Wobbly Car

I ended up not going back to hospital, I was offered a bed on Friday, but by then I was feeling much better. I did one of the things I'm not supposed to last week, I reduced by half the amount of Epilim I'm on. Epilim is the drug likely causing the weight gain and I was getting seriously depressed every time I walked passed a mirror (I still do but I feel pro-active about it now) so I decided to take action without waiting another week and a half to see my dr, we'd talked about coming off it anyway, I just beat him to it. I haven't seen any results yet, but I'm not totally off it, and it's only been six days. One of the things I get despondent about is my lack of a man and being fat isn't going to help that situation change and it's all a big catch 22; I got really sick and started needing extra medication after my break up and I'm stuck feeling lonely and highly medicated with no one looking twice at me because I resemble a small car. I don't exercise as much as I should, but I move, I walk Rico daily and my diet could be better, but it's consistent, there is no difference between now and when I was 30kg lighter, there have been times when I've been ravenous and have sated those desires, that's probably where the weight came from, I guess it takes more than just going back to normal to shift it.

 I've applied for a couple of jobs and looked into short courses - there aren't any suitable for me at the moment, I missed the start dates for a few and the rest are either really expensive or only a couple of hours a week (and expensive). Tonight has been a chilled night in listening to this years' hottest 100 cd which I bought today, I was disappointed to find only 42 of the 100 songs on it, it's the first one I've bought and I didn't even think to check how many songs were on it, anyway, it's a nice compilation. 

Why go to Church?

Why do I go to church? If I’m honest with myself it’s not to worship God, it’s not to learn, it’s not to serve; it’s just to be around people, it’s a lazy way to not be lonely for a few hours and it doesn’t always work! I go to church hoping to do these good things but my brain is too dead to learn, my heart is too cold to worship and I’m too fucked up to serve - I’ve tried the coffee ministry a few times and I kept scowling at people (they liked my coffee though). It’s hard to not give up your faith when you feel it does nothing for you, or even worse depresses you, there’s nothing like congregational worship to enlighten the gap between you and them, by the end I feel like I have no soul. The obvious answer to the feeling empty problem would be that I am empty. I am not strong in my faith; maybe the Holy Spirit has deemed me not a good home and departed, or maybe I’m just not trying enough. I don’t pray enough, they’re mostly conversational bits throughout the day and I rarely read the Bible even though I know there’s a wealth of knowledge in there and a lot of very encouraging and uplifting parts. So, then we come to commitment, I lack it in reading and praying, but I have held on to my faith through 13 years, many of them difficult and I’ve adhered to some of the more difficult guidelines for living, but is it now just habit?

Tonight’s service topic was “Redeeming Singleness” – basically why singleness doesn’t totally suck! I hate being single, but I know I will remain so until my relationship with God is greatly improved, in my last (and only) relationship I made him my god; I never would have admitted it at the time but I can see now that that’s where my heart was and it was one of the big reasons it couldn’t work. Since the breakup I could have had a few relationships or flings, and I am a human, I have a libido! But instead I waited, and continue to wait for, a godly man (I might have one or two in mind...) but I am not the godly woman they deserve. In jest the minister went through a checklist for finding the perfect Christian partner tonight and I fall very short, I can’t go back a few generations and make my entire ancestry outstanding people of the church, I can’t make my parents Christians and my dad not frightening, I can’t make my brother a Christian, or even not the hate filled adolescent that he is. Basically I want a prize Christian man who will help me draw nearer to God and discourage me from making him my god instead, but I am not his prize woman – yet. I need an amazing man who can help me get better, or I need a very long wait and a lot of work to become at least a little bit of a prize, I suspect it will be the latter; or singleness which brings me back to the beginning, loneliness and why go to church at all – well... I need to change.

I’ve decided to allow anonymous comments again, it’s annoying having to sign in just to leave a quick comment. I’m keeping the moderation on and won’t be publishing the highly insulting ones, you can disagree with me and I’ll publish it but you don’t have to attack in the process, I have feelings however damaged they are. I’ve been doing more personal writing lately which is why there have been fewer posts, I don’t know if that will change, but that’s why the absence.

One Year

Around 10pm tonight it will be one year since my life fell apart, thanks M. This day marked the beginning of one month in hospital, and the many subsequent admissions. I feel awful today but I haven’t shed a tear – they don’t come easily to me. I had a nice brunch and helpful chat with R this afternoon, despite her encouragement and the fear she admitted she holds of my death, I want nothing more than for this all to end. I’d like to say that more than dying I want to get better, but it’s hard to want something you believe to be impossible; I guess that’s what the psychologist is for. I’m going to a party tonight, I’ve been looking forward to it because most people from church will be there, and I haven’t met that many people outside my small group. I don’t want to go in this mood, but it might cheer me up, and I probably shouldn’t be alone tonight.

