What’s Real??

 

What's Real_

 

*Self-harm mentioned*

 

 

Struggling so much at the moment. People probably wouldn’t know this. I’m not really opening up about it as much. I’m battling with my own mind.

 

I’m paranoid that the mental health services are fobbing me off. Despite what they said at the assessment, that they’re not doing that, and that I could access DBT in the future, just not right away – that I have to follow the ‘pathway’ by doing the Wellbeing Centre first…. I can’t help feeling they’re lying to me.

 

I was told they won’t diagnose BPD and that I don’t need a diagnosis. Then how come so many people ARE getting diagnosed with it? And are on waiting lists for DBT and yet I have to start at the bottom? Is it because I’ve done it before in the past? Does everyone have to follow this pathway? Or is it just me, being told something different to everyone else, as usual?

 

This isn’t helping my paranoia. I can’t let go of this feeling like they’re lying to me just so they don’t have to help me. Look, they got out of having to do so…. I’m off of their caseload already, after one assessment. I’ve been directed elsewhere…. yes, it could be because that’s the pathway… I have to try this other thing first…. but I cannot shake the feeling they are telling me that to get out of helping me….

 

And that they’re telling me they won’t diagnose what’s wrong with me, and that I don’t need that diagnosis, because they know that once I have that diagnosis, they will have to offer me more intensive help. Not diagnosing it means they aren’t expected to do anything. This might not be the case, but I have paranoia about everything in my life right now. And when I see other people seeing psychiatrists, and getting diagnosed and I’m being told the opposite and directed elsewhere, I can’t help but feel angry, resentful and rejected…. like they’re picking on me ….. like they don’t want to help. Nobody wants to help.

 

Having read the assessment letter I feel they minimised everything – the self-harm… saying it was ‘minor’ – how do they know?? They didn’t see it… they didn’t ask….. ‘minor bruises’ – actually I’ve still got great big lumps (hematomas) left on my arm from two months ago! I’ve deformed parts of my hands, and I’ve possibly even fractured things along the way but haven’t sought treatment for any of it…. I don’t personally think that’s ‘minor’. Do you?? It’s like when they say your cuts are ‘superficial’. This does SO much damage. My response to reading ‘minor bruises’, was to violently attack myself again, saying ‘I’ll show you ‘minor bruises’!’ … it’s as if they’re saying it’s not bad enough to warrant help or to be taken seriously…. it makes you do it worse. It’s like with the cutting – that’s not ‘superficial’. If I’m bruising tendons and having to steri-strip my wounds then I don’t think that’s superficial. The language around self-harm has to change. I will write separately about this soon.

 

But I felt like they tried to paint a better picture of me, to present at the team meeting, than was true. My eye contact was good because I couldn’t understand what he was saying…. his accent was too strong, that I had to look at his face to lip-read. I may look better than I am and relate well to people, because a part of my problem is I don’t let anyone see my reality. I always try and be nice, polite and friendly to everyone. I’m the girl who had her BCG injection at school, got up afterwards and said ‘thank you very much’ for God’s sake! How I appear has nothing to do with how I am and what I’m experiencing. I won’t go outside the house without putting my make-up on or doing my hair. Yes, I did that for my assessment. But it overlooks the fact that 90% of the time I don’t even go outside the house, so do not bother with these things.

 

I may look better than I am and relate well to people, because a part of my problem is I don't let anyone see my reality. I always try and be nice, polite and friendly to everyone. I'm the girl who

 

He said I was present etc. – but what about when I told him that I didn’t feel I was really there…..? That it didn’t feel real…. I felt disconnected from everything. I said that. He also obviously didn’t notice me digging my nails into my hand. He didn’t mention the fact I burst into tears, which he robotically ignored at the time… distressing me further.

 

Yes, towards the end of the assessment I felt we understood each other more and I started to relax a bit. I helped him with trying to get the printer to work…. I may have even laughed a little. Is this the snapshot he took, to report to everyone else? Overlooking the rest of it? That seems unfair to me. I’m a people-pleaser. I don’t like to make others uncomfortable.

 

I felt he played down the self-harm and the suicidal feelings. Why do people do that? Every single time in the past, when I’ve been asked whether I would act on my feelings I have, I’ve said no…. because I’m a people-pleaser! And I was scared of their reactions. This one time I was prepared to be honest and say ‘I don’t honestly know if I would act on it or not anymore…. because I don’t feel as in control of myself as I used to…’ and I don’t feel that opportunity came up…. so I don’t feel they had the full picture when making the decision….

 

But would the decision have been the same regardless? Were they always going to turn me away?

