatic things you could ever experience…. all the words you never got to say to them…. the questions unanswered…. feeling you could’ve said or done something to stop it happening. It’s a brief moment and they’re gone. You can’t change it. You can’t get them back. You have to live with the burden for the rest of your life. It’s a burden I can’t carry…. not on my own…. not now I’ve lost you too.

But you’ll be alright. You have lots of other friends to help you carry ‘the burden’ of losing me, should you feel anything about it when it happens.

You’ll never have to feel what I feel now.

You’ll never know how alone I’ve felt.

You’ll never know the weight I carried in total isolation.

You’re lucky.

You’ll quickly recover.

You don’t have my illness.

You weren’t screwed over by everyone you ever trusted.

You don’t have my memories.

You’ll survive.

You survived losing me as your friend. You chose it. You’ll survive losing me forever. As far as I know this is it for us forever anyway…. that’s how it feels. So you’ve already adjusted to my absence. It won’t make much difference my being gone.

And you’d better not cry, or come to the funeral – not that I’d have one… nobody would be there.

You could’ve done something… all you had to do was care. All you had to do was put our friendship ahead of your pride. All you had to do was talk to me.

You just had to not walk away from me at the lowest point of my life and treat me like I was nothing.

But then I guess I really am nothing.

If I was anything to you then you would’ve stayed and fought for me, like I tried to do for you.

You wouldn’t have given up.

You wouldn’t have run away.

Everyone runs away.

It’s the biggest sign they never cared.

Nobody ever cared.

I was just a game to them all.

A game of ‘power’.

I’m done being a pawn in a game of ‘control’…. simply used to boost the ego or get something.

I may not deserve more.

I will never have more.

But I’m done.

I won’t be used anymore.

I won’t be ignored anymore.

I won’t be mistreated anymore.

I won’t BE anymore.





* Just expressing feelings. I do feel all this, but it’s not imminent,
so nobody worry about me…. not that people tend to…*

The Lonely Night.

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


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


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


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


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


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


And then the thoughts of my granddad come in.


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


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




I find myself in an uncomfortable emotional state. I don’t know why I feel the way I do. And I feel ashamed about feeling the way I do. I feel empty. And as a result of that I’m experiencing urges that make no sense to me.


I feel the urge to hurt myself. I want to self-sabotage and either alienate myself from friends, or to throw myself to the wolves online and let them bully me. I’m contemplating throwing myself at people who are unavailable. I don’t understand why I feel any of these urges. It’s like I want to feel something. I want a reason to self-destruct. I want to harm myself and fall apart entirely. I want a break from existing in this world. It feels wrong to say this, but it’s almost as if I’m feeling the need to cause myself drama, so that I can hurt myself for a legitimate reason…. that feels so wrong, manipulative and attention-seeking. It’s not like me at all. Any drama that’s caused me to harm myself before has always been incidental…. it’s always taken me by surprise. I never set out to cause drama. Just having this urge to do so makes me feel so ashamed.


I feel my existence is pointless at the moment. I’m trying to get along a bit more now. I talk to people more, see people, do my volunteering. I’m enjoying the football, and I’ve taken up knitting. To an outsider I’d seem to be doing better. But honestly, in my heart, I’m not okay.


I’m scared of myself. I feel so detached from the world… still. No matter how many interactions I may have with people, it’s like it’s all happening through layers and layers of bubble wrap. It’s so distant and muffled. And whenever I’m left to my thoughts my heart lurches at the reality of having to continue existing in this world. I don’t want to. No matter how hard I try and how many things are thrown at me as inspiration to live life… I just don’t want to.


This world is different now. So much has changed in two years. Forgetting the fact that two years ago politically things were different, and in that time the most disgusting sides of humanity have been shown, that I don’t feel accepted anymore. My granddad isn’t here anymore.  Two years ago he was. He was here… he was frail. He had his troubles, but he was still here. We’re approaching the time when he went into hospital, and our lives changed forever. Although I’m carrying on with life, as you do, the world feels different now. It’s not just about missing him… it’s the realisation that life has changed. You don’t just lose the person, you lose the reality you knew. You lose who you were. You lose a lot more than your loved one.


