I feel dead inside

Me

Sometimes I wish I didn't exist.

There's so much shit in my head that when it builds up the only way I can stop crying is to hurt myself. So I cut. Mostly I cut, but there's a whole host of ways I hurt myself.

I hate myself. I know I'm a nice person but I hate myself. People hate nice people all the time so don't think I should be immune to it. I dislike people for things they've done or their nature. I don't dislike nice people, i like nice people, so why can't I like myself? I just don't. Hate is a strong word and I can say there is no-one on this earth I hate. Except myself.

Reality check please

Telling someone to face reality and to take responsibility for their life to me seems pretty rude.
Reality is in my face every day, reality has not been kind to me, reality is not kind to a lot of people. Some days i can't deal with it but most days I know what the hell is going on around me and I know I'm responsible for feeding, clothing and working to keep a roof over my head. At the moment it's a bit hit and miss but I'm the one responsible enough to say I'm changing things about to see if it makes a difference, the various anti-depressants I've been on for far too many years have worked only to varying degrees and some have been completely detrimental. My psychologist and doctor both say I'm extremely clued in when it comes to my illness and my treatment and am willing to try anything that will keep me breathing.
Isn't that reality?
 Now I've decided to go without medication for a while to see what my own body actually feels like. I know it's a risk so my docs are keeping a close eye on me and should I have to go back on ADs then I will. I've had a shitty life. Not family/friendwise although several friends have fucked me over. It's the other stuff that's fucked me up. Some I talk about because people know and some I don't because I'm too ashamed or it happened as a child so what can you do? Telling me to face reality, be responsible and not cut myself is not the best way to calm me down when I'm upset. All my doctors agree, and google it if you want to, self-harm can be a coping mechanism, for me it is, it calms me down. It stops me doing the really stupid stuff so if you don't understand that, then ask me why I do it. Don't just assume I'm going to slit my wrists. If my doctors don't have a problem with it and I don't, then leave me to it.
Don't just tell me not to and to face reality cos that gets my back up. Big time. I know this person has had an awful time with depression too, and i'm sad about that but her symptoms were quite different from mine. I know she says it because she cares but telling me to face reality? That just makes me mad, and what do I do when I'm mad? I don't turn into the Hulk. I get my knife out and cut because I hate myself for being mad over something someone says who doesn't know any better. But realistically SHE should, because we've discussed it. I don't tell her what to do. I certainly have never told her to face reality when in fact sometimes she should have because her life would've been easier. But it's her life, I'm there to support, listen and give gentle advice, not to say "face reality and be responsible"

Defective Rabbit in the House

So it's Saturday. I'm exhausted. My period started yesterday joy of joys which explains partly why I felt like I was possessed this week. Don't get me wrong, having periods means I can still have children, which i want, but I need to find a man first and who in their right mind would wanna be with me? Therein lies the predicament. Never mind the "over 40 dangers" (JUST turned 40 ty) and the 50/50 chance of passing on PKD and the depression/anxiety/complete fucking mentalist thing. Maybe "god or whoever" has decided it's better if I don't reproduce (which I can tell you, my family is like rabbits in that respect) but to not even put a man in my path that I can at least copulate with? Well, that's just cruel because you see I have so much love to give, emotionally, AND, dear god given half a chance, physically! I'm a nice, law-abiding good girl. I've been told I'm an ugly bitch on several occasions throughout my life by strangers so maybe that's why no-one wants me, cos I'm not pretty enough (the pic is me so make up your own mind but i know I'm ugly so no need to tell me, ok? please? good, ty) I'm told I'm funny, smart, compassionate, empathic, geeky and pretty. I don't believe all of them but I am geeky and I like a laugh but hey, who doesn't? Anyways, my possessed self has been decorating my bathroom and going up to the shops today. On a Saturday. This is how I KNOW I'm possessed, people up town on a Saturday are total mad fuckers. To be avoided at all costs. Like zombies, you do not want to engage them. Engage as in interact ya nutter not marry them.

Priest: "Zombie do you take..."
Zombie: "oohhhaaahhhhhhhh" *bites priest*

Not that kind of engage ok?? Got that? Good.

