Poem: Drowning Through Life.

My Prison Soul (1)

 

Drowning Through Life

 

That place between life and death,
That void…
That’s where you’ll find me;
Swimming around in an ocean of emotions
Too immense for the human soul to witness,
Or the human body to contain.
No breaths of relief can be taken here.
I choke on the fluidity of people’s inclination to care,
To stay there,
To see my worth;
I drown in the words unspoken,
Unheard,
The lack of sentiment, the lack of words.
I gulp down indifference
And gargle blame,
Lost in this sea where nobody recalls my name.
Even the sharks that usually circle at the scent of blood
Care little to devour me –
Nowhere to be seen;
Though I bleed profusely from my wounds,
I bleed not red but emerald green…
The colour of envy –
Envious of those who get to live on solid ground
And know not the horror of drowning through life;
Jealousy of those who matter to someone,
Whose cries can be heard and are satisfied
By a love, an interest, a connection,
The warmth of affection –
Not left to the ravaging currents of these ice-cold depths,
Forever a
lone…
My blood is water,
Water, my blood –
My broken heart feeding salt to the sea
Which then in turn reminds me of how those tears came to be.
Can anyone see me here, sinking under the waves?
Am I worthy of being saved?
You’ll see my face in a crowd
But I am not there –
My mind is elsewhere,
In that far-off land – unable to live, not ready to die,
With no-one to help me or to bid me goodbye.
Look for me in between these worlds,
Find my soul;
Please see me
And return me to myself,
Or else
I fear
These days will be my last.

 

 

 

Unstable.

*Suicide theme*

 

 

It’s the instability aspect of “Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder” that troubles me the most at the moment. It’s not a rollercoaster. People enjoy those… supposedly. The build-up and then the rush when you come rocketing down…. you see…. with a rollercoaster you see it coming…. you feel the anticipation build as you wait to hurtle towards the ground. With EUPD/BPD you don’t see it coming. And it’s not a rush when it happens. To many who go on rides (which I don’t), the best part is the drop. With BPD it’s the worst part. It comes out of nowhere and threatens your life.

 

Just yesterday I was more or less okay. I don’t really remember how I was. I just know there was nothing particularly wrong. Next thing I know I’m sat writing suicide notes, crying my eyes out and having palpitations. I don’t know what triggered it. All I know is I was meant to be writing a list of things to take on holiday… not writing suicide notes.

 

I don’t know why I did it. Maybe it was a safety valve. Picturing me not being here anymore. Maybe it helped ease whatever I was feeling.

 

The other day I wrote something I wanted my former best friend to see. I felt so positive I was going to send it to her (somehow…. not sure how, as she moved house and didn’t tell me where to, and has me blocked online). The next day I decided against it. I now feel the next time she will hear from me will be after I’m gone. Unless she makes the move to sort things out with me in this lifetime, we won’t speak again until I’m dead. So I wrote her a letter for when the time comes. I don’t know if I honestly want that to happen or if going through the motions of it just allowed me to release what I felt towards her, in a more raw way, without all the BS.

 

I started writing other ones too. It was upsetting. It was very hard to wake up this morning and pretend this hadn’t been my reality last night. I thought I would have to take my emergency meds last night, but managed to get myself through without them. So it ended up being a success story anyway. But I am still unsettled by it all.

 

I wanted to reach out to people last night, and earlier. To tell the truth about how low I felt. Yesterday I typed out a status for Facebook. But I backspaced it all. I don’t ‘attention-seek’ anymore. Nobody cares what I have to say about my mental illness. I keep it all inside. I sort of feel if I write notes and then go straight online and talk about it then it’s just for ‘attention’. It’s not real. But this was real. Or the most real it’s ever been. I still feel incredibly low from what I wrote. Because what I wrote is my reality. I’ve spent so long talking about ending my life and not doing it, so I’ve stopped talking now. This being the exception.

 

Looking through my CMHT assessment letter I see “You described thoughts of not wanting to be around however there is no intent to act on these”…. “Fleeting suicidal thoughts with no intent and plan”. Of course that was in January. We’re in October now, and I lost my only remaining friend to suicide in May. These thoughts are not ‘fleeting’ anymore. I’m unsure of ‘intent’ now… I can’t guarantee anything. Same with a ‘plan’… no fixed plan, but ideas… it’s coming together. Planning ahead. I’m beginning to think about what I want people to know when the time comes. When… the time comes. Not if. That’s how things have changed since my assessment. It feels like a certainty now, that I will leave this world by my own hand. I just don’t know when. That’s how dark my mind has become. I see no other way. The death of my friend and the cold abandonment by the other friend, it’s all changed me forever. There’s no way back from that.

 

But like I was saying, it’s the instability that gets me. I can be plodding along just fine and then be swamped by painful emotions, or even numbness. It’s like a great looming suicidal cloud wafts in and takes over everything for the rest of the day. But then today, I was doing some tidying whilst people were out, and dancing like a maniac to some great music. Now I’m sat writing this blog… feeling the weight of depression and despair behind my eyes. Feeling paralysed by reality. Feeling detached from it all. Feeling I’m already dead.