I’d been fortunate to be untouched by death until last year. I was able to live in a little bubble where the people I love would live forever. I never imagined my life without them. Life is a darker, more grown up place now. Now I see life differently. I see it as all of us waiting in line to die. It’s just a queue. And I think about the others I have to lose, and what order they’re likely to be in. I think of how little time I might have left with other people. I think about cutting in line… jumping the queue, to save having to go through grief again.


Life isn’t safe anymore. At any moment I could lose someone I love. That never entered my mind before. It  feels like I’m waiting for the next loss. I have nothing to give my life purpose while I wait. So it really is like sitting in a waiting room, waiting to hear who’s next. Before my granddad went I didn’t really appreciate what this kind of loss did to people. Not really. It changes your whole outlook on life. You don’t feel safe anymore.


The thing is I don’t think anyone can help me with it. No amount of talking will change reality. The reality is that he is gone. I can’t talk to him anymore. I can’t see him. I can’t hear him. I can’t hold his hand. I still remember how it felt to hold his hand in hospital, and how he moved my hand to his other hand so that he could move his oxygen mask… even though he was barely conscious. He didn’t want me to feel he was rejecting me. He wanted me to know I could still hold his hand. I can still feel his hand in mine. I can still feel when I stroked his head, eight months later, as I said my last goodbye to him. I can  still hear his voice. I can see his face. I can see him crinkling his nose up with laughter. Everything is so vivid in my mind. I just wish he was here, so I could talk to him… to know he’s okay.


I reached out for psychological help before he died. I wanted it in place to help me when it happened. By the time I saw someone he had been gone for four or five months. I then started my group therapy, breaking down in the first session because of my grief. And then everything went insanely wrong from then on, with the transference and self-harm. What I needed as help to make all this feel better, ended up making me worse. And as hard as they tried to fix it afterwards, I’m sorry to say it’s not at all fixed. Now I’m on my own trying to deal with so much loss and change. So much pain. The deepest depression. And trying to see a reason to live.


But the darkness got into my veins. It’s in my blood now. No matter what happens I can’t see the light. Matt was a ray of light. It always seems darker once a brief glimpse of light is taken away from you. Having seen him recently it’s darkened my world again to know I never will again. Everything feels so desperate and bleak, and as little sense as it makes, I want to run to him. I can’t though.


I just have to hold on to this uncomfortable feeling, and ride it out. I have to surf all these different urges. I have to comfort myself. I have to ‘just hang on’ and hope the feeling passes. I have to put on a front and pretend to be better than I am. I have to be there for other people. I have to ignore the constant paranoia.


I’m sorry, it’s still there, no matter what. What I described as the ‘hijacker’ in me. The bastard who drove me away from all my friends before. He’s still here. I’m trying my best to block him out, but it takes such a lot to ignore him. He keeps telling me to run away from everyone. He tells me I shared too much of my illness with people, showed too many flaws and unattractive / unacceptable behaviours to them, that they’ll never see me the same again… that I scared them all off. And that if they haven’t given up on me, they will. I have to keep fighting the thoughts in my head. I have to sit with the fears that people hate me or don’t care. I have to just sit with them and not act on them, which I’m managing to do a little more now compared to a few weeks ago. But it’s so exhausting and it’s the constant fight in my head that makes me want to give up on life.


People would look at me, hear me and think I’m alright. They can’t see what’s going on inside my head. A lot of the time I try and ignore the fighting in my head. It’s not always possible. It hits me the worst at night. It’s setting in now actually.


I’m really struggling with the monotony of life. It feels like life is about surviving from one day to the next. Wake up, exist, do any duties you have to do including volunteering, go home, sleep, wake up and repeat. Even fun things have become like duties. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy them while I’m participating. But I almost live for the quiet time and solitude. I live for sleep. There can’t be much that’s more depressing than that statement… ‘I live for sleep’. That’s no life. I need the time alone, shut in the dark, hiding away… I couldn’t keep functioning without it. Yet at the same time it allows me to think and go to very dark places.


