Chillin' With Lester

I’m a free woman. No private beds were available and the psych at the public thought I’d be better at home anyway; I agree, it’s easy to get comfortable in hospital (though not that one) and I feel safer now than I did on Tuesday.

A lot of people seemed to take exception to Tuesday’s post, may I remind you that this is where I write with honesty, I may reflect on a post a few days later and see the folly in it, but I don’t remove it because it allows the various states of my mind to be seen by you lot. So reflections on that post: Suicide needs to be discussed more openly and I’m trying to do that. The post was written when I was feeling particularly awful, so it lacked reason, but it was nevertheless honest. My musing that the chances of me living or dying are 50/50 was probably incorrect, that was more of a reflection on how I was feeling at the time. I need to find things to live for rather than reasons not to die, I don’t want to hurt my friends and family, that’s my reason not to die; I don’t find enough pleasure in those relationships to live for them though, I think that’s a BPD thing, I like a few intense relationships rather than a lot of casual ones, I think what I want out of a relationship can’t reasonably be asked of anyone and I can see that as one of the things which drove M (ex) away.

My mum suggested yesterday that perhaps uni is a bad idea at the moment since I’m finding the prospect of making a phone call overwhelming, let alone attending classes, doing coursework and submitting assignments, sadly I think she’s right. I wanted to ease back into uni with just one subject in first semester and then pick up another in second semester, but the one I wanted to pick up had a prerequisite this semester, so I had to do both. I’m definitely not dropping the course, but maybe one subject would be best for now. I really don’t know, the work is easy, I should be able to handle two, but I’m not, plus it’s past census date so I’m paying now anyway.

Please don’t let the comment moderation put you off, I like hearing from you, I just don’t need 20 abusive posts from a stranger (I hope it’s a stranger anyway).

Flaky Paint

I’m back in the public psych ward, I was supposed to be moved today, they supposedly had a bed for me at a private last night but it has somehow disappeared. I expect like the last two times I’ve relied on bed brokers it will be over a week and then no one will take me. Whether I have a bed or not I’m going home tomorrow and will wait for a private bed from there. It won’t be a long admission, I just need to sort some things out, as I’m sure you can tell. I missed both classes this week, completely my fault, I could have chosen to fall apart tonight instead of just before class on Tuesday. Mum came to bring me some things this afternoon, she’s upset and confused and I don’t know what to say, I’m grateful that she’s bothered to learn about it all so she no longer tells me to just snap out of it and cheer up, though I know that’s what she wants.

I’m moderating comments as of today, just for a little while, don’t let it put you off. I want to get rid of whoever was trying to upset me today. I’ve deleted all their comments but it was targeted insults at the insecurities I’ve made known on this blog; I’m pretty sure it’s just a random, although there were a few details which scare me. I know I shouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing they upset me, but I want the rest of you to know why you can’t comment as usual (for now). 

Spectacular

Good things can’t last, I knew this as I wrote the last post, having just come from the pharmacy where I purchased a nice variety of wound dressings; I was actually looking forward to it...

I think I’m going to have a few days as an inpatient somewhere - probably public since my private psych has a no admissions policy for me and my kind. Contact me if you’d like to visit, I’ll have my mobile, maybe not my computer right away though. I anticipate admission this evening, I don’t know how long for.

In other news; small group was interesting last night, we had a get to know you time. Unless I wasn’t paying attention I’m the only one from a non-Christian family, I’m also the major cynic of the group. I touched on the subject of me being completely crazy but didn’t go into details, most of them have access to this blog so it’s not really necessary, the leaders and one group member don’t though. I think I want people to know the severity of it, but I hate actually saying the word suicide, it’s fine to write suicide suicide suicide, but saying it is a different matter. There is a high possibility that I won’t be around for a long time, I told my mum last week to get used to the idea that Dad and I are both going to die soon (he has cancer). I don’t want anyone to be too upset or shocked in the event of my death, but I don’t want people to distance themselves from me while I’m still alive because they fear losing me, if there’s no one to hurt there is nothing to keep me here. I’ve seen how suicide affects those left behind and I don’t want to be responsible for that, maybe if it doesn’t come as such a shock it’s not as bad, I don’t know. It’s 50/50 with me, don’t be surprised by my death or my long life.