 

Part of me sometimes feels hopeful, now I’ve finally taken the first step to getting some level of help. It’ll probably be at least a month to wait for an assessment, but at least it’s something to hope for… that they can help me want to live life again. I just don’t see how they could possibly fix someone this broken. I just hate how there are times I feel there’s a bit of hope. That I can do this. That I have to do this, because I have plans next year and want to be better by then…. and then there’s other times I’m certain I won’t be here for those plans. That none of it matters…. that it’s only a matter of time until I go.

 

It’s never been quite so extreme as it has been this year. In the past people may have noticed me seeming happy one minute and then being down the next…. feeling so lucky to have such great friends, to nobody caring about me….. but this is more dramatic than that. The highs aren’t high at all. But the lows would fool you into thinking there were great highs… I fall so hard and fast, and so far below where I used to fall. Having a day where I don’t contemplate ending my life – that is a ‘high’ point for me now. Though maybe I do feel happier than that sometimes, and just can’t see it right now, as I’m in one of my ‘lows’ again.

 

I have this difficulty that when things are bad I can’t ever remember them being good. I actually found the term emotional impermanence once – at least I think that’s what it was…. the idea that you can’t recall a previously felt emotion in its absence. I was looking at that from an aspect of relationship problems – that if someone isn’t showing caring towards me, I feel like they don’t care. They may be kind and say nice words at one point, but if they then go off the radar for a month or two and never check in…. that kindness, caring and those nice words no longer exist. They weren’t permanent. They were fleeting. I remember saying in a video journal I did sometime last year, about friends saying they care about me, and my thought was ‘How long for? A message? Then back to radio silence?’ – that’s one of the problems I have…. it’s why people like me need so much reassurance when we’re ill. We forget. We need reminding. It’s what I needed from people last year…. reminders that people cared. Rather than people assuming I know they care and are there for me, as they offered it once upon a time, I need them to remind me when I’m struggling. Because when I’m most ill I truly feel nobody cares. I need evidence that they do. Current evidence. So for the last year I probably seemed like I was ‘attention-seeking’ by saying nobody cared etc. – that was me asking people to reassure me that they did. So yes, I was seeking attention… but not to feed my ego or whatever, but because I honestly couldn’t remember the feeling of being cared for. I still don’t know how that feels. Kindness and positivity feel alien to me now. It’s like there’s a shield around me whenever anyone tries it. I can’t connect to either. I wish people would think of it like amnesia or something…. they wouldn’t blame me for not being able to remember something they said a few months back, if they offered support. But they expect me to remember it when I’m struggling with my mental health. I can’t. If something isn’t happening right here right now, I don’t know how it feels and find no comfort in sentiments that may no longer exist.

 

It’s like people saying to remember the good times with my granddad and how it felt. I can’t. I’m detached from my feelings. Apart from lacking actual memories with anyone, I can’t recreate feelings that are gone. Like looking at old photos – I can’t connect to them on any level. I have to trust that was me and I did those things. I sometimes do think I have some sort of amnesia. I look at photos and think I had a wonderful upbringing and was loved. But I’m basing that on photos and how much I love my family. I don’t recall how I felt growing up. I don’t know what sort of childhood I had. I have no memories of it. It’s like it wasn’t me. Sometimes I feel like an imposter in the body of this girl in the photos. I feel like a separate entity that has taken over her body but does not share her memories. It’s weird and slightly terrifying.

 

And my former friend… I miss her. I keep thinking about everything we’ve been through together and never will do again…. there isn’t a possibility in my mind that she ever really cared about me. A lot of the troubles towards the end came from me needing her reassurance and her not understanding this, so rather than reminding me she cared about me, she made me feel like a burden to her, and the distance kept widening between us… when all I wanted and needed was her to care about me, because I couldn’t remember a time when she did. The more silence there is, the more I split and forget how people once felt about me. She then effectively ghosted me and I’ve never been the same since. It was the final nail in the coffin of my sanity. I was left to fill in the blanks with my paranoid thoughts. I was left not only with an absence of her, but an absence of her care and supportive words, and worse than that, a feeling of being nothing to her but a nuisance. I see our whole history differently as a result. I don’t see any care in the highlights my mind offers me. I see detachment. I feel used. I feel tolerated. I feel pain and hatred. And all of this because about 12-14 months ago she couldn’t say ‘I care about you….. you matter to me’ and give me an hour of her time to show she still cared about me. None of this would’ve ever happened if she could’ve just reminded me of our friendship and who I was to her. That’s why I’m sad at the moment.

 

That and my recent loss. I remember Liv saying that the 4-8 month mark was bad for her mental health after her loss. It’s been almost five months now since she left. And I’d agree. I don’t know how I’m going to cope with this. I don’t know how to get through it. All I know is I can’t talk to anyone about any of it now. They’ve all made sure of that. I suffer in silence now.