I don’t know what’s going to get me out of this pit. I don’t even know if it’s a pit I can get out of, or if I’ll get out of it but still have the darkness coursing through my veins. How do you extract darkness from your blood? How do you clear the dark fog from your vision of life? I think I’ll make an appointment tomorrow to see my doctor. It might be time to ask to be referred for more help. As much as I’m scared of changing meds I’d try anything to feel better right now. And I don’t think it’s something I can do on my own anymore. I crossed that point months ago. It’s become so dark that I feel incapable of pulling myself out of this. I need someone to hand me some light, and if it takes pills to start me off with that, then so be it. I know it’ll be another month before I can see my doctor, so better get on and make the appointment. My fear is that I won’t get the support I need… that they’ll turn me down.  I suppose I’ll never know if I don’t ask.


It doesn’t look it from the outside, but I can tell you, from the inside it’s getting to quite a serious point.  I’m starting to feel afraid of my own mind. I just don’t tell anyone as I feel they can’t do anything to help me with it.


I will try to not do the things I said I have urges to do. I’m trying so hard at the moment. I don’t want anyone to think this is easy for me. It’s not. I really want to self-destruct… feels like 85% of me wants to allow myself to be destroyed, either by myself or by others, and 15% is holding me back from that edge. It’s a very strong part of me but very small. At least I have that part still. It’s getting smaller by the day.


There is nothing to look forward to. When I look forward into the future, and even think of things I’ve booked to go and see or whatever, I don’t feel excited. I think ‘Will I make it that far?’… I feel doom. I feel fear. Hopelessness. I see darkness. I feel that I see as much darkness with my eyes open as when I close them right now. I don’t see the difference between being asleep and being awake…. except often life is better in my dreams. Apart from the ones where I’m desperately trying to harm myself and can’t – they’re not good dreams. But at the moment sleep has more to offer me than life does. I don’t remember ever feeling this way before.


I want to go back to a time when my granddad was here, I was innocent, life was safe, I didn’t know Matt existed, and I felt some level of control of my life. Everything is wrong now. I’ve had so much taken from me…. spiritually… caused by physical losses. So many parts of me stolen… broken… I barely resemble who I used to be. There’s a lot of people I wish I never met. Many things I wish I hadn’t done. But what’s done is done. What’s lost is lost, and I have to somehow survive and pick up the pieces. I’m always reminded in my life now, of a quote from Lord of the Rings…..


“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand… there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep, that have taken hold.”


This is how I feel often. And I wish I could do what Frodo does next, which is to sail off in a ship, leaving Middle Earth behind… going off to a better place.


I can’t think of anything that hurts more than life.




I feel so overwhelmed with emotions and my mind is dotting all over the place. I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m scared. To look at me you’d see nothing.. maybe even someone looking a bit distant / vacant, but there’s a tsunami inside… or a whirlpool / tornado…. I can’t decide the best way to describe it. I’m hoping if I start writing about what I’m experiencing it might calm down or I might make sense of it.


I’m in a ‘never’ state of mind. I’ll never get better. I’ll never get the help and support I need. I’ll never achieve anything in life. I’ll never get over things that have happened. I’ll never get over him. I’ll never be accepted or loved by anyone. I’ll never matter to anyone. I’ll never have a family. I’ll never be happy. I’ll never cope in this world. I’ll never survive.

I’m terrified. I can’t breathe properly and I’m trying not to cry. I want to be protected and comforted but the person my mind goes to when I require this, is someone who cannot do that. I feel exposed. I feel like I’ve been strung up, suspended in mid-air, upside down, naked – blind, deaf, mute. I don’t know which way’s up, where I am, I can feel myself shouting for help but I can’t hear it, and nobody else can hear it. I feel vulnerable. I feel alone. I feel like a fraud.

