Tried But Failed.

*Self-harm & suicidal references, as well as bad language*



I’m trying my best to get to the end of this month without self-harming…. it’ll mean I only had one incident this month. But it’s so hard.


Last night I was researching my options for leaving this world. Today I see all the political news, plus our side of the argument is turning on itself. People are posting the same thing as me and getting likes and comments of support, whilst I have silence… nothing. Someone asked me if I was going to go back into my place of voluntary work, and when I said not at the moment their look and ‘Oh’ was like a stab in the heart. It was like a sign I’m a failure and a disappointment… like I’m just being lazy or a coward for not going in. The reality is the last time I went in, before the holiday, I had someone’s bad mood taken out on me. I felt unappreciated. I felt I was in the way and doing everything wrong. I self-harmed. So I don’t exactly feel up to facing all that shit again right now. I can’t pretend to be okay. I know this person doesn’t know how not okay I am – nobody does, that’s the problem. The only people who know how bad things are for me are people who read this blog. But I’m not okay.


I want to not be here anymore. Admittedly my emotions are likely up the wall at the moment for reasons probably only women would understand… but I feel I need to hibernate this week…. I need to stay off social media, avoid the news, avoid work, avoid everyone and everything…. but that one look of disapproval this morning makes me feel trapped. I feel I’m not allowed to keep myself safe. I’m expected to carry on and push myself. I now feel guilt for not going in to work, and for not caring if they’re okay with it. But I’m struggling so much and can’t do it. I could go in, to appease the disapprover, to stop my guilt, but I’ll be coming home with new scars probably… In fact I was just asked why I’m not going in…. in order for them to know so as not to put their foot in it….. bit late for that. It should be obvious the reason I’m not going is my mental health. If they can’t see that, then WTF!? They just keep digging the hole. As someone else said it’s none of their business. They should just accept I’m not going, as any questions about it will only make me feel bad for not going. I’m sick of all this shit.


I’m not ready to get on that merry-go-round of work. The never-ending stress machine where I embarrass myself and then can’t go in, then come back and struggle to cope and feel shit about myself. Where things are expected of me, people talk to me in tones I can’t handle because I’m right on the edge of ending my life, where one nudge and that’s it. I can’t do it. But then I feel I’m not allowed to not do it, because not going in makes me a disappointment, a failure and a burden to my loved ones. They don’t understand how bad I am right now, so they don’t understand why going in to work right now would kill me.


And I just feel the pressure building – from work, from home, from the job people imminently going to talk to me…. from myself, from time. I just want the world to stop so I can grieve. So I can recover. So I can want to live life again. Then I’ll continue and not miss more years of what should be ‘life’, to this mental illness. I’m just sick of existing and having to go through the motions just to keep others happy. And I’m sick of having to feel like a fucking failure for being unable to go through the motions. And I’m sick of not being able to TALK to anyone about the fact I can’t do this life anymore.


And then there’s my ex-friend. She doesn’t know what it’s like to always be the one who is abandoned…. left…. she made the choice to turn her back on me. She didn’t even give me the option. I tried to work things out with her. I put in effort. I told her the next steps. She just didn’t want to take them.


So now she’s free of me. Her life is probably improving without me in it. It’s allowing HER to heal. It’s allowing HER to move on. It’s allowing HER to distance herself from the hurt and the guilt, so that MAYBE one day we can be friends again as she’ll be in a better place. Utter bullshit, as I won’t be. Her leaving me without even talking to me has destroyed me and any chance of us ever being friends again. Whilst she’s out there healing and improving her life without me, I am paralysed. I cannot do the same because I have nothing left. She may be able to switch off from my existence and move on with her life and let go of the hurt, but I never will. Her way of ‘coping’ is a way of killing me.