 

My circumstances are the hurdle to me recovering. Having one friend ditch me and another take her own life…. leaving me with nobody…. no support network…. no safety net…. no rock to keep me going…. no reason to live…. I’ve never had to pull myself out of a place this deep and dark, and I’ve never had to do it alone. I know that will be the point… this has happened so that I can prove my strength to pull myself out of this wreck… and if I can survive this I can survive anything. The trouble is I don’t think I will survive this. Not right now. And if I do, then what? What am I surviving for? What life am I trying to get back to? I have none. I have nothing. I have nothing to aim for. If I somehow manage to survive and get well, I will be starting my life all over again…. but at a time where I’m also likely to face more painful loss all alone, as nobody’s getting any younger… which will just knock me back down again. It feels like a hopeless uphill struggle right now. I can’t see the light. I can’t even tell which way I’m facing or where the ground is.

 

I’m taking blind steps at the moment in terms of seeking help. It took me ages to send off the forms because I couldn’t fill in the box about my goals, and what I hope to get out of using the service. So in the end I was totally honest… told it like it is. Said how bad things are, that I can’t see a future so can’t say goals… listed all the problems etc. Obviously this worried them so they want me to see my doctor while I wait to be assessed. I have a tendency to put things off. I’ve been seeing my doctor every month for the last year or so…. there’s nothing she can do to help me. She knows how bad I feel. What’s the point in going back to see her to tell her ‘yep, still feeling suicidal’…? All it does is make me feel like a burden. I don’t like worrying people. I can’t do it in the next two weeks anyway, so not much point. It’s nice that they cared though. It’s an odd feeling, that unsettled me. Brings back memories of therapy two years ago… a problem in itself. But yeah I’m just going to have to put blind faith in them to help me find my feet. I’m just worried I’ll be beyond the realms of support they can give…. and I know CMHT won’t see me until they help me… so I’m kind of stuck at the moment. Too ill for anyone, but CMHT don’t want to help at the moment, plus the grief stuff kind of effs it all up too. Who the hell do I see first, and what for?? I don’t know how to solve the chaos inside me at the moment. I’m hoping talking to them might clear that up for me. It’s good they want to know why the mental health team didn’t refer me themselves and left me to self-refer. Gives me hope that they’ll do the right thing by me and get me to the right place.

 

It’s a long way off though. Many suicidal days to survive first. It’s exhausting. Especially hiding it from everyone and pretending to be ‘normal’. But I can’t open up anymore in real life. It’s impossible. Have to just take it a day at a time and put up with the unstable emotions and raging thoughts. Don’t have another choice. If I could sleep for a long time and wake up when I’m healed and life is better, that would be great. But sadly that will never happen. I have to tolerate this existence or opt out. Although my mind is preparing for it, I’m not ready to quit yet. So I must battle on.

 

 

 

 

No Recovery.

*All the usual warnings*

 

 

 

Today was a tough one…. saw my doctor. Talked about how everything is at the moment… how detached I’m feeling from everything I do. That I’m putting on a front to hide how I’m really feeling. I have nobody to talk to about anything now. I talked about how pointless everything feels. That I’m just going through the motions and doing things that people expect of me, but with no attachment to it.

 

After talking about the losses I’ve had this year she asked who I’d say is my closest friend now. Can you imagine how painful that question is? How depressing it is to shrug, shake your head and say ‘the people I work with’…  I don’t have friends now. I told her how all last year that was the problem, I FELT as though I didn’t have friends – that clearly pushed away any I DID have. Now I genuinely do not have friends. I mean close friends. I have acquaintance-type friends. I told her how after what my best friend was like with me, I’ll never be close to anyone again. I’ll never trust anyone again. I said that no matter if I formed a ‘friendship’ with someone new, it will never compare to the ones I’ve lost this year. I said I’m focusing too much on what I’ve lost. I do understand that. It’s hard not to, when you feel you’re losing everything around you.

 

I almost cried a couple of times. I talked about the pressure I feel… how it feels so much heavier than usual. That I feel people’s expectations of me are too high, even if they’re not. I feel too much pressure to do things, and to be a certain way. I feel so misunderstood and alone.

 

She thinks I feel detached as a form of protection. I don’t know. All I know is it’s scary and upsetting, as it feels like the prelude to doing something permanent. It feels like not caring. It feels like distancing myself from attachment, in preparation for letting go of everyone and everything. I feel everything is pointless because I’m ultimately going to follow the path of my friend who ended her life.

 

My head feels chaotic. I popped in to see my colleagues afterwards. I told them how overwhelmed I am by everything. That my mind can’t catch up with itself and that’s why I forget things, make mistakes, I’m clumsy and can’t cope with the tiniest of things. I admitted I’m worried about being the only one in next month, as a couple of them are off. It means working with someone I don’t particularly get on with. Someone who doesn’t know about my struggles. I feel pressure to be in, as nobody else will be. What if I can’t cope and have a meltdown? There’s too much pressure and expectation on me. I’m hoping after a couple of weeks off myself I might feel better about this, but I doubt it.

