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.



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…



Can’t Do This.

2 months since asking the doctor to refer me to CMHT. Heard nothing.

Nearly 1 year since self-harming at therapy. Still traumatised. Still not over Matt.

Difficult date coming up regarding my granddad. People tend not to support me through those.

Starting to slip back to thinking nobody cares again. Silence = indifference.

Hard to fight paranoia. New to me.

Haunted by past. Life was ruined six years ago.

People alien to me. World unreal. Detached. Disconnected. Hermit.

Friendship in tatters. Don’t know how to mend it. Can’t face it at the moment.

Deliberately triggered, knowing my insecurities. Low.

Abandoned at the worst time.

So much physical pain.

Isolation. Isolation. Isolation.

Brother going to leave me alone in life one day, or make me speak French & rejoin the EU!

Family is small and getting smaller. Life is brother, nan, parents. All will leave me one day.

No relationship. No children. No house. No job. No car. Nothing.

Mental illness worst it’s ever been. Nobody understands. Nobody helps.

So much emotional pain. So much loss. So many memories. Want it all to stop. Want it to go away.

Life is all wrong.

Want to scream.

Want to harm.

Want to die.

Understanding Suicide.

Suicide Understanding



I had wanted to get this post finished and published on Monday, as it was World Suicide Prevention Day… but in a way I’m glad I failed to meet that deadline, as why should there be just one day to ‘prevent suicide’ or to talk about suicide? Awareness days are all well and good, but I’d prefer it if we were more open all the time, about our struggles. We can help each other feel less alone, and perhaps give each other hope. We don’t need one day to do that. People weren’t just considering suicide or acting on those thoughts on Monday… every day people are contemplating ending it all. Right now people are paying serious thought to their place in existence… they need us to keep the conversation going today, tomorrow and every tomorrow after it. If people only care for one day, and can’t keep going day after day, how can we expect people to keep living day after day, when they’re in such turmoil and distress? We cannot expect people to keep going if the support and understanding doesn’t also keep going. So here’s what I wanted to say about suicide…. it’s rather long, as I don’t speak about it often… goes without saying, be careful reading it, due to the subject matter……




I don’t have all the facts and figures on suicide, like many others put out there on World Suicide Prevention Day. All I have is an insight into the thoughts and feelings that would lead someone to feel that desperate as to choose to end their life. Until now I have never attempted to take my own life. I have considered it – sometimes just in passing as I walk past something that could be ‘a means’… sometimes more thought out… actually putting myself in the situation where I could make that decision. 6th December last year was the first time I really couldn’t see me being able to carry on, and it was the first time I phoned the Samaritans. I didn’t know what to expect but there was a gentle, caring sounding woman on the other end of the phone, who helped me through that desperate night. And the next day I shared with my family how bad things were. That was a low point in my life and I really couldn’t bear living anymore. There have been these moments I’ve seriously considered suicide. But until now at least, I have chosen the endless painful torment that is life.


But in more recent times my mind has become so much darker and more desperate, that it has sought comfort in the notion of death. Suicide plagues my thoughts. Every day lately I consider the way I could do it. I think what would be the quickest way… the most certain way… the least distressing or inconvenient for other people. You see, I’m still at that point where I can think of the people who would find me. When you reach that point where you choose death, there really is no room left for anything else. The mind and soul have been swamped by darkness and decayed hope. I’ve never been there, but I have heard from people who have, and I know enough to know that if I don’t get help soon, I will be faced with that reality myself. I’m close enough to it, to know that it takes over the mind to the point that not much else can fit in.


I know, because although I am thinking about the people who would have to witness it or find me, and I wouldn’t want to traumatise them, I also know that the pain I’m enduring is too strong and too much to bear, and in the end that will trump everything else. There will come a time when I put myself first and everything else will go out the window.


People think of suicide as a selfish act. I want to say a couple of things on this – yes…. I can understand the argument that it is selfish, and if that is the case then I can also understand why people still make that choice. I myself have been staying alive for my family now for the last few years. They are the only thing keeping me going right now. I am putting their feelings ahead of my own need to be free of this pain. I have had selfish people destroy my life and then claim I was selfish for being upset about it. All my life my needs and my wishes have come second (not to family though). So much so that I think of myself as ‘selfish’ whenever I take some time for myself and focus on self-care, or when I’m not there for my friends or family. When your self-worth is that low because you’ve had to stuff your needs down all your life, and then when it all becomes too much to bear inside, and you choose to put your needs first and end your suffering, people call you ‘selfish’… that is wrong. You have no idea what that person has gone through, and how very much the opposite to selfish they have been, to  have held on so long, for you. I understand that people will always view suicide as ‘selfish’. In some ways I could even agree that it is. That is not to say people are bad for opting for it. It is not to say they shouldn’t be allowed to make that choice for themselves. And it’s not to say it is EVER done with a selfish intent. Which brings me to my second point…


Suicide, whilst perceived by others as ‘selfish’ is often viewed by the person themselves as a selfless act. Many people who reach such a crisis point as to want to end their own lives, very often feel like a burden to those around them. They feel like a terrible person… a nuisance. Some feel invisible and don’t think anyone would notice or care if they died. But some actively think that others will be better off without them. It might not make sense to a calm, positive and rational mind – you might say ‘there is ALWAYS someone who cares about you’… but you don’t know other people’s circumstances. You may think that someone has a loving family, a network of friends, a happy relationship… and those people themselves may think that they communicate their love, care, appreciation and support – but it doesn’t mean it is being received by the person in crisis.