 

And it comes back to… would I have been given more help there and then if I had the diagnosis? To be honest I don’t feel that ‘BPD’ is my only diagnosis…. I feel more and more in recent times, that perhaps C-PTSD fits my life. I would have liked them to look at that side of things…. to understand that everything is traumatising me…. and it feels like a great mountain of pain, loss and trauma that I can’t get over… it just gets higher and higher with each hurtful or difficult event in my life. When I talked to him about what I had experienced in the past he said they didn’t want to know about that – that they wanted to know what my problems were in the here and now….. this is what made me upset in the assessment – they were invalidating my experience and my feelings….. they were saying my past is gone, it isn’t important. But the fact is that my past is why I am in such distress in the present. I needed them to help me with that. I’m not sure they will. I’m not sure anyone will. Even the IAPT service made it clear they deal with the here and now, not the past – WELL WHO THE FUCK CAN HELP ME WITH THE TRAUMA OF MY PAST???? If people keep telling me the past is not the issue, then soon I’m going to kill myself. Because it proves nobody understands what I’m going through. If nobody will help me heal the past then how the hell am I ever to have a future?

 

I wanted help with that. I wanted help with the paranoia too… but I feel that was glossed over. It’s a huge problem for me. It’s new. I don’t know how to cope with it. And as you can see, it’s now causing huge problems for me with mental health services too. I feel stranded at sea to be honest. And feel sick from all the waves of uncertainty and doubt.

 

I also have to make a personal decision soon too… and I’m struggling to do so, as I’m splitting and paranoid with that situation too…. I have nobody to discuss it with. So I can’t make a decision based on facts. I have to base it on how I feel. But my feelings are not centred in reality necessarily…. I don’t know what’s true and what is paranoia. So how do I decide? I also don’t feel it’s my place to decide…. the whole point is I want someone else to make the choice for me…. I need them to take the initiative… be pro-active… choose me and make the effort. I have to know they’re willing to do the things that are needed. But I’m seeing doubt and inaction. I know they may not know what to do, but it feels odd that I have to tell them. I feel I’m in this friendship alone… playing both parts. It’s crazy. And given that things are so unreal and uncertain for me at the moment anyway, it’s frustrating to have to convince someone to make an effort for me when it should be forthcoming.

 

Things are uncertain in every way right now. My mental health feels out of control. With the paranoia, splitting … and then the CMHT stuff and the friendship stuff too…. All of this and life generally feels too uncertain, unstable and unsafe since I lost my granddad two years ago. My grief was delayed. This is how it has manifested. Nothing feels the same anymore. I’m struggling to cope with this new reality. It’s not reality to me yet. Nothing feels real. So having to cope with anything extra is very hard to do. Making choices with friends…. knowing what’s right about mental health services…. being attacked online last year so many times, and then by a friend too after it all… it’s broken me. I’m struggling to adapt to life after loss… I’m paranoid…. I don’t feel safe in this world… and I need people to be supportive, caring and to make me feel safe and secure. I shouldn’t be sat here, having to decide whether someone can do that for me or not…. I should see it in their actions and their words…. I should be given these things without asking for them…. so I’m beginning to think I have my answer…. but then I come right back around to paranoia…. am I assuming things because of my illness? And then straight back to – ‘but if they wanted me in their life they would make the effort on their own’….

 

I am fighting between my head and my heart…. between reality and paranoia…. I don’t know what to do about anything …  and it’s making me sick.

 

stranded (1)

 

I have moments where I feel more positive about things, but they’re so fleeting….. before I know it I’m self-harming and a ball of anxiety about life. I do feel alone at the moment. Even if I do occasionally talk to other people… I feel isolated and like I have to cope with what I’m experiencing all on my own. And when people misunderstand you and you doubt your own mind, that makes it all the more isolating…. Being stranded and isolated in a world that doesn’t feel safe or stable anymore = dangerous. But what more can I really do…?

 

 

Eleven Days.

*Self-harm*

 

 

I felt like I needed to write an update, to work through my feelings about a lot of things. So I’m sorry this isn’t a useful post!!

 

I can’t believe it’s only eleven days or so since I called the Samaritans for the second time in my life, and wanted to die. It feels so much longer ago than that. It feels like a lot has happened since then. I’ve written so many things about what led me to that place… letters to the person involved that will never be sent. I finally found compassion for them and intended to share that with them… but right now I’ve circled round again to anger, hurt, hopelessness and the urge to just walk away with them thinking what they do of me. I’m sure I’ll come round to forgiveness and compassion again, but right now I’m bloody angry and I have a right to be.

