Breaking Through A Breakdown.

*Self-harm / suicide*

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

L

 

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

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

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

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

Kind regards ‘X’

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

And a bit later, added:

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

 

A Life Saved… For Now.

a life saved...

 

 

*Suicide theme*

 

 

The other night I was left with no other choice but to phone the Samaritans, for the third time in my life. It was past 1am again, I was at breaking point… the emotions were too strong I actually felt I would explode – obviously I wouldn’t have, but that’s the point where things are most dangerous for people like me…. that’s often why we engage in destructive coping mechanisms, to try and bring the emotions down, for fear of what will happen if we don’t.

 

I don’t know what would have happened if I didn’t call them. All I know is I sat with the phone number in my phone for about twenty minutes, hesitating… talking myself out of it and then back into it by letting my feelings in. All the other possible coping strategies were whizzing around my mind and I realised none of them would work. It was basically phone the Samaritans or end it somehow.

 

As usual I didn’t know what to say at first, but I told them how alone I feel. I told them about losing my best friend because of my illness. I told them about losing my only other friend to suicide. And then I broke down.

 

She said how sorry she was about that. She then very quickly asked if I had contemplated suicide myself. And it’s the first time I’ve been completely honest about my feelings and intentions. I straight away said yes. I was still in tears, so I don’t remember everything said, but I told her how suicidal I felt before losing my friend six months ago and that now it’s all I think about. She asked if I had a plan. I said not a plan as such, but that I’m looking at ways to do it…. that I’m closer to having a plan than I’ve ever been before.

 

At one point she asked something about in three years time can I see it being better…. I was honest and told her I can’t see me being here by then. I don’t think I’ll be here in a year. I didn’t tell her I can’t even see me having another Christmas, but that might just be my immediate feelings anyway. I am struggling with the thought of Christmas this year.

 

When I talked about my grief, she pointed me in the direction of help for that. She also said that people who lose someone to suicide are at a higher risk of taking their own lives too. I was already aware of this – that’s why I’ve needed people to support me in the aftermath, as I was already suicidal and my mental illness puts me at a higher risk of suicide anyway, without adding the effects of losing someone to it.  She also said that the grief associated with a suicide is totally different to ‘normal’ grief, in that it’s more complex. Again I knew that. But it was helpful to hear it said by someone else…. it was validating of what I was experiencing. I wish the people in my life were aware of all this and could do more to help me. Maybe I wouldn’t have got to the point I had to choose between this phone call and death.

 

At one point I was talking about the anger I felt at my friend. I said it wasn’t hateful anger…. just anger at the situation I guess. She then said something very insightful and true…. she asked if perhaps I envied my friend. And I said yes. I said I wish I could’ve gone with her.

 

I have never been that honest about suicidal feelings… for fear of what would happen as a result. But these people are very respectful. She even said to me that they want me to stay alive, but it’s my decision what to do with my life, and they’ll have my back whatever I decide. Even at the lowest point if I should reach that moment, I can still have them on the end of the phone. That made everything feel very real…. like there really is the possibility I will end it in the not too distant future. It scared me. But I liked how they weren’t forcing me to stay…. there was no judgement whatsoever. She said she was pleased I made the call.

 

I have never been that honest about suicidal feelings... for fear of what would happen as a result. But these people are very respectful. She even said to me that they want me to stay alive, but it

 

 

We talked about how my family would feel if I ended it. I explained they’re the only reason I’m still here. But I told her I almost resent them for it, and I feel trapped…. because I have to stay alive in order to not hurt them…. but it means me living in pain and a world I just can’t survive in. She said I need more reasons to live than that… otherwise it would cause me to resent the only people I have left and could make things worse in the end….

 

I talked about my Godchildren and how they used to be a reason for me to live. She wondered if I could be enough of a reason myself …  I said no. I told her how much I hate myself… and how losing my best friend, along with everything else that’s happened, has completely dragged my self-worth through the floor. I don’t currently see myself as worth continuing to live for.