For instance, in the last few months I’ve had to cope basically on my own. None of my friends would know that the other friends weren’t there for me either, and that I’ve had to cope alone. I sometimes get messages saying ‘You know I’m here for you’… as if it’s a given. But sometimes when in crisis, everything goes out the window. If people think ‘Well they know how I feel about them… they know I care… it goes without saying’ and therefore don’t communicate it to us, we feel as though we’re totally alone and uncared for. Just telling each other what we mean to one another may be the thing that saves someone from suicide. You can’t expect people to just know how you feel about them.


Even if people DO feel loved and appreciated, sometimes it’s still not enough to save someone from the demons in their mind. Sometimes love isn’t enough. To live with a constant enemy inside you, ripping your soul apart from the inside, every single day, it’s exhausting, and eventually everyone reaches their limit. If they don’t have the right support, which is quite common nowadays in this country, and there’s nowhere to turn, some will choose to take matters into their own hands. It doesn’t mean they don’t love you. I think that’s what many people feel when a loved one ‘chooses death over’ them. Unless you know the endless torment of mental illness, you’ll never know how someone could choose to end it. It is not personal. It’s not about you. It’s something deeper and more complex than you could imagine…. an inner demon that’s taken control of the wheel. Someone could have every good reason to live and still want to die, because they are haunted by this sickness of the mind that robs them of all light and hope.


And one last point on the idea of ‘selfishness’ and suicide. I cannot count how many times I have seen comments on local news stories, where roads have been closed due to ‘an incident’, as in someone contemplating suicide… and these comments are always the same…. of ‘inconvenience’  … it’s the same with trains, when someone has ended their life on the tracks, and people are blurting it straight out about how selfish it was, and how they’re going to be late for XYZ, or they’ll miss the football, or whatever… my message to those sorts of people is this… I understand your frustration. Perhaps XYZ was important to you. Perhaps you frequently encounter this problem and you’ve had enough of it. But no matter what your annoyance is, be thankful that you get to go home to your loved ones. Be thankful that you have just had enough of being held up by people on the tracks. Those people on the tracks had enough of life, and ended it. They won’t be returning home to their loved ones… those loved ones will be grieving tonight, and for the rest of their lives. Be grateful that you don’t understand the desperation and torment that leads someone to end their life.


It shocks me when I see those sorts of comments or hear them from people. You always hear the ‘Why don’t they just go off somewhere private and do it quietly?’ thing, which shows the utter heartlessness of people, and makes me question the goodness of humanity. But I understand these are people never touched by suicide or mental illness. They would be horrified to learn it was a friend or family member who ‘inconvenienced’ them by ending their life. But because it’s a stranger they think it’s okay to be callous about their life. Some people will go off and die quietly, as you wish them to, others will see an opportunity and take any means possible to be gone. I know you won’t like this, but some people actually want to be saved. They want to be stopped. They feel suicidal but they really don’t want to die, and they’re scared that it will happen.


I have had times when I’d fantasise about a particular way of doing it, and a great part of that fantasy was people trying to stop me and help me. I wanted to know my life was worth saving. I wanted to get the help I need. It’s not about getting attention. It’s reaching a crisis point and not knowing where to turn or what to do. It’s needing more help than is available to you. It’s needing to feel you’re worth saving. Being protected and rescued. To have someone hear and see your pain, and take it seriously and save you from yourself.


Suicide is a tragedy. And people sit at home on their computer, or on their phone, writing about the inconvenience of ‘jumpers’. How it disrupts their lives. No humanity. No compassion. Just pure selfishness. That is the true face of ‘selfish’. Not the person in such distress they cannot live anymore, but the people who do not know that pain and suffering and whinge about being late. Selfishness is people making someone feel so bad about themselves or so alone, that they no longer want to live in this world and see suicide as their only option. And people calling it the ‘easy way out’ … ‘the coward’s way out’… when they don’t know what they’re talking about. There is nothing ‘easy’ about choosing to take your own life. It takes a lot of ‘resilience’ and being worn down by life to reach that point. It takes a heck of a lot of inner conflict, backwards and forwards between just wanting peace, but not wanting to hurt anyone else. Nobody makes that choice easily. And even people who don’t want to live life anymore will feel scared of dying.


I don’t promote suicide. I simply say that I understand it and I am against people attacking this highly taboo subject, forcing more people into silent suffering. I want people to know that I understand the agony that leads to those thoughts and those places, because I’ve been at least three quarters of the way there, and that’s enough to know the hell you’d be in, to make that final decision. It’s a decision I wish people didn’t make. I wish they didn’t have to make it. I wish that life could be kinder to those people and they could defeat their demons, in life. I want people to hold on and fight against this illness that’s telling them to leave this life. Too many good souls are lost because of suicide… because of the conditions that lead to suicide…