One Week

Last night marked one week since I last hurt myself, I was going to do it just before bed but had no energy and no dressings so I just went to sleep; aren’t I a good girl. I’m feeling a lot better re overdose now, my brain is working again and I don’t constantly feel nauseous. As awful as it was, the temptation to do it again is high, because it worked. When I woke up I only felt physically awful, mentally I was fine, and I know now that I don’t fear death. The things holding me back are; two friends who have said they would end the friendship if I did it again, the fact that it would make me fall behind at uni – I’m already behind but the work is very easy and I should still be able to wrangle HD’s (cocky eh) – and that I’d have to use over the counter meds in massive doses and I have no idea what they’d do to me. I don’t fear death, but I do fear being physically or mentally impaired to the point where I am unable to end my life, I need to have that control.

L is still in hospital, I miss her and I hate knowing she’s not well; this illness stinks. I’d like to be better or dead, better takes a very long time and dead makes people sad. I know L wants the same, I don’t want her dead, but I know better takes so long and it is hard to achieve, DBT had better work for me and someone better find something to work for L, because the world needs her in it.

I’m writing a big post based off this Croakey article and all the others it references, plus a few others. It’s been a while since I did a nice researched, informative post; I’m not full of energy and need to work on uni when I am, so it might take a week or so, but there’s something for you to look forward to if you like that kind of thing.

How Much am I Worth?

I’ve been poking around the Medicare website. This year, excluding hospital admissions and treatments the kind tax payers of Australia have forked out $2033 for my mental health. The cost of admissions and emergency room treatments is nowhere to be found, but four separate nights in emergency, plus a week in a psych ward would add up I think. That’s in the last three months alone; in the last 12 months the kind Australian tax payer has spent $10 975 on my mental health excluding numerous hospital admissions, emergency room presentations, ambulances and our beloved PBS. My health insurance has taken most of the burden, paying in excess of $50 000 last year, and a bit this year. So including insurance that’s almost $61 000 plus I’d guess at least another $15 000 in the excluded expenses spent in 12 months to keep someone alive who doesn’t want to be, what do you think about that?

No Answer

The answer to my desperate search for knowledge of my unconsciousness was “not much”. I was in the hospital for 20 hours, unconscious for at least 15, it would be weird to go back and ask wouldn’t it? My GP didn’t get any discharge papers, that’s odd, maybe they’re a little slow getting them out, I just want to know! I’ve continued to feel lethargic, dizzy, nauseous and headachy; this wasn’t helped by having a wisdom tooth removed this morning. I hope the tooth is responsible for me feeling worse today, it’s so hard to tell what is responsible for what; last night was my first dose of Seroquel post O.D, so that could be a contributor, I also had to take two Yaz on Sunday night because I’d missed one, they cause all of the above symptoms too. I missed uni again today, there’s no way I could have gone feeling like this, I had a short but severe dizzy spell whilst driving home from my psychologist appointment, I thought I was going to faint – and I was at a major intersection! I’ve spent the afternoon either in or on bed, currently on! I’ve been having even more bizarre dreams and nightmares this week. I just wrote one in here but deleted it because it’s too messy to read, suffice to say that within one dream I was a hospitality worker, a rescuer, a wannabe celebrity, a child and an adult traveller in America looking across an ocean at a huge ski resort with no lifts but it was in one of the southern states where they don’t get snow.

This post has taken about six hours to write – on and off – interrupted by naps, reading, stressing about missed uni classes, eating, feeling sorry for myself and that’s about it. It’s 9pm and I think I’m going to go to sleep, I can’t do uni work in this state, maybe if I get up early I can avoid looking like a fool in class tomorrow. 

Sabotage

I apologise for the messy writing of late, I haven’t been editing, and only doing quick proof reads. I’ll start putting in a little more effort when my head, stomach and tooth stop hurting.