^ ^ ^

Wrote the above this morning. Unfortunately something bad happened this afternoon and I’ve now failed to make it to the end of the month without hurting myself. My choice was either to do that or to throw myself out of a moving vehicle. This is the second time in two months I’ve found myself in this situation, and if it continues then I’ll opt for the latter. Almost had a crash earlier caused by some idiot on the road, which was terrifying enough, but it’s what happened afterwards that was the problem. I don’t think certain people get how awful it is for someone with BPD to be TRAPPED inside a vehicle, with no control, with raised voices and not being allowed to voice their feelings or fears. It’s NOT okay. I WILL fucking jump out next time. This has to stop or my life will stop. Simple as that.


So yeah, very shit day. Was shit before that, but there we go. I was going to continue on from earlier by saying I feel so completely isolated that I’ve considered getting in touch with people from my past… friends who hurt me in the past…. simply because I have nobody now. That’s how bad it is.


Oh and now we have another extension and no sign of a General Election anytime soon….. Parliament might as well hold the blade that kills me. They might as well push me off that ledge. They’ve pissed on my vote for the last time. I hope they all fucking rot in hell for the traitors they are. I’m as invisible to them as I am to supposed ‘friends’ and family. I’m irrelevant to everyone. I’m nothing. My voice means nothing. My voice should be ignored. I really am at a point of saying ‘FUCK THE WORLD AND ALL THE PEOPLE IN IT!!’ – I hate being that person, but I’ve put up with so much more than anyone should ever have to put up with. I hate everything and everyone, and I’m just done.


I’ve had my diazepam today. Not sure how much it’s helping at this point. I’m really annoyed I haven’t earnt my star on my calendar today. I’ve worked so hard to resist the urges to self-harm. I didn’t have another choice in this situation, and I’m SO angry with the person responsible for doing that. I’ll never forgive them for what they do to me with their anger. Never. They will be the death of me.


I really wish I could hibernate. I wish people would leave me alone, not give me any responsibilities or make me feel any guilt for just hiding away. I want to do that. I need to do that to keep safe. Why can’t I just be left to do what I want for a couple of weeks, alone? Why? I’m just so fed up with life right now. And people are an endless source of misery, pain and stress. I need peace. I need a break from life…. please.





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.

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.


A Wasted Life.

wasted life


It’s been a difficult day. I spent the afternoon crying, even while writing most of this post. I feel I made the right choices in the end – stepping away, telling family I felt upset, and playing board games with them whilst treating myself to a hot chocolate. Could’ve played out differently. Really tired now, feeling emotionally drained. Here’s what I wrote earlier:



I carry a heavy burden every day of my life. This is something separate from all the other difficulties in my life. It’s something that dwells inside me, alongside grief, mental illness, interpersonal issues, everyday life. It’s something that not many people could understand. And it’s something I can’t get away from.


I’m in my thirties, and I don’t have children. I don’t have a relationship. I live with my family. I love my family… so much it hurts. It hurts me the most, that I can’t give my parents grandchildren. It’s unlikely I’ll be an aunty, so the burden falls on me to be the bearer of grandchildren. But that would require being stable enough and feeling good enough about myself, to get out there and meet people, to find someone suitable to settle down with – even then, they’d have to return my feelings, which has never happened…. I can’t see anyone ever loving me. And if by some miracle I find a perfect guy for me, who loves me, marries me, wants a family with me… how many years will all that take? I’ll be in my forties before then. And what if I can’t have children?


Sorry, I’m really upset at the moment. I was in the middle of eating a piece of chocolate before writing this post, and randomly burst into tears while reading something totally unconnected on Twitter … I have no idea what my subconscious was doing, but I reached this place, and I’m in tears as I write this now. I find the topic extremely upsetting.