Suicide is very often the final symptom of a mental illness. Just as death is the final symptom of a terminal cancer. I know you might argue that point, saying that cancer robs a person of their life, whereas suicide is a person throwing their life away. But the reality is that those who reach that point of suicide most likely feel their illness has robbed them of their life. Suicidal thoughts and self-harm can be symptoms of many mental illnesses. I know matters of the mind are harder to understand than physical illnesses, but they’re no different. Mental illnesses have symptoms, which are not the fault of the one suffering them. We would trade lives with someone in a heartbeat, if it meant having hope and a life worth living. I would give anything to not be experiencing sickening paranoia, isolation, abandonment, self-destructive urges, self-harm, splitting on people and the world, daily suicidal thoughts, hopelessness and flashbacks to every painful thing that’s ever happened. I would love to trust people. I would love my mind to be quiet for once. It is so jam-packed with the noises of memories, worries, made-up scenarios, paranoid thoughts, negative self-narrative, and the silent scream for me to just end it all. I have no room in my head for anything else. It’s already overcrowded. I want a bit of peace and quiet. Nobody chooses their symptoms, or their illness.


I take medication. I am still waiting to hear from the mental health services, just for the initial assessment! My world has shut down around me. I am isolated. Nobody knows the depth of my suffering. Suicidal feelings are hard for me to share with others – it’s pretty much the only symptom I don’t talk about in real life with people, for fear of their reactions. I don’t want to upset anyone, or alarm them. But I know I’m going to have to find the courage to discuss it at some point soon, and I just hope I have a calm, validating reaction when I do finally speak up. Silence around suicide is a big risk factor. A lot of the time people have no idea someone feels like ending their life, until they’re gone. They don’t see the warning signs. The signs are there. The world is just too busy and people are caught up in their own lives to notice them…


Signs of suicidality include:


  • Talking about / being preoccupied with death and suicide.
  • Increased self-harming behaviour.
  • Withdrawing / isolating.
  • Feeling trapped or hopeless.
  • Giving away possessions.
  • Being unable to concentrate / feeling restless.
  • Agitation / irritation.
  • Changes in personality / mood.
  • A calm / positive burst after continuous deep depression – this is often as the person is resolved to ending things… it brings them peace to know an end is near.
  • Engaging more in risky behaviours.
  • Changes in sleeping / eating habits.
  • Talk of feeling like a burden.
  • Negative view of self / life / the world.
  • Saying goodbye to people / making confessions.


I think the biggest signs for people ought to be that the person talks and writes about death and suicide more. I think there’s this myth that if it’s being talked about it’s not going to happen. This is wrong. I have talked about ending it for the last eight months or so. Admittedly I haven’t done anything yet. But what concerns me is the silence on the other end. People could see me talking about wanting to die, and had nothing to say to me. My take on that is that they don’t honestly believe I will do something. But me talking about it  was me reaching out for help, so that I wouldn’t do it. The trouble is eventually you stop talking about it. You go silent. And then if you were to follow it through, those same people who heard you talk about it for months would bleat out the same line – ‘Why didn’t she say anything?’ … ‘I had no idea she felt that bad’. The warning signs are there. And talking about suicidal feelings has to be one of the most blindingly obvious signs that someone is considering ending their life. Yet it’s often ignored as a ‘threat’ or ‘attention-seeking’. People talking about suicide is your chance to save them from it. So please don’t ignore someone as ‘crying wolf’ if they say they don’t want to live anymore. One day you’ll regret ignoring this sign.


Personally, my self-harm has got worse. I have withdrawn from everyone and I’m isolating myself. I feel trapped and worthless… completely hopeless. I don’t see a future for me. My concentration isn’t that great right now. It’s taken me a long time to write this post. I wanted it posted yesterday as well, but I had awful anxiety yesterday which only felt worse when writing this. I always feel like a burden. There’s not much good left that I see in me, life or the world and the people in it. And I am in the process of writing / saying things for people to know when I’m not here anymore. I’ve set it as my goal to stay alive long enough to document certain things, and to tell people the truth about my feelings and events. In the last few months I actually wrote ‘a note’. It didn’t become anything. I don’t know where it’s gone or what I said in it. But I’ve definitely gone to some extremely dark places this year. Right now I’m advised to take it minute by minute, so that’s what I intend to do. Everything feels broken and ruined beyond repair. But I have to just limp on and not worry about the big picture at the moment. I have to focus on me and getting through each minute. But I do so, with very heavy and intrusive thoughts of suicide.


But you wouldn’t think it to look at me. If you saw me I would be trying my hardest to wear a smile, even if that smile doesn’t touch my eyes I’ll be trying my hardest to force it to.


The whole thing with mental illness and suicide, is you never know when you’re standing next to someone or talking to someone, who wishes they were dead, or who has plans this evening to end their life. Suicide is a silent killer, often known about too late. We need to be able to speak out about how we’re feeling, and we need to have it taken seriously. If we’re speaking out about wanting to end our own lives, we’re scared, and we want to feel safe, loved and supported. It’s not easy to talk about suicide, so if we do it, please listen.



Whenever I used to be asked about suicidal thoughts by mental health professionals, I would say that I thought about it, but would never do anything about it. This was because I was afraid of their reaction. I was afraid of the doors it might open (or close). I was worried it would result in lectures, or even abandonment. The truth is I never felt completely safe from the possibility of actually doing something. And as time has gone on I have become less certain of what I’m capable of. After self-harming at therapy last year, which is something I never thought would’ve happened – I never thought I’d have been caught self-harming – I now don’t know what the limits are for me. I can’t honestly say that I wouldn’t do something. Would I admit this to a mental health professional? I don’t really know. Because I have a fear of the unknown. And I don’t know what lies beyond honesty about suicidal intent.