 

She asked if I hadn’t lost these people from my life would I be considering ending my life right now… I said probably not as much, no. I said if my best friend hadn’t abandoned me, she could have supported me through the suicide of my other friend, and I could’ve survived it. And if that friend had not taken her life, I would have a friend now…. everything would be different…. I wouldn’t be this alone. The reality is it’s these two major losses in the space of a couple of months…. my two longest friendships of 13+ years…. gone… leaving me with nothing and nobody. That’s what has ruined me and brought me to this point of suicidality. Everything would be different, and I’d be able to live if both or even just one of these things hadn’t happened. That’s why after my friend’s death I reached out to my former best friend, as I wanted that resolved… I wanted her support and friendship…. I couldn’t cope with both things – even hours after hearing the news I had to not have both losses. She texted me a couple of times with support, but then disappeared and I’ve not heard from her in six months. That was it. I had to face both losses, even though I couldn’t. I didn’t have a choice. She didn’t want our friendship back. A traumatic loss and me being left alone to cope with it, feeling suicidal myself, was not enough reason for her to care and fix things with me. It’s how little she cared, that she could wash her hands of me so coldly. That’s what damaged me. It’s taken an already complex kind of grief and complicated it even further. My friend’s suicide gave me that feeling of how stupid it is to not be friends with my former best friend – that life is too short to hold grudges…. I honestly felt we should and could sort it out at that point. I wanted to let it all go, as some things mattered more. Now I feel more rejected than ever…. it was at least the third time I’d tried to open the door again, and had it slammed in my face. I’m a glutton for punishment. I get the message she’s done with me now, for good. She’s too busy being friends with the person who hurt me before and came between us three years ago…. Anyway….

 

We talked about grief and mental illness and how people struggle to empathise if they’ve not been there… and how they can be afraid of saying the wrong thing, so they leave it alone and say nothing at all. I told her I wish they’d just say something, like ‘I hope you’re okay’…. ‘How are you?’ … ‘Thinking of you’…. something to make me feel I’m not invisible.

 

We talked about my mental health – how long I’ve been struggling. I said 18 years…. I went on to explain the reasons it went downhill in the last couple of years. I said I’m the worst I’ve ever been. When I was a teenager things were bad, but I didn’t have real problems – I said I don’t know what my problem was back then…. she said something like ‘teenager’s prerogative’ – she gave me a couple of moments of humour to pick me up a bit.

 

We talked for 48 minutes… the longest call to them I’ve ever had. It didn’t feel like 48 minutes. Time goes quicker in the middle of the night though! I told her that although it didn’t fix everything – it doesn’t change how things are – it made me feel less alone in that moment.

 

I got through that night without hurting myself or worse. I also didn’t have to use my emergency medication. I just made the right choices for once in my life. I’m still struggling. The night times are the worst. Hopefully if it happens again I’ll make that call again. Things really aren’t okay at all right now. The feelings that led to me needing to make the call, they are still there right now…. I have to contain them as much as I can. But it’s very difficult. One person could do something to end all this pain and trauma for me. But they don’t care. They never did and never will. They’ve moved on. They are responsible for where I am now and what happens to me. They broke my spirit. And the only people I have left to try and save my life are the Samaritans.

 

I don’t even know the name of the woman I spoke to that night. But I truly thank her for giving her time to just listen and support. Two things other people just wouldn’t give me. This total stranger answered the phone in the middle of the night and talked to me, about all the things I’ve needed to talk about for the last six or so months. Whatever happens in the future she helped me so much that night, and I can’t repay her for what she did. The Samaritans are like angels – we just have to call out to them when we need them.

 

 

The Samaritans are like angels - we just have to call out to them when we need them.

Ripped Away.

*Suicide trigger*

 

 

 

This is one of the lowest points of my life. There have been many ups and downs, which so far I’ve managed to negotiate and struggle through. It’s different this time.