My family have never ever put any pressure on me, or expectations for anything like that. They’ve always made it clear that the only thing they want is for me to be happy. Which in itself is an issue, because I’m not happy. I’m deeply unhappy. And a part of my happiness will only come from making other people happy… knowing that the people I love are happy. The reality is I want nothing more than to have a soulmate, a companion… to not be lonely anymore. To have a best friend for a husband, and to have children of our own. I want that so much. And the realisation that this will never happen for me, is what makes me so unhappy. It doesn’t matter how many people tell me ‘It’ll happen’, ‘There’s someone special out there for you, you’ll find him’, ‘People are having babies in their forties a lot more nowadays’, ‘You’re a lovely person, you deserve love and happiness’…. it honestly doesn’t matter how many people say these words…. they’re empty. They mean nothing in my life. These are things usually said by people who have the very things I lack. Some women are lucky in life. They have their looks on their side. They have confidence. They aren’t as intense, and don’t have BPD. They have great jobs. They have lots of friends. They live alone. They have experience. I have nothing. I have no experience. I have a lot of experience of mental illness. I have low self-esteem, I feel I’m ugly. I feel I’m a mess inside and out. And nobody has shown a genuine interest in my many years of availability. Not a proper interest. They were either jerks or the one guy who was a friend, but didn’t spell it out clearly enough for me at the time that he liked me, so I missed it, I missed him, and my ex-best friend came and swept up the pieces for herself when I was out of the country. Now she’s happy at the expense of my life. I lost everything the moment she went behind my back. Nothing’s been the same since.


Even if I hadn’t ended up with the guy, my life could’ve been so different now if she hadn’t done what she did. I’d have still had my group of friends. I would’ve got out more and met more people, built my confidence and have felt less isolated. I would still have trust for people. I’d have hope. So she honestly took so much from me. If it hadn’t happened, six years ago now… I could well have been married by now. But what happened traumatised me, as it sent a shockwave through my whole life – everything changed overnight. And I’ll admit I still hate her for it and can’t forgive her. Not yet. It damaged me and I’ve not met a single person yet, dedicated enough, to help me fix myself.


passing time



I’ve shut off from getting close to anyone. I have closed off to men. I did meet one recently who couldn’t be more off-limits, but I’d love to use him as a template for who would be right for me. I think my taste in men has improved, and I’m on the right track. The trouble is finding one who is single and that even slightly resembles what I need… at my age most of the good ones are spoken for. And I don’t want to settle for someone who settles for me, if that makes sense…? I don’t want to have to accept someone, because they have no other options left. I guess a part of me feels if anybody wants me they must be desperate. And I don’t want desperate. I want to know I stand out above every other woman for him. I want to be chosen. I want my own love story.


I’m just constantly aware of the passing of time. I know they make jokes about a woman’s biological clock… it’s no laughing matter. But that’s not actually what this is. This is more the feeling that I’m going to be alone forever. And that I will never give my parents grandchildren. And they deserve to be grandparents. They’d be amazing grandparents. And I wish I could give them that gift. That opportunity. It hurts me so much that I can’t do that right now…


I’m upset again. Because I think about the fact we’re all getting older. We never know what’s around the corner. We never know how long we have in this life. It’s all tied in with not wanting to lose them too. But to think I might lose them having never given them grandchildren… I can hear my heart breaking… And if by some miracle I do get to be a mother one day, but not for another ten / fifteen years… what if my parents aren’t here anymore, for advice, support, and to build memories with?


There’s just this permeating loneliness in my life. There’s the reality that if things continue as they are… I have one grandparent left. After that I have my parents. If they go, I have my brother… but he might not live in this country by then. If I don’t meet someone, I will be alone in this world. Nobody could ever understand facing that prospect. And that’s why feeling supported and cared about by my friends matters to me, and when I feel isolated and alone, it cuts me to pieces. Because this fear of being alone is a very strong possibility for me. I don’t have a fear of being alone, as in spending time on my own – I welcome it, I need it otherwise I get overwhelmed. But I do have a fear of ending up alone, and of being isolated and lonely. To me that’s a very rational fear. For me it’s this fear that my life is pointless. What is the point of my existence if I don’t bring children into this world? I know some people can’t or choose not to have children, and I don’t think that of them! But for myself I do, because what else have I achieved in my life? I feel all I’ve been is a burden. I have nothing for anyone to be proud of. I’ve not known happiness ever in my life. I don’t want our line to die out. I want to experience everything others get to.