I feel certain at this point that it’s the direction my life is heading in. I see no future. I see no light or hope.


But let me clear something else up. I don’t want to die. I want to not want to die. I want a reason to live. I want a life. I want that life to bring me happiness, make me feel loved and important. I want people to treat me well. I want to matter. I want life to give me a break. I want to be able to cope with the world. I want more joy and love. I want to forget my past and dream of a future, that isn’t suicide. I don’t want to end my life. I want to end my pain.


This is the thing about suicide. Most people just want the pain to stop. They want the inner turmoil to mute. They want to heal. They want to kill the demon they carry with them everywhere they go. They want to be free of what weighs them down. This is how I feel. If life was different… better… I’d want to be a part of it. But at this point in time, the pull of ‘peace’ is greater than the pull of ‘life’. I don’t want to die. I want life to be better. I want to erase my memories. I want to not live in emotional pain every day. But when you are at this point, you feel there is nothing you can do to change the way your life is. You can’t make people treat you the way you wish they did. You can’t turn back time. You can’t forget everything you’ve been through. You can’t create your own breaks in life. You can’t create joy and love by yourself. You can’t make yourself matter to other people. You feel powerless. You can’t change your circumstances. But you can make a choice as to whether to live with those circumstances. And unfortunately that is why many people choose suicide. They see no other option.


People speak of the fear of being sectioned, for admitting suicidal ideation.  I would fear this too, having never been sectioned. In some ways a part of me would welcome it. A great part of me right now wants to be kept safe from myself. But the fear of the unknown doesn’t give me that choice. So I have to keep pushing on, in the hope that my regard for my family’s feelings will overpower the overpowering wish to make everything stop. But nothing feels certain anymore. It’s no longer a given that I won’t do anything. And that scares me. This year has seen the worst decline in my mental health I’ve ever known. I’m no longer who I once was. The self-destructive part of me is running the show now, and I’m afraid of my own mind.


People don’t just wake up one morning and think ‘Hey, I’ll kill myself’ for no reason. It happens slowly… days, weeks, months, years of endless sadness, pain and depression… until one day it feels like the only option left.


Please don’t be so quick to judge suffering you couldn’t understand. There’s so much more going on underneath a person than you will ever know. Try to understand what someone has been through, before thinking of them as selfish or weak. Be there for them. Help them want to live again. Push for support for them. Don’t give up on them, as they’ve given up on themselves. And listen to them – allow them to talk to you about their suicidal feelings. Remain calm and caring. Validate how they feel and why they feel that way, but show your commitment to helping them continue with life. One suicide is one too many. It’s important we talk about our feelings. It’s more important that others listen.


If you’re feeling suicidal or struggling with your mental health then please try and seek help – I know it’s hard to come by now, but don’t suffer in silence. And give the Samaritans a call (or your national suicide helpline)… it might not fix everything, as the pain you feel cannot be cured overnight. But I hope they can give you the encouragement to see another day.


We’re in this together. You’re not alone in feeling the way you do. I understand how you feel. I’m going to keep trying, one minute at a time, and I hope that if I can do it, you can find the will to do it too. I know it’s hell and pure darkness, but all we can do is survive and pray the light will return in time. And I believe it will. I have to.


Take care of yourselves.


The Lonely Mountain.

The Lonely Mountain


*Self-harm & swearing*


13th July 2018

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


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


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


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


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


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


25th July 2018


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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

Dear Grampa…

Dear Grampa,

I miss you so much. I wish you were here with me. I wish I could see your face, and hold your hand, and hear your voice. Life hurts without you here. It’s a pain unspoken. Life has carried on, people have forgotten. They’ve forgotten I’m hurting, and that for me there’s a hole in the world. They may not think you were that important to me, but you were. You were such a lovely, special man, and the world is a worse place for the loss of you.

I’m not coping without you. I’m sorry. I wanted to make you proud of me. I said I’d be okay. I said I’d look after everyone, but I can’t. I can’t even look after myself anymore. My life has fallen apart. I’m sure you know. I’m sure you’ve seen it all. I’m sorry you have to see me so upset so often. This wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted you to know I was alright. But you know I’m not. I’m so close to just wanting to come and be with you Grampa. I can’t take living anymore. And it seems like my friends wouldn’t even notice I’d gone. I miss you, and I want to see you again. I don’t want this life. I can’t stand the pain. I’m in so much pain.

I don’t know what to do. Please, come and see me in my dreams… tell me how to cope with this life. I have to keep living, for everyone else, but it’s not fair, because the world’s too cruel and harsh for someone like me. It’s not fair to ask me to keep living in it, when all life is, is pain and loneliness.

I’m never going to have anyone. I’m never going to be happy. What is the point of life? I’m so sorry you never saw me happy. I’m sorry I never got married in your lifetime. Seems it’ll never happen in my lifetime either. I don’t feel my lifetime will be particularly long.