 

Life is seriously like… my body forcing me to do things…. physically being there and going through the motions, and my heart and my mind are inside, screaming, pulling at me and begging me to stop. That’s how it feels. My heart doesn’t want to go on. My mind wants everything to stop. But my damn body, the outside… the mask I show everyone, doesn’t want to disappoint / worry / burden anyone, and thinks nobody will understand if I don’t soldier on. So it forces me through hoops to appear normal. To appear strong. But inside, my soul is crying and desperate for a break… for peace… for the end. That’s why I can’t connect to everything around me. My heart’s not in it. My mind’s not in it. I’m physically there, but mentally and emotionally I’m in a ball in the corner, wishing not to exist. Wishing none of this was real.

 

This is all so difficult. And having nobody to talk to about it all makes it so much worse. I’m trying to do positive things. I contacted the Wellbeing Centre, I’ve started my charity walk, I’ve even taken up knitting again…. but none of these things are going to make me better. Nothing can. I can never get better, because I have lost the two longest friendships I had this year, in two very different yet very traumatic ways. Nothing can fix or change that. Nothing can fix me. Nothing can take away the anger I feel at my former best friend for ditching me and treating me so poorly. Nothing can bring my other friend back to life. Nothing will give me answers as to why these two things happened. Nothing can change the pattern of my life – that people abandon me and I never understand why. Nothing can erase the past. Nothing can reconnect me to this world again. I don’t believe I can ever recover. There really is no hope. People will tell me there is, but I don’t feel it. I don’t see it. I don’t believe it. This world is just too much for someone like me. I can’t face it alone, but that seems to be my destiny.

 

I’m just so tired of being here. I’m sick of feeling. I’ve had enough of everything. I want to forget everything. I can’t go on without forgetting everything that’s been and gone. Once upon a time there was help for people like me. Now I have nowhere to turn. What do you do… who do you turn to when you no longer feel a part of this world, can’t go on in it, and can’t see recovery? There’s nobody. All these services out there are ‘recovery-based’. You have to want to get better. I am beyond that now. I can’t see a future. I can’t see recovery. If I can’t see it how can I believe in it, and work towards it? I need better help than that. I just want someone to listen and understand how broken I am. I don’t want them to tell me it gets better. I don’t want them saying it’s normal and we all feel that way. I don’t want them saying I have to put the work in if I want to recover. I know that. For so many years I put so much work in, but it’s the world around me that pissed all over my efforts. It’s this world and this life that undid everything I worked for. It’s the people in it who broke me to my core. Tell me how I’m expected to put in any more work to help myself, when this fucking world is trying to destroy me…?! What is the point??

 

Mental health professionals are supposed to help you. They used to. Now they expect you to help yourself. That’s the core message they send out. So I’m a lost cause then? If I’m at a point I can’t help myself because I am in total darkness… what then?  I just want someone to …. I don’t even know the end of that sentence. Because the truth is I could say I want someone to make me want to live again. But with the trauma of everything I can’t live. I cannot see any scenario where I would feel happy again. Where I’d feel loved. Where I’d feel safe again. Anything I had and believed in has been violently ripped away from me. No therapy and no pill could help me now. That’s how bad I feel. I wish there was some treatment that would save me, but there isn’t. Because no matter what, I have to live with this mind, these memories, this pain and this loneliness forever. The scars I have inside are so much deeper, so much worse than the ones on my arm. Nothing can heal those. I’d say ‘prove me wrong’, but I think without my belief, nothing will work… and the trouble is I believe in nothing anymore. So it’s hopeless.

 

Feels dark today. Just trying to get through each moment. Having to tolerate a lot of unbearable thoughts and feelings lately. I wish they’d all stop. I just want to be me again.

 

 

 

Completely Alone.

*Language / suicide / honesty*

 

The stark reality is this….. NOBODY CARES.

 

I could fall off the face of the planet and nobody would notice, let alone be sad about it. Heck, I could speak out online about how suicidal I feel… I could tell the world I’m about to end it, and all I’ll be met with is silence.

 

People say to reach out to someone when you need help. That’s okay… if you’re not me. But if you’re me then nobody cares enough to say anything in response. Nobody values me or my life. Nobody would miss me. I am invisible to the world… even the ‘mental health community’ who rally round each other – I’m the outsider as I always have been everywhere I go. I don’t know what it is about me but people just do not give a shit. Whenever I’ve reached out and been honest about my mental health or the grief I’m feeling about Liv, and how utterly alone I feel….. silence. That’s all there is. I don’t exist.

 

When I first experienced grief two years ago, people were there in the short-term. But when my full grief kicked in, after the effects of medication wore off…. nobody there. My best friend abandoned me at the worst time of my life. And now I need her more than I ever have needed anyone, and she doesn’t give a shit. She texted me which is nice, but that’s all. Now without her and without Liv, I genuinely have nobody who cares whether I live or die, other than family. I have a great big gaping hole in my heart, and my life, and nobody to support me through that.