all be gone



I’ve already had to accept that my granddad never got to see me be happy. He never saw me with anyone. He never saw me succeed. He’ll never be at a wedding of mine. He’ll never meet any children I could have. And that shattered my heart back then. I also have to accept that my nan won’t see it either. It won’t happen quickly enough to allow for that. So I’m just sat watching the people I love age, and die, and I’m still in the same place – worse actually as my mental health has gone downhill… it’s like I’m so desperate to be happy and loved, and to be a mother and have them all meet my potential children, but I’m trapped in circumstances beyond my control… and all the while I’m watching them all slip away. I feel by the time it might happen for me, they’ll all be gone.


So when people say it’ll happen for me, I want them to realise it’s already happened for them. They don’t know it’s going to happen for me. And if it does happen for me it’s going to hurt so much if it happens too late to share it with the people I love. I want them to see me happy and loved. I don’t want them all to die, knowing I’m so deeply depressed, hate myself, I’m lonely and not heading anywhere good. I want them to know I’ll be okay. But I’m not happy. I’m not loved. I’m not okay. And I have to live with the guilt of that every day.


I’m always told not to put this sort of pressure on myself. But try being me. Try being my age, with my mental illness, with my relationship history or lack thereof, my looks, my achievements or lack thereof, my small but wonderful family and tell me you wouldn’t feel bad for this predicament…


I feel like a failure. And I feel it’s beyond my control, because nobody will ever want to settle down with me. So I feel powerless to do what I want to do in my life – to be a mother one day. I do feel I’ve given up before I’ve even tried. But I’m tired. I’m tired of all the hurt. I’m tired of trusting people who end up hurting me. I’m tired of all the games. I’m tired of waiting and hoping. I’m tired of believing it exists for me. I’m tired of wanting people I can’t have. I’m tired of getting attached and abandoned. I’m just done with it all. My past has broken me. Once upon a time I was a good prospect. I was young, thin, full of hope and not so cynical. Then shit happened. And you can see on my face, in my hair, in my body, on my arm, the way I walk, talk and distance myself from people, that shit happened. I can see it in photos, behind my eyes, that shit happened. And I wish we could go back to before shit happened…. before I decided I don’t want to do life anymore. But we can’t.


So please don’t say to me that I will meet someone, have children, be happy…. you don’t know that, and it means nothing. Please, instead say ‘I hope you find the happiness I know you deserve’. Hope is at least something. It’s something I have nothing of right now, but saying that it will happen one day, is actually very dismissive of how I  feel at the moment. I’ve got nothing against friends wishing happiness for me, and wishing I had someone to love. That would be a beautiful thing to feel… that it’s wished for me. But don’t invalidate my pain by saying it won’t always be this way. Because in my reality it will. You don’t know me well enough to say that… nobody does.


shit happened 2



I know I struggle with my mental illness, but all that aside, I know I would be a wonderful mum. I know I have the mothering instincts. I know how to communicate with children. I know how to teach them. I know how to have fun. I’m protective and nurturing. I would give my children the world. I’d make sure they lived as well as my family have. I’d model their upbringing on the great upbringing I had. I wish I could have that opportunity to be a mother.


It’s something I long to do. And I wish life had panned out differently. I was given life, and in that moment I was born, surely there must have been hopes for my future. There must have been dreams of what I’d be when I grew up, and who I’d meet, and the children I’d have – the family holidays we’d all go on… the Christmases spent together… them watching their grandchildren grow up. Somewhere inside, even if they deny it, there must have been hopes. And I hate that my life has turned out this way. That I’ve let them down. Not only have I not given them grandchildren. I’m still a burden on them. They never make me think this in the slightest, but I feel like I’ve ruined their lives. They should be enjoying their lives now, without me, and I’m still here, like a parasite. I feel I’m holding them back. I feel I’m robbing them of their lives. If I was them I would regret bringing me into this world. And that kills me, because there was a time they’d have been so happy about having me, and I just think if they’d known then, how much of a strain life would be for me, and subsequently for them… would they have bothered being so happy to bring me into this world?