Gangsta Broom

I had between 5 – 10 really weird dreams last night. In one of them I was driving to my parents’ late at night and the freeway had an exit I didn’t recognise, I passed it because you don’t normally hop off somewhere unknown, but that was the last exit. The freeway ended about 100m after that, it didn’t turn into another rd as they normally do, instead it was a rocky and muddy cliff which had been the end of many a car. I crashed into one of the others which had met their demise there, then my car changed into what would have been a beautiful sports car in its day, but it was now old and decrepit – I stayed in the car whilst it transformed. I then tried to drive back up the cliff but only one wheel at a time was making contact with the ground, so I had to push it up the cliff – it was surprisingly light. Then I continued driving to my parents’ I had no idea where I was, my brother appeared in the passenger seat and navigated me through the industrial wasteland which is on the way. We never got home.

In another dream I was at L’s house and her dad got home from work in an open top black gangster looking Mercedes – it kind of looked like this but with no roof.

Her dad got to bring a ridiculous car home from work each day just for the fun of it. I wanted to take it for a drive; that was the end of the dream.  There were a few of those annoying realistic dreams which take me a while to work out are dreams – I had to check one of them!

My body is having a hard time with all the drug changes, I can’t stop moving. I only have one oxazepam left, my other sedatives are sleepers – hardly ideal for day time calm and there’s zero chance of my GP giving me more benzodiazepines, I think I’ve got no choice by to pilfer daddy’s.

Saturday is one year since M left me, thankfully I’m going to a party that night and I can probably find someone to keep me company during the day – R, I’m looking at you. It will hurt, but it means it’s time to move on. Snog fest starts Saturday!

Party Time

Next week came early!

This is a long post about a lot and not much, I needed to write it for myself and I’m posting it just because this is where I put stuff. If you don’t feel like a long read you won’t be missing anything, but if you do feel like a long read here is a semi stream-of-consciousness, I think it has some worth, it gave me a few surprises – excuse the grammar and punctuation, I can’t be bothered!
Also I started this before midnight, so by tomorrow night I actually mean tonight, that doesn't really matter though...

I feel like a bit of a ramble tonight, too many thoughts swimming around to sit still with. I can’t believe how slowly time is ticking by; this time yesterday L and I were just getting back from a short night out. Maybe it feels like a long time ago because I’ve had four separate sleeps since then... It’s not just today, or even this week though; the year is dragging its feet. I’m supposedly starting DBT in September or January, I was discussing this with my GP today and she was disappointed at how far away that is, especially considering she wrote the referral in January this year, then I realised it’s not even May yet, my brain is towards the end of the year ready to greet in 2012, time usually flies, it’s not supposed to drag on like this. At the very same time things are moving along at rocket speed, it is 11 months today since I lost M and started my hospital encounters. I’m sure there will be a somewhat insane 12 month post probably along the lines of “everything sucks, I hate men, I love men, I hate men, they’re all stupid blind creatures who can’t tell when they’re being flirted with even if you shout it in their face and when you finally get one he crushes your heart and sends you to hospital – note, M didn’t make me sick, he just took away the thing I was staying alive for, I need something more permanent than a man to live for. I digress, actually that’s okay this whole post is a digression. So last night feels like days ago, today feels like a few days, 11 months ago feels like not long ago and a lifetime ago simultaneously, there is so little about my current life which resembles then, but the memories are fresh and raw. How have I had six hospital admissions, four psychiatrists, two psychologists, too many drugs, moved three times, found a new church and lots of new friends through it, started a new course and so much more in what feels like a month? This is actually painful to write, I feel I’ve accomplished nothing in the last year, I have in fact accomplished staying alive – not an easy task when you’d rather do anything else – I haven’t worked, I haven’t improved, I haven’t finished anything, I’ve just existed.