I’m so sorry, that I’m giving Mum more to worry about. She’s upset enough at having lost you. And she’s having to watch me talk about wanting to die. She’s got so many of us to worry about. I’m so selfish to be like this when she’s suffering enough. But I don’t know what else to do. I can’t cope with anything anymore. Everything hurts. I feel I have no friends anymore. They left me, when I needed them. I needed them to get through the anniversary of your loss. They weren’t there. They haven’t been there since. I can’t cope anymore. I just want to turn to Matt… you’ll have seen how I feel about that. And the pain of that loss is still raw, just as the loss of you is. I can’t deal with any of this, because I don’t have support. I’m so alone. And it makes me want to not be here anymore. It’s too painful, and nobody even cares.

I’m so sorry our family is splintered. You wouldn’t have wanted your death to have that effect on the family. Family was so important to you, and you’d have wanted us all to pull together. It’s what I thought would happen. So far, every notion I had about grief has been debunked…. extended family haven’t been there… friends soon forget and aren’t there for you… I thought in time things would feel better. They don’t. I don’t feel they ever will.

I’m being punished for my mental illness. I’m being punished for my grief. I’m being punished for my emotions. That is the world telling me I’m worthless and a doormat. I try and hold on to the love you had for me. I try to remember that I mattered to you. But you’re gone. I may never have heard it, because I never said it, but I know in my heart you loved me Grampa… it showed in your worry for me, in your smile, in the little gestures. The book you gave me of positive quotes, that will be with me forever. I just wish you were with me forever. I need you here. I can’t breathe without you. Nothing has been right since you left. Life is no longer certain. It’s not safe. It’s two years since my world changed, and you got ill. It still hurts… the memory of what we went through when you were in hospital… something you’d never remember. It was traumatic. And I feel scarred by that last night I saw you and said goodbye. I’m so fortunate to have had the chance to say goodbye. I just wish I could have said the things I said, while you were still conscious, and could talk to me. I’m so sorry how you spent the last years of your life. That hurts me. You deserved better than that.

I’m sorry… you gave me such good qualities, and I’m not showing them anymore. I’ve lost myself. The pain is too much to cope with alone. I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve let you down. I’m sorry. I wanted to live for you, and live in such a way it would keep your spirit alive. I’ve failed you. I’m sorry. I’m just not strong enough.

I need you Grampa. If I can’t come and be with you, I need to see you, please. Please send me a sign. I need to know you’re with me. Nobody else is.


‘Trauma’ & ‘Triggers’…

A trigger is the connection between the conscious mind and a buried painful memory.

*Bad language, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, and a personal rant but with real cause for concern*


Part of me feels I shouldn’t be writing this, because me having a voice pisses everyone off. I break their belief that they’re perfect, and that I’m a worthless piece of shit. I know nobody wants me standing up for myself, they never have, but it’s about time people take responsibility for their shitty behaviour. So here goes…


Yesterday I posted an opinion on Twitter, about this £10,000 pay out to 25 year olds, and how it won’t heal a generational rift, it will cause one… that old people worked hard all their lives, paying into the system… they weren’t handed everything on a plate… people strived and struggled to have the things they own. My humble opinion is that people should work hard… it makes them stronger. Getting the old to bail out the young isn’t right. That’s all I know. I know people disagree, and that’s fine. I accept that. I hope my views will be accepted too, as mine. Anyway, someone called Tara then pounced on it, arguing it. I admit my reaction may have seemed like an ‘overreaction’, but given that just a day earlier I had the same problem with a friend, and both instances tapped into some traumatic shit from my past, going all the way back to childhood, the feeling of being ‘publicly humiliated‘ is a big fucking trigger for me.



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After she argued my views, I asked her to stop, said it was just my opinion, and my mental health couldn’t take it atm. I told her I’d removed the tweet she disagreed with. I muted her. But I saw she’d said it was just starting a discussion (I wasn’t inviting that to happen), wasn’t a personal attack on me, and she was sorry I felt it was…. a false apology.



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I wrote out an explanation for why I seemed to overreact earlier. And I wanted to tell people about the trigger, and that I sometimes need to release my feelings about things, but don’t want to debate – my nerves won’t take it.


She then retweeted it on her timeline, and said it was aimed at her (which nobody would’ve known, as I didn’t mention her name before & deleted evidence), it was uncalled for, saying she’s not responsible for how I respond to a ‘reasonable tweet’. And see below for my reply. I then blocked her. It’s not up to her to decide was is ‘called for’ or ‘uncalled for’ on my own Twitter feed. Given that it was not solely about HER, I think it was extremely called for – to warn people of where I’m at, and how delicate I feel at the moment. Surely a therapist / counsellor would agree that communicating my needs is a positive step, no? Does she believe that I should suffer in silence, put up with people crossing my boundaries, and continue hurting myself? I would hope not in her profession. She has no right to dictate what is right for me to do, to cope with a traumatic experience for me…  she may not understand my trauma, but that does not diminish its existence for me personally. If I had called her out, used her name and pointedly attacked her, and only her, then maybe… but as it was a general thread about my feelings and needs, it is wrong of her to tell her followers that I shouldn’t have posted it. Although if you think about it, she was telling her followers, many of whom suffer mental illness, or work in that field, that she thinks someone going through an intense episode of mental illness and reliving trauma, should not talk about it… should be quiet and take it out on her own flesh. She’s basically adding to the stigma. So… if that’s her choice….