I need more help. Will I be offered it? What if I’m not? I can’t cope on my own. But does the fact I’m still alive at the moment show people I can cope on my own? That’s messed up if it does. I’ve not sought help yet because it takes too much effort to go and make a doctor’s appointment, only to be told there aren’t any. If I did it tomorrow it would be another month before I see the doctor. If she refers me then that’ll be a wait, and an assessment and what if they say no? What if others get the help I need, but because it’s me I don’t? My illness isn’t always visible to the degree I feel it inside. I’m scared about how drastic it has to get before it becomes visible. I’m scared of my illness. I’m scared of my mind.

I can’t control it. The past, the present, the future – it’s all swirling round… people I can’t forget… my self-harm… the state of the world…. losing loved ones… wanting to just break down and not care anymore… everything is zooming around inside, and it’s not even in any order – like they’re all cars on a road, but they’re not doing laps, or driving in order – they’re driving like they’re at the arc de triomphe… it’s anybody’s guess who’s going where. And then hopping from one to another, back again.

Grief… grief just hit me. Tears for his loss. Missing him. The world being different since he left. Scary. Unknown. Finite. Suicide. And now Matt. Just please leave my heart alone. I can’t take the heaviness of missing you. Want to scream for what I can’t have. I want to rip the fabric of existence with my bare hands. Nothing can take all this pain away. Nothing can help me.

Oh God I miss you Grampa. You’re actually gone. Even if you’re watching me now, you’re not here. I’m living in a world that you don’t live in anymore. I can’t take any more emotions. I have to stop this. Mindfulness. Knitting. Sleep. I’m tired of life.

Heavy Stuff.

Apologies for the lack of posts lately. I’ve been dealing with the loss of someone very dear to me. My granddad’s health had been declining for quite some time, and I had to come to terms with the idea of life without him. That time came three weeks ago and we had the funeral last week.

I hope to get back into blogging again soon, but need to work through my grief, and the feelings brought about by family fallouts. The day before the funeral, there was a fallout, whereby my parents got told by my aunty to f***off, and she lashed out at my mum. It was entirely unprovoked, and the actions of someone quite unhinged. My parents had gone to their house in a peace-making capacity, to try and smooth things over between them and my nan, as they had upset her that morning too. None of us anticipated such vile behaviour, and we are still reeling from the shock of it. And we had to see them the next day for the funeral.

They made what was already a very upsetting, difficult day, even worse… and prevented us from being fully present to grieve our loss. Our attention should have just been on saying goodbye, and we should have all pulled together as a family and supported each other. But my aunty and uncle tore our family apart. I reckon they twisted the truth and made my parents out to be the bad guys, and poisoned their children against our side.

None of them even acknowledged my parents, particularly my mum on the day. Now, fair enough I didn’t acknowledge their parents either. But given what they did the day before, I was well within my rights to ignore them. If you hurt my parents you’re irrelevant to me – and you should consider yourself lucky for that… because ‘ignoring’ you is not the first reaction that springs to mind, if you hurt someone I love. When I heard my aunty had swiped at my mum, my impulse was to storm round there and get revenge of some sort. But I had to think of the situation we’re in, plus I’m not that person anyway.

My aunty and uncle will never be forgiven for what they did. Not by me, not by my parents, probably not by my nan. In my eyes, anyone who supports them, and takes sides against my parents in this situation, is just as guilty and I want nothing to do with any of them. My own cousins didn’t reach out to talk to me at the funeral. They used to look out for me when I was little, but showed no concern at all on the day. They didn’t say hello to my mum, never mind expressing their condolences to her. The way she was treated that day will have traumatised her, at an already traumatic time, when she lost her father. My cousins at least, should have had more respect for my mum, and I’m so angry with them, for how they made us all feel, when my side of the family were the victims.