I actually started writing about time because I was dwelling on a party I’m supposed to be going to tomorrow night, it is for a dear friend who has stuck by me despite the tyranny of distance and the many years since we were in regular contact. I will know most people at the party, but I haven’t seen or spoken to most of them for six years. I am scared of some of them because I used to care so much about what they thought of me, and even though I am now forgotten part of me still seeks their approval. I’ve been thinking about what I’d wear, who I’d talk to when things got awkward, or if I’d just pretend to be very interested in one of the paintings. It even stopped me cutting my arm today because I didn’t want to wear long sleeves or tubi-grip and fresh marks covered in steri-strips isn’t a good look. I don’t know why I care so much, well yes I do, but it’s stupid. I’m not looking to rekindle any old friendships – frankly the drive out there is horrible and I’d be thrilled if my family and this one friend (I suppose she can bring her husband) moved to my side of the city – I certainly don’t want to pick up, I’m not doing a long distance relationship, plus none of them are my type – I definitely have a type! I should be able to go to the party, hug my friend and be a face in the crowd for her; I feel sick at the thought of it. Some of them read this blog, that’s good, at least when they ask what I’ve been up to and I say I’m not working and only studying one subject they’ll know why. To the others I’m the girl who disappeared six years ago, got fat and is now wasting her life, well that’s what they’ll think when they see me, right now they think nothing of me, I’m very much out of sight out of mind. Or maybe I’m wrong, I actually can’t read peoples thoughts, maybe some of them miss me and think of me regularly, facebook stalk me and hope to see me tomorrow; I wish I could believe that, in truth I feel that to everyone, not just this crowd I am out of sight out of mind, even though several people prove this wrong often, my new church really is full of great people, I should probably stop calling it new, I’ve been there 10 months now and am very settled. I don’t think I’ll go to the party tomorrow, I’d rather take my friend out for a nice meal on me and then I don’t have to share her with dozens of other people. To add to my worries is a Lovan reduction starting tomorrow, it’s been playing with my stomach and the higher dose has possibly increased my anxiety, although I think it helped reduce impulsivity which is a good thing. I’m a lot stronger than I think; I went out last night without any issues (though I was a bit of a wallflower – a very pretty one though!) and I got my monologue done when I thought there was no hope. Maybe I can get through a party and even have a good time? I’m going to change my mind 20 times between now and tomorrow night and I’ll regret not going, but I don’t think I can.

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).

Love, and the Fortunate Souls That Have Some

I’m in a wallowing mood today, I’m tired, annoyed and disappointed in myself. I am a four year-old who has been denied lollies. Rather than stomp and scream, I sloth and fantasise about blood. In ten days I should have been celebrating my five year anniversary with M, instead I will spend the day helping my lovely C move house. I’m not over the break up yet, but I do feel better about it – not about life in general, but I don’t cry every time he pops into my mind now. I see it as a good sign that I have a crush on two other people, one of these can’t be acted on, but the other, maybe one day – not yet. I have 26 kilos to drop before I can consider myself good looking once more, I have achieved 5 so far, it’s easier to diet when you just refuse to let anything bad into the house (last night was an exception L). I actually think I’m quite good looking when I’m not fat, I don’t think many people can see that in themselves, but I used to be pleased by what looked back through the mirror (except the legs, they’re just gross). If I drop the 26kg I’ll be prettier than when I started seeing M, but I’ll be crazier, maybe someone will still want me. Mmm, I’m not in a writing mood, too busy wallowing – need some mud and wine.

A List

This isn’t a very long list, until recently I wouldn’t have been able to name one, but here we go. Good things about singleness:

• I can have as many crushes as I like, three is the current count!
• I can fantasise about my future menagerie, with or without a partner who would also like a menagerie.
• I only have my own insecurities to deal with.
• I can diet without something beautiful being eaten in my presence (although I was usually the culprit).
• I get to watch any movie I want, be it at the cinema or at home – though finding someone to accompany me is now harder.
• Without the reality of partner’s career as an anchor I can fantasise about doing almost anything with my life, anywhere in the world.

Feel free to comment, I could do with some additions.

Postscript:

• I can cook with mushrooms, and not omit tomatoes from salads

Some Purpose

I’m still not too sure what to do with this blog, I think I want to talk more about borderline personality disorder rather than just random things going on in my life; there will still be updates on me, I think they are useful and provide a personalised description of what it is like to live with borderline. I suffer also from anxiety and depression, but they are better understood (not by everyone) so I will not include much information or musings about them.

So Borderline...

This is from Wikipedia but my psychologist told me it’s actually accurate because it’s straight from the DSM:

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders fourth edition, DSM IV-TR, a widely used manual for diagnosing mental disorders, defines borderline personality disorder (in Axis II Cluster B) as:^[1][14]

A pervasive pattern of instability of interpersonal relationships, self-image and affects, as well as marked impulsivity, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:

1.      Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment. 