 

I’ve pulled myself out of dark places in the past… but I always had a reason to. I always had someone to help me… I’m talking about people outside of the family. When people hurt me or ditched me in the past, I always had someone who really seemed to have my back.  But now I don’t. I’ve had two major losses this year. Losing my best friend for God knows what reason – as far as I can tell, it’s because of my mental illness. And the other rock of mine, taking her life. I knew them both a couple of years off half my life. Now there’s nothing. I’m invisible. I don’t exist. I’ve lost those who I thought cared about me. I’ve lost my Godchildren. I’ve lost who I was.

 

I have no purpose. I have no reason to live. I have nothing to pull me through. When I lost my group of ‘friends’ in 2012, I still had my best friend. Now I’ve lost her, and I don’t understand why…. and I have nobody to help me with that. Liv’s gone.

 

I’m finding that hard to deal with today. The reality that she’s gone. And I should’ve done something to help her. I didn’t know things were that bad. I didn’t see her calling out for help. I was too wrapped up in my own hell. I should’ve been there for her. I let her down. Now I’ll never get the chance to make up for that. Because she’s not coming back. I have to live with the guilt of this forever. I have to live with the fact that I never got to see her again.

 

I’ve come out of darker times, to slightly less dark times before – I’m not sure I’ve ever fully seen the light again. But I’ve made progress. But this time I have to face it alone. And I’m having to pull myself out of places so dark I can’t even describe them. There are no words anymore. Nothing does the pain justice. Even the word ‘pain’ is inadequate. ‘Broken’ is inadequate. Any word to describe my emotions right now can’t come close to the level of what I feel. I feel, yet I don’t feel at the same time. I don’t feel real.

 

I’m praying for my heart to actually stop beating. To fully break and never work again. I want to wake up from this nightmare. The reason I can’t recover from this now is because I’ve seen too much of hell in the last two or three years…. I can’t un-see that. I live in a different world now. I don’t know anything anymore. And I have no anchor. I have no friends. I don’t have my rocks anymore. I am beyond lost. I am floating, and feel sick from the motion. I want my mind to break. I need to hit rock bottom now. I need to stop functioning. I need to stop thinking and feeling and hurting. I need it all to stop.

 

This can’t be my life. It isn’t fair.  I was someone who only wanted someone to love and to love me in return…. I got played, to the point I don’t believe in love anymore. I wanted friends, having grown up without any. They all destroyed me. I just wanted to not lose my best friend… I thought she deserved better than me, and was happier without me… I thought I was being replaced…. I didn’t want to burden her with my illness…..  I lost her…. she obviously agreed….. she is happier without me…. I was replaced…. and I clearly did burden her. I just wanted the love and support of my friends to help me through my grief and breakdown…. I got neglected and abandoned instead. The one person keeping me alive after all of that, ended her own life…. when I was feeling suicidal myself. And nobody is there for me through it. I’m constantly crying out for help. I don’t exist to anyone. I’m dead. And I’m just a burden to others.

 

All I’ve ever wanted was people to care and to love me… and to let me care about and love them. I’ve wanted people to not give up on me and leave me. And that’s all they’ve done. I wanted to matter, and I don’t. I wanted to be a priority for once. I never will be.

 

All I know is pain. Sadness. Loneliness. Abandonment. Betrayal. There is no happiness. No peace. No hope. I have nothing now. The world is so quiet, yet it goes on around me as though I’m not here.  But I feel distant. I feel dazed and in my own world, where all that exist are my thoughts and the hollowness in my chest, and the sick feeling in my stomach, and the tightening of my throat, and the tears in my eyes. And I sit here and pray for life to stop. Why can’t I just ‘give up’ on living and my heart just stops by me just willing it to? That’s what I want. I have no fight left in me.

 

I can see no recovery, because everything I thought was going to be in my future, has been ripped away from me this year. In the past I’ve at least been left with something… but I really have nothing.

