Breaking Through A Breakdown.

*Self-harm / suicide*

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

L

 

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

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

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

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

Kind regards ‘X’

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

And a bit later, added:

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

 

“Pathetic Slut”

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*Self-harm & suicidal references*

 

Wrote this the other day…

 

Wednesday 15th January

It pains me to have to write this post. I’m filled with shame and embarrassment. But I need to get this out there, to organise my thoughts and make sense of everything I experienced yesterday.

 

Despite saying I’d never do it again, I tried to tackle a problem head-on by being honest about my fears and my feelings. It backfired and resulted in the same things I experienced at the IAPT service I used two years ago.

 

I was afraid that I’d go through the same problems in a group setting again. When I started one of my groups, I was horrified that it was run by two young men. I was scared I would catch “feelings” again (which last time I referred to as ‘transference’ – but this time I’m saying that phrase is BS and invalidating of what I’m experiencing… which is simply attraction). I did indeed catch the “feelings” and now everything’s ruined… again.

 

I don’t know where to start so I’ll just dive into what I’m feeling right now. I’m feeling like a pathetic slut. Or that that’s how the world sees me. I feel these mental health services are so concerned about doing the right thing, and ‘boundaries’ and ‘procedures’ that they forget their service-users are actually individual human beings, with different needs, personalities and histories.

 

I was unable to say what the problem was, so I wrote it down. Now it’s on my record. I didn’t want it to be, but I lost control of that. That loss of control / power made me angry with myself first of all, for ever saying anything, and now I’m angry at them, for not respecting my wishes to not keep it. I feel violated. Now it’s there in black and white, how I feel and why. And I feel it’s probably led to misunderstandings of me as a person too, and that’s what I want to come on to….

 

I’m going to refer to a couple of people as A and B, as I can’t be bothered thinking up fake names…. I was meant to speak to A before the group yesterday about the issues I raised in what I wrote. When he came down B came with him and I was asked if it was okay that he joined us. I could of course have said no – but I never feel able to say no – it’s like when doctors or dentists say they have students in… I can never say how I really feel. And to be honest I read into this decision as being based on what I wrote, and that A needed a ‘chaperone’…. you know…. in case I were to pounce on him whilst alone – as huge sluts like me do, naturally…..

 

So anyway, I had to sit and talk to both of them about the issues, and I disclosed more information that explained why I was struggling with my self-harm issues at that time. It was the longest silence I’ve ever sat through, waiting for A to read it… knowing I was completely effing up my life. I was regretting it already, but I think a part of me at the time thought ‘what the hell, why not…won’t be around much longer anyway!’. Basically A was just finding out that I was attracted to one of them in the room, and the shame attached to that (which I will come on to in a bit) was making me hurt myself for being a bad person for having feelings again. B didn’t read it, so didn’t know what was being referred to when we discussed it afterwards. It was an awkward talk.

 

I’m apparently going to have help from someone else for a couple of sessions… but they said it might be a good idea if it’s a female…. yeah…. because I can’t be trusted around the male species can I?! Can’t leave me alone with one of them for five minutes or I might jump his bones or whatever the cool kids call it nowadays….. this is how these mental health services and the way they handle this sort of thing, make me feel….. they make me feel like some super slut who fancies anything in trousers. And that I’m a risk to them all and their jobs. I doubt it’s for my own safety, no matter what they say… they just don’t want a situation where they could get in some kind of trouble themselves. I know that. And that’s why I’m offended. Because they don’t know the first thing about me as a person. I’m not someone who acts. I admire people…. I may even admit to admiring them. That is the extent of it. I will never make a move on someone. I never have and I never will, because I used to be the person who admitted my feelings for guys, and they either rejected me, or they led me on, messed with my emotions for a while and then ghosted me. So I stopped making the first move. I stopped seeking a man. I stopped believing that anyone would want me. Because they never really did. If I’m ever to end up with a guy, he will have to be the one to admit his feelings to me first. I’m not going there again.