 

I am alone in grief. I am alone in life. I’ll be alone in death. I have to deal with my grief alone. While others are talking to each other and grieving together, I don’t exist. People ignore my existence. It’s like she never mattered to me or I never mattered to her. I’m left to fend for myself. I don’t even know if I’ve missed the funeral. I’m so out of the loop. And having to deal with this sort of grief – suicide – on my own, whilst being invisible to everyone… and having no close friends. I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to be here either. I want to join Liv. I might as well. There is no point in me existing anymore. There is NOTHING good left. I can’t even say, like I had all year, well I’ve got Westlife to look forward to….. I was going with Liv. Now she’s not here. I was meant to finally see her again two weeks tomorrow. I never got to give her a long overdue hug. We were so excited to be front row. Now I’m going to have to leave an empty seat, as I’ve practically gone round everyone begging them to have a free front row seat, and nobody said yes – even an offer like that people don’t want to be around me. It MUST be something wrong with me. I know the likelihood is people just couldn’t make it as they had other plans. But the last couple of weeks have been so humiliating and triggering for me. I’ve had to relive my childhood – desperately chasing for someone to be my friend and go with me. And I’ve had to face so much rejection over and over again. It’s left me feeling really quite shit about myself. And yes, I’ll be brutally honest, I’m a little angry at Liv for this… because this is what her decision left me with. The one thing that was keeping me alive, the one thing I was looking forward to with her, is now a ‘problem’ for me to solve. It’s a harsh reminder of how unbelievably isolated I am. And I know that makes me sound selfish. But since nobody else gives a fuck about me, I don’t think it really matters if I sound selfish.

 

This HAS affected me, badly… and there’s nobody there to talk to about it. There’s nobody who understands. There’s nobody supportive, loving, caring and committed to helping me through this traumatic loss. I can feel immense sympathy for Liv. I can be so upset that she’s gone. I can love her and miss her, and say I could never hate her. But I can still be angry about what’s happened and how it has impacted on my own mental health. Because my own mental health was already on a ledge. That’s why I was too wrapped up in my own self-pity to notice just how bad things must’ve been for Liv. Because I was struggling. And somebody taking their own life does pass it down the chain. It stops their pain, but it passes it on to someone else. It’s true.

 

I even had a colleague say to me not to do anything myself because of it, and I was honest with her and said it is something that has crossed my mind as a result, but that I wouldn’t put my family through that.

 

Liv was all I had left besides them. Everyone else pretty much leaves me feeling alone… like I don’t matter… like I don’t exist…. like I’m a nuisance and a burden. She was the only one who noticed, cared and believed in me. She’s the only one who never let me down. She was my rock. And now she’s gone.

 

Life is rapidly taking away my rocks. Losing family members, losing my best friend, losing Liv.

 

When I think about how I feel I have an image in my head. I don’t picture ending my life. It’s already ended. I see me lying there paralysed…. broken… no willpower to move… with destruction all around me…. like I’ve just thrown myself off a cliff or out of a window and there’s debris everywhere. I’m not moving. And the most notable thing about this image…… there’s nobody to be seen. People are walking past as though I’m not there. As though nothing happened. I’m lying there, dead for all anyone knows, and I’m still invisible. This is how I feel on the inside. I feel I’m already dead. And nobody gives a shit. Life goes on. I don’t want it to.

 

Two weeks tomorrow was meant to be the happiest day of my life so far… a dream come true…. it’s anything but now. I am living in a nightmare that only keeps getting worse. If losing my granddad wasn’t bad enough and real and painful enough…. then having my breakdown at therapy…. then withdrawing last year, feeling suicidal every day, and ultimately being hurt and abandoned by the person I trusted most…. and now Liv is gone. All the old friends I used to have are carrying on happily without me, and I’m left broken by them all. And I hear the words ‘we wouldn’t want anything like that to happen to you’…. it’s just words. It means nothing when it’s coming from the very people who put me on that ledge in the first place. The people who neglected me and abandoned me and hurt me so much, that I didn’t want to live anymore…. this was BEFORE Liv took her own life. I wanted to die before she DID. And people can say all they want that Liv wouldn’t want me to follow her…. but she went. She set the example. So I don’t want people telling me what Liv would and wouldn’t want for me, when she made that choice for herself. I’m not saying I’m about to do something, but I seriously am feeling why the hell shouldn’t I….?! I have every reason to not be here anymore. I have nothing to live for… other than to not hurt my family.

 

Liv left me all alone. Again I might sound selfish, but someone choosing to end their life is effectively an abandonment, and when you have what I have, it’s the one thing you find it hard to cope with. And I’ve had a fuck-load of it in the last few years. Seeing Westlife wasn’t enough for her to stick around. Seeing me wasn’t enough for her to stick around. All the other good things going on for her were not enough to stick around. I understand the demons won.  But it’s hard not to take it personally and feel like you’ve been rejected…. to not feel worthless… to not feel like she didn’t care enough about you not to leave you with nothing and nobody.

 

I’m not happy that I’m having to write these things. I’m devastated that there’s a need in the first place. People ask me what I want to do about the concert – do I want to sell the ticket, give it to someone who knew her, leave an empty seat…. blah blah blah…. no. What I WANT is for Liv to still be alive. What I WANT is to have not lost my best friend from my life too. What I WANT is for none of this to be real. But I can’t have that can I? This is reality. A reality I do not want. I have nothing left to pull me through this.