 

There is nothing good about my life. I’ve achieved the grand total of nothing. I have no legacy to leave behind…. not like Liv. She did so much good, and she was so loved. I’m nothing and nobody.

 

I’ve started rationalising doing what Liv did. I’ve started telling myself I know it would hurt my family…. but a part of that would be for the future that is lost with me….. for all I could’ve been and done and had…. but that’s never going to happen anyway. I’m never going to have the life I wanted. I’m never going to find someone to love me, and have children with. I’m never going to be successful and make anyone proud. There’s no big loss…… in fact it would just ease the burden on everyone, to not have to worry about and care for me.

 

I’ve really never felt this low, and I’m completely isolated through it. I’ve been left in the dark. And that’s all there is. And all there ever will be now. ‘Who cares if one more light goes out?’ … this one wouldn’t be missed.

 

My mind has given up. My body is giving up. I feel paralysed, like I’m sprawled out on the floor, shattered, and can’t move, with the weight of everything bearing down on me. But time keeps ticking and my damn heart keeps beating. I can and often do stop the clock from ticking by taking the batteries out…. if only I could do the same with my heart. Either way, life goes on. And that’s the cruellest thing about life, for the grieving and the mentally ill…. life goes on, around us…. we’re left alone, living in pain for a lifetime, because nobody is really with us through everything. Nobody can understand how we feel.

 

The only thing that could’ve helped me was to have people step up and throw everything into helping me … caring…. worrying…. helping me see a glimmer of light again…. but there’s nobody to do that now. It’s silence. It’s black. It’s dead. I’m floating in the vacuum of space. And nobody can hear my screams.

 

 

Bad Night.

Really not okay tonight. Feel too hurt to put into words. Hope I’ll be able to do so in the coming days. Having this illness sucks. Having people who were supposed to be friends, abusing your vulnerability and doing everything they can to hurt you, sucks even more. Don’t know how to feel, what to say or what to do. How to cope. Really haven’t tonight. Have to take a pill and hope I’ll fall asleep eventually. It’s almost 3am. Mind is in chaos. I’ve had enough of feeling and living at this point. I’ll reassess in the morning.

Nothing Left.

*Suicidal feelings*

I’m going to be brutally honest… I’m really struggling with who I am right now. I’m hating myself. The urges I’m having….. the thoughts…. and I’m starting to split on everyone again… I’m isolating and paranoid. I’m feeling so hopeless about life. I feel so lost and frustrated and I’m seriously considering doing something ‘stupid’. I’m scared at how quickly things have changed.

 

I feel like my life is over. I’ve lost everything. I feel so powerless. I was awake until 3am, just thinking and trying not to cry. I imagined ending my life. I almost ‘planned’ it. I guess it was more ‘fantasising’ about it…. not in a glorifying way, but rather a means of finding peace. Imagining that if I wanted to I could make this hell stop. That I had that power. That I at least have a choice about something in my life.

 

The urges I’m having are out of character and I’m ashamed that I even have them. But I know it’s part of my illness. It’s not who I am. I would never pursue a married man. I would never try to wreck a marriage. I would never stalk anyone. I would never hurt anyone. I would never share pictures and information about my self-harm. I would never trigger people with the details of how I want to end my life. I would never do any of these things. They’re the thoughts of an ill mind.

 

Having these sorts of urges makes me hate myself so much. I feel like an awful person. I would never do them…. not in a rational state of mind. But the bit that worries me is that there’s that part of me again that just wants to switch off the rational side of me. I want to lose my conscience. I want to not care anymore. I want to be free from my morals. I want to self-destruct, go insane and do as much damage to myself and to those who have hurt me as I can, and then it’ll be easier to end my life.