My side of the family were the ones constantly with my nan, comforting her, trying to lift her spirits when she couldn’t stop crying. We were the ones supporting her emotionally. Okay it might not have been the physical, organisational help, but it was a vital job – the one my granddad would have wanted us to do, more than anything. We built her up, and they tore her down. They couldn’t accept no for an answer, and didn’t want to respect her wishes. If they had humbly done so, there would have been no problem between any of us. They were the ones to create the argument. They are the ones who owe us a massive apology. We were the victims. And I won’t let them get away with it, unchallenged. Even if it’s in thirty years’ time, I’ll make the truth known.

I hope we all live long enough, for me to one day tell them the truth about their mother, and what she said and did to my parents that day, how psychotic it was, and how rude and unfair it was for them to ignore my mum that day, when she had done absolutely nothing wrong and was grieving. I hate my aunty right now, though I ought to pity her, as she clearly needs professional help. I guess I have to feel sorry for her family too, as they’re unaware of what she is, and that they’re her ‘enablers’. They can’t tell the truth from the bullshit. But I hope when they learn the truth of how disgusting their avoidance of my family was that day, they can live with their consciences. Until then, we want nothing more to do with the lot of them. Well, I don’t anyway!

It’s thrown me into a mini state of crisis. I’ve just lost someone so important in my life, and now I’ve lost that side of the family too, as they’ve treated my family like shit. My world has suddenly become a lot smaller, and harshly real. I can at least to some degree, cope with grief, even though it’s my first time doing so. The grief itself is not enough to cause me to harm myself. If anything his passing gives me more incentive to live… for him…. so that he can see me succeed and I could make him proud of me. But anyone who knows anything about BPD will know that ‘people problems’ are often a cause of a relapse. I’ve not had anything directed at me, so it’s less likely I’ll harm myself because of it. But it has sent me into overthinking mode, and has made me much more depressed. I struggle sometimes to contain my anger when I talk about them. I have to internally battle the voice that says to message my cousins, and find out what the hell their problem is with my parents. I have to stop myself from telling them the truth, as that will lead to problems for me, and self-harm as a consequence. We were so focused on avoiding confrontations with them on the day, and holding our heads up high, that we’re only now starting to reflect and grieve.

It’s hit me hard. I’ve lost my appetite. I’m so tired all the time. I feel tense and ill a lot of the time. I feel lost and empty. But the trouble is, every time I think about the loss of my granddad now, and about the funeral, with it comes the memories of what they put us through, how they treated us, and the stress and pain they caused my nan, and my parents at the worst time of their lives. I’ll never escape the memory of this, and the hatred and anger because of it… because it’s so entwined with the loss of my granddad. There’s no undoing it. We can’t re-run the funeral process. It’s done. The damage is done. My first experience of a funeral was traumatic for more reasons than it should have been. They made it traumatic. They made it something I’ll never forget, but for the wrong reasons. I can’t forgive that. And whilst ultimately they’ve got to live with the consequences and their consciences… we know they won’t. We know her kids will believe the lies and not give a shit. But WE do have to live with this for the rest of our lives, and we will. Because victims never forget… especially something this big. But the bullies, they get away with anything, and live happily ever after. That’s my experience of life. Bullies and bad people never pay for their mistakes and bad choices. They forget. But the victims live with the scars their whole lives.

I want to forget those people. I want to be able to remember my granddad, without it being infected by their toxicity. He deserves all my attention. He was a wonderful man, and he’d be so ashamed of my aunty right now if he was here.

I just want the obsessive part of my illness to go away. The bit where I replay things over and over again, feeling the emotions all over again. I’m trying to turn to art… sketching pictures of my granddad, to try and focus my attention and love on him. It’s all I can think to do at the moment. I’m just sick of my mind and the memories right now. I can’t think clearly. But when I can, hopefully I’ll get back into helpful blogging. This one was more of a personal rant, sorry. Hope everyone’s keeping well.


Everything Hurts Me.