 

When my group of friends betrayed and abandoned me in 2012, I had my best friend and then my Godchildren to keep me going. When I lost my best friend & Godchildren, Liv was one of the only ones there…. now I’ve lost Liv and there’s nobody and nothing left. Not anyone who can reach me on a deeper level. Everyone else is a more recent friend / acquaintance. I don’t really register on their radars. The two people I’ve lost this year are my two oldest friends – I don’t know who I knew the longest, but I knew them both for over 12 years of my life. Everyone else I pretty much only met in the last couple of years.

 

So yeah, I’ve had three major losses in two years. And I have nobody to help me through it. I don’t have online support… professional support… honestly nobody cares how I feel or what happens to me.

 

I know Liv wouldn’t have wanted me to feel this isolated. She wouldn’t have wanted me to feel out of the loop and forgotten like this. But I am. I don’t matter to anyone. I never did. I never will. And the only person who ever made me feel that these facts weren’t true, was Liv. Liv who is no more. I really do give up on life. I feel dead to it now.

 

I spent most of last year feeling detached from reality and disconnected from everyone and everything. I didn’t want to be here. In the last handful of months I tried my best to push through it all and open up to people again. I tried to reconnect to life. But now Liv has ended her life I don’t have a life left. I’ve never felt more disconnected. And I don’t feel I can come back from it this time. Life will never feel the same again. I am honestly dead inside. There is no light left.  Sometimes we need others to be that light for us – people that really know us and really care about us… people we can trust…. I don’t have that with anyone. I have nobody offering me their light. Not people I know. I feel desperately alone, painfully ill in my mind, and completely hopeless. I feel paralysed with pain and depression. Nobody can know how it feels to be me right now. My life has become one big tragedy. And even if it’s not right now, I know how my story ends…

 

 

 

This Year….

this

 

How do I begin to explain how awful this year has been? From start to finish it has been an uphill struggle. I end this year worse than I started it, and that’s saying something. This time last year I was about to face my first Christmas without my granddad here. I had finished my therapy course where I had a breakdown and my mental health had got worse. I was trying to pick up the pieces of my life and get through a difficult time. I thought if I could get through that the worst would be behind me. Boy was I wrong….

This year I have had so much shit thrown at me from so many different angles…. from strangers… from friends.

I have experienced paranoia, splitting and what feels like the longest, most drawn-out mental breakdown. Things started going downhill in about February / March… it was the lead-up to the first anniversary of my loss. There was nobody around for me…. no sympathy…. no care…. no support. That’s when I started splitting on everyone and isolated myself. Over time I started to feel disconnected from everything and everyone…. detached from reality… the paranoia crept in and kept getting worse. I have struggled with my grief this year too. I reached the ‘depression’ stage of grief, and I’ve never come out of it.

The world is different now. I see life through a different lens. Everything is darker, flatter, heavier…. nothing feels ‘real’ anymore… not outside these four walls anyway. I don’t feel safe, secure or certain of anything. Life is pain. Just waiting for death. It’s very hard for someone who hasn’t faced a loss like that before to adjust to this new life … and I’ve had to do it alone.

Not only have I had to face it alone, I have had so many heartless people make it so much harder, by throwing their shit at me. I’ve faced more shit this year than I can remember getting any other year. I don’t know if it’s just because I can’t cope with it so well this year, or if there really have been that many more people causing problems for me.

I had a ‘trauma therapist’ (who I didn’t know) deliberately trigger and humiliate me on social media… I had an American ‘Democrat’ attack me for defending those with BPD, from her harmful misinformation where she linked BPD and Trump. I had the people who labelled me as a troll, stupid and a racist, for making a very rational, fair and non-racist point on my own timeline. I had someone stalking my posts because I disagreed with our MP.

I’ve had people thinking I was getting at them and making me feel awkward and disliked by other people, which contributed heavily to me isolating myself. I’ve had people turn their backs on me, who I never thought would. I’ve had people misinterpret everything I’ve said and paint me as a villain. I’ve had them mischaracterise me. I feel I’ve spent most of this year having to explain myself, defend myself and apologise for being ill. I shouldn’t have to do this. I’ve had people kick me when they know how suicidally down I’ve been. I’ve had people hurt me, and double down on that when I’ve brought it to their attention, rather than admit mistakes and apologise…. I’ve been compassionate, forgiving and had none in return. I’ve just had aggression, blame and punishment from them.

People who I thought would be friends forever have treated me the worst… but through it all I’ve discovered those who treat me with the care and respect I deserve. Those who know how to talk to someone this ill and grieving. People who see good in me and tell me. People who don’t think I don’t deserve them. I’m thankful to those people for not holding my illness against me, as some have.

This year has changed me. There may be some good aspects to that, but mainly it’s changed me for the worse.