 

So while these people are so preoccupied with procedures and boundaries, I’m over here like ‘Hello? Never broken a rule in my life! Never made a move on a guy… never even had a guy…. pretty much a nun… quiet, reserved person here, hello?’ … I feel they’re assuming that I want every man. I don’t. At all. Admittedly A and B are lovely and attractive in many ways of their own. But there is only one I have feelings for. I don’t feel attracted to any of the others working in that building. I’m not a super slut. I don’t ‘fancy’ everyone. I’m very selective and always devote my attention and feelings to one person at a time. And even that one I like is under no threat from me. Even if no rules were in place, he was single, straight and interested in me too, I still wouldn’t make the move, because of my past experiences and because of the type of person I am, the morals I have and the respect I have for boundaries – both professional and personal.

 

So this concept that I must be kept away from the men… and not allowed to speak to them one-on-one…. it’s BS. I feel I’m going to be ‘watched’ from now on… it’s really bad for my paranoia and self-esteem. God help them when they offer me the self-esteem course…. not much point… I don’t think I’ll be too receptive given they’ve already trashed that.

 

I feel totally mischaracterised. I feel painted as some temptress… whose sole aim is to seduce these men, and that I must be stopped. The ‘wall of women’ must be brought out again…. ‘DEFEND THE MEN FROM THIS SEX-CRAZED HOPELESS ROMANTIC SLUT OF A WOMAN!!’… that’s how I feel. That they see me in that way…. I’m nothing of the sort. But they made me feel that way. I took it on as though it were a fact. That’s how I felt. That, and pitied. I felt pathetic last night.

 

I was inconsolable. It took scarring myself for life with the words they made me feel, to stop me crying…. to stop me wanting to die. Nothing was working. Earlier in the day I had called the Samaritans. I had taken my emergency medication. Nothing was working. I had to reach that point where the pain, the shame, the regret and everything that was tearing away at me, became anger…. anger at THEM. Anger for the way they made me feel about myself. That’s the only way I could sleep and make it to another day.

 

I don’t doubt that there are probably people out there who would make a move on a mental health professional, but I am not that person. I don’t want to be treated like I’m that person… just because others are like that. OR because they’ve had so little experience of people having feelings for them in their position – that’s just as bad really, because they then don’t know how to respond best, and I realise they don’t know what they’re doing, because it’s rare… and then I feel like a freak and a ‘problem person’.. which is the last thing I want to be.

 

I hate asking for help. I hate admitting I’m struggling. I hate asking for their time for anything. I had that conversation before the group, which overran… then I was allowed to take five minutes to gather myself before joining the group… in that time I took a couple of diazepam because I didn’t feel good at all. I wanted to harm myself. I would’ve done.

 

But I went in and I did my best at pretending everything was fine. I talked when prompted. I sounded normal. I nodded along to other people. And then as the end came along I had images of what I wanted to do. I felt zoned out by then…. I knew where I would end up if I walked out the door, and it would probably have led to me not sitting in that room again next week. I wanted a permanent solution to what I was feeling. I knew where to go to get that. The thought of the Samaritans crossed my mind, and I thought where I could go locally to phone them… even the thought of phoning them having left the building I felt unsafe. I felt I would still end up at the place I had in mind.  I knew I couldn’t leave the building. I wouldn’t make it home.

 

So I stayed behind at the end and told A and B that I didn’t feel safe. They asked what I meant. I told them I wanted to do something stupid. At least I think that’s what I said… it’s a bit hazy now. I asked if there was a room I could use in the building to sit and phone the Samaritans. They said yes. So I sat in a room downstairs – everyone worked upstairs so I didn’t have to worry too much about being overheard. A and B had to leave and go somewhere else, but they said a colleague would pop down and check on me in a bit. When this person did come down I was still talking on the phone, so they gestured to me then went back upstairs.