It’s 11:30pm, (well now it's 12:26) I’m in bed annoyed because I can’t sleep and chewing on Mylanta because my innards hurt. Never overdose on anything, it’s awful. Memories are starting to come back of things I said and did before I was unconscious, how agitated I was, I begged to be unhooked because I needed to fidget. I yelled at the triage nurse from the trolley-bed-thing that I’m allergic to Lamictal, because I thought I overheard the paramedic say that they should give me some. Because my Lamictal allergy was only discovered in December I forgot to mention it in the do you have allergies question, my answer is always “yes, Erythromycin” but my new answer needs to be “yes, Erythromycin and Lamictal”. I’m seeing my GP in 13 hours, I hope the discharge papers have reached her, I have no idea what happened in the 12ish hours I was unconscious, if it was the drugs or if they knocked me out, or both. I had an ultrasound and a catheter, I must have been very unconscious to not feel or remember that. I don’t remember seeing any doctors, just lots of nurses and CAT people, I don’t remember waking up, I thought it would be like coming out of surgery, I’ve always remembered how I woke up and who was beside me. As I was leaving I asked a nurse if any doctors had actually seen me and she said, “yes, heaps of them”. In the past when I’ve left hospitals there has been a chat about what’s next, and what exactly happened and I’ve been given a letter for my GP, and in some cases a letter for me with instructions re meds. I had to ask if I’m supposed to continue my normal drug regime or give my body a rest, the answer was to keep taking them, I can’t believe they were going to send me on my merry way without even telling me that! I have so many other questions, I want to know what happened every second I was out, if there’s any long term damage to worry about, but I was far too hung-over to ask at the time. I’m pretty sure discharge papers are done electronically now. I hope GP has all the answers tomorrow; this not knowing is actually the worst part of the whole ordeal.

I’ve learnt from it and won’t do it again as an act of self harm, if I do it again it will be on a much larger scale for a definite suicide, probably next to some train lines so I can be heavily sedated before it comes. I don’t think I fear death, a big part of the “why” behind this was to figure out if I did. I asked one of the nurses if I could die from this and her reply was “well you did take 4g of Seroquel and your heart’s doing 170, so yeah, maybe!” It didn’t fuss me, I just lay there while they all flittered around. Before I took the pills I prayed because I knew it was a bit of a gamble and I’m hardly Christian of the year material. I didn’t bother asking God for help, I don’t know if He does that directly, and I’d already tried many Christian friends, I didn’t tell any of them there was a problem, which I should have done, it’s hard to remember that people can’t read my thoughts. I don’t believe suicide is a golden ticket to Hell, but rather a sin just like all the others, God hates it as He hates them all. My last act on Earth would be sinful, but I don’t see how that’s any different to “Fred” committing any old sin and then dying of a heart attack before he got chance to ask for forgiveness, I doubt that “Fred” (if Christian) would be destined for eternity without God.

Even though I’ve said I’ll never do that again for self harm, I found myself wanting to tonight, as horrible the ordeal was, it worked, when I woke up I didn’t feel emotionally shit – just physically and I don’t care if I die! Thankfully there’s only my weekly supply and some scripts in the house, if I picked up the scripts I’d have a lot, but I think I’m going to throw them away.

I think my psychologist will call this an act of self sabotage (I’m great at it) uni was going well, I was a little bit happy – we can’t have that! I’m going to have another go at this sleep thing everyone’s raving about.

Sorry Mum

According to The Age (online) Japan is all better now; it's time to worry about Libya. By the way, did you know Christchurch mended its self? Herald Sun has one banner linking to older articles, otherwise it's Libya Libya Libya! ABC saves the day with one non-melodramatic article. I guess over the next week Japan will mend its self just like Christchurch (and Haiti, Pakistan, QLD, and all the others I can't remember because they're no longer the most exciting thing to report on) We’re like children with a new toy bigger than her others, which are left to the moths.

I caved in to the OD temptation, I tried really hard, I put it off for over three hours after writing that post and I only took about three quarters of what I had (not that it would have made much difference). No complaints about the ED this time, I was asleep almost the whole time – thankfully that included when the put the catheter in, removal just felt odd. My heart exceeded 170bpm. The last things I remember before falling asleep are being very agitated but I couldn’t move because I was hooked up to multiple machines, I kept begging them to take them off so I could move. I remember the arterial line going in – didn’t hurt at all, but I don’t remember the IV. Apparently they did an ultrasound at some point. After I woke up the CAT team tried to talk to me but I couldn’t speak, it was like my tongue had been anesthetised and I kept drifting off and being rudely woken again, he gave up and a few hours later one of his colleagues came back, I was a little more talkative, but not a great deal. End result was coming home at about 4pm yesterday stumbling around everywhere. They didn’t give me charcoal, said it’s ineffective for these drugs, if they pumped my stomach I was out and they didn’t tell me about it. From what I could gather all they did was give me heaps of fluids to wash it out and monitor me. I’ll think twice before doing that again. In about half an hour I’ll be driving to see L, not sure if I should since I’m not quite steady on my feet, but I’ll try.