So. Up the town on a Saturday. Feels like being the ball in a pinball game. "Sorry" used to be frequent words out my mouth as people bumped into me now it's more like "ahh my cloak of invisibility is clearly working. fuckers hahahaha" I fear my cloak will not protect me from a thumping hence my usual avoidance of a sat avo jaunt up the town at least until I can get my Staff of pain up to par and am able to retaliate. I'm not a violent person, honestly. Honestly!!! Just a little "possessed" at the moment but if Gandalf allows it, it shall pass just like my self-loathing passed as I was cutting myself just now. Ahhhh see? Gone for a wee while. I'll get that under control soon, it's just left me a tad emotional and so a nap is called for. Talking of emotional, the defective rabbit thing is because no-one wants me, ((not because my vibrator is broken, I couldn't afford a rabbit anyways, mine is bog standard (Jesus Tina TMI!!!)). I have to accept this, I can't let it rule my life, I'm going to be alone. The grass isn't always greener on the other side anyways so i'll just have to be a crazy fridge magnet lady (not allowed pets in flat).
Anyway. When I was about 23 my mum told me there were enough grand-kids in the family so she didn't see the point of me having any. Not even one. I have 17 nieces and nephews (not counting their partners) and 18 great nieces and nephews so far. I adore them all. See what I mean about my family being like rabbits and how I'm defective? That, and I'm home, in the house. Title explained in full. I waffle don't I?

How to Save a Life/Awesomeness personified 2

This picture is posted on my front door and above my desk at work because I love it. It makes me smile every time. I don't care if people think I'm mad (I am) it's for me. To remind me, at a glance, of the humour, the joy, and how great this world can be. I found out tonight a friend's son tried to commit suicide. I can't imagine what it feels like to see your son in so much distress he feels he can't go on and my heart is in pain for her. I do know how it feels to not want to go on. To REALLY not want to go on. She thinks he really meant it. I know how that feels and my heart goes out to him, I can only hope that as a family they find the strength and he recovers fully. I pray for it, for them all. My days of suicidal thoughts aren't over but the devastation Malc caused stops me. The promises I made to people stop me. I put family/friends through enough when i meant it, but it's swept under the carpet, no-one ever spoke to me about it and all i know is it upset them. Some day I fear those reasons for hanging on wont be enough. At the moment though I have Kirk. He's a facet, among many, responsible for keeping me here but I don't have all your photos so I picked him.

RIP Amanda Todd.

cuckoo's nest?

It’s been a while. 27^th September I was admitted voluntarily to a psych ward for my safety as I was suicidal, self-harming and going off the rails big time. I felt I had no other choice, nothing was helping and I was getting worse. At the time I decided with my psychiatrist that a medication change would be undertaken at same time so it was gonna be a bumpy ride. Boy, was it ever. It’s a horrible place to be, and for staff being in the caring profession most of them couldn’t give a fuck. I walked out the ward several times and on one occasion to commit suicide I was brought back by police not because they noticed I was missing but because I said goodbye to my friends on twitter more or less and one of them tipped off the ward.

3 months I was in there, the med they changed me to I was on for 7 weeks and I knew it wasn’t working, I became vegetative, stopped communicating, eating, doing anything. I couldn’t stand being around anyone. i kept telling them it's not working, they said to persevere. Turns out i'd been on it twice before and the 2nd time i showed no response so i was put on something else to try, which i had to pick?!!!! how does that make sense? i'm no doctor!! Staff kept telling me to ask for help, to talk to them so I tried but most of the time they were busy and never got back to me. This is consistent for most patients and the feeling of disharmony and apathy in the ward was infectious. I harmed myself several times on the ward and rarely the reasons were discussed. When I walked out to commit suicide it wasn’t discussed.

In between xmas and new year I got a 2 day pass which went ok but on the day I was to go back I didn’t. The next day the ward left a voicemail asking If i was going back I sent a text message saying I was knocking myself out for a few days, they left another voicemail saying ok. I had no meds apart from some temazepam and diazepam I had stockpiled. I used these meds to keep me under for three days, I was taking them like candy. On new years day the temazepam was lasting about an hour, I’d taken maybe 80mg upwards and 45-60mg diazepam so I called nhs 24 asking if there was a lethal limit. Even I knew I was taking too much. They said I was at serious risk and should go back to ward. Next thing I knew I got call from ward saying they had no doctor and should go to a&e, nhs24 had pieced enough together to call round and find out who’d called. my friend took me and stayed with me. They monitored me for couple hours then I went to the ward. I asked to speak to someone so I could explain why I was knocking myself out, why I was so suicidal, they were too busy and hadn’t had their break. I asked if tomorrow would be better and it was agreed. No-one ever spoke to me about it. My friend at the time was furious because she said they were rude and dismissive. I said it was just par for the course.