I cannot stop hurting myself anymore. Whenever I’m left alone in the house I bruise myself… sometimes three times a day, over and over again. The urge is constantly there, so as soon as an opportunity arises I do it. I’ve managed to cut down on cutting recently… that had become a twice-weekly sort of thing at the least. Not done it for a while… the hitting has taken over. The only reason I may seem ‘better’ at the moment has been me focusing on Christmas. I know as soon as it’s over I’ll revert back to how things were before.

I have felt so suicidal this year. For the first nine months of this year at least, every single day I would want to kill myself. I would obsess over how to do it. Just over a month ago I had to phone the Samaritans because I couldn’t stop hurting myself and I just wanted to die. It’s really saying something if I phone the Samaritans, because I do not like using the phone. I had no other choice… it was 1am, I didn’t know what else to do.

My hair-pulling got a lot worse this year… I developed a bald patch on my head…. it grew back….. I got another patch….. it’s an ongoing battle.

I’ve closed down from people. I’ve shut myself away – I’ve hardly left the house most of the year, especially the second half of it. I stopped volunteering. I only went out in the car with family most of the time. But the majority of my time has been indoors at home. I’ve missed so much of the year. That’s why it’s shocking that it’s Christmas now…. I missed Summer and Autumn, so it’s suddenly Christmas and it doesn’t feel like it should be.

I went to the doctor several times as my only source of support for my mental health. She referred me to the CMHT, who rejected my referral without even speaking to me. That was difficult to deal with. She re-referred me and this time they’re going to assess me in January. I don’t expect they’ll offer me help, but at least it’s something. I’ve had to battle through the last year alone. No professional help. No friends.

I haven’t enjoyed things lately. I don’t feel I can anymore. ‘Fun’ events I’ve been to have either felt flat or totally ruined by my state of mind and the way I relate to the world around me. It makes me fear for all the good stuff I have planned for next year. In June next year I’m finally fulfilling one of my dreams I had when I was younger – to be front row for my favourite band….. I only hope I can survive until then. But more than that I want to feel better … I want to enjoy it. If it’s anything like this year has been I will not enjoy it at all. I don’t know if this has been as a result of my illness, grief, or how I’ve been treated by others…. or a combination of all three.

I cannot believe that at a time when I’ve struggled with my mental health and with grief, some people who are supposed to care about me have treated me the way they have. Those people online are strangers – they don’t know a thing about me or my life. They don’t matter. But those who do, and have chosen to be less than compassionate and sensitive, I really don’t understand how they could do that to me. I’m not sure how I can ever forget what they’ve done. But I have to focus on those who have been there for me. Those who have treated me kindly. Those who understand my illness and know how to talk to someone in despair. That will be my focus in 2019…. to focus on the good and put the bad in my past. And hopefully to try and separate the past from the present, which is something I’ve been unable to do this year.

This year has taught me what I deserve… although I feel so utterly shit about myself and think I deserve pain – that’s why I keep hurting myself – I know deep down that I do not deserve the shit people have thrown at me. I know that nobody deserves to be spoken to how I have been this year, not when they’re suffering with their mental health and adjusting to a world after loss. It has taught me not to accept that from anyone anymore, and that I need to stand up and say no to that sort of treatment. If it means losing a person as a result, so be it. They don’t deserve me. Those who care about me wouldn’t want to hurt me, and wouldn’t drive my self-worth down… they’d lift me up, tell me the good things about me and what I deserve and they’d strive to make me feel better. If they can’t do that then they’d at least not make me feel worse.

This year has opened my eyes to things I hadn’t noticed before. And particularly circumstances this Christmas have decided what I need to do to get better. It’s time for a change. I deserve better than this. That’s the note I want to finish this year on. I deserve better. If there’s nothing else I can say about this year, then it’s that. I see that as a positive, to even recognise that I deserve more from people. After the year I’ve had and how I’ve felt towards myself, it’s nice to point it in the right direction and to stop blaming myself. This has been hell  and whilst I know it will take at least as long to get out of it, as it took to find myself in this hell, at least I’m starting to recognise the good in me again. I’m remembering who I am in my heart. The words and actions of others have helped me to see it… to see I’m not what they think I am. So to all those who hurt me this year…. thank you. You may have broken me, but you’ve also allowed me to recognise my own worth, and that in a world where friends can turn their back on you at the drop of a hat, I need to be my own best friend.

A peaceful Christmas to everyone. May 2019 be a better year for us all…. it has to be, surely….

xxxx

 

Eleven Days.

*Self-harm*

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

 

 

Am I Broken?

I had a serious meltdown on Monday night and as a result made my blog private, and decided not to blog anymore. I was severely hurt. I have since decided not to let anyone shut down my voice. Yes I may change my manner of blogging if possible, but I’m only speaking my truth. Mental illness has become my life this year, not by choice. It’s been a battle to survive. My blog is my way of explaining my thought processes and the challenges I face with this illness. Nothing is ever done maliciously. I simply say things as I see them, from the perspective of having a mental illness and experiencing a mental breakdown. You see the world completely differently during a breakdown. I think you’d all acknowledge that. I report on what I’m experiencing and what my perception of reality is – not to hurt anyone, but rather to explain why I act the way I do… to explain that I’m paranoid and believing things that may not be true. If people take offence at that then it shows a lack of interest in even trying to understand my illness and how I feel. The aim has always been to explain so as not to be misunderstood, and so that people know why I’m behaving how I am, and at times this has failed epically and left me even more misunderstood. But this is a failing on the part of those who refuse to try and understand. I’ve tried to make people understand, if they still can’t then unfortunately it’s not my problem.

