*Self-harm & swearing*
13th July 2018
Life is hard at the moment. I haven’t been coping very well. I’ve been unable to talk to people. I’ve been incredibly stressed out about politics. I’m still trying to recover from being attacked by someone because of it. I’ve been so fragile emotionally.
When we got through to the semi-finals in the football I felt good, but had an awful headache so went to lie down in the garden as it was so hot. Some prick let off fireworks almost over the garden… in the middle of the day! You can’t even see them, so they were obviously doing it to be noisy and anti-social! I tolerated it for a short time… well, when I say ‘tolerated’ I mean quietly swearing at them, telling them to kill themselves with a firework…. but eventually I went indoors, slammed the door, stormed upstairs swearing and punched the wall. I knew it was an overreaction but I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t in control. It was someone being unnecessarily annoying and I had a bad headache, so wasn’t able to keep control of my emotions like I normally might.
Wednesday was hard. Someone close to me said something I found hurtful. The trouble is they have their own issues, ones that make them unable to see how their words could be hurtful, so I have to accept it’s how they are. I love them and I know they wouldn’t really want to upset me. Their issues and mine just don’t always go together very well. So I had to pretend it didn’t upset me. But when I got home I self-harmed… those words spinning in my head. I was upset because the words attacked who I am – they rejected my care, told me I was doing something wrong, that I was an annoyance, and being the caring person I am is wrong … I felt I couldn’t say anything after that. I’d been lumped in with someone else who they think is ‘overbearing’ – they don’t recognise it’s called caring and being concerned – loving someone! Also I was asked to care on behalf of someone else, so I was put in the firing line. The annoying thing was that I had told myself a second before the question came out of my mouth ‘ they’re going to say *this*’… so when they did it was instant regret for opening my mouth. I went quiet, excused myself and went and punched myself for saying anything. I then went back and pretended everything was fine, until I got home and cut myself.
Later on we lost the football…. not really that big a deal. Just a shit ending to a shit day. I blamed myself for buying the flags…. told people…. thought they blamed me. I’d ‘done the wrong thing’ again. So went away and punched myself again. It’s become my preferred way of hurting myself lately. I know it makes no sense, but then self-harm of any kind makes no sense to those who don’t know the struggle.
I couldn’t stop causing myself harm. I was really upset about life. I self-medicated. I took a diazepam, hoping it would calm me down. I wanted to just sleep, as at least I’d be safe then. It helped. It made me very tired. I’m thinking of asking the doctor if this would be an okay thing to do in a crisis or if there’s something extra I can take if I just can’t stop hurting myself. I know it’s not the answer – I need to use skills I’ve learnt, but for times I’m beyond that it would be good to know there’s something that can keep me safer.
There’s only one other time I ever self-medicated, and that was during my therapy course last year. The anxiety got too bad that I took a diazepam before the group once. That was a low point for me. Nobody ever knew I did it. I wrote about it on my blog, but never told anyone. I know it’s not good, but the other day my body was telling me what I needed. I needed ‘restraining’ and if the only way I could manifest that was through medication making me too tired to do anything, then that’s what I had to do. I won’t make a habit of it, but it was that or break my hand.
25th July 2018
A couple of weeks have passed since writing the above. I had my doctor’s appointment on Monday, and I’m being referred to CMHT, to see if they can be of any help to me. I don’t hold out much hope, but the doctor does… so we’ll see. I’ve also been told that in a crisis it’s okay for me to take the diazepam… my doctor knows that I won’t abuse it, and will only take it when all else fails. And that just having it there as a ‘just in case’… a safety net, might help too. I won’t be using it all the time… only when absolutely necessary like the other week.
Things don’t feel good at all right now… I’m on a break at the moment, but very soon I’ll be back to normal and expected to continue as before – doing my volunteering, I’ll have my hospital appointment, job centre stuff to worry about… it’s all too much to cope with.
I’m in one of my depressions again, where I feel nobody outside of my family really cares about me. One person has spoken to me to see if I’m okay. Other than that people just ‘like’ things. Nobody chats to me. Nobody seems to care when I’m not okay. Nobody offers support. Nobody acknowledges my existence. And when I’m alone that’s a very hard thing to deal with. It is TRUE ISOLATION. Don’t get me wrong, I like being by myself. I often find socialising overwhelming and prefer my own company. I don’t always have the spiritual energy to respond to people. But it’s quite possible to enjoy your own company but to not want to be forgotten. It’s the whole ‘I don’t want to join you, but I’d still like to be invited’ thing. It’s nice to be thought of.
Where I have got a lot of time to myself at the moment, I have to stop myself from letting in the thoughts of being neglected. I’ve almost gone there a couple of times on my break, and I don’t want it to take me to that place of anger at the world. I don’t want to give air to the paranoia. I just have to switch off from it and focus my mind elsewhere. I have to tell myself that I don’t matter that much and to stop being selfish. I have to tell myself I am alone, and that will just have to do. It’s the way my life is meant to be.
The prospect of life continuing as it is when I get back… I don’t want to do that. It feels like an impossibility. My mind goes straight to self-destruction at the thought. But I have to tell myself that although things are going to be hard, there will be the possibility of help by the mental health team. I feel sure they will reject my plea for help, which will make me so much worse, but I’ve got to have hope for now. I’ve got to hold onto it as my one chance for life improving. I can’t go on like this.