I’m sorry, I’m so upset. I can’t stop crying this afternoon. I just hate myself and my existence so much right now. I’m not coping with anything. I don’t know the way forward. It seems impossible. I wish I was a child again. I wish I could get back all those years after I left school, and do things differently. I have so much regret. But things have got too  bad now to be able to use that regret to power me towards what I do want. I’m just paralysed by it. I’ve missed too much, and now there’s nothing left. I don’t know what to do.



*Bad language, self-harm, suicide*


I’ve not written a post in a while. Things haven’t been good. I’ve tried writing, but have several unfinished posts, as I can’t keep my mind focused on one thing at the moment. I’ll hopefully get round to finishing them soon and will share them when I do. I thought I’d write about my inner experience for now, in the hope it might unclog my mind.


I have come to a point in my life where I’m accepting the inevitable. I am starting to realise I will never get anything in my life that I want. We will never have snow here, it will always skirt around us (this trivialises my feelings a bit, but thought I’d lighten an otherwise heavy post by talking about the weather!!). I will never be happy. I will never find someone to love me. I will never be walked down the aisle. I will never be a mother. We won’t get what we voted for in the referendum. Labour will probably get in and ruin the country. I will never succeed, have a job, own a house. I will never get over the past. Nobody will ever allow me closure. Nobody will ever have my back. Nobody will ever apologise for their wrongdoings. I will never stop self-harming. I will never be ‘normal’ or fit in to society. I will never get the help I need. And I’ll likely end up dead in the next few years. Inevitable.

I used to believe in recovery. I used to count how many days / weeks I had gone without harming myself, now I spend every day longing to be triggered, so I can legitimately do it again. I’m in self-sabotage mode. I’ve shut down from everyone. I’ve felt invisible. And then I expressed a view, had it challenged, and now feel I can’t express myself even on my own private social media page. Everything else went unnoticed. But as soon as I mention politics my friends are there, arguing my points. Which then highlights the fact that among my friends I AM the minority. I suppose in my age group I AM the minority, even though my views align with the majority. It’s a lonely way to live. I feel I can’t express my anxieties, frustrations and depression, in relation to politics and other such topics where I feel strongly. Those on the opposite side seem perfectly content saying whatever the hell they like, putting us down, sharing their concerns, but if I do it and they don’t agree with it, they’ll rapidly let me know. It’s invalidating. I’ve lost ‘friends’ because of politics. Not because I’m intolerant of their views, or can’t accept a difference of opinion but because they have turned offensive, have felt the need to challenge my views, and could not accept an opinion different to theirs. It’s sad, but it’s the reality of the state of this country now. If you’re ‘right-leaning’ or voted to Leave you are looked down upon and abused, whilst those on the other side claim it’s the other way round. We’re being bullied into silence yet again, only this time it’s actually dangerous to admit we voted how we did. People are afraid to admit it because of the level of abuse and threats of violence that have been opened up, by Labour and its far-left supporters. We used to live in a more tolerant country, whereby we had a vote, and whilst some might be unhappy about it, we accepted it and got on. What the hell happened to us? The rhetoric around Brexit is driving me insane – the constant whinging about the bloody bus, which wasn’t even a factor for us making that decision! Saying we didn’t know what we were voting for. Calling us racist, selfish, uneducated, when we did months of research, educating ourselves about the EU, and did what we felt was in the best interests of future generations – okay you can’t freely go anywhere you want, but some things matter than what you can ‘get’. And the constant talk of ‘extreme Brexit’ / ‘hard Brexit’ – there’s no such thing, and the language used is irresponsible scaremongering. It’s not extreme it is complete. Hard is complete. Soft is remaining in the EU. So can people just stop saying they want a ‘soft Brexit’, and be honest and say you want to remain in the EU, but hope that by calling it ‘soft Brexit’ you’ll fool us ‘thickos’ into thinking we actually got Brexit. We’re smarter than that and know that you have to leave everything in order to fulfil the result. I find the constant chatter and ongoing argument about Brexit wearing, and frankly quite insulting.