 

I experienced all this a year ago. Must be something about this time of year. It was scary then… it’s terrifying now. I was doubting my friendships too, but still had a basic hope that I had one friend who was on my side. Now I don’t even have that. She left me. Now I have no anchor. The way things ended with her has really affected me. I’m so angry I want to split the sky apart with my hands and scream into the void. But I’m powerless. There’s nothing I can do to cope with how I feel. It’s just added to the massive pile of trauma. And people would say to just move on and forget it… focus on the future. They have no clue what it’s like to not be able to move on. To not be able to let go or forget. I would give anything to be able to forget and to live a life free of emotional trauma and pain. The fact the memories are stuck to me like superglue is sickening. They’re a part of me – you can’t sever the two of us… they’re in my cells. I can’t cope with this. So much loss. So much hurt and betrayal. So much sadness. So much hate. And nothing I can do about it.

 

I’m scared to ask for help because people will just invalidate me and think it’s easy to fix. It’s not. My life is a mess. I literally cannot trust anything or anyone anymore. I feel sick. I cannot trust men. I cannot trust ‘friends’. I cannot trust mental health services. I cannot trust my own judgment. Look, I thought I knew my friend of 14 years… I didn’t… all this time she was a ticking timebomb, waiting to explode and abandon me. I never knew she was someone who would just give up on me at the first sign of trouble. I didn’t know she was someone who doesn’t stick around to fix things. I had no clue how at risk I was all that time… fearing rejection and abandonment… and she was there hiding how easily she’d do it. I feel sick to think that for all those years I thought I knew her. I didn’t know her at all. She was always a threat to my mental health. She was the opposite of what I need – stability, consistency, certainty. I didn’t see it.

 

Now I don’t know how I’ll ever open up to anyone ever again. I don’t want friends. Because I obviously repel them. There’s obviously something fundamentally wrong with me as a person. I’m obviously that hideous, embarrassing and horrible a person, that everyone leaves me. They all hurt me, ghost me and leave me broken. I’m not fixable this time. And I can’t risk any more hurt, from anyone.

 

I don’t want to live in this world right now. I don’t want to be around people. And I don’t want to not be around people. What’s the point in being here… existing… alone? I’ve always been alone. I’m used to it. But it’s starting to make me question what the point of living is. I’m just living so as not to cause pain and sadness to those I love, by ending my life. That’s the only reason I have now. And I hate having to live, with no reason to other than that. I hate feeling stuck here, just having ‘friends’ endlessly shit on me and abandoning me, making it so much more painful to just hold on.

 

I’m at that point again where I want to not care about the feelings of those I love. I want to be able to end my life. I want to be ‘selfish’. I want to be able to end my pain.

 

I hate my former friend. I hate everyone else who ever contributed to how I feel now… the bullies at school, Hannah, Sam, Gill, Adam, Evan, Joe, Lou. They all messed me up. They have no clue how much. They’ve made me believe I’m worth nothing.

One ghosted me for no good reason at all.
One abandoned me yet strung me along, all the while cheating on me.
One played mind-games with me and used me as an ego stroke.
One attacked me and painted herself as the victim, badmouthing me to others.
One stabbed me in the back in one of the worst ways a friend could. Breaking the girl-code.
One never showed they valued our friendship, and they didn’t fight for me. They let me go thinking they hated me.
One abandoned me at the worst time of my life and blamed it all on me, blocking me & doing things to deliberately cause me pain and punish me.

 

I hate them all. And they’re all fine. They don’t care what they’ve done to me. I don’t matter to them. I never did. I don’t matter to anyone. I’m invisible in this world. I honestly feel if I died tomorrow nobody would notice. That’s how alone I feel. How irrelevant I feel. How worthless I’ve been made to feel.

 

I want someone to swoop in and save me. There’s nobody left. I don’t have a safety net. I don’t have a support network. I don’t have professional help. And yes I want to run to Matt. I want him to hold me and to fix things. And he can’t, if for no other reason than professional rules. He wouldn’t even remember my name anymore. I’m insignificant as usual. I’m nothing. I know it can’t be. I know it’s all in my head. That doesn’t mean it isn’t real to me. And that I don’t feel this way, and that I don’t want him to rescue me. I want to feel safe. And I haven’t felt safe since the end of that course and losing him.