 

I spoke to a lovely woman. The Samaritans really are incredible people… they tend to know what to say / ask… and before you know it you’re spilling everything to them. I kept catching myself saying things, and thinking ‘You do realise you’re talking to another person right??’ … ‘You are speaking out loud….’ … it helped a little. I talked for almost an hour with this wonderful lady. I talked through what had upset me, and how I felt… some background stuff too… at that point I wasn’t aware of why I was so upset. I hadn’t pinpointed how the actions taken in response to what I said, had made me feel like a pathetic cheap slag basically… that came later that night. I cried a bit. I once again answered the suicide question honestly straight away… I never used to, but if someone asks me now if I have thoughts of ending my life, I straight away tell them yes. No more bullshitting people.

 

Once the call ended I wasn’t sure what to do… whether to just sign out and leave, or wait downstairs, or what.. so I ended up calling ‘hellooo’ up the stairs. Let them know I’d finished my call and then went. The Samaritans couldn’t stop me doing what I did later that day, but they stopped me making a permanent choice. They got me out of town and back home.

 

At home I pretended nothing was wrong. I think that made life more difficult… but I couldn’t tell anyone what had happened. I only told them today that I made the phone call yesterday. I didn’t say why. I only did it so they know I’m a bit delicate at the moment.

 

I made some bad choices in terms of self-harm… things I regret now. But can’t do anything about it now. I wasn’t fully in my mind last night anyway. I was distraught and medicated, so didn’t make rational decisions. It was a breakdown. I do really stupid things when it’s that bad.

 

It really was a bad day. Even talking to the Samaritans I told them I hate using the phone, but I knew I had to anyway. And she said I must have felt really desperate to push through my fear of using the phone, in order to call them. It’s true. Yesterday was the worst day of my life since my friend Liv took her life eight months ago.

 

Now I have to pick myself up and carry on. From now on I’m not going to open up again. I won’t ever pour my heart out or share my feelings with anyone, for any reason. The exception being telling them how it makes me feel, what they’ve done. That’s only so they might learn from it. And as much as I could write that down so they can again put it in my record, I think I’ll brave the conversation if possible and then draw a line under it. After that they won’t even notice I exist. I’ll just become a nobody again, speak only when I’m spoken to, get through the courses I’m doing, be discharged and either never ask for help again, or likely experience this same problem again the next time I need help – because yet again it’s been dealt with wrong and scarred me… it’s a wound that’s not been healed and has been made worse, so very likely to have it happen again in the future. Nobody wants to help me with this shame / attraction issue. I’m not sure anyone really can…

 

The whole point of admitting how I felt, was because of the shame attached to it – that shame was making me self-harm every day. The response I’ve had has only confirmed it’s right that I’m ashamed. That it’s wrong to feel how I do. And they may well say that in the ‘real world’ it’s fine… it’s just in this setting… but what they don’t get is that I’m attracted to someone in this setting right now…. it’s a current problem…. and more importantly, what I experience in this setting translates to what I feel about the ‘real world’. If I have to be kept away from men in this setting, as I’m thought of as an intensely desperate, pathetic slut and temptress, then what bloody hope is there for me around any man, any place?? If that’s really how I’m viewed. It tells me I should stay away from men full stop. It tells me that it’s indeed wrong to be attracted to a man. Having BPD I already feel I’ll never fit in to this world…. this experience only makes me feel the same in terms of relationships… that I’m incapable of having a man in my life. They’re doing so much damage to someone who already doesn’t see a future for herself in this world.

 

I’ve called it ‘attachment’ because of the shame of saying I’m attracted to a man. This has probably led to some misunderstandings. Of course when the time comes I won’t see him again the ‘attachment’ element will kick in and I’ll be devastated. But it’s attraction right now. And I feel it’s wrong. They’ve confirmed it’s wrong by saying I should see a female, and if I speak to a man, he seems to need a chaperone. So not only was it wrong to have these feelings for him… it was also wrong to say it. So basically, in a nutshell, I’ve f*cked everything up, yet again, just because the shame of being attracted to someone makes me hurt myself. This is so messed up.

