And I’m back…

I haven’t wrote on here in along time, I don’t know why and I don’t have any reason for it really. I’ve been trying to get on with my life I suppose and trying to ‘get better’.

I seem to only want to write things down when something bad happens, I never write about the good days, and yet again I don’t know why I don’t, because the good days are so lovely but I don’t want to write them down, I only want to write the bad. I guess it’s my way of letting go? Who knows.

I’ve been putting everything under my big ass mat that hides all my problems, as usual and trying to move on. Last time I wrote on here I had taken an overdose, nearly five months ago now… scary. I seen a social worker on the mental health team where I live a few weeks later and told her, she told me she would help me do this and do that but didn’t contact me again. I was just left and I felt stupid, confused and completely lost all over again, I eventually found some courage and rang them to ask, ‘eh hello? What’s going on?’ I finally got a letter through to say I was seeing someone new, which automatically made me freak out because I didn’t want to have to explain myself all over again to a complete stranger! So after five whole months of trying to stay positive and trying to avoid the thoughts of wanting to die, I got an appointment. Long story short, what a waste of my fucking time. The woman said that I look fine so I should be fine and she’s going to ‘discharge me from the service’, LOL, sorry what service????? And ever since I feel like I’ve went back to square one. Yay 😑

On Saturday the panic, fear and anxiety smacked me in the face, HARD. I got ready, done my hair, and when it came to leaving, I did not want to leave my house. The actual fear of having to walk out my front door and talk to people that don’t know how bad I suffer was unbearable. I’ve been feeling weird for a few weeks but I keep blaming it on hating my job, so I went for an interview for a new job and actually got it, but I’m still feeling weird. Typical me, always looking for something to blame and never actually facing the problem. But what is the problem? Because I can’t seem to find the answer anywhere. I talk to a mental health team and they say I lack confidence in myself, ok, so now what? I tell them I can’t stop picking my head and I’m covered in cuts, sores a bald patches, ok, so now what? I tell them I took an overdose because I wanted to die, ok, so now what? Oh yeah ignore me for five months. I tell them that I’m trying to move forward but still have this dark cloud lingering over me, ok so we can discharge you. Ok ok ok. I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.

I honestly feel that I’ve lost who I am, I don’t know who I am, or what I like, or how I talk, and when I’m out I’m always pretending to be someone else, because it’s easier, obviously. But it fucks me up, like who am I? Am I the shy person who like to hide in her room and ignore the world and my feelings? Or am I the funny, sarcastic, out going person that I pretend to be whenever I’m out? Or am I someone else completely? I’ve no idea.

This weekend was pretty intense purely because I didn’t expect it, it came out of nowhere and when I think about it, I didn’t have anything to be scared or anxious about, it just happened. Hiding in the bathroom crying just because I didn’t feel like I could leave the house, then my mind tells me that I don’t need to leave, people are dangerous, going outside is dangerous, get into bed and hide because it’s safe there, no one can talk to you there, no one will notice you picking your head there, you don’t have to pretend there.

Will it ever end? Will I ever find myself? I just feel like an empty shell and I’m desperate to feel something other than fear, depression or anxiety. I just want to not have to pretend. When I look in the mirror I don’t recognise myself at all, when I take a photo, I don’t recognise myself. It’s so strange.

I’ve so many thoughts right now that I want to write down but I’d be here all night.

On a positive note, I finally got a letter to see a psychotherapist so I’m hopeful for that.

Fuck you anxiety and the big black dog, you suck.

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It was you along.

The past few days have been really weird for me, on Sunday I felt like I finally woke up. I realised everything and it was always right in front of me. I don’t know if it was because I never wanted to believe it or I just hoped that you would change, maybe I was just living in denial or I actually believing that what you drilled into me my whole life was actually true.