My tummy hurts....

Four Grams

I don’t have a massive drug stockpile, it’s hard to build it up when you’re on weekly dispensing, good to have a few old scripts lying around though. All I have is 4g of Seroquel, 65mg of valium and 360mg of Oxazepam – I wouldn’t dream of taking too many Lovan, no one wants serotonin syndrome. I’ve never really seen the point in overdosing as a type of self harm; suicide, sure – you just have to do a good job of it; but why ingest a heap of pills and then call for help? Well, it’s a near death experience, you can’t be sure what will happen, the ambulance might be late, the hospital might screw up or you could just be unlucky and have a lower tolerance than you thought. I don’t think my little stockpile is suicide worthy, I’ll leave that one to the train – or I could build a guillotine, that way I don’t have to traumatise a train driver. In-case you can’t tell this isn’t a good day, and over such minor incidents. I have a few forms to fill in, an upcoming house inspection and a near dead car, the car is topping the list because it makes getting to uni hard – the public transport bit isn’t too bad, it’s all the stuff I have to carry. My laptop was bought as a desktop replacement, not really to carry around everywhere, so it is powerful - for its time really powerful, the battery lasts less than two hours and it weighs 4.5kg – Idiot! I am also missing my ex a lot at the moment, maybe not him exactly, but the idea of him; hugs that last more than 2 seconds, a kiss, a shoulder to sleep on, a hand to hold, a dinner date, someone who knows all of me and still loves me, though I guess I didn’t really have that last part or we’d still be together...

Uni is going well, if I choose to  I can spend tonight doing some work and thrill the pants off the class next week, I’m not often confident, but I can own this course – if I do the work. I could also spend tonight in ED drinking activated charcoal and pissing off my parents. I hate that you can’t have no next of kin on the forms, maybe I should give them false details, though I suppose they’d find them eventually...

Don’t be alarmed by this post, I’m too much of a coward to do anything, and even if I take my whole stockpile the worst it’ll do is charcoal and a heavy night’s sleep (I think).

Oxazepam My Friend

Who needs a whole box of valium when you have Oxazepam, two pills of this gift from science and the world is a better place, a slower place, but better all the same. I saw new psychiatrist today – the mind reader – it wasn’t as scary as last time and only lasted 20 minutes, future appointments will be 60 minutes. The expected public transport fiasco was no fiasco at all. It is certainly better living in the East, no car in the West means total isolation (at least where my parents are). I followed my appointment with three beautiful coffees and a very meaty lunch with R and her beautiful daughter S. I haven’t had the will to cook lately, mainly eating bread and soup, it’s an achievement if I manage to boil some pasta and throw some sauce at it. Since I’m trying to drop weight - not pick it up - takeaway isn’t an option. Lovan is going up on Monday, and another Seroquel reduction is imminent, that means bye bye kilos, but hello more nightmares.

I really miss C, I haven’t seen her for about a month, it’s usually no longer than a fortnight. She now lives about 45 minutes away – possibly more and is very busy with uni, work and being a wife. I shouldn’t miss L, it’s not like we’ve been friends for that long, and I’ve still been seeing her, but I do miss her, I guess it doesn’t help knowing that she is sick, not making progress and in a horrible place. I won’t be living with her again, but the week we had together was great, the sister I never had and without all the family crap in the way. I feel like I’m not good enough to be her friend, all her others are these super creative, amazingly attractive and totally uninhibited people. I’m attractive when I’m not fat, but I dress so plainly; I’m creative, but I haven’t done anything special with it, and I have the ball and chain of Christianity holding me back. I wouldn’t give my faith up just so I could be a little more impulsive, but since I’m not currently in a good place spiritually the whole thing seems like more of a burden than a gift. There are days I wish I’d never heard of God or anyone called Jesus and I could live as I please without fear of eternal consequences; but then I know I’m fortunate, so many people will never hear, or understand/accept, they will spend their lives wondering what the point is, they will spend their death apart from God. I shouldn’t wish that upon myself and be so ungrateful for Jesus’ sacrifice; but this is where I write the truth, and that’s how it is.

Time to call the dentist, one of my teeth is crumbling away, doesn’t hurt because the nerve has been removed, but it’s giving me a headache. Thankyou Seroquel for dental destruction! 