I feel as though I have no emotional skin. You know people often say they’re ‘thick-skinned’, meaning they can take whatever is thrown at them, without letting it get to them. I’m the opposite of that. I don’t even have to have things thrown at me to upset me. I react to the slightest vibe. It’s like actions and words exist to most people, and they’re the things ‘normal’ people would react to. And then around the actions there’s ‘energy’….. and around the words there’s ‘energy’ – some of us read between the lines, in what people say and their behaviour. I don’t know if this is part of being an empath, a highly sensitive person or an aspect of BPD. Either way it can make life very difficult to navigate.

Someone ignoring you or being hesitant about doing something isn’t just a casual rejection, it is a complete and utter rejection of you as a person. It is someone saying they want nothing to do with you, they dislike you, find you a nuisance and cringe at the thought of having to tolerate you, they think you’re worthless and you agree – you then think back on everyone who ever made you feel the same. You think everyone in your life feels the same about you… they all hate you and only pity you and put up with you. They wouldn’t miss you if you weren’t around anymore. You feel like a burden to everyone and think they’d prefer you didn’t exist.

Someone hurting you is not just them hurting you, it’s as if they’ve teamed up with anyone else who ever hurt you…. it’s like they’re spiritually there in an ever-expanding group of people whose aim in life was to bring you pain. They’re all stood there over you, looking down on you, with smug smiles on their faces.

When in someone’s presence, saying something, and the other person either shows disinterest, seems offended or seems unsure when responding, it’s not that they’re just disinterested, offended or unsure – you’re an idiot for even opening your mouth. You must never go out in public again, you must cut yourself off from your friends and never venture forth an idea or story – nobody’s interested anyway, and anything you say may upset someone or make them think you have a hidden agenda. You feel stupid and like nobody cares.

You sense conflict in a room. You pick up on the feelings of others, and the atmosphere…. and then you’re told you’re imagining things. You know you’re not, so you feel your feelings about the conflict (fear, sadness, discomfort) are invalidated. You think they’re trying to make you seem crazy, like you see things that aren’t there, when the truth is you’re just very perceptive. But you feel dragged into the middle of the conflict and vow never to say a word again. You feel like your feelings have been neglected, therefore people being angry with each other is more important than your wellbeing. You feel unimportant, like you only ever inflame things, you’re useless and just get in the way.

The person you like preferring your friend or someone else, is not just about being unwanted by them. It’s NEVER being good enough for anyone. It’s being too ugly, too fat, too emotionally aware, too ‘difficult’ and utterly unlovable. It’s nobody EVER choosing you. It’s being invisible to the opposite sex. It’s years and years of suffering and loneliness, and having them choose to be with someone who hasn’t had those years of suffering and loneliness, purely because they have more confidence or are more experienced. And then feeling like a leper, and frustrated that nobody ever gives you the chance to gain experience, therefore you’re eternally stuck as an unattractive loner. And then seeing everyone you know getting married and having babies, and getting divorced, straight into another relationship, more babies. And you’re still sat there like ‘Hello?? Can anybody actually see me??‘ – maybe if they didn’t see you you’d stand a better chance as you’re obviously hideous. You feel worthless, and since you have a heart full of love to give someone and nobody wants that love, you can’t fulfil your life’s purpose. And you long to be a mother, as you know you would make one of the best parents, but not only is there the possibility you may not be able to have children yourself, nobody will even DATE you, let alone marry you and have children with you! And all the while you have to see everyone else with their children, sharing posts on social media encouraging wives and mothers to show off about why they’re proud to be spouses and parents, blissfully unaware of the pain it causes in people like you. You feel that love isn’t made for you. Your only role in life is to love other people, to give to other people, and to bring other people together…. you are just an outsider, an observer, a pawn. Nobody will ever love you. You will never be a wife. You will never be a mother. You feel you are a waste of a life, because the things you want most will never be yours. This only makes you bitter and cynical about love, and you build walls that no man has the balls to climb over. So ultimately you end up alone by your own making. But there’s sod all you can do about it. You’ve been rejected so much more than any heart should have to take, that you give up.