 

In those eleven days I’ve tried to keep busy – going out more, tidying, preparing for Christmas, I’ve taken up cross-stitch too, which keeps my mind off things…

 

This is the first time in a long time where all my injuries are pretty much healed up. After difficulties with wounds healing recently, they’re all finally scabbed. I took my bandage off all day yesterday and left it off today, for the first time in absolutely weeks! No bruised hands…. still sore from previous injuries, but nothing new. That’s not to say there have been no incidents for a long time…. I’d say a week at the most. That is a long time for me. I’ve had to fight to not hurt myself in that time. It’s not easy. Being physically unwell helps to some degree, as I feel so poorly that I tuck myself in bed and watch DVDs. I can sort of zone out from reality.

 

I’ve also had a letter from the Community Mental Health Team offering me an assessment in the new year. It’s progress I suppose. But I don’t know how to feel about it. I’m already 99% sure they will deny me the help I need… they’ll just do it to my face this time – if that’s how they do it?? I don’t know if they do that or if they write to you…. any clues anyone?? I’m worried about my reaction if they tell me there and then that they can’t help me. I won’t be safe. Anyway, I have this ‘false hope’ to get me through the festive period at least…. in the hope that I’ll be helped… but I know deep down that they won’t do it. And if they do I’m scared of what it means…. so I’m confused about the whole thing. Not getting the help was making me more suicidal as I couldn’t go on without support. Now I possibly could get it I’m scared… I’m partly scared they’ll make it even worse than it is now. My experience with a mental health service last year has put me off a little. I don’t want them to open up more wounds and throw me back to cope on my own. I need people to make me feel safe at the moment. And I’m scared of the unknown.

 

But I’ll talk to the doctor about it all when I see her this week. She’ll be pleased they’re at least seeing me this time. Hopefully also get some sort of answer from my blood tests I had, to explain why I’m constantly tired and ill.

 

I’m also finding it a little difficult in the lead-up to the second Christmas without my granddad. I’m really missing him at the moment. It’s lurking there in my heart. I can feel it. But I shut it out… I don’t let it evolve… I don’t open up the box and explore my feelings about it because I know it will hurt. So I let it fester. I know this isn’t the right thing to do, but given my circumstances at the moment, I don’t feel safe to experience grief again right now. I prefer to deny it or frame it as something other than ‘reality’.

 

I have had difficulties with ‘reality’ this year. Never in all the years of being mentally unwell have I ever felt so detached from reality. This is the biggest thing I will tell CMHT. I feel disconnected. That I’m not really here anymore. That interactions I have are just done on auto-pilot. It’s all fake. I’m experiencing it right now. Although I feel twinges of emotions, a part of me feels numb. Part of me feels I’ll never smile again. When I look around the room things don’t look or feel ‘real’. I can’t explain it. I don’t feel connected to anything. Or to anyone. And the paranoia I’ve experienced. Which may not have been paranoia after all – except I think it was, and that same paranoia pushed someone away – hence proving what I said in my blog about paranoia and about the ‘self-fulfilling prophecy’. I’m so disconnected from everything, it’s like I’ve given up on life, and on myself and other people too. It’s really hard… because I honestly don’t believe that can ever change now. I feel this is it. I’m damaged. Can anyone actually help someone once they’re at this stage? Or will CMHT give up on me as a lost cause? I feel like a hopeless case.

 

Everything feels flat. Lifeless. Empty. And yet filled with agony. I can’t believe we’re almost three weeks away from Christmas. It doesn’t feel like it should be Christmas. This year has been so awful. I have shut myself away for most of the year, especially the last six – eight months of it. I saw a bit of Summer. Autumn pretty much vanished. Now we’re in Winter, coming to the end of the year. I don’t feel very ‘festive’. I’m trying my best, but it’s hard to enjoy Christmas when you’re grieving, when you’ve lost your one and only  friend, and when you feel so detached from life. It’s sort of like Christmas is ‘happening to me’ this year. Inflicted on me whether I like it or not. I don’t want to do anything anymore. I don’t enjoy anything. Not in the same way. I’m fearing all the ‘fun’ things I have planned next year, as I can’t even feel connected to those things anymore. Even if by some miracle CMHT agreed to help me, there’s no way it would be in time for any of those events. I’d probably be put on a waiting list. What’s the point? I can’t even get a break from this hell by doing something I previously enjoyed doing…. I feel dead to the world. Like I’m just existing so as not to inconvenience other people…. and yet my existence seems to inconvenience them anyway, so really I’m screwed either way.