Uni Appointments Home Car

To my new readers (oldies skip to next paragraph)

I have just enabled a lot more people to see these links through facebook. Due to the nature of the blog I don’t want certain people reading it. You will notice that my name is nowhere on the blog, or in my profile. I am anonymous to anyone who stumbles upon the blog, known only by those I allow to see the facebook links. I would appreciate anyone who chooses to leave a comment to just refer to me as K and not mention anything else which could easily identify me. Thank you.

                                                      Main Post

I am usually happy with myself if I achieve one thing per day, it can be as small as getting out of the house to run some errands, or as big as going to uni. Yesterday I went to the bank, followed by medicare; I drove 45 minutes to visit L, we had coffee and stared at the yummy Irish barista (his coffee is pretty bad). I then walked 20 minutes to my psychology appointment, stopping by an art supplies store on the way; I talked and listened for a very long hour, and had coffee across the road with F immediately after. On my walk back to the car – which I’d left at the hospital – I went to medicare again, had lunch and got lost for 20 minutes. I then drove to uni, stopping on the way to let my car cool down because it doesn’t like the new water pump and now wants to explode. I got to uni 10 minutes early and sculled a vodka and coke to take the edge off my car worries, attended class, resisted the urge to leave early due to the fact that everything around me was changing colours and I completed six writing exercises.

Today I have achieved brushing my teeth, though it took until 3pm to talk myself into it. I should be in class right now but can’t face the thought of leaving the house and carrying the world’s heaviest laptop, plus books on public transport. Tomorrow I have to leave the house for a psychiatry appointment; it’s not optional unless I fancy a huge cancellation fee. It is going to take a walk, a bus, a walk, a tram and another walk to get there. You may do that every day to get to work, if so I congratulate you, I’d rather hide in the wardrobe all day talking to the daddy long-legs’ that I haven’t bothered to evict.

Degrees

I’m waiting for glorious medication induced sleep to kick in. It has been an acceptable weekend. I had to make a late night trip to my parents’ on Friday so I could get my car fixed on Saturday morning, it ended up happening this morning, but oh well – free water pump and labour thanks to daddy and his mechanic friend. I dislike my car, it was purchased for me without consult, and while it was a significant upgrade from my previous car, I don’t appreciate it. I am not a mother of four, or a 19 year-old petrol head, I don’t need a Falcon. Hopefully when my brother turns 18 in August he’ll inherit my car and I can have some say in what I get... Hopefully. I know it sounds horrible complaining about a gift, I just would have liked some input.

I think church was good tonight, I was feeling a little anxious, but I listened. Lesson learnt: Prayer is a very important evangelistic tool. I went to the water closet during prayer time, it was in groups and I didn’t want to talk, plus I hadn’t looked in the mirror for ages and my hair felt funny. I had a few good chats afterwards and actually stayed long enough to get kicked out. I then arrived at the after party dinner, where I met four new people, two of whom I spoke with quite a lot, it’s amazing how small Christian circles are, I’m sure if I added them on facebook we’d have dozens of mutual friends. I have actually looked them up, but thought it too stalker-ish to add them mere hours after our meeting, but now that I think about it a little more, this is worse...

Ahha! Hello medication. It is time for sleep now.

The Worst Time to Post. Have a Fun Friday Night

Ewww, what a week. I am currently drained of energy, lying on my bed where I have been all day and night except a trip to see L and another to the Dr to get my torso put back together. Coming off Seroquel is awful, my latest reduction was a rather big one and has brought with it nightmares of the kind where you wake up in a jolt screaming; nausea; headaches; intermittent sleep and significantly lowered mood – although the mood is quite possibly the Yaz. So far the only pro to the Seroquel reduction is weight loss, Seroquel is the main reason I put on 20kg last year. With less Seroquel and more Lovan I’ve dropped 7kg, so I’m well on my way back down. I remember a conversation with a friend when I was 19, at the time I was a size 10-12, depending on the brand etc. I said to her that I didn’t need to worry too much about putting on weight, because I’d never buy anything above a size 12, and therefore if I reached a 14, my choice would be to walk around naked or drop the weight, stat! I didn’t hold myself to that, maybe I need a different punishment for next time.

I’m thinking of significantly reducing my facebook “No No No” list. L and I were discussing how very open her blog is yesterday, the pros outweighed the cons; basically if people don’t like the real her they can piss off! It’s something I need to think about more because I don’t want to risk future employers getting their hands on it, and definitely not family members.