Sorry, you might notice from that last paragraph that I’m ranting about my own feelings at the moment. I just feel nobody in my life understands what heartache I have to go through every single (pun intended) day and the thoughts I endure daily because of the last few years of my life. I’m scarred by it all, emotionally and physically. I’m weary of this world. And I don’t think I can take anymore. So I’ve shut off. I’m actually at a point right now where I want to push everyone away. I just don’t give a **** anymore.

Every little thing said and done, and not said or done hurts me at the moment. I feel like I started off thin-skinned emotionally, and now the skin I had is gone, so have several layers underneath. Each year strips another layer of my emotional skin off. And I think it will continue until all I am is a skeleton.

Reaching out to people to talk to them, to invite them to things, to partake in conversations – nobody knows the amount of guts that takes me nowadays. I have had rejection up to my eyeballs, and any perceived rejection now is amplified. It cuts away at me, more than it should. Anytime I’m ‘ignored’ I question myself – ‘What have I done wrong? What’s wrong with me?’… Every silence feels like a weight added to my heart. Situations where I’ve been upset by something, people have attacked me and made me feel guilty for being upset about it, whilst not considering the fact they ALL have an ‘other half’ to support them, and comfort them at the end of the day. What about me? What have I got? My ****ing pillow to cry into in a lonely bed, that’s what! That’s all I’ve EVER had. Sure I have family, but I don’t have someone to share my life with. I don’t have someone who truly has my back. I don’t have love. So when these people have been upset with ME for being upset with them, I think screw you. You have NO idea what it’s like to be like me, a complete ****ing failure of life, totally alone, rejected by society, and a pathetic human being. Oh did I offend you by being upset? Boohoo, go home and cry to your husband, or your wife – and thank God you’re not a leper like me, thank God you are actually capable of being loved. Some of us will never EVER have the privilege. I have spent my whole life rejected, neglected, used, forgotten, hurt, betrayed, and at the end of the day I have to pull myself through it all alone. Nobody will ever understand the amount of strength that takes….. To stay awake into the early hours of the morning, crying your heart out alone, knowing everyone else is out there in bed with the love of their lives, happy, safe, protected, wanted. And then forcing myself to get up in the morning and face another day just like the last. Alone. It is a daily struggle. So please remember if we ever have a falling out, I’ll be the worse off of the two of us…. I have nobody to back me up, validate me, pick me up, comfort and love me regardless of what happens. All I have is myself and sadly my self-harm.

I wish I could find someone meant for me. But I honestly don’t think there’s anyone out there for me anymore. By this age most good guys are taken. Anyone I’ve ever wanted to be with is either spoken for or a total jerk. I want my own love story. I want to KNOW it’s right. I want to meet someone, gel with them, feel a spark but also have a really strong friendship with them. I don’t want to settle. And I am going through a difficult patch at the moment where I’m desperately lonely I’ll be honest, and I’m looking in the wrong places for what I need and deserve. I want to believe in love again. Eight years ago I had hope, confidence, a spark in me… and a series of events have wiped all that away and I no longer believe I will ever find that kind of love; the love all my old friends have found. It’s just not meant for me. I wish I wasn’t so late to the party, and had the experiences of normal people at a younger age. But unfortunately my mental health was a barrier during my teenage years and early 20’s. So I missed out on what should’ve been the ‘good years’ of my life. And now it seems that I will never have them. And nobody can ever understand the despair and pain that brings me. Feeling like this is all pointless, why am I here?? I was too late to find my soulmate. By the time I do, if I ever do, it’ll be too late to become a mother. I’ll just be born to die having suffered for most of my years. Sorry, it just all feels pretty hopeless right now.