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Something that needs saying, particularly with Mental Health Awareness Week coming up, is that Tara is apparently a ‘trauma therapist’, and psychology undergraduate. Good fucking luck to anyone who has the misfortune of being treated by her! She showed a total lack of awareness of TRAUMA and how it affects people!!! She’s meant to be an expert in it, and having explained my trigger being ‘public humiliation’, she went on to tell all her followers my name by retweeting me, and totally humiliating me, opening me up to potential abuse from those who follow her. It is shocking that someone who apparently knows about trauma, and specialises in trauma therapy, has no clue about ‘triggers’.





I have to admit that I did ‘overreact’ to her challenging my opinion. But I explained why that was. I wrote something along the lines of:

“From time to time I will express an opinion that some of you may not agree with. And you have a right to not agree with it. You have a right to express your views on your own page. I also have a right to voice my feelings about subjects, without fear of being shouted down by the opposition. I do not post to debate anything. I post to express my worries, my frustrations and my emotions. I post to connect with people who feel the same. I post to not feel as isolated as I am atm. So when I have people jump on my tweets, arguing them and trying to show me up, whilst making themselves look/feel better, it makes me shut down and feel even more isolated. Many people would think ‘If you can’t take criticism don’t share your thoughts online’. But I have a right to an opinion just as much as anyone else. And I don’t understand why so many people nowadays seem to think they HAVE TO argue with opinions they disagree with. Why not scroll past? Or balance it out with your own view on your own page, without involving mine? I have been experiencing isolation that nobody could ever understand recently. I have also had my opinions attacked by other people very recently. My nerves cannot take this anymore, with the depth of my mental illness right now. So please have some consideration – especially if you are supposed to understand mental health, either as someone with mental illness, or as someone working with those who have it… think about how your need for winning arguments, and scoring political points could impact on the mental health of someone else. I just turned my hands black and blue and shouted the house down, in tears because of this – I’d hate to think the neighbours heard what I said. Anyone who thinks it’s okay to make someone feel like this will be blocked. I have a right to speak and be heard. Sometimes I might be up for discussing things, and I do understand freedom of speech includes the freedom to disagree, but I’m not mentally up to it atm. Consequently I removed the tweet that started it… to avoid any further upset. People say to ignore the haters – sometimes I can do that… sometimes I’m more sensitive, and they just hurt me too much. I try not to join in hashtags, so that I don’t invite people to attack my views. So if you’re a follower of mine, particularly one who’s in the know about mental health, please show me the respect right now, of allowing me to express myself. Because the alternative is I shutdown and internalise everything. My outburst before was because of a feeing of public humiliation, which is one of my biggest, if not THE biggest trigger for me. And given the state of mind I’m in currently, I can’t take any more of it. If you follow me and don’t like my opinions, please just unfollow me – I’d rather that than be made to feel like shit for using what little voice I have left. People have been systematically shutting down my voice in the past couple of weeks, and I now don’t feel safe airing my thoughts on Facebook, Twitter or on my own blog. I can’t talk to friends either as they’ve abandoned me at the worst time of my life. So I have nowhere to speak and release my feelings. I’m not looking for pity. I’m looking for understanding and a bit of kindness. I will try and keep my opinions to myself. But if by chance you happen to see one, and you don’t agree with it, please do what I do to your opinions, and just ignore them and go about your day. Disagreements don’t always need to be aired. And I would appreciate it if for the time being at least, people refrain from debating with me. Some people are made for debates. I am not. And I’m fragile right now. But I’ll try my best to keep my feelings to myself. It’s safer that way.”


I was trying to explain how I felt, rather than harming myself again. I’d already punched the living daylights out of my hands as a result, but I thought if I calmly explained what was going through my head, and what I needed from people, they might actually respect that, and respect me. But no, just as with everyone else, she decided to take it personally, make it about her, and tell all her followers what a crazy, bad, out-of-line person I am. She decided to tell everyone that it’s MY fault. That she did nothing wrong. Now, fair enough she probably didn’t actually do anything wrong. I admit that. I admit that it was a trigger for me, so it made me relive a lot of traumatic experiences, which any legitimate trauma therapist SHOULD understand for God’s sake – so my reaction appeared out of the blue to her. Now, I used the word ‘attacked’ because that’s how it feels to me. Whether it was meant as an attack is irrelevant. In my mind it felt like it, not because it was, but because she’s not the only one who has done that to me recently. Anytime I’ve built up the confidence to say something I’ve had somebody argue against it. To somebody mentally healthy they’d probably just shrug it off, but I’m the most ill I’ve been in fifteen years. I’m isolated. I have no support system. I’m having to cope with everything alone, and I’m in so much pain. I feel so worthless. And I’ve been shut down by people. It triggered me. It knocked my confidence. It made me feel worthless and like I don’t have a right to speak. I felt as if the only words everyone wants to hear me say are these below:


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She said it wasn’t a personal attack, and she said she’s not responsible for how I respond to a reasonable tweet. No. But she is responsible for retweeting my explanation of my trigger, and further triggering me in that way… to ‘get back at me’. But you know what, she did worse to me, than I did to her. Because in my explanation I made no reference to who she was. It was a general message to my followers so that they understood what I needed, and what my boundary was. She took it personally – that’s her reaction to it, which to quote her ‘I am not responsible for‘. But she chose to post about me on her twitter feed, quoting me, so that I was not some anonymous person. And if she even read it, she was fully aware of my trigger being ‘public humiliation’ and she CHOSE to do it. She IS responsible for that. 