 

I’ve lost control by seeking to gain it. I’ve gained more shame by trying to ease it. I’ve given myself more reasons to self-harm by trying to stop it. I have to deal with one-sided feelings yet again, which I can do… I’m so used to it, but it’s the shame that was the problem. But I just have to accept that shame is part and parcel of feeling anything for a man from now on.  I will now bury my feelings. I won’t bother anyone any further with any of this. I let out too much. I can’t take it back. I will feel what I do for him, alone… I will keep the shame to myself and deal with it the only way I can. I just have to accept I’m a self-harmer and a loner, and always will be. I should never have reached out about this. I regret it, and it will never happen again. Even if it kills me. From now on I keep everything to myself. This has proven that I can’t trust anyone. They’re all as bad as each other. And I’m beyond help. My heart is closed from now on. No more outpouring of feelings, for any reason. I live my life on the inside from now on. There is no other way.

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

Other People.

*Language & self-harm*

 

 

Today was so bad. It links into my previous blog post about instability too…. one little thing can totally switch your mood….. I didn’t see this coming. I went into work (I volunteer), in as good a mood as I could muster, given how life has been lately. I didn’t want to go in. I never do at the moment. But I keep pushing myself. I knew it was the last time before having a couple of weeks off. So I went in… in a helpful, hopeful state of mind… ready to do whatever anyone wanted me to do. I wouldn’t call it a good mood. It was a fair / decent mood. It was mainly a front – a mask I wear at work.

 

I didn’t anticipate how other people would affect me. I wasn’t prepared for them to not be in good moods. The trouble is when others are in a bad mood, sometimes they can’t help but take it out on me. It might be unintentional and no harm is meant, but I can feel those vibes. Empaths pick up on energy. I was receiving a lot of negative energy today. Everything I did was wrong. Filling a bag too much – when I was explaining I was getting to the end of a bag of stuff as I was so close to finishing, and then I was going to get a new bag and move some stuff over – but they didn’t want to listen to me. Then it was me moving something a few inches from where it was left. Then I kept getting in the way. Then I put things in the wrong sort of bag. Every single thing I said and did seemed to piss this person off. I almost left. I wish I had now. But I didn’t know how to excuse myself. I felt trapped there. So I’m afraid I opted for hurting myself in order to carry on. Every minute there was excruciating for me today. I could feel the energy being sucked out of me.

 

I know it wasn’t my fault. I know I did nothing wrong, and it was the other person. I know this because when I was working backstage, it was silent outside – the other staff weren’t talking at all. Usually if these things happen I might consider it’s ME in the bad mood, as everyone seems in a bad mood – but at those times they at least talk to each other! There was a very definite atmosphere today and I didn’t like it. Even with a customer they seemed off. So I did my best to treat them in the way a customer should be treated… even though I felt like hell myself and didn’t want to be there. I hated this other person today and couldn’t muster up any sort of conversation or anything for them anymore. But the customers don’t deserve to have it taken out on them too. So I did my best.

 

I was praying for home time. I now don’t want to go back after my break. I’ve never experienced that before. It wasn’t me just being sensitive. I was being spoken to as though I was one of the new volunteers who can sometimes be a nuisance. So either I was really pissing them off, or they were in a foul mood and taking it out on me. I’ve been there a few years now. They’ve never spoken to me like they did. They spoke to me like other staff members once did, where I once considered leaving because of them.

 

I understand if they have something going on. Maybe they were having a bad day or not feeling too good themselves mentally, but even when I feel like shit I don’t take it out on other people. It’s like how people deal with headaches differently – I take myself off away from others and rest until I feel better. I don’t inflict myself on others. Whereas some people bark at others… they snap and take out their temper on them. Why can’t more people be more like me? I’m not meaning to sound big-headed by saying that. I just mean why do people take their shit out on me when I don’t deserve it, and when I wouldn’t take my shit out on them?! It’s not fair that I try and take others into consideration when I feel shit, yet they don’t do the same for me, so end up taking their shit out on me when I’M feeling shit myself. They take it out on me and seem completely unaware that that’s what they’ve done. I think that’s what it is – awareness. I KNOW when I’m in a foul mood, and I wouldn’t take it out on others. Maybe some just lack self-awareness, that’s why they take their moods out on you and can’t understand why you respond with upset or hostility yourself.