 

I’ll be blogging more in the next few days / weeks, but just wanted to put some of my thoughts into words for now.

 

 

 

 

CMHT: Failings In Mental Health Services.

CMHT (2)

 

 

When you’re mentally unwell it is hard to know what to do or where to turn. Making the decision to ask for help is not an easy one. Actually taking that step and reaching out is even harder. I’ve had an experience this year which I know I’m not alone with… in that my plea for help has been ignored, and my referral rejected. I know this happens to a lot of people around the country.

 

I saw my doctor last weekend and she had discussed their rejection with my local mental health team. The woman she spoke to apparently said that I should see it as a positive …  yes, that’s right…. I should see it as a positive that they’re denying me help. I suppose because it means they don’t deem me to be that seriously unwell that I require their help – so it means I’m better than I think I am. If you’re following this blog I think you know full well what is wrong with that…

 

It is completely INVALIDATING! It’s saying that what I’m experiencing isn’t as bad as I feel it is. That others have it worse. That things could be worse and I could be a very real danger to myself or others. I’ll tell you, that’s the only way things could be worse for me – that I actually act on thoughts and visions I have of killing myself, or that I become a danger to others. I’m one step before all that. But it seems that means I’m not ‘ill enough’ to warrant help. It seems I have to take that step over the edge, try to take my life and hope I survive it in order to receive their help.

 

They will only help those who are at that point or who experience psychosis I believe. The trouble with this is that it makes people like me question if we need help. If help is only given once you’ve tried to kill yourself, and they tell you to see not getting help as a good sign, therefore invalidating your suffering, then you’re going to start thinking you don’t need to seek help until you’ve tried to kill yourself. Which might as well be the case with the CMHT anyway, as they won’t see you until you’ve done so.

 

The changes they’ve made to mental health services are ridiculous. CMHT won’t help until you’ve crossed the line between life and death. Until then they direct you to wellbeing centres or the like, which is fair enough if you’re at that stage where that sort of thing will help. They do courses about anxiety, anger management, mindfulness, confidence. But when your issues are intense…. like ‘BPD’ intense… you’re endlessly having breakdowns, unable to function in society, your whole life is messed up by your illness and you don’t want to live anymore… but haven’t quite got to the stage of taking action to remedy that, then you’re on your own….. UNTIL you take action and hit rock bottom. Then and only then might mental health services help you, if you’re lucky. Never mind that once someone has tried to end their life there’s more work to be done to fix them, and they might be more likely to try again. They put off helping people before the event, letting them fall apart completely – they’d rather fix broken people than stop people totally breaking in the first place. It’s ridiculous.

 

I used an IAPT service last year… which I was under the impression used the ‘stepped-care approach’… meaning they could step people up to step 4 if necessary – the mental health team, if the person’s beyond their help. I was step 3. I struggled with the course. Had various issues with it and didn’t get a great deal from it. I came away broken. They didn’t ‘step me up’. I had to go away and work on things by myself or go to my doctor to be referred to CMHT. I think this was negligence on their part. They couldn’t help me and in fact in some ways made me worse, so they should’ve done what they could to get me better.

 

It seems you’re very much on your own nowadays with mental illness. You alone have to make the choice of what to do. Right now I have to choose what direction I go in – my doctor’s re-referring me but I have serious doubts about this, as I should not have to BEG for help – it only makes me feel worse and resentful. They may reject me again. Or they may not. And then they might make me feel worse than I do now, as I don’t hear great things about mental health services anymore. If I do get to see a psychiatrist and get diagnosed, as much of a relief as this would be to me, what if it results in bad things, like being denied treatment, or facing stigma, neglect and abuse and restrictions in the future?  Getting help might make me worse…. but at the moment I feel NOT getting help will make me worse…. so I’m stuck. I’m confused. I don’t know what to do.

 

And I wish I wasn’t the one who had to make the decision. Things used to be so easy. You went to your doctor, you were referred, they saw you and took the lead. Now they’re all reluctant to take anyone on and actually do the work helping you… they look for any excuse to avoid you… they ask you what it is you want from them…. how it is you think they can help you….. what has happened in the space of ten years?? Where has all the care gone? It’s not that I want my choices taken away from me, but I could do without the pressure and added stress of worrying what’s right and wrong for my mental health. I need to know what is on offer. I need to know what is wrong with me and what would be the best treatment for it – even if CMHT don’t want to offer me that treatment… at least I would know where to go with it… and I don’t want to be fobbed off by them telling me to do a course on assertiveness at the wellbeing centre or something…. I want honesty. What type of THERAPY will be best to help me with my emotional turmoil and my mountain of ‘trauma’…. tell me how to heal my mind and to be able to live one day in this life without being wounded by everything around me…. how to not be traumatised by the tiniest experiences…. how to not want to die anymore. Tell me what will help (and not by brushing it aside and just ‘joining clubs’) and direct me to where I can find that help if you won’t give it. That’s what I need.