Thanks to the few people who commented on Wednesday’s post, I welcome more on that, it’s still got me thinking. 

Uni, L and Church

I am feeling quietly confident about uni having met my competition. Yesterday was fiction writing, I won’t do so well in that, but I’m going to breeze through script writing. Much to my delight the unit chair has changed and the subject is now going to have a little more focus on the stage; The previous unit chair only wrote for film and TV, so that’s all she focused on. My drama degree came in handy today – I’ve seen scripts from the other end. My brain is still in mush mode, I just can’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes.

L is a little better but not home yet. I didn’t see her today but will have lots of L time tomorrow. I’m also going back to my house tomorrow; it’s time to start looking after myself again.

I’m rather disappointed in my small group; Monday was our first meeting and I was so clearly a mess and no one even tried to talk to me about it. I don’t know what sort of signals I was putting out, I think I was a bit disassociated at the time, but to be in the presence of 10 or so Christians when in such a mess and for no one to even ask if I was ok is really awful. I think one of the men wanted to say something but he didn’t know what (P.N, that’s you), maybe they were all like that, but I left bleeding, dreaming of suicide and highly drugged, with not even a pat on the back. I know most of the people in the group at least a little, and none of them are heartless, maybe I’m just too difficult, maybe I’m expecting too much. I don’t know, I just know I don’t feel like it was a supportive environment to be in half an hour after my friend had just been whisked away to prevent her suicide. I should have stayed home with her sister, at least I could have cried and cut there - these scratches are awful, I wouldn’t have done that if I had a razor blade handy (and not been in a family home surrounded by people) I’ve since started taking razors and dressings with me everywhere. If you ever need a band aid (or steri-strips) I’m the girl to ask.

I don’t get a lot of comments on this blog, but I’d like to hear from my Christian readers on this one. Am I being too hard on my small group, should I keep this sort of stuff quiet and just talk to my psychologist and the friends who actually want to know, or is it ok to let people see me when I’m hurting? Beyond church employees e.g. pastoral carer what should my expectations be for support; and how can I as a crap Christian and sick person be of any use to the church in return?

A Midnight Post

This will be short, I’ve just had Temazepam, Lovan, Seroquel, Yaz, and earlier 6 Valium... I lost my new sedative, I really needed it tonight, hence the 6 valium – they didn’t work! As of tonight Yaz has been added to my cocktail because it seems the worst of my self-harm and suicidal ideation happens in the few days before my period – so let’s get rid of it!

L was admitted to hospital in the bat of an eyelid tonight. Within half an hour everything went to being bad to beyond terrible and her being rushed away. This was all happening as I was preparing to go to my first Bible study of the year; I got there late as a result, spoke a little gibberish to a few people and realised there were children around and my wrist was un-covered, so then had to attempt to hide that. I spent the prayer time scratching off a few layers of skin off the back of my wrist, it looks disgusting. Great first session! I’m still at L’s house, it’s horrible without her here – not because here is bad, but because she should be here and she’s not out having fun, she’s out in a shared room in a dark hospital feeling like crap. Tomorrow we were going to have a half-day in Prahran, seeing our psychologist – we have the same one - and between her appointment and mine getting my lip pierced. I don’t want to do it without her so I’ll wait until she gets out, plus she wants to get her nose done at the same time.

Tomorrow is day 1 of uni. I’m scared, I feel like shit and my brain is going to be elsewhere during class. I don’t even know which subject I have – should probably check that.

Sorry for another not amazing post, I have no passion for anything at the moment and trying to make this interesting is just not a priority.

It Begins

Tonight I’m having an L free night (she’s out having fun with people I don’t know) and tomorrow will also be L free. I’m still at L’s house even though she’s not; she thought it would be best if I stayed here tonight since I’m at the beginning of a drug reduction. Tomorrow I will go to a house-warming for lunch, followed by church if I have the energy and then I will spend the night at my own home. Monday is the first bible study group for the year, and then Tuesday is my first day of uni. I’m going to start spending the odd day at my own home to get used to looking after myself again. It’s been good here; I’m sure if I’d gone straight home from the hospital I’d be back there already. I’m really quite terrified about my new psychiatrist taking me off everything but the antidepressant.