Anyway, this isn’t all about politics. It just stemmed from that. In all fairness not much was said to me in opposition. I did overreact to it I suppose… but it triggered off memories from this time last year when someone on my social media kept jumping on my posts, arguing against them, wanting to put me down…. and the fact she went on to attack me personally how she did. It sparked off that anxiety, and adrenaline I experienced last year. It felt like an attack, even though I know it wasn’t. But it’s made me feel I shouldn’t express myself like I do. I’ve even seen friends post things before about ‘what to post on Facebook instead of politics etc’, and I think ‘hang on, it’s my page, I can say what I like…’ but when I have an experience like this, I feel it’s wrong to have the views I have, or to talk about them anyway. I FEEL cowed into silence. I feel like my opinions offend the majority of my friends, so I shouldn’t put them. But the thing is, as I stated to my friends this time last year, I occasionally post my political opinions on my Facebook because it’s private – it’s just my friends who can see it. If I said what I want to on Twitter, I would be abused, left, left and centre-left. Facebook was my safe space to talk about my feelings, and correspond with those who I know agree with my views… but those people have quietened down now too… in fact not many people talk to me at all now and that’s killing me. So it’s like I’m talking to myself. But that felt better than putting myself at risk of abuse from strangers.

But now I feel I can’t be open with my friends. I have to keep my mouth shut, to keep them happy. This is the exact feeling I had this time last year. It made me isolate myself, push my friends away, just at a time I would need them, as we’re heading towards the one year mark of losing my granddad now.

I’m sick of these BPD aspects of me. I’m tired of splitting on my friends. I’m sick of questioning who really gives a shit about me… and the fact that I shouldn’t have to question it. They should be making enough effort that I know they’re my friends, and never have to question it. I know I don’t help matters. I don’t always reply to people. It takes mental energy I just don’t have. It doesn’t mean I want people to give up on me. Not really. There is that self-sabotaging part of me that wants to be abandoned by everyone so I can end my life. But in reality I just want to know beyond any thread of doubt that I’m truly cared about. I want effort. When I’m in this zone I’m in right now, cutting myself off from everyone, it’s not some attention-seeking choice. It’s debilitating depression and being convinced nobody gives a shit about having me in their lives. This paralyses me socially. I switch off and if you get a reply from me you’re lucky. For instance I had to force myself to reply to someone a couple of days ago, but that was because I had to RSVP to something coming this weekend. It took everything I had in me.

My other experience has always been people approaching ME, choosing to talk to ME, starting conversations, and when I suddenly think ‘Ooh, someone DOES care about me‘, they either don’t reply anymore, or the conversation dries up and I feel like a nuisance – like they didn’t want to talk in the first place, and I think ‘Why bother if you’re not bothered?‘ … So that makes me shut down to people too, as I think they’re not really invested in being my friend. I can’t trust that people are committed to being there. So I shut them all out. And that’s what I’m doing now. And it’s what I will continue to do, as I can’t do anything else.

I push people away, and then break inside when I realise they don’t even notice, and aren’t going to pull me back. Nobody has ever given enough of a shit about me to make an effort.

I was told in therapy that I need to widen my network. I need to make new friends. But do you know how bloody impossible that is when left with all this baggage from past and present friendships?! Do you know how hard it is to trust that new people won’t make me feel just the same, and leave me?! Do you know how paralysed I feel, that I don’t even want to leave the house to have to meet new people? Do you?!