And I wish I could let this side of me be seen by people, but the only time they ever see it is through writing. Because I believe most people find emotions unattractive – and hey, I’m unattractive enough as it is without the extra help! But one of the people who could’ve been right for me, played the white knight to someone else who apparently ’embraced her emotions’. So maybe if he’d seen the more vulnerable side he might’ve felt like being MY hero. Unfortunately I now feel so untrusting of everyone in the world, as much as I want to be loved, I no longer care about searching or appearing ‘attractive’ to anyone. If they’re not attracted to me without my efforts then I’m not making efforts to make them like me. If that means I’m doomed to be alone for the rest of my life, then so be it. It’s a fate I’ve already accepted anyway. Even if someone wanted me now, I’d feel they don’t really want me, they just pity me, or they’re desperate, for who would want someone like me? Nobody ever has. The only people who ever wanted me were the ones who ultimately destroyed me, as they were ones who wanted everyone else as well. I’ve never known how it feels to be in someone’s heart. To have someone afraid of losing you. To be a priority. And for over 30 years of my life, to have never once felt any of that….. THAT is real pain. And anyone who ever says to me that others have it worse, please don’t. I may not have the life everyone else has. I may not have the responsibilities you all do. I may not have a family, partner, house, job, car etc…. whatever wonderful lives you have, but I think I’m fully qualified in pain, and such inferences that I have an empty ‘nothing’ life, and don’t understand the stresses of your hectic lives, don’t exactly help my self-worth. I know I don’t have everything you do to take into consideration… thank you, I’m fully aware what a failure I am, and how little I have. Unfortunately I’m powerless to do anything about it. Life hates me. Yet I get up each day to face it through heartbreak and pain. I think I’m tougher than most people I know. I just wish I could rebuild my emotional skin, as it takes so much out of me to function in this world, and I take a long time to recover from experiencing it.

I will get round to blogging about helpful things again soon, I just had to be selfish for a moment, and deal with my own thoughts. This post actually ended up somewhere completely different to where I intended, but I find sometimes it’s best just to go with it, and see where it takes you, what it uncovers and what it’s there to resolve. And if writing about things in this way gets it all out and stops me harming myself then that’s a bonus.

I’ll be working on some more posts soon, just need to take some time to grow some new skin first. Gosh I know I need tougher skin on Friday this week that’s for sure!! Anyone know of any ‘fast-growing skin lotion’ on the market?? 😉

Thanks for reading, take care.



The End.

Just to inform any followers I won’t be using this blog anymore, for personal reasons. I may start a new one at some point, in which case I hope you’ll find me. I’m thankful for the likes/comments I’ve received, and I hope you’ve found some of it helpful. See you on the other side xxxx


This blog is about particular aspects of mental health, including:



Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)


I have only this year begun to discuss my mental health issues to a slightly wider audience. It used to be only my family and closest friends knew anything about them. But I’ve reached a point where I no longer care what people think of me. If they no longer want to know me because of my mental health issues then they were never worth knowing anyway. They’re the ones with the problem, not me.

There is still stigma attached to having mental health issues, particularly if you self-harm or suffer from a personality disorder – those will be my main aims of this blog – to dispel any myths about Borderline Personality Disorder and self harm. A lot of people lump BPD sufferers in with the likes of narcissists and sociopaths, as BPD is a ‘Cluster B Personality type’ the same as the others. People think that those with BPD should be avoided, ignored and are selfish, manipulative, toxic and dangerous. In a future post I will explain why these beliefs are wrong, and very damaging. People with BPD can be some of the most kind and loving people in this hard world.

I have never formally been diagnosed with BPD, but I have done two courses of DBT (Dialectical Behaviour Therapy) which is designed for those with BPD and who self-harm. It is implied that you have at least some of the traits of BPD to qualify for needing DBT. The only things I’ve ever been diagnosed with were severe depression and anxiety, along with my self-harm.

I have come a long way in my recovery, however I have recently had a setback and that’s why I’ve decided to write this blog, as an outlet for everything I’m feeling. If I can help anyone else along the way then that’s a bonus, one I shall be thrilled with, as nothing hurts more than experiencing mental illness and feeling alone with it, and misunderstood. I understand. And I know if you’re reading this, you understand me too. So let’s face ‘mental illness’ together, head-on… erase the myths, break the stigma and work towards recovery and a better quality of life.