 

The trouble I had was these little things built up very quickly. And then I reached a point I couldn’t come back from. Once I’ve got to that ‘I’m not wanted here, I might as well go home’ stage, I can’t come back from that. This person triggered off my paranoia among other things. I felt every syllable from their mouth and every action, was full of annoyance and disdain towards me. I could sense a different tone towards me than to other people. I could’ve imagined that but what I’m saying is my paranoia kicked in, and I didn’t want to be around them or say anything, as I felt all I was, was a nuisance and thought anything I said or did would be wrong. I felt mentally and physically absent after that. I couldn’t reconnect with my settings. I was scared to be near customers as I wasn’t grounded. I felt sorry I existed today. Sorry that I was in the way. Sorry that I was breathing. I wanted to come home… but I was scared to say anything to excuse myself. So I had to just tolerate feeling like a worthless piece of shit.

 

Oh well…. I had one of my emergency pills when I got home, as the thoughts and memories around it were too intense and causing worse self-harm urges. So I’m not so bothered now. It is such a shame though that at a time when everything’s rubbish and I have nothing left, the one thing I had is now problematic. That it came just before my break, which will make me not want to go back. Right now I’m not sure I will go back. Not for a few weeks probably. I’m too delicate at the moment. Too many more wrong moves by people and I won’t be here anymore. It’s safer to stay away from everyone, at least until I can get some level of help. My confidence at work was knocked a couple of years ago now after my breakdown at therapy. I didn’t go in as much and felt like I was starting all over again. I didn’t feel as capable of doing things. I didn’t feel useful. I felt more of a burden than anything. I’d recently started to feel a bit better there, but after today I feel I don’t belong there. I didn’t feel like one of them anymore. That upsets me greatly.

 

But never mind. Seem to be losing everything at the moment, so what’s one more thing? Need to stop writing now, as it’s erasing the effect of the pill I took. Best not to think on it. Just need to enjoy my break and not think about that place or the people in it. None of it matters.

 

 

Poem: Hell On Earth.

Hell On Earth

*Sorry about the length / quality of this poem…. been many, many months since I wrote any poetry, so rather rusty and had a lot to get out*
*Rare for me, but the use of a swear word in this one, and also violent imagery, mention of self-harm / suicidal feelings etc…. i.e. not a happy poem!!*