 

There’s constant conflict in my mind. I can’t find peace. I’m sick of the conflict. That’s why I want to just be able to let go and not care about the consequences. I want to completely lose the plot. Trying to hold it together is what’s making life so much harder right now. But I can’t let go. I have to be strong. It’s too much pressure. I don’t know what to do.

 

I have no friends. It’s a fact now. I hate everyone. Everyone hates me. Or more accurately they don’t care about me enough to hate me. I trust nobody, not even myself. I see no point in anything. I can’t escape the past. I’m a failure. I’m basically just waiting to die. I hate myself. I hate my thoughts and my urges. I’m losing myself. And apart from being scared, I don’t really care. Nobody knows how I feel right now. I can’t let them know. They wouldn’t understand.

 

My greatest fears became reality. And now I don’t want reality. I just want off this ride. I want the feelings to stop. For good.

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.

 

 

 

Rejected By The World.

*A lot of bad language, sorry… and also self-harm / suicide*

 

I’m finding it hard to put things into words at the moment. There’s so much chaos in my head and I feel so hopeless, that I can’t really see the point in writing anymore. It’s impacting on my ability to finish anything I start. So this might be a bit of a ramble… it’s me trying to make sense of the noise in my head.

 

So last year I had my first loss. Grief has impacted on my mental health, which was already precarious. Therapy with an IAPT service last year worsened my mental illness. My self-harm increased. I struggled through an experience without proper support and due to my attachment issues with one of the facilitators of the group, I had to experience another loss… one that I’m still not really over. I’ve gone downhill from there. I’ve spent the majority of this year struggling to keep living. I’ve experienced intense paranoia and splitting on friends… thinking nobody cared, everyone hated me, they’d abandoned me and didn’t care if I died. I pushed myself through those feelings and have made progress in talking to some people. I still don’t fully trust that my thoughts are false. But I’m trying.

 

But from it all, the one person I’ve lost is my best friend. Even if it’s temporary and can be fixed, at this point in time I don’t have my best and only real friend. I’ve been abandoned at my worst time. She can’t cope with me when I’m this ill, or so it seems. Which is fair enough… I can’t cope with me, so can’t blame her. But it hurts. I’m really upset about it, but just like with my grief for my granddad, I don’t want to open up the wound and experience the full force of emotions. So I’ve adopted a ‘couldn’t care less’ attitude… as though ‘it is what it is…’, and I’ve just had to get on with it. I’m hurt and upset and a little angry, but I can’t seem to write it out. I feel swamped by emotions, and devoid of them at the same time. It’s like I’m overloaded and have shut down. Not to say I don’t have emotions – I’ve cried two days in a row now, after a long period of not crying. It’s like I have the emotions but don’t always know what they are or what to do with them. If I let myself feel everything I feel, it would probably kill me. So it’s better to deny some of the feelings.

 

Another thing is politics. I am so disheartened by the Brexit betrayal. We’ve fought bloody hard to get to this point and put up with so much shit from the opposition… so much bullying – to the extent that we have to keep our opinions to ourselves, or face being attacked, leading people like me to self-harm. We won the vote. It was meant to be implemented. This government, the EU and every Remoaner in the country are doing the best they can to fuck it all up, and to keep us tied to the EU, either by overturning the result with another referendum, or by opting for a ‘soft Brexit’ which is not Brexit at all – it’s remaining in every way but name.

 

I don’t care what side of the argument you’re on. If you democratically won a vote and were promised it would be implemented, and then had virtually everyone working against that … and succeeding – how the fuck would you feel??? What annoys me is that a lot of Remainers will be joyous about cocking up Brexit. They will celebrate overturning the result and getting their way, totally oblivious to what they’re celebrating – the overruling of the people… the destruction of democracy. It should worry everyone, whether they voted Leave or Remain. So I hope when Remainers ultimately ‘win’ they show a bit of restraint and resist taunting us, as what is happening right now is a kick in the teeth for democracy.