I want to remember what it was like to want to live… ten years ago, when I was doing DBT, my life was improving…. I had a group of friends, I was starting to consider the world of dating. I had a lot of problems sure… I didn’t suddenly lose my depression and anxiety – it was always there. But the social network I had gave me confidence – even if it was just a front… it’s more than I can do today. Even after a glass or two of wine I would do karaoke! This was totally out of character for me, but it was a phase I went through with friends at the time. I felt I mattered. I felt stronger. I felt a part of something and more connected to life. My group of friends would meet every week, sometimes twice a week – I’d see them all individually. Men found me attractive. I’d get beeped by cars as I went about my business. I started to have more control over my self-harm and my mind because of the DBT. I wasn’t ‘cured’ by any means. But I was on the right path. My granddad was still alive – I didn’t know the horror of grief… our family was still together so I felt connected to them all too. I had none of the cares I have today.
Now I have days I feel I don’t even have one friend (though I know I do). My group of friends fell apart because of two of them seriously betraying and hurting me. Any friends I have I’ll see once a month if I’m lucky. I don’t want to think about dating – I don’t trust men. I hate my body. I hate myself. I’m not attractive anymore… I have health issues which have contributed to my weight problems etc.. I don’t have any confidence – any that people may witness is a complete lie. It’s a mask. I will never do karaoke or any kind of performance again – even with wine… I wouldn’t drink wine nowadays. I did it to be social… I don’t do social now. I don’t feel I matter. I feel weak. I feel disconnected from life and like I’ll never fit in. I’m shown no interest by men… possibly because I’ve closed off from them… but more likely because I’m fat and ugly as fuck. I get no beeps anymore. I have no control over my mind or my self-harm – I’m a slave to both. My mind shares a space with a ‘hijacker’ who dictates where my thoughts are going to go for the day. I have no support with my mental health right now. When having help from an IAPT service I got the sense that because I’ve done DBT once in my life, I won’t be offered it again. That once you’ve done the course, that’s it… you either look at your folder and do it all by yourself, or you’re screwed. I always felt mental health services have wanted to wash their hands of me… they always have. But I didn’t know that DBT is a once only offer. I know they want to offer it to people who haven’t learnt the skills before – I get that. I don’t want to be a burden and take up the space of someone else. But I’m asking for help. I know it helped in the past. I’m desperate for something to stop me harming or killing myself. I know I have the folder, but that was over ten years ago now… am I meant to just drown now then? Now my granddad is gone… I know the full horror of grief and my family is split. My world is very small and I’ve never felt as troubled as I do now.
Where I once wanted to live, I now don’t want to live. That’s not to say I want to die. I just don’t want to live. I know that would make no sense to those who don’t understand mental illness and suicidal thoughts. But it’s less about death and more about life. What I want is life to be how it used to be. I want it to be better than it currently is. I want a reason to live. I want to feel connected, important, valued. I want to like who I am. I want to feel worthy and attractive again. I want to trust people. I want people around me who genuinely care and go out of their way to show me they care. I want people around me who want to see me happy, and would never hurt me. I want to feel safe and secure. I want to be accepted. I want to not have all the cares and worries I have. I want to love and be loved. I want to achieve something. I want all the hurt to go away. I want to forget the past. I want to enjoy life. But none of that is possible. My reality is the previous paragraph. I can’t see beyond that. Sure I can say what I want it to be like, but I can’t make it so.
I am alone with all this. That’s why I want to give up. I’m being expected to climb a mountain, having never done so before, with only a couple of tools and instructions… no company… no guide… no protection from the elements…. no way of avoiding rockfalls or avalanches. I’m expected to figure it all out myself. So you know what… I’m going nowhere. I’m sitting down on the side of the mountain and giving up. I can’t do this alone. It’s a powerlessness – feeling trapped, because I can’t climb, and nobody’s coming in a helicopter to save me. I’m on the mountain, and I could easily jump down to my death – that isn’t what I truly want though. So I just sit instead. I give up. I don’t want life to end. I want the struggle to end. I don’t want life to end. I want it to begin. But it’s beyond my control. And nobody understands that. They think I just need to do ‘XYZ’ and I could have the life I want. No. Not with current circumstances I couldn’t. You don’t get it. Nobody gets it.
My life has changed so dramatically in the last ten years. Ten years ago I was at the start of my life, with a world of possibilities before me… with people I could count on, a feeling of belonging and a hope that things could improve for me. It’s all gone. I am a different person now. I feel I’m at the end of the road. Too much has happened to me. I’m not who I used to be. And I hate who I have become. My experiences have changed me. And the only thing that could change me back are better experiences. But my story in life has always been that nobody gives me a chance. Nobody is prepared to be the change I need. Nobody is prepared to put in the effort to help me. They all expect me to save myself or die trying. They don’t realise how close to the latter part I am. My spirit doesn’t want to do this anymore. It’s had enough. Existing in this world right now is hell… knowing what life used to be like, traumatised by the things that destroyed it, and certainty that it will never be like it again. It’s torture. And I don’t want to live with it.
I don’t want to die. I just want all the shit to be over. I want to be happy again.