2.      A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation.

3.      Identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self.

4.      Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g., promiscuous sex, eating disorders, binge eating, substance abuse, reckless driving). Note: Do not include suicidal or self-injuring behaviour covered in Criterion 5

5.      Recurrent suicidal behaviour, gestures, threats or self-injuring behavior such as cutting, interfering with the healing of scars (excoriation) or picking at oneself.

6.      Affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood (e.g., intense episodic dysphoria, irritability or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days).

7.      Chronic feelings of emptiness

8.      Inappropriate anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g., frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights).

9.      Transient, stress-related paranoid ideation, delusions or severe dissociative symptoms

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borderline_personality_disorder

As stated above, one only needs to display five of these symptoms to be diagnosed as borderline - I lack many of them, thankfully.

A little more information about the actual sufferer rather than just the cold hard facts of the symptoms:

·         BPD is a complex disorder that is often misunderstood.

·         Not all people who harm themselves have BPD. While self-harm is common among people with BPD, not all those who do this have the disorder. People may self-harm for other reasons such as low self esteem, to momentarily express and release emotional pain or even to punish themselves. This may relate to a mental illness, a disorder or emotional problem unrelated to BPD.

·         People with BPD are not ‘bad’. The anger and rejection that people with BPD display mean they are sometimes labelled as ‘bad,‘ ‘manipulative’ or ’attention-seeking’. While things they do may at times lead to confusion, distress or inconvenience for other people, it should be remembered that this behaviour results from feelings of fear, loneliness, desperation, or hopelessness associated with BPD.

·         People with BPD can get better. Contrary to common belief, people with BPD can recover well with appropriate ongoing treatment and support. While there is no cure yet, BPD is a treatable disorder.

http://www.sane.org/information/factsheets-podcasts/160-borderline-personality-disorder

A little aside on self harm as it confuses most people:

The only people I’ve encountered who understand self harm are professionals and people who’ve been there. Self harm is not a half hearted suicide attempt or attention seeking - though often it needs medical attention. People usually do it in areas which aren’t seen by the general public - this is to avoid the attention. There are exceptions to this, sometimes the impulsivity totally takes over and the most convenient area of skin is used, there can also be hesitation marks from when more serious action is considered but when it comes to it cowardice (or sense) wins. These exceptions are the only scars you might get a glimpse of.

Today a friend of mine who I met in hospital joined a facebook group called Borderline Personality Disorder Support Page – I joined too. Through this page I found a few other helpful websites, I will use them to help me write some future posts.

I can’t credit this image to any particular person; I don’t like to use things I can’t reference so to do my best I can say it is from the facebook page of the group just mentioned and can be found in the wall photos folder. It is a little gory, but it tells you more than I could ever write.

A little me update:

My birthday sucked. Coffee with C in the morning was the only saving grace, it just went downhill from there; five valium only just got me through the day. I was very emotional about not having M around to celebrate with me; my dad was drunk (not an unusual occurrence) and not being very nice and I didn’t even have a birthday cake, I was going to make my own but lacked the energy.

Side effects from Lamictal are getting a lot worse. Every afternoon - I think as it’s starting to wear off - I get very dizzy and tired; my vision is becoming poor and I feel dumb; I have a poor vocabulary, no memory and a poor attention span. I saw my GP on Thursday for prescriptions to get me through to my psychiatrist appointment on Jan 12. I asked her if she would be comfortable changing the doses around because this really isn’t a great way to feel. She said she could but was very reluctant as it’s not her area and she could very easily make me worse, so I have to stick it out for one month and one day (not that I’m counting).

I interviewed a prospective housemate today, she loved the house and we got along well, she’s agreed to move in; now I just have to find one more person. Move is on the 18^th, I can’t wait to be back in the East.

Bolte Bridge

You know how yesterday I said there would probably be more admissions in the future – well I was right. There was a little incident last night involving two separate stops on the Bolte Bridge, a police car and two ambulances. It ended with me spending the night in the Royal Melbourne, seeing my psychiatrist this morning (which was scheduled anyway) and being told I’m going back to the psych hospital as soon as there’s a bed (probably next week). I don’t think I was actually going to do anything last night, I just hoped that by peering at death I might be frightened into realising that I wanted to live, or sure that I didn’t – just something that’s not this fog I’m in now. I was driving towards the exit for the bridge and my car almost took its self there, it was very impulsive (the first time).