 
Hell On Earth

I’m trapped within a blind scream,
Starved of oxygen,
A sense of direction,
A place of safety.
The knives in my back twisting with every tumble
Through the unknown.
I try to pull them out, but they’re lodged right down to the bone.
Frightened, alone,
I pray to hit the ground and know peace…
The peace of Heaven.
This world is beyond my darkest nightmares,
A Hell on Earth.
A walk so uncertain and so full of pain;
For years I have soldiered on… now it feels it was all in vain.
Anyone I once called ‘my rock’, is dead or gone –
Giving up on me, or giving up on themselves
And taking the step into darkness,
In the quest to find the light once more.
Some left this Earth, others still walk it,
In blissful ignorance of the damage they caused.
Burning violence courses through my veins… but stays contained within.
The only time it ever shows is when I slice into my own skin.
Pain is the one thing I can control, in this fiery Hell.
I can’t make them love me.
I can’t make them stay.
I can’t make them treat me well and not walk away.
People are uncertainty, pain, danger.
Any moment they can let you go, leave you for dead,
Scarring you with their words and those left unsaid.
There’s nobody left…
Nothing….
I’m merely an empty shell,
A crazy girl in a prison cell,
A crippled mute down a deep, abandoned well.
No-one can hear my screams,
They never hit the air.
I cannot escape… I need help but there’s nobody there.
All I needed was someone to care,
To venture out on a limb,
Wear their heart on their sleeve and show me a little light,
But they turned their backs, strode away,
Gifting me the pitch-blackness of night.
The inner scream is torment… deafening.
I rip my own face in two to set it free
And destroy the universe with its power.
Every ‘rock’ from my past who walked away,
Threw me to the gutter, spat at me,
And stomped on my heart,
You belong in this Hell I’m living.
Fuck you, and all those who say I should be forgiving.
You are the ones deserving of suffering.
Yet here I lie, flattened against the wall,
Melting into oblivion,
My words of affection splattered next to me, rejected,
A stain of a memory of who I used to be,
You fractured my spirit until I no longer resemble me.
You made your choice,
You stole my voice,
Bound my hands,
Stabbed my heart,
Slit my wrists,
Made it intensely unbearable to exist,
Left me to die a bloody death all alone.
I wish I had a heart made of stone,
Just like you all, then maybe I could live,
Cope with the torture of breathing, in a world such as this.
Hard, raw, vivid, painful, terrifying in its reality.
Nothing is safe.
Everyone’s dying,
And nobody will care when I do.
They’ll celebrate my demise,
If they even notice at all, having severed all ties.
Neglected by the living,
Abandoned by the dead,
In order to survive I’ve cried, I’ve screamed, I’ve bled.
My knuckles bruised, my skin scarred and red,
Living is too hard.
The instability of life,
The accumulation of knives in my spine,
The loneliness, the trauma, the loss…
I’ve nothing left,
You killed me.
Leaving me, with no goodbye,
Now take your seat and watch me die.

 

 

Just An Update.

 

 

Just needed to update my blog with what’s been going on and where I am.

 

I’ve done just over 19 of my 50 miles. It still feels a long way to go. I thought it would be easier than this. It could be just unfortunate that it coincides with stopping chocolate and cutting down my medication…. that’s all kicking in more now.

 

I went for my walk today and felt so anxious. I had to stand at the front door psyching myself up to open it. And when I was out I felt on edge. The last couple of walks, noises have made me jump and feel panicky – the other day it was when three motorbikes went by – they were so noisy I felt scared and had to dig my nails into my hand to calm down. For the first half of today’s walk at least, I felt as though I was being followed. It kept sounding like there was someone behind me. On a couple of occasions people were there. I let them pass as I didn’t feel safe. I felt so self-conscious and really didn’t want to be outside the house. I don’t know if this anxiety is caused by withdrawal, or what.

 

I’m starting to wonder why I’m doing this walking thing… I know it’s helping me get fitter and feel more positive. But that’s not the point. I’m meant to be raising money for Parkinson’s UK, and other than closest family I have no other sponsors and don’t expect I will. I’ve loosely asked around, but I don’t know many people anymore. It’s hard to ask them to sponsor me. It’s getting me down a bit, especially at the moment, as it was also in memory of my granddad. So having raised nothing feels like a failure. It feels like people not valuing him or my love for him. And it hurts right now as I’m just a few days away from the second anniversary of the loss of him.

 

Last year I reached out, hoping to have the support and care of friends for the first anniversary. One person said something. Nobody else. This year I won’t make a big deal out of it. It’s setting myself up for even more rejection and neglect. This time last year was where my mental health deteriorated rapidly… the splitting and paranoia kicked in. That sealed the fate with my former friend.

 

That’s weighing on my mind a lot right now. I attempted something recently in the hope of finding peace as I moved on. I don’t think it’s really done any good. I’m still blocked. I’m still angry. I don’t believe the story I’ve heard. I still believe it was vindictive. I still believe they meant me harm. My paranoia is alive and kicking. There’s only one way it would ever be resolved… the friend realising how their actions have hurt me, undoing it and making up for it with the same effort I tried with them. Direct communication. And taking responsibility. That’s one thing that I’m unhappy about now – the inference that I’m somehow to blame for tensions between them and other people. No. If they argue with other people as a result of messing things up with me then that’s their fault, not mine. I take no responsibility for how they interact with others as a result of their inability / refusal to interact with me. I’m angry. I’m anxious about the whole situation and I wish I’d left it alone. I got upset about it today… about how they turned into this person. I never thought they’d treat me the way they have. It’s hard to accept.