I’ve always wondered why I am the way I am, and why am I never good enough, why am I always so angry? Why am I so sad? Is what your saying true? It must be because your smart, you have a good job, you’ve done well for yourself, everyone loves you, your so funny when your out, but you tell me that I need to grow up, get a life, get to the gym, stop eating that, stop eating this, skinny milk not whole, you eat so many takeaways, why is your room a mess? Why haven’t you cleaned the house? Have you just been sitting on your ass all day? Cover up, what are you wearing? What have you got on your face? Do this, do that, your not going anywhere until you’ve done this or that. Give me your phone, get down there and clean it again it’s not clean, get on your knees and hoover that carpet properly. Why are you playing my guitar? You aren’t playing it properly? (Push) (Push) (Push) Get up, (slap) get the fuck up, there’s fuck all wrong with you. You think the world revolves around you, you think your so worst off, theres people more worse off that you, theres people out there with real illnesses, there is children dying, you think your depressed? Go and see dying children and that’ll make you wise up.

Fuck me the list goes on and on and on and on. The person who has been the closest to me my whole life is the person who has constantly put me down and made me the paranoid, anxious, self conscious, depressed, worthless, career less, jobless, confused person that I am today. But I’ve finally seen it now, I know what you’ve done and I know it’s wrong. I know I’m not crazy, I know I’m not mad, I’m not mental, I’m not paranoid, I’m not fat, I can make friends, I am a nice person, I do care about people, I’m not selfish. You are, your a bully and I’ve had enough. You even told that I’m going to be sectioned if I went to a Physiotherapist because I’m mad and no one will believe me. You wanted to get the name of her so that you can interfere like you always do, just so I wouldn’t tell the truth. Imagine working within mental health and being extremely high up but destroying your own daughter with your words, actions and abuse. You are in constant denial of what you’ve done, I bet you don’t even know. You’ve called me a liar my whole life and it’s time for the truth to come out.

Sunday was the best day I’ve had in a long time, I cried for hours, I couldn’t eat my dinner, I couldn’t walk or speak I was in complete shock that it had taken me long to wake up.

But I am now and I’m ready to find myself again. No more egg shells, I am enough.

Pills and picking.

I have had the week from hell and I’ve not even left my own house. I thought I was feeling better and then all of a sudden it just hit me like a ton of shit. On Thursday I took an overdose of my anti depressants and my anxiety tablets, no one was home all day, I was uncontrollably crying and I thought, fuck it. I took a full of box of ones I had left over and another strip, a packet of my anxiety tablets and a few painkillers, I didn’t know what I was doing or if it would even do anything to me. But I wanted to do it.

Nothing happened, I felt really sick, couldn’t stand up, my pupils were massive. I slept for ages and just felt disoriented the day after. I don’t know what I was hoping to happen but I know I wanted something to happen. Anything. Just to take away the pain, even for a few hours or days. I haven’t told anyone about it and I feel so weird and guilty about it. Did I really want my mum to come home and find my unconscious with all my tablet packets empty? No. She didn’t have a clue, I just said I felt sick and stayed in the bed the next day. I haven’t heard anything from the mental health team after they cancelled my appointment last Wednesday, I just feel lost and forgotten about and all I want is some help.

A few years ago I randomly started picking bits of skin off my head, it would start and stop, maybe months apart but now it’s every damn day. Tonight I picked my head so bad that it wouldn’t stop bleeding for ages, I didn’t even realise until I looked at my fingers and they were covered in blood and my mum went ‘oh my god.’ Worst thing is, it’s not the first time I’ve done it, my head is so sore but I can’t seem to stop. It’s the worst it’s ever been at the moment, I’ve tiny cuts all over my head and then a few big ones, like why? I don’t understand, is this self harm? It must be.

I wear hats all day, everyday, even when it’s warm, just to hide my cuts and the skin and mainly so I can try to stop picking. But even when I put a hat on I always find my hands creeping in underneath, it’s like my hands aren’t mine and they have a mind of their own. I even find myself standing in front of the mirror for hours just examining my scalp and picking off bits of skin and scabs. I spend about 80% of my day picking my head and the other 20% moaning about how much pain I’m in. I’ll be picking my scalp and tears are streaming down my face because of how sore it is but I can’t stop.

I told the doctor about it last week and I showed her all my cuts and she said all I need to do is break the cycle. But how do I break the cycle?

Everything is very intense for me right now and I can’t seem to tell anyone because I fear that they’ll think I’m attention seeking or making it up, or whatever thought my brain throws at me. I’m just worried because I’m at the stage where I’m wanting to find something to hurt me or take something that will make me go to sleep, maybe not forever but until this nightmare is over. Feeling very lost.