For your information the bridge isn’t actually that high, I’m not convinced you’d die on impact with the water and drowning is not how I want to go! The design is also kind of inviting to jumpers, if you got over the (low) handrail you could just slide off like a playground slide, a little bad design I think – or one last pleasure for the people who now can’t jump off the Westgate thanks to the fences.

Post bridge episode: I’m home and have to try and behave for a while, there are many impulses which need to be ignored. I feel a little silly because I called the cat team on myself (I was stuck and confused, I didn’t know what to do next); I feel guilty for worrying my parents, and angry that it didn’t achieve anything. The upcoming hospital admission won’t be as long as the last one, this will be a focused drug re-jig, I think he already has some ideas in mind and he suggested that it should only be a two week stay – it’s better than 7!

I wasn’t going to post this, it’s very personal and I can’t make people un-read it if I change my mind; but this blog is where I’m honest. So here I am honestly saying that life is hard at the moment, I wish I could see it getting better, but I can’t. I really think this is it for me, emptiness, loneliness and the inability to jump – meaning I have to live with it for the rest of my natural life...

Three Months On

It is three months today – well tonight around 8pm – since I lost my love, my M. Since coming to hospital this time around I haven’t shed a tear, whereas even up to the day before admission I was crying heavily every day. I don’t know if I’ve suddenly got over the whole ordeal, just a little bit, or if I’ve buried the hurt further than I had been able to. I am leaning toward the latter due to the suddenness of the change. Although this may not be a good thing I am enjoying not seeing that ghastly creature with puffy eyes staring back at me from the mirror.

One good thing has come out of the breakup and that is the discovery of my new church, I wouldn’t have found it without the suggestion from pastoral carer here, and I wouldn’t have come here without the breakup. In the next few months I hope to find a nice place to rent near church, somewhere I can share with two other people and where I can have a dog and my precious cat. I don’t have a dog yet so I also hope to get a Great Dane puppy in the next few months, the house will have to come first. That is my ideal plan, I also have a more sinister plan which tempts me greatly, but which I am terrified of. At this point in my life I wish I knew nothing of God, had never heard of Jesus and thought there was no eternity; under these circumstances I would happily take my own life today, but I am blessed to know the Lord. The blessing is also a burden, for I know that eternity can either be very good or very bad. I don’t believe that suicide sends one right to hell, but I don’t want my last act on earth to be sinful and I haven’t done much in my life to please God, I’ve accepted salvation and rested on my behind ever since, I think that would place me on the periphery of Heaven.

I don’t know if I have the strength to battle on through this illness and I don’t know if I have the courage to end my life, knowing that it won’t actually be the end. I am truly stuck.

Sorry for the depressing post, I’ll try to write something chirpier next time. K.

Lester, My Love

The last week has been particularly hard for me, nothing I can think of has happened to trigger it, but since Wednesday or Thursday I’ve been feeling much worse. I hardly left my room on Friday, and on Saturday my mum practically dragged me out of the house. I’m constantly having to apologise to my mum for my behaviour; she’s tasting my wrath the most because she’s the only one who checks up on me and tries to get me out and about. I know she is trying to help and I shouldn’t be lashing out at her, but I do. I pushed her on Saturday because she was standing too close and wouldn’t move, immediately I felt terrible and apologised. I’m not a violent person and it came out of nowhere, she took it in her stride and didn’t seem to mind, making me feel even guiltier.  As well as all this pent up anger, my anxiety has increased and mood significantly decreased. I’ve needed more valium to control the shaking that comes with anxiety and that also helps with the sharp mood changes, but not enough. Despite seeing four friends in the last week I’ve felt lonelier than ever, thank you to C.O, M.M, C.M and M.S for taking the time to spend with me, and sorry if I was bad company.

Given my decrease in mood and constant feeling of loneliness I have asked M (the ex for new readers) if I may bring Lester (cat) to live at my parents while I am here. I was reluctant to do this because I will have to give him back when I return to my own house (no pets aloud), unless I am able to find somewhere else to live where he can come; Also I fear that he may escape, my dad isn’t very good at shutting doors and Lester is an indoor-only boy. I might have to put signs on all the doors as a reminder. I expect M will have no problems with this arrangement, and hopefully having Lester with me will brighten my world; I love him dearly, to the point where I used to miss him when I went out for only a few hours, let alone these weeks I’ve spent away from him.