 

Another thing is I still have such a problem with self-harm. People would probably assume I’m doing better now and therefore not doing it. They’re wrong. Yes I’m forcing myself to do my volunteering. Yes I’m forcing myself to go walking most days. Yes my diet is different, I’m coming off my medication and I’m finally taking some vitamins! All positive steps. But I still self-harm. Even when I have no reason to. Even on the ‘good’ days.

 

Because self-harm can be like that. It is like an addiction. Sometimes it’s all my mind can think about…. when can I next hurt myself and how? I don’t know why I’m doing it and why I don’t want to stop.

 

I feel all the old shame again. Because I’m trying to hide the fact I’m always doing it. I reckon people think I’m better than I am. I already know the people at work don’t understand and think self-harm is a one-off thing. So if they were to see the bandages on my arms they’d be like ‘Have you done it again?’ Well yes…. of course I have. It’s an ongoing problem. It doesn’t just happen once and then you get over it. If only.

 

No matter how hard I’m trying to pick myself up and push myself forward, I still can’t stop hurting myself. I’m even worried that family won’t understand that I’m still doing it, even when I seem okay. So I hide it. I know nobody would understand this mentality. I keep saying to myself it’s mental illness. It doesn’t have to make sense. It’s an illness, in that it’s something that’s got a hold of my mind and drives me to do what I do… to need it… to want it and to think I deserve it. But it feels like weak excuses. Nobody would understand unless they also know that feeling, having been there themselves.

 

In better news, I had a great night at the theatre last night, just as I had a good time at a gig last month. I’m halfway through the good things I booked up for this year to keep me going. They are so anxiety-provoking but I’m trying to learn to have good experiences again, and trust that things don’t always end badly. I’ll be honest I’m a bit scared of what happens after June…. once I’ve got through them all and there’s nothing left to aim for. It is playing on my mind a bit. Nothing to hold on for. Hopefully by then I might get some community support…. I’ll be contacting the Wellbeing Centre and Recovery College this week to see if they’ll help me. As much as I’m trying to help myself, my mind is still sick, so I know I still need the help.

 

Friend-wise, I’m all over the place. I’m extremely doubtful of anyone’s intentions to be my friend. I don’t think anyone truly wants me in their life. I’ll talk with people about meeting up and it never materialises. And as much as I could just suggest it to them again, as maybe they feel they’re annoying me by asking me again, it’s not what I’m able to do at the moment. At this point I actually need others to take the lead and invite me on a particular day, or tell me what we’re doing and when (as long as I’m free). I hate to admit this as it probably makes me sound needy and demanding, but I’m not going to initiate anything with anyone at the moment…. for two reasons…. first because I’ve been made to feel a burden, unwanted, uncared for and invisible for so long that I’d rather stay in my quiet little world of loneliness than to bother others and risk any more rejection. But secondly because I am scared. I’m scared of getting the ball rolling and people expecting too much from me. I’m scared they’ll do what someone else did with me last year, and keep messaging me before I can reply… I’ll then get overwhelmed having to respond to so much, and put it off…. and then I’ll apologise for taking so long and be made to feel shit for it. Which then makes me pull away as I think I’m such a rubbish friend and people deserve better than me. It’s true, they do. But I really struggle with interaction at the moment. I struggle with small talk. Got something to discuss? Great, go for it. Got a question? Ask it. Need my help and support? I’d be only too willing to help. I’d be thrilled that you asked me. But idle chit-chat I just can’t do. Just talking for the sake of talking…. and I know it’s what you do in a friendship, but right now I don’t have it in me, and I don’t want to hurt anyone by not replying. If I’m honest, as much as I post online, I’m in isolation mode again. Thinking nobody cares about me. I feel lonely not having a close friend anymore.