She is supposed to be a professional. She should be aware of the consequences of her actions… this includes online. I immediately cut my arm, slashed at my leg multiple times and injured my hands even more. Now, people would argue – ‘You’re responsible for self-harming… you made that choice’. But let me tell you, very often I can make that choice. When my emotions are heightened to that degree, and someone is deliberately triggering me, it’s like seeing red. It was a BPD episode, mixed with an anxiety attack, as I was shaking, felt sick and my heart was all over the place. In those moments I do not have control over myself. In those moments there is no choice. In those moments I am not responsible – the person who upset me to that degree that I have no power over myself, is responsible for what I do. Ultimately I am responsible, because I am the one who has power to learn better coping methods. In my calmer times I can replace self-harm with less destructive behaviours. I can try and stop self-harming. But I’m in a place at the moment, where I am not recovered. I am not even recovering. I’ve been steadily going backwards in my recovery. I admit I am not even trying to stop self-harming at the moment. I have no psychological support. I have no close friends. I’m trying to cope with this shit of a life on my own. I know she would attack me and say I made the choice to cut myself, it’s not her fault. But that is so unprofessional, and she shouldn’t be working with vulnerable people, if she can’t understand trauma, BPD and self-harm.


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I know in a logical mind that I should not be blaming anyone for ‘making me self-harm’. Nobody can make you do anything. But given that I don’t have any other way to cope right now, this was going to be my go-to action. And she must have known the effect it would have on me to publicly humiliate me by posting about me. As a mental health professional she should not have done that, and I am going to report her, advising people that she needs more training in trauma… the very thing she specialises in. A mental health professional needs to be compassionate, tactful and considerate… and display empathy. She showed none of these things.


It terrifies me, the sorts of people they allow to train to be mental health professionals nowadays. One of the other people who hurt me last year in this same sort of way, is training to become a counsellor. She was vile to me. These people don’t tolerate a different opinion. Tara claimed that she was just expressing a different opinion – trying to paint herself as the victim. But actually by arguing MY opinion she was showing she couldn’t tolerate that different opinion. An opinion is just that, and it should be accepted. It should be allowed to stand there unchallenged. If someone argues it they’re showing they are intolerant of that person’s belief and ‘have to set them straight’. If you don’t agree just carry on with your life. I don’t understand this need on the left to argue with people you disagree with, it’s crazy. She also said it was starting a discussion… no it was starting a debate, as it was a different opinion. She also implied that I’m naïve – now that is a personal attack. She was trying to backtrack and appear like a victim. I wish people could see something they don’t like, and either just move on and let someone feel how they feel, without feeling the need to challenge it… or that they could say ‘Well, I disagree but fair enough’.


Okay, she didn’t know when she commented on my tweet, that it would trigger me. She clearly doesn’t read my tweets or my blog… otherwise she would have known. She did a false apology, in the sense of ‘I’m sorry you thought it was a personal attack’. That could’ve been it. That could’ve been the end. That could have been forgiven. I would’ve calmed down and seen it more rationally, and realised I overreacted. In fact I had calmed down. I thought it was over. But clearly my explanation triggered her. I thought I was doing the right thing by explaining why I overreacted and what I require from followers. I thought it was a good thing. She decided to open the wound up again. She had ‘apologised’, I had explained. She went into victim mode, and attacked me, properly this time. She deliberately chose to do that. If by some miracle she’s the same as me, and doesn’t have control of her reactions when emotional, then should she really be working with people who experience trauma? Honestly?


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This may seem like I am now attacking her. But I am furious that a so-called ‘mental health professional’ would treat me so badly that I harmed myself as much as I did yesterday. I had a breakdown. Thankfully my mum was with me, otherwise I probably would’ve done something permanent. But I wanted to die. I wanted to hurt other people (never actually would, but the thoughts scared me). I wanted to check out of reality. I wanted to be sectioned. I felt it would be the only way to keep me safe. I’ve never felt like that before. I didn’t know what I was saying. I didn’t know what I was going to do. And it was terrifying. Anyone with BPD will know what I’m talking about. They will know how scary it is experiencing one of these episodes. And nobody should be pushed to that point – not by a professional. This post would also be deemed ‘uncalled for’ by her, but I assure you it would not have happened, had she not crossed a major boundary and deliberately triggered me that second time. My initial response may have been blown out of all proportion – that’s trauma for you. But I feel totally justified in discussing this issue on my own blog, after actions intended to upset me, and which caused me a lot of injuries.


As she had the knowledge it would upset me and I’m a self-harmer, it was the equivalent of me standing on the edge of a cliff, wanting to jump, and instead of talking me down and pulling me back, she gave me a little nudge and boasted to her friends as I plummeted to my death. That’s how it feels.