 

I have decided to continue my blog, as those with a mental illness know where I’m coming from and what I’m saying – and that after all is the whole purpose of this blog. That and challenging stigma – and what I have faced recently is stigma in my opinion.

 

Before the thing that caused my breakdown on Monday night I had been at the theatre at a comedy show…. I had intended to write about it when I got home, as it was the most peculiar experience I’ve had lately, but I got distracted by even worse things…

 

But anyway, I was anxious about going to this show, as I hardly go out anymore –  especially to anything big like that. I went with a family member. I had already felt reluctant about going, as I’ve had such a horrible year and my mental health is that bad that I felt I wouldn’t enjoy it. To some degree I was right…

 

It was hard to understand what he was saying, as he speaks so fast, with an accent too… so I missed a fair few bits. I also have a back problem, so found it difficult to sit for a long time. By the break I was desperate to stand up…. so the second half was particularly painful, I still couldn’t always hear him… and then he brought up Brexit. He lost me after that. I don’t find it amusing to laugh at and attack something I voted for which politicians are on the cusp of betraying. I don’t like lefty luvvies making fun of my vote for entertainment purposes or their own virtue-signalling purposes. So, I kind of switched off at that point, and no matter how hard I tried after that to reconnect, I couldn’t find anything he said funny enough to laugh at it.

 

I became very aware that I was sat in a room full of hundreds of people laughing their heads off, and I felt very disconnected from it all. It’s like I was there but not a part of it. I kept trying to get myself to focus on the show and the jokes, but my mind had already wandered off. And my illness had taken over.

 

I felt like I was broken. Faulty. Damaged. I started thinking all these things I’ve planned for next year – if I’m this ill I’m not going to enjoy them. I don’t feel able to enjoy anything anymore. Even when I went and saw the fireworks at the start of the month, I felt detached. Walking to see them, alongside everyone else making their way there, I thought ‘It can’t be fireworks again already… it doesn’t feel like that time of year’. Probably because I have hidden away for most of the year so missed a lot of the seasons…. I can’t believe it’s Christmas again in a month… the second one without my granddad. I don’t feel in that sort of spirit because of my mental health, the problems I’m having and because the year has just disappeared. I’m going to try and make the best of Christmas, in that I want it to be a peaceful Christmas.

 

But I feel so disconnected from life that even fun events feel like ‘going through the motions’ and pretending. I don’t get the same joy from them at the moment. So I went away from it having not enjoyed it, not finding it that funny, and feeling very pensive. I thought there was only one thing that could finish off the day in style – a horrible message from someone…. sure as hell that’s what I got when I got home 11.30pm. Then the proverbial hit the fan and I ended up on the phone to the Samaritans at 1am.

 

I won’t say any more about that in this post. This is more about that feeling of being disconnected from the world around you – it’s something I’ve felt all year to some degree. It has only got worse over time. My family are real. But any interactions outside of that don’t feel real. Anything that happens around me is as though it’s happening whilst I’m in an invisible bubble, just watching. I even hear myself saying words and sometimes don’t feel I’m in control of saying them.

 

I don’t laugh at things the same. At home I might, but not elsewhere. I feel I can’t let go of everything that’s happened in the last couple of years…. I can’t just let go and have fun anymore. I’ve spent most days suicidal. It’s hard to truly experience the feelings of happiness and enjoyment when you’re still in that state of mind. Will I ever find things funny again? Will I ever be able to genuinely smile and enjoy being around people again? Will I ever live one day like a normal person and not secretly be wanting to end my own life? It doesn’t feel like it.

 

Monday evening was when I realised how broken and ill I am. I was later attacked by someone who refuses to understand that illness. So I have to put myself first, understand my own illness and not beat myself up for having it.  I don’t know how to connect with the world around me anymore… I’m not sure the way out of that. My first priority has to be to try and get the help I need – the understanding, support and validation. I’m not an expert in breakdowns and how to recover from them. So I have to be patient with myself and as people would say to me, take it a day at a time. I only hope people can show more compassion and understanding than I received the other night, whilst I live in this hell. It’s scary to not feel part of life, to be in so much pain and not want to exist anymore. To not feel in control of your own mind and body sometimes. It’s embarrassing to have people witness your mental breakdown, fearing they will judge you for it and leave you. Trying to rebuild your life whilst wanting to die is so hard. And I’m grateful to those who understand and who have stuck by my side and not held my illness against me.

 

I shall continue writing, as a step on my long journey to hopefully getting well again one day. If my truth offends people then I’m sorry. But I’m only sharing my relatively new experience of paranoia and trauma, and living with this illness is more painful for me than sharing my truth could ever be for you.

 

 

xxxx