I have given up on everything right now, and I don’t think I can be fixed. No amount of therapy could help me right now… that’s what I believe. And reading people’s tweets saying that CBT and DBT don’t work for people like me, and that this is a lifelong illness… I just think what’s the point? Should I just pack it in now? If I can’t get better. If therapy won’t help me. If this is what my life is always going to be, then I don’t want to live it.

I feel so traumatised by the last couple of years, on top of what I already experienced in the past. Every new bad experience just adds to that feeling of trauma… nothing ever gets resolved. Nothing ever heals, and I can’t take any more of it. It’s like every bad experience slices off another layer of emotional skin. I’m down to the bone. I want someone to come along and fix me. Not just give me a toolkit to help myself, ‘go away and fix yourself’. I was told in therapy to ‘grab hold of my potential’…. I cannot do that. I feel so broken and so utterly depressed right now that there IS no potential. The potential is my death. Nobody has a clue what it’s like to be me, to have gone through everything I have, and to have NOTHING…. to have NOBODY. Nobody gets that. Nobody can understand that I just can’t ‘think positively’ and change my life for the better. If I could then I would have by now.

I’m so sorry to the mental health services – I know that you want people to get better, and when faced with someone who can’t get better, and can’t cope on their own, and who is spiralling down even with your help, then you probably lose hope, give us up as a lost cause and you probably would blame me for being stubborn, wilful or not trying hard enough. It would deflate you that you can’t help everyone. I’m sorry I’m that person . And trust me I feel like a lost cause.

I don’t want to be asked what help I need. I want someone to ask the relevant questions, take the time to find out everything that is a problem for me, and then tell ME what can be done to help me. I want someone to give me hope, but not by telling me about ‘my potential’ and then packing me off to cope on my own. I want someone to ride out the storm with me and help me see the sunshine again. I want to feel they really understand how stuck I feel…. how hopeless, and how painful my life is. I want validation. I want comfort. I want sympathy… empathy. I want to feel safe.

I don’t feel safe. Everything in this world is a means to do myself harm. Life is overwhelming. I don’t want to participate in any of it. I feel I’m waiting. But with nothing to wait for. It’s like I sit here, listening to the ticking of the clock… each second moving me closer to the end, and seeing my granddad again. An end to this turmoil. Peace. An end to the traumatic onslaught that I have to face alone.

And then I feel so guilty and ashamed, because that would be like wasting the gift of life that my parents gave me. It would all have been for nothing. I don’t want to let them down. But I already feel like a failure to them. Not because they think I am, but because I think I am. Nobody knows what it feels like to have all these problems, to have very little to be proud about, and to have such a painful conscience about it. I’m constantly beating myself up for my mental illness, for not having found someone and starting a family with them, for not having a job, for living at home…. I just feel such a failure. But I can’t break out of it. Because it’s such a tangled mess. In order to achieve those things, I have to tackle my mental health, but I’m hearing that there’s no help out there for people like me. I’m hearing it’s hopeless. I’m hearing this is my lot in life. In which case I will never succeed. I will never be happy. I will never be loved. And I will die alone. As lonely in death as I’ve been in life. Having made no mark on Earth.

But you see, my feeling of being trapped even extends to making that choice about ending it all. For a couple of years now I’ve talked about wanting to lose my conscience. To not think about others. Not think about the image I want to maintain. To not give a crap how my actions will make people feel. To say ‘to hell’ with the consequences. I want to switch off the more rational part of me. I want to act and not care. I had one moment of doing that last year, when I harmed at my therapy group. I didn’t think of the consequences. I wasn’t in my mind. I just did it. But the rest of the time I have to be ‘sensible’ and ‘sane’. My damn conscience guilt-trips me whenever I want to do something bad to myself, because I think how my family would feel. So then I feel trapped in this ‘life’, going nowhere. I can’t win.