 

Answers. Help. Guidance.

 

I don’t like this culture we have now around mental illness. I’ve heard, as I’m sure you have too, that people are deemed ‘not skinny enough’ to be offered help with an eating disorder. This only encourages the person to lose more weight. Telling someone who believes they are fat that their BMI is too high to warrant help is sickening. It is feeding into their illness that tells them they’re not thin enough. It makes the problem worse. Oh, but then of course once they’ve got that ill they’ll get help won’t they! Just like with general mental illness. They won’t see you unless you’re actively suicidal. Never mind if suicide is on your mind every day. They don’t care about that. Only if you MEAN it. From what I’ve just been reading though I hear that once you’re diagnosed with BPD they don’t want to help you. They close off treatments for you. They write you off as a lost cause. I hope this isn’t true. Because that would mean one of the worst, most painful, traumatic illnesses, which puts you at a higher risk of suicide makes you ‘too ill’ to treat. If anyone is in need of care and support it’s those with BPD, as it comes from a place of pain and suffering. We can’t have people give up on us as though we’re a hopeless case, when we’re lacking all hope as it is.

 

The part of all this which makes me angry is that I was denied help…. I was told to see it as a positive…. and that if my mood got any lower they could look at it again perhaps. How the heck do they know the state of my mood?? They haven’t even met with me to assess me!! They’ve deemed me not ill enough to warrant their help. And they’ve based that decision on my past notes and treatment, my experience with IAPT and whatever the doctor said to them. Unless they just remember me from years ago and think ‘Oh no not her again!’, they are making the decision on assumptions and old evidence. I’m not where I was ten years ago. I’m not where I was a year ago under IAPT. I’m worse. But they wouldn’t know that because they haven’t met with me. They probably don’t know much about my suicidal thoughts, my paranoia, my self-harm and all the other elements of my illness. How can they tell all that from a bit of paper?

 

I feel as though they’ve communicated to me (through my doctor – who thankfully is a lovely doctor), that what I’m experiencing isn’t that bad. How would they know?? And for their information it is ‘Hell on Earth’, to quote a friend. Right now I have constant urges to hurt myself. I harm myself every other day in some way and it’s never enough. I can’t stop. A part of me doesn’t want to stop. I want to cause damage and so much pain. There’s chaos in my head every day, and some days I feel the only way it will ever stop is to end my life. And given that I am forced to exist in this way, in this hell, that often looks inviting. I don’t want to end my life, for the sake of my family. To get help I would have to say ‘screw my family’ and try to end it.  That’s asking me to change as a person and go against my values, before I’ll be offered help. Why not help me now while I’m still determined to not end my life, even if the only reason I’m hanging on is my family? Surely that should be worth something….?

 

I know I’d be a tough case. Because I can’t willingly say I want to get better. That I want to change my ways of coping. This is because I have no faith in my ability to recover. I cannot see a future without me self-harming. I can’t see a future with good people around me, fulfilling my emotional needs and treating me well. My life has got smaller and smaller. It’s hard to imagine the opposite. I can’t say I want to get better. I want the world around me to get better before I feel I can. I don’t feel I can help myself at the moment. Does this mean I don’t deserve help? Does it all depend on me being willing to help myself? Some of us hit such a bad patch in life that we need help in order to start helping ourselves again. That’s where I am. I want to WANT to help myself. That’s the best I can do right now.

 

But I need help… and that help doesn’t seem to exist for me. I see the doctor again in a couple of weeks. I might find out if I’ve been rejected again or perhaps it’ll take longer than that for them to decide. I don’t hold much hope. I’ve had someone suggest I get myself an advocate. I haven’t yet looked into this, but may do. The trouble is, these rejections and the invalidation makes me think it would all be a waste of time and that I don’t need or deserve help. That they won’t help me no matter what… and if they did they would make me feel like I’m wasting everybody’s time. The last thing I need right now is to be made to feel a burden when I’m reaching out for help. It takes such courage to ask for help. When you have your pleas ignored and rejected too many times, eventually you’ll give up asking and suffer in silence. God knows where that’ll end up. A gamble between life and death I think. It shouldn’t have to come to that…

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.

 

 

 

Rants On Reality.

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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