Why?

Why is it that some days your completely fine? Eh well you feel as if you are anyway? And then bam? Nope.

I’ve recently met someone who has makes me laugh and smile and feel good about myself, the only person I actually enjoying leaving my house to go and see at the moment. I meet them yesterday and I was in an amazing mood and I actually felt happy for a change, when I came home I was exhausted and ready to sleep but then I couldn’t. I was wide awake. Riddled with anxiety. I’ve seen 12am, 3am, 4am, 6am and now it’s 8am and I’ve not slept. My jaw is so sore from clinching my teeth, my head is in agony from picking it all night, my wrists and my ankles hurt from being so tense and I’ve never wanted an ‘Off’ button more in my life.

I don’t leave the house much because it’s my safe place right now and I’m usually here with my mum, my brother and my dogs and so I feel safe. I don’t worry about being outside, or about how I feel about going outside or having to meet anyone, or having to go anywhere on my own, or having to force myself out of a panic attack, or worry about my uncontrollable sweating and constantly being out of breath, I just sit in my room or my living room and I feel safe. Not a good idea but it’s all I can handle right now.

But last night has really shook me, how can you go from feeling amazing to worrying about every single last thing your brain can gather together, I feel like I’ve ran a marathon I’m that exhausted but I’ve not even moved, my brains done all the work for me. Fucking el, powerful little fucker aren’t ya? Just give me some sleep. Please.

This is the first time in quite a few weeks that I’ve actually wanted to cry, I feel so fed up. I don’t actually know what I’m supposed to do anymore? It’s so hard.

It’s been a while…

I haven’t wrote on here for a while now, purely because I haven’t had anything to say. I haven’t really had any thoughts about much to be honest, it’s as though I’ve just gone. I don’t feel like I’m present, It’s weird.

I feel that I either have really bad anxiety or really bad depression, one seems to over power the other at different stages. At the moment it’s anxiety, it’s so intense. I’ve got cuts all over my head and they are burning, my head is sore all over but I cannot stop picking. I’ll sit picking my head and there will be blood all over my fingers from all the cuts and tears streaming down my face from my eyes watering from how sore it is but I don’t stop. It’s like I can’t stop, I go into a trance. I would let a passing car hit me just so I got that piece of skin of my head, it’s bizarre and it’s really getting me down. At night time my whole body is so tense that I can’t relax or breathe properly, my feet are constantly tensed and it’s starting to hurt. But my head is the worst right now, it’s so painful.

I had my assessment from the mental health nurse at my doctors and she’s meeting with me again today, so I’m hopeful for her help. She said the last time I was there, ‘you don’t appear to be overly anxious?’ Sorry lady but my feet are bolted to the floor and my hands are glued to my knees and I’m trying not to let go of eye contact with you so you don’t think that I’m crazy. Ugh, it’s such a nightmare, I keep finding myself thinking way to much into stupid things and end up with sleepless nights for days or else horrible dreams about the situation. It’s driving my crazy.

Fuck you anxiety. Your such a twat.

I got my medication increased to the maximum before Christmas but I don’t feel any different, not yet anyway. I hate that I rely on them but they keep me from wanting to kill myself so that’s always a bonus, right? 😂

All I want is to be able to go back to work, have a wage again, not feel worthless, be able to go to the shop on my own, be confident, be able to keep friendships, be able to see my family members, just be able to sit in a room without going into a major state of panic.

How lovely would that be?

Just a blip

I’ve worked my whole life, from the day I turned sixteen, I’ve had a job and I’ve worked every day since, even when I was at university, I worked full-time hours, non stop, making money, meeting new people, trying new things, trying to get all the hours I could just so I could afford nice things and pay my bills. But now I don’t. I haven’t worked for around two months now, I’m nearly three months behind on all my bills and falling deeper into a massive hole of debt all at the cost of my mental health.