 

I hate that all my life I’ve felt irrelevant. I’ve felt neglected. I’ve felt invisible and like my voice doesn’t matter. And now with this Brexit stuff, it feels like my voice is being silenced again. I placed my vote, the same as everyone else – our side were the majority. Majority wins. The only people standing up for our side are now labelled as ‘rebels’ or ‘Brextremists’. They are doing their job and representing those who put them in power. The rest of the them are telling the Prime Minister to ignore the small amount of people in her party, who are a ‘small cabal of hard Brexiteers’… but most people who voted to leave are ‘hard’ Brexiteers. Leave or Remain. Those were the two options – there was no mention of a ‘deal’. There was LEAVE. As in get out and cut ties with the EU. A half-in half-out deal was never an option on the ballot paper. It wasn’t Remain or half-Remain. It was Leave. So why the fuck are we not leaving properly??

 

There is NOTHING I as a voter can do… other than vote the Tories out at the next election in a few years, which at this rate I will take great joy in doing, even as a lifelong Conservative. I am ashamed of this country. I am sick of Remoaners. I am disenchanted and feel hopeless. What more can I do? The opposite side of the debate like to take to the streets and chant about how much they hate Brexit. That’s not in my nature. It’s not in the nature of our side unfortunately. And it still wouldn’t do a thing anyway. The only people who can sort this out are the politicians… and they don’t seem to want to listen to us or respect the referendum result – no matter what they say… what they’re pushing for does not respect it in the slightest – ask those of us who voted for Brexit.

 

And having my voice ignored… being made invisible again. And then the bullying that will endure once the Remoaners get their way…. I couldn’t cope with that. I’m frustrated. I’m angry – I have so much rage inside of me because of this. I want to punch walls every day because of how powerless I feel about this betrayal. It’s difficult.

 

And then today I went to the doctors. I said I hadn’t heard from CMHT about my referral. The doctor told me that they had rejected the referral. So the mental health team do not want to help me. They don’t care if I live or die.

 

The fucked up part of it is that they haven’t even met with me to assess me. They based that decision on my history – my past notes… the fact I did DBT before, which is their most intense thing they can offer. So there’s not much else they can do for me. Apparently they made mention of the fact I’d worked with IAPT too… I didn’t realise at the time, that if I worked with them that CMHT wouldn’t then help me, as they think I’ve had enough help already. Mental health services need to make it clearer what help is on offer and what the consequences are for those options. 

 

Without support from CMHT I can’t access the Recovery College. I can’t access a psychiatrist and finally get a fucking diagnosis. I know some people don’t agree with diagnosing people, but some of us need it. I needed to know what was wrong with me. I need validation. I needed to be able to explain to those in my life what is actually wrong with me. I can’t tell them ‘I have BPD’…. ‘I have C-PTSD’… because I’m not diagnosed with either. I knew this would happen. I’ve written about it before, that without a diagnosis CMHT probably won’t support me… but unless they do, I can’t GET the diagnosis to get the help. They’ve screwed me royally.

 

I can’t have my medication looked at… apparently in their response they said something about ‘medication won’t help in the long-term’….. okay… so what WILL? As YOU clearly don’t want to help me! And why won’t medication help? Is there something I don’t know?? Are you telling me I DO have BPD therefore medication won’t help?? Are you therefore discriminating against me based on a diagnosis I have not been formally given?? I am fucking angry.

 

Other people seem able to get the help they need from CMHT – why not me?? I feel abandoned by the world right now. I feel like everyone just wants me to fucking end it.