35

My mother cares about me more than - prior to my hospital admission - I thought she did, and it is hard on me knowing this now. It was not my intention to end up in the emergency department 35 days ago, on that Friday night; that night that simultaneously feels like this morning and like a distant memory. No, I had no plans for that night, my plans for the following days, however, had been made carefully but they were thwarted by a spontaneous act performed out of despair. I’ve had 35 days to cool off, I’m no longer determined to carry out my plans and I know that if I did they would really hurt my mother. I didn’t think anyone would care very much, a little upset maybe, but nothing life changing. I’m angry with my mother for putting this burden of love on me. For the last two years M has been the only thing keeping me here, not because I wanted to be with him, but because I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him. After M ended things I had a brief window where I thought I could have been free of anyone’s love, free to do as I wish without fear of causing significant pain to anyone. I missed the window because of that stupid act 35 days ago, that stupid act that in a twisted way saved my life.

Coffee Date?

I am home now, not at my home, at my parents’. I don’t like it here but I accept that it is better for me than essentially being alone. I should sleep better here; I’ve never encountered a bed as hard as the one I’ve been in the last four nights, my legs have been aching all day and night. I’m not sure my time in hospital achieved much, my doctor admitted that I was mainly there for containment because I didn’t have the ability to keep myself safe. I don’t feel as impulsive as the day I arrived, so I guess that’s an improvement and everyone says my demeanour is a lot better too. I still look in the mirror and see the worn out figure of the woman I once was, I haven’t looked alive since all this happened.

I feel foolish, what sort of pathetic person ends up in hospital over a relationship break up? Me, the sort who has nothing else! I now enter what I expect will be the loneliest time of my life. I am far away from my two close friends who I think I have overworked in the last few weeks, my cat is with the ex, the ex doesn’t love me and his love made everything in the world OK (which I know is the problem). I have to accept that I am at rock bottom and try to climb up rather than give up; which now that I am out of hospital I have far greater ability to do.

If you like me and are wondering if I’d like to join you for a coffee - or tea, I like tea - the answer is yes and the best time to call is around... now! (Although K will not be leaving the house again until tomorrow) What a pathetic creature I am.

Visit

I had a nice night with the ex last night. He came to visit and I got through the whole night without tears, that is until the second he left and the string holding my heart together snapped. About half an hour before his visit a lovely Filipino (?) woman approached me in the hall, stroked my cheek and said I have the most beautiful face, she then walked on, within a few minutes she was walking back the other way, she stopped pointed at me and said “don’t you forget”. I’m more than a little overweight at the moment, but when I’m not fat I’d actually agree with her, I do have a nice face. A nice face isn’t enough to keep a man though, or get one it seems. The ex was my first boyfriend and I didn’t get him until I was 21, hardly anyone had looked twice at me before that. Now I’m 25, 15 kilos heavier and in possession of a fantastic mental illness. Bring on spinsterhood.

Four and Four

We stopped celebrating monthly anniversaries long ago, but today would have been four years and four months; instead it’s just the 19th of June.

Lester, My Friend

I’m really missing Lester, my cat, today. I’ve never been away from him for this long and I’m going to have to get used to it because I won’t be living with him anymore. He’s my friend, not just a pet. Hopefully I can visit him regularly without destroying any chance I have of recovering from the break up.

Day 14 (depending on where you start counting)

Please note, this post is being written by a seriously doped K.

Today I have been in this psych hospital for 14 days. It is strange to imagine that only 13 mornings ago I woke up so terrified that my entire body was shaking. In these 14 days I have met some lovely people, who have, of course gone home. I’ve nearly finished making a boxy thing in the craft room - the box is covered in dirt and sticks. I’ve had many sessions with my psychiatrist; a family meeting which revealed the nasty truth to one member; I’ve had less and less contact with my loved one, who I have accepted I will never get back – and I don’t want him back. I’ve been put on a new drug, which seems to be working really well. I’m still a hermit, I spend most of my time in my room writing these silly posts, spying on people through facebook and watching the gazillions of TV shows I have on my hard drive. I know I should be using this time to read, I still have five sixths of the Iliad waiting for me; but my brain is just too mushy to focus – I can’t even absorb a whole newspaper article, usually I can get through everything that catches my eye on The Age’s website. I’ve seen my lovely Chantelle more in this last fortnight than I usually see in a few months. And, I think I’m getting better. Perfection is miles away and I know I will never get there, but here is better than where I was. The main reason for my admission is still a problem, so I don’t think discharge is around the corner, but we’ll see. As you may have read in my previous post, going home is not without its own problems.

Conclusion of post is ummm it’s day 14!