I’m not your average twenty-four year old, I’ve been through things most people (hopefully) never will. Since I turned eighteen my life just started to spiral out of control. With a lot of baggage from my childhood that have only recently came to light, I became a professional at sweeping things under the carpet and carrying on. My best friend, Emmah, passed away just before the end of sixth form. She suffered with cystic fibrosis her whole life and after eighteen years of fighting she had finally had enough. After she died I didn’t know what to do or how to handle it, I lost my licence to drink driving a few months later. Her death seemed to have a nasty effect on our friend group and a few months later I got beat up by people who I considered to be my best friends. They followed me home and beat me to a pulp, all over a boy and Emmah’s death, ridiculous. I had to travel to Liverpool the next day to start university, all with a broken nose, two black eyes, and zero confidence. Nothing ever came of them assaulting me and they got away with it. I struggled to make friends at university because I was so scared of friendship and opening up to people. I felt ashamed of who I was and how my life was turning out. But I survived, like I always have. My number one survival technique was to continue to keep pushing any bad feelings or thoughts under the carpet and it worked for a long time.

The same people who beat me up the first time, attacked me again when I came home from university for a short break. I hadn’t seen them in over a year so there was still a lot of bad blood there. One of them followed me into the side bar and grabbed my hair. This time I stuck up for myself and ended up going through a three-year court case which ended in me having an assault charge. I’ll never forget the smug look on her face when I pleaded guilty to assault. I plead guilty because I couldn’t face a trail and I was constantly being threatened with prison, I wanted it to be over so I done it. It’s something I’ll always regret, I had the evidence that I was innocent and purely acting out in self-defence but I had had enough. I got a slap on the wrist and nothing more, thankfully because of my character references and the history I had with the girls worked in my favour. I still have a criminal record though, which is shit. But I believe in karma and I believe it will come.

After all the drama and intensity of the court case I continued to brush everything away, because it worked for me. I graduated university with a 2:1 and took myself of travelling. I remember standing on a beach in Cambodia and feeling so overwhelmed with sadness, the water was so clear and you could see the different colours of blue, the sand was white and the beers were cheap, how could I be sad? I travelled for around six to seven months and seen so many beautiful places, from the kangaroos running wild in Australia to the millions of motor bikes in Vietnam, the endless Pad Thai’s and street food in Thailand, watching the sunrise at Angkor Wat in Cambodia but I was still so sad.

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I thought, ‘I must be homesick, there’s no other explanation’ so I went home. I seen my family, my dogs, I got a job in the bank, I felt like I was back on track, but the sadness never left. Around this time last year I had my break down, I took three weeks of work and I didn’t think I would ever work again. I started medication and after a few weeks I began to feel ‘better’, I mean I felt numb but I didn’t feel sad anymore. I stopped crying all the time and my anxiety wasn’t as intense. So that’s good right? Or so I thought.

A few months passed and the sadness began to creep back, my anxiety was through the roof and I developed this deep burning rage of anger because I was so frustrated. It got to the stage that I had to leave my job, a job where I had recently been promoted, a place where I had amazing friends, made decent money, and seemed to be happy. But one day it all just stopped, my panic attacks were that intense that I couldn’t get myself out of them, no one could and they went on for hours. I began to become extremely suicidal and it was all that I thought about, it completely clouded my thoughts. I would sit and cry for hours because I didn’t want to die but it seemed like the only right thing to do. I couldn’t stop self harming myself but not my cutting my wrists or body, I picked my head to the point that my fingers were covered in blood and I would be in so much pain but I couldn’t stop, I still can’t. I decided to move back home with my mum and I had to explain to her how I was feeling, she didn’t take it very well and her initial reaction was anger. How could her daughter want to end her life? But after a few weeks she came around and she’s been amazing ever since, she wants to learn and understand and that’s more than I could ever ask for. I got my medication upped to a higher dosage but unfortunately it’s still not what I need.

Everyday I wake up and pray that the last few years have just been a bad dream but it’s my life and I’m working on it. I’m currently waiting to see a physiotherapist in December, so I’m hopeful that I’ll eventually get the help that I need. This wasn’t where I was going with this but it’s were I’ve ended up. I know this is just a blip in my life that I’ll hopefully be able to look back and see how far I’ve come. But right now I’m taking it day by day because that’s all I can do right now. My bills can wait, a job can wait, because my life and staying alive is more important to me right now.

If your feeling in any way similar to the way I do, please reach out, people care, life is hard but you are harder. Just breathe and take each day as it comes, the good and the bad. It’s just a blip. Only a blip.