A mental health professional should know where to draw the line. The fact is, I deleted my tweets…. so nobody would have known I was referring to her. Nobody would have known. I didn’t specify in my explanation who it was… it was a general comment. Hers was targeted. I feel like it was an abuse of ‘power’. In that she is a professional and I am a ‘patient’ (though thankfully not hers). And she didn’t like that I wasn’t ‘in my place’ -below her. So she wanted to make herself feel more powerful by tweeting about me and hurting me. Again, that’s how it feels. It’s the ‘I know better than you’ manner…. but if she did know better than me, which she should as a professional, she wouldn’t have deliberately triggered me again. She would have understood that I’m experiencing trauma and a perceived ‘threat’. And she would have respected my feelings and my wishes. 


After a traumatic experience, the human system of self-preservation seems to go onto permanent alert, as i



Some people think of trauma as sexual abuse, rape, war, crime, natural disaster etc. But trauma can come from a range of different experiences. I was publicly humiliated routinely at school. I was bullied in front of the whole class with nobody intervening. I had a teacher grab my arm after I accidentally burnt my hand, shouting that I was a stupid girl, upsetting me instead of letting me treat it. I had friends a few years ago who hurt me badly by dragging other friends into disagreements. I’ve had trouble with this trigger last year, and also this year… a week ago. And so many more examples, which I talked about on a post recently, explaining the trauma I went through that left me with this mental illness, BPD. Every time I experience the same feeling of public humiliation, I relive ALL of these experiences. That my friend is what TRAUMA is. It’s flashbacks. It’s a build-up of experiences that mirror each other. That’s why it seems like an ‘overreaction’ because it’s not just about that one incident, it’s all of them. Any well-trained trauma therapist should know this. And if they don’t they should not be in the job – they are damaging to already ‘damaged’ people.  Sorry, I’m very angry about this. Mental health professionals should want to help people to get better…. they should not be allowed to make people feel worse. She has only added to my pile of traumatic experiences, and to the number of my scars, and now someone else will have to fix what she’s broken in me.


She might not think that I really have a mental illness – try telling that to my mum who sat with me through it all yesterday. She was validating me and telling me it was right that I was cross about it, and upset. That the things I shouted when I was breaking down were okay. She knew I didn’t mean them. She knows all about the shit I’ve been surviving through in the last couple of months, alone. She was telling me it’s not right, the way people are treating me. She kept me safe. After my second bout of self-harming she encouraged me to use my fidget cube and spinner, and tried to make things better for me. And whilst Tara may think my response was an overreaction, and silly… and ‘wrong’, my family know exactly why HER reaction was wrong, and the damage she’d just inflicted on me. They understand about triggers, and why it wasn’t a kind thing to do to deliberately trigger me. I think they understand better than this ‘professional’. Or perhaps it’s more that they understand me, and my illness, and my past. This girl didn’t – which I think is all the more reason to be kind to people and try not to hurt them. I guess I have to forgive her, as she doesn’t know the shit I’ve been through in my life and how close to ending it all I am currently. All I can hope is when I report this she’ll learn from the experience and not traumatise vulnerable people anymore.


Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life, and I’m in a lot of pain today. But I feel calmer. I feel safer, as I’ve protected my tweets now, so only my followers can see them… not that it would’ve helped in this case as she was one of my followers! But if anyone ever makes me feel that way again they’ll get an instant block. I only want people who respect my right to be heard, my wishes, my feelings and understand mental illness and wouldn’t wish to hurt me.


The good thing about yesterday were the people on Twitter who supported me, and understood that I was upset. I’m grateful to those people more than they could know. They gave me a glimmer of hope, and a determination to not give up on life entirely, not yet. I won’t give unkind people the power to destroy me completely. It’s going to take a long time to recover, but I will rise from this and use it to educate mental health professionals about mental illness, and things they should bear in mind when speaking to people who experienced trauma, and who self-harm. This was just one of life’s cruel lessons, but so far I have survived it, and I will put it to good use and won’t allow this person to ruin my life. She’s not worth it.


Even writing this blog I feel hyper-alert to potential threat. I feel I’m going to be criticised for this. I’m scared she’s going to search me out and attack me. I can’t afford to lose control and harm myself again. I’m worried other people will have a go at me for speaking out about this. But this was a highly upsetting encounter for me, and having no safe place to express myself, I choose to listen to followers of this blog, who say this is my space and I’m free to voice my feelings. I am terrified to do so though. Everything I’ve done lately seems to have been ‘wrong’. But I’d like to see how anyone else would handle what I’m going through right now. I’m not doing it to be a bitch. I’m doing it in order to discuss the concept of trauma and triggers – and highlighting the understanding that it seems even mental health professionals lack, around the behaviours of those with a painful past. I hope people will have the compassion and understanding I need. I’m not coping at all with life right now, and I don’t want to do it. And incidents like this, especially coming from people who should be compassionate and understanding, don’t exactly inspire me to stay alive. But I’ll try for now. If things get any worse I’ll have to re-evaluate.


My next blog will hopefully be about validation and the necessity for it with BPD – this person was incredibly invalidating, but I received much-needed validation from other sources, and that’s what brought the intensity of the crisis down. I want to start blogging about helpful things again, but sometimes life gets too much and I need to vent. I hope people will be forgiving.


Thank you to all those who continue to support me, and defend my voice. It means a lot. And I owe a lot to my family. They gave me a beautiful plant and chocolate today, to cheer me up, and I feel so much love for them. I wouldn’t still be here without them.