 

I cried during my appointment with the doctor… so much I couldn’t breathe. How can they reject me without even seeing me? They shouldn’t base it on therapy I received 10 YEARS AGO. I am a different person now. So much has changed. My life has spectacularly fallen apart. I didn’t know DBT was a once only opportunity. That once you’ve done the course that’s it for life. DBT was the one thing that helped me to reduce my self-harm and better my life. And professionals now would say ‘Just look at your folder’… dodging responsibility for actually HELPING people. I’m not saying I needed to do DBT again. There may have been other therapies they could have offered or at least suggested – BASED ON A DIAGNOSIS. How can they reject the request for help when they don’t even know what it is that’s wrong with me, and what I’m asking for?? It’s not fucking on.

 

Am I just meant to die then? Is that what they want? I know they couldn’t wait to get rid of me last time I had their help. I knew I was a burden to them. They made that fairly obvious. I remember my CPN saying something about doing therapy to help you, not just because it’s something you’ve done all your adult life…. ! FFS. I’m really struggling with urges to hurt myself right now. My suicidal thoughts are most certainly back.

 

How am I meant to go on living this life, with no support? How am I meant to WANT to live if even mental health services don’t give a fuck whether I live or die? I don’t want to hear from anyone that ‘sadly it’s because they’re so underfunded and overloaded’… that shouldn’t be MY problem. That’s like one of the doctors at my surgery who is all about ‘cost’… and isn’t afraid to make patients aware of his concern about the money side of things…. I am ill. I shouldn’t have to worry about the professionals’ side of things. I shouldn’t be thinking about cost for them. I shouldn’t even be aware of it – I should expect support and help and not be made to feel bad for needing it. I shouldn’t have to feel like a burden to the services – but that’s all I’ve felt. It worsens people’s mental health to be made to feel a burden for seeking help  – it takes a fuck-load of courage and effort to reach out for support. And to have it denied… to face a huge rejection like that – WITHOUT EVEN TALKING TO ME…. it’s not on. They didn’t even write to me. They told my doctor  – I didn’t see her for three months. I’ve been waiting three months to be told no. MENTAL HEALTH SERVICES – FUCKING SORT YOURSELVES OUT!! THIS IS PEOPLE’S LIVES YOU’RE MESSING WITH! I am a human being, not a fucking statistic. But all I seem to be to these professionals is a fucking number, in a line in a factory, thrown away in the bin at the end. What’s one more person falling off a bridge? One less person to have to help, right? I want to fucking punch my computer screen. I want to cut my arm open.

 

How is this okay? Mental health services might feel powerless – but how the fuck do you think I feel? I’m a ‘patient’. I’m suffering already. I feel close to the edge. I want to fucking die, and you feel frustrated that you can’t offer more help to people – so bloody what?? At least you don’t want to fucking slit your wrists every day. At least you know hope. There is none for someone like me. And you don’t even want to help me find it… because ‘cost’… probably. If mental health services put a price on my life, then obviously it’s £0 … I’m not worth saving.

 

I had put all my ‘hope’ of survival, on the possibility of help from CMHT. It was my last chance. My last glimmer of hope that I could get better. It’s gone. There’s nothing now. Just blackness. In front of others I’ll try and force a smile and positivity. Inside I’m thinking… jumpblades…blood…death…darkness. But there’s no point sharing any of it anymore. It achieves nothing.

 

All these things above show me that my voice doesn’t matter. That sharing my feelings on things won’t help. With my friend, trying to explain my mental illness just made her abandon me. She couldn’t deal with me anymore. Politically, my voice is being shunned and the bullying side are going to win. And mental health services don’t even want to HEAR my voice before rejecting me.

 

I’m irrelevant. I’m worthless. I’ve been abandoned by everyone and everything – my best friend, the fucking government, and now the mental health services. What bloody hope is there in this world for a lost cause like me? I just want to give up so much right now. I’m so tired of life. I’m tired of pain. I’m tired of loss. I’m tired of being hurt, neglected, abandoned, rejected. I’m sick of existing. I want to not exist anymore. I don’t feel safe anymore. There’s no hope left. I’m trapped in this hell forever…