I’m a little scared about going back to uni, I’ve looked at the online discussions already happening between students and lecturers, I feel so inferior. I know I’m not going to fail any of these classes (unless I give up – but that’s different) but I need to do very well so I can switch to research, and putting that aside, I need to do well for my ego. I know I’m not going to attain perfection, but that’s what I want. I need to read more, I’ve got my set readings, but I need to stop spending so much time on Facebook and staring at walls, and read every great work of literature – I may need to slow time and get some replacement eyeballs to do this, but that’s possible isn’t it?!

Mental State:

Bad. Cutting every day, mostly mild; I want to get my hands on a hypodermic needle so I can get venous blood with just a little stab, rather than having to search for veins inside a cut. Blood is all I want, pain is just annoying, I want to see my whole arm and torso turn red and then I’ll be satisfied (until the next day). Yeah I know that’s disgusting, you can stop reading if you don’t like it. I seem to be in the minority of self-harmers who don’t like pain, I put up with it because it gives me blood. To get my hands on a needle would be fantastic, I’m pretty sure you can get them with a prescription, or just buy them online. I think my GP may prescribe them for me because it would be the lesser of two evils. I’ve read some medical journals giving advice to GP’s about self harm and one was to offer hygienic suggestions if the behaviour is clearly not going to stop – worth a shot I think.

Not a very positive post, but I’m not going to make up happy shit to please you. My more morbid posts seem to get more visits anyway, so I’m just giving you what you want.

Contact

Taking inspiration from L’s blog I have set up an email account for anyone who wants to ask questions or discuss something in a non-public manner. I will not reply to abusive tirades – be nice. onereclusivegirl@yahoo.com 

How it Shines

This one is a bit all over the place, it was written over three days and I’ve been feeling really yuk for all of them.

Our no self harm pact didn’t last very long. I made it longer than L, but I was more deceptive - which upset her. L told me right away and I came to help her clean up. I was caught – twice. That night made me realise how much I mean to her. I knew she cared about me, why else would she demand I stay with her post release. But to see her cry because I had deceived her, and that she felt a sense of failure to help me tore at my heart. Tears don’t come easily to me (break up with M excepted), I shed a few on Tuesday because I’d hurt my friend, my friend who wants to know the truth when she asks how I am, my friend who (gently) beats me up when I feel like smashing my arm into a wall, my friend who cuts my hair when I want to cut off my head, my friend who actually understands all this shit.

As I discovered on Tuesday with L, It hasn’t been instilled in me to be emotionally honest. Emotions are dangerous things that should be hidden or lied about. On Tuesday I could have told L that I was feeling terrible – the sort of terrible she understands – but instead I told my torso and wrist that I was feeling terrible, then L walked through the door! I saw her disappointment, felt a little bad about it and then did it again later in the night. This time she was distraught. I’m in her home being looked after by her and I can’t confide in her, I instead confide in a piece of metal. We talked, we cried and we talked some more. I realised that L wants to know me, to love me, to help me. I can let her know what is usually hidden or spread out. I don’t need to hide or lie.

I grew up in a home where talking openly about feelings was not expected, nor encouraged. I had no right to be sad, because I had a roof over my head, and food on my plate – what more could you want? The complexities of being human were not addressed in the way we lived. Deep thought was not encouraged because I was just day dreaming – wasting time, television was god. My parents don’t ponder, everything is very shallow in their world, an invisible illness is too hard to talk about. As a seven year-old - I was left to my own devices dealing with the loss of my brother, any mention of him remains taboo. Small things could be discussed with my mother, such as crushes and why no one liked me – it was my fault, I must be mean without realising it. As he got older my replacement brother (sorry S if you’re reading – I don’t really view you that way) became more of a confidant, there is a massive age difference and some problems, but by his age of seven or eight we were able to talk about family matters in a way we couldn’t with anyone else. Throughout my teenage years and into young adulthood I trusted no one completely. Different people could be told certain things, and if ten people were amalgamated into one then that monstrosity would know all of me. Then I met M.

I thought I trusted M completely with my emotions, I told him everything and don’t think I ever lied to him, but I couldn’t express, nor could he understand the storm inside me. We all have our secrets, and I don’t care about them, emotional honesty is what I’m on about. Emotional honesty is what I’m learning about with L, it’s hard for me.

For my Christian readers, I know what you’re thinking, that’s a different topic and has not escaped my attention.