I’m still struggling with the same things I was last year. The transference and trauma from therapy. It was probably assumed once I got away from the situation (i.e. him) I’d feel better. And now I’m discharged it’s no longer their concern. But it doesn’t mean I’m okay. I still have flashbacks. I still get upset. I know I’ve had it explained to me that my feelings for the therapist, are actually something tangled up in my feelings of grief for my granddad. And that once I deal with that loss, it will resolve itself. But that doesn’t mean it’s healed. It doesn’t mean that the feelings I had for him aren’t there anymore. It doesn’t stop the hurt. It was a very traumatic and highly embarrassing experience for me. And whilst I may not cry as much now, if I have to talk about it… about him, I have to stop myself from crying. So it is still there… they just don’t have to deal with it anymore. I’m ‘done and dusted’. Forgotten. Perhaps a ‘lesson learnt’, perhaps not… The self-harm is a prominent issue. I’m chasing a feeling, unable to find it. I cannot go deep enough. Violent visions towards myself plague my mind, and I fight every day to not act on them.

Things that brought me joy before, don’t anymore. Not now. I feel disconnected from everything…. hobbies… people… even the things I have to look forward to this year and next, I’m not excited. I feel guilty for being this way, and seemingly not caring about anything or anyone. But I just don’t feel anything anymore. Everything is flat. And I don’t have it in me to fight it at the moment. I wish someone understood that. I wish someone could see how strong I have been, and that I just can’t do it anymore. I’m tired of people saying ‘keep fighting, stay strong’… I want permission to stop fighting and to be weak, and just fall apart, knowing they will catch me and put me back together. It’s this ‘stay strong’ mentality that’s got me where I am now… where I bottled up everything, put on a front, until I could no longer hide my struggle from people. Staying strong, whilst well-intended is an unhelpful attitude. We need to be allowed to fall apart and for someone to look at all the broken pieces, and offer to glue us back together again. I don’t have the strength to do it myself. Why can’t that be okay?

Working Isn’t Working.

*Self-harm & swearing*


I couldn’t even manage two hours at work today. I left early. I feel such a failure. I just felt useless and like nothing I was doing was right. It was a slow build-up of things, until a certain point and my switch was flipped. After that I was in destructive mode. I was using my environment to try and hurt myself. I wasn’t fully present. I could no longer put on a front for customers. I couldn’t talk to colleagues. I had shut down.


I knew I didn’t want to go in this morning. I wasn’t up to it. But I put on my happy face and forced myself out the door, thinking it might make me feel better. It didn’t. I didn’t feel good at all today… and they would’ve know that if they’d waited for my answer, after asking how I was. But I seemed invisible today. I wouldn’t have been missed. I wasn’t particularly contributing a lot anyway. I did a certain job, to try and keep me occupied and out of trouble, and then was made to feel it was wrong to do it. That’s when I phoned someone and went home. I thought what’s the point in being there, if what little efforts I make are not appreciated?


One of them won’t be in next week as she needs a break from the stress. Well my plan to do the same is out the window then. I’m not coping and work is triggering me this week, so I want a break. I’m already going to have to go in throughout April as my colleague won’t be there. It’s too much pressure. I’m not okay right now, but that doesn’t seem to matter to them. So I’ll slave on. But there will be repeats of today I’m sure. I felt close to having a complete meltdown.


At one point I hid behind the scenes, doing a job, I let one of them in on how I felt, and their answer? Pull yourself together…. be positive. Fuck you. These people don’t understand a thing. I’m going to do a post on things NOT to say to someone with a mental illness. Trouble is the people who NEED to read it, never will. I went away thinking I was hated and judged for how I was today. Not feeling good at all.


So for now at least I’m home and safe. Going to try and use my crisis box now, and not harm like I did after work on Monday. Don’t want it becoming a pattern of coping. How I’m feeling right this minute I am NOT going in next week, or the one after… or for a little while now. But will decide on Monday. Going to try and erase the memory of today. A total flop, and not a good feeling Friday like I usually have. Oh well. Can’t win them all.