Normally you see your psychiatrist on a Monday morning but because of the hols it was Wednesday I saw him. (My provisional discharge date) Normally you’re in for a few minutes, how they’re supposed to assess you I have no idea. I tried to talk to him about new years day, he wasn’t interested. I tried asking why patients ask to speak to staff and are constantly turned away when extremely distressed. My answer to those and several other questions? “you’re being discharged today I don’t see why we’re talking about this” after him saying this a few times I got up and just walked out. I just wanted to slap him.

It’s 3 weeks since I’ve been out and the damage that place has done to me and my trust in the caring profession is undeniable. I have a great GP and Psychologist but can I trust them? I have no idea now. I don’t know what way is up. I’ve spent the last 3 weeks in bed because I don’t want to live but have so many people telling me they’ll never forgive me if I killed myself. Having been on the receiving end of such news, Malcolm killing himself, and seeing the devastation it caused and believing I was the cause of the devastation means I haven't been able to do it yet. I sit with my tablets and water or wine and knife and cry trying to think of some reason to live or i try to knock myself out with benzodiazepines. This is not a life. It’s an existence. I’m the only one that can change it but I have no idea where to start this time. I’ve done this a few times but I think this is the worst I’ve ever been and cant see any way out. But I have friends rooting for me, not just local friends but twitter friends, we support each other although I feel I’ve been a bit lacking in my support of others lately and that will have to change. Maybe the fact I’m writing at all is a sign that things are changing. I sure hope so.

How low can you go?

What a shitty week. It’s been good, but bad. I wasn’t going to but I met up with some twitter friends on Monday for lunch. I knew people would be drinking so I wasn’t going to go because i know the frame of mind I’m in right now, drink is not a good idea. I went, knowing that I was going to drink, knowing that I would have a fun time, knowing that when I got home I would attempt suicide or at least harm myself in some way. It was my plan. Not "the" carefully considered suicide plan but an adapted one. I was ok with that.

Lunch was fab, everyone was on fine form and those few of us that were left got very drunk. Even managed to drag the remaining tweeter to Raffles which was funny. Bit of a long standing joke. Cue the end of night and walking home knowing I was about to die. I was fine with it. Then I thought maybe they’d think they’d done something to make me do it. None of them had. It was a good day. I felt fine thinking I’d be dying on a high.

For some reason I called nhs24 and spoke to a lovely woman. By this time I was distraught and wanting to die but asking for help anyway. A lovely doctor came out to see me and I’d had over 2 months worth of Inderal popped out into a glass with a large glass water next to it. He tried to admit me to ward 2 so ambulance came and took me to QMH I kept apologizing because they should’ve been out saving someone that wants to be saved. The doc said I was the girl who always apologises haha and the ambulance guy just kept telling me they were saving me tonight.

After assessment on the ward I was sent home, they had no beds, guess they hoped it was just the drink and that’s why I’d tried and some sobering up time would help? A friend called after seeing my tweet just after 4am while I was waiting on taxi and spoke to me till I was ready for bed. I had an appt with Hillview the next day so my counsellor had the report. I still have lots of suicidal and self-harm thoughts and they don’t realize I got drunk so I’d be brave enough to do it. I didn’t do it because I was drunk. I’d planned it but part of me obviously wanted to live and I called for help.

The next day I saw my doc and was signed off for a month so I had to tell my work what was going on. Seriously, it’d be a lot less hassle for everyone if I just got on with it already. I saw Hillview again on Friday and will be seeing her on Monday after an appt with my Psychiatrist. I have had another rough night of waking up crying several times. I dreamt of my mum and dad, and our dogs Laddie and Patch, all whom have passed, my dad gave me such a cuddle I couldn’t stop crying and it’s making me start again I miss him so much. I kept asking where Malc was and can’t remember what they were saying, did I see him in a different dream? I feel like I did? I need to know he’s ok. I need to know he’s not mad at me and I need to know if he’ll forgive me and if I can move on. Part of me is now thinking they’re here because they know my time is short and they’re here for me. Are they? Or were they here to comfort me to help me through this that I will see them again someday but not quite yet? At the moment I’m thinking it’s option number 1.

I have to go to my best pal’s birthday party tonight. It’s a cocktail party so it’s glitz and glam which I’m gonna have to fake and put a smile on. I’m sure it’ll be fine but I’m dreading it all the same.