 

But I have someone in my life whose close friend has sadly passed away recently. A part of me feels I lost my friend at the time I did, to be able to sympathise on some level with this other person. It’s a different sort of loss, but we both have nobody close anymore. So I can imagine what she’s lost and how it might feel. I’m trying to see that things happen for a reason. It doesn’t mean it’s good that these things happen. But you can create meaning out of most things in life. You can turn a negative into a positive… even if it’s just using your awful experiences to help others who are going through the same thing.

 

I’m trying to be positive. It’s a little harder right now to do that. But it is a particularly difficult time for me at the moment and there’s a lot going on. I hope I can keep going as I have been and that things get easier. I feel like I’m paddling at the moment…. I’m not quite sure whether I’m getting anywhere or not…

 

Anyway, that’s just a round-up of what’s been happening. Hope everyone’s well.

 

xxxx

Pain Is A Constant.

*Depressing, self-pitying ramble about self-harm and life*

 

 

Why do I self-harm? To punish myself. To express an emotional wound physically, as that’s easier to cope with and treat. To stop feeling overwhelming emotions. To bring myself back to reality.

The main one is because it’s the one damn thing in this life I have control over. I can’t choose how people will treat me. I can’t choose if and when they’ll abandon me. I can’t choose not to lose people to death. I can’t choose what I look like and who I am. I can’t choose the physical and mental illnesses I have. I can’t choose to matter to anyone. I can’t choose anything about my life. I’m powerless. This is how I feel. And self-harm is the one thing that I can choose. It’s the one thing that never leaves me. It’s the one constant. The one certainty in my life.

I know that’s depressing to read. It’s depressing to say. I’m actually trying to hold back tears as I write this, having relapsed again after nine days without any harming.

I try so hard not to hurt myself now. But when words start coming out of my mouth that scare me… vile, nasty, violent words against other people… saying things that I wish would happen to them, or things I would do (not that I ever would do them, I hope), I don’t like that person, and I’d rather take out my anger on myself than hurt anyone else.

I can’t control what’s happening in life. I can’t control the monumental betrayal that’s happening in our country right now. I can’t be heard. I can’t control the situation with my friend who abandoned me at my lowest ebb. I can’t be understood. I can’t control certain people in my life who are toxic and make me feel like shit, just because they won’t look at themselves and change their behaviour. I can’t escape these people. I can’t control death. I’ve lost someone. I will lose more. I can’t stop that.

Nobody has my back. Only self-harm. It’s my only friend now. I choose what I do and how much I do it. It is certainty. Yes there are uncertainties about the outcomes of what I do. But for me, pain is a constant. It is certain. I needed certainty after losing my granddad. All I’ve had is people walking away from me and rejecting me. People hurting me. Ignoring me. Forgetting me. It’s been loss after loss, after loss. And I hate them all for it. Nothing is certain now. Friendship isn’t certain anymore. My belief in it has been completely shattered. I cannot trust anything or anyone anymore. Only pain. Only the pain I inflict on myself.

I’ve had a few good days again. But the more you hope… the more positive you are, the further you fall when you do…. and you will. Nothing lasts. Nothing. Not even self-harm wounds / injuries. But in my mind at least I can do it again. I can bring back that pain. I never have to lose self-harm. Everything else that ends gets ripped away from me and I never recover from it. I never get it back. I never get anything close to it again. Every single time I lose something / someone, a piece of me gets taken away, and my trust is obliterated. Every time, I say I’m never getting that close to anyone again… never getting that attached. I will never have a best friend again. Ever. I can’t afford to let anyone that close to me because the wound they leave when they turn their back on me is too big a risk. I’ll never get close to a man again. They all hurt me. Even the ones who are good, never quite go that extra step to be what I need.

I’m just tired of being me, and of being hurt… and nobody ever going quite far enough to keep me in their life. Life is loss. But I will never lose the ability to cut myself or hit myself. It’s the one thing nobody can ever take away from me when they’ve taken everything else I have left in me.