Carrot

I don't go to one of those churches with flashing lights, smoke machines, music designed to hype you up and sermons that always have you leaving feeling special. I don't agree with artificially bringing on hysteria in order to fake a spiritual experience, and thus raise attendance. But I do feel in need of a little carrot, it seems like my church is all stick. None of us will ever be good enough, but we don't need to be because when God looks at us he sees Jesus' blood rather than all our inadequacies. I like communion for this reason, it gives us a physical reminder that we are cleansed, not by our own achievements, good works and lack of sin, but by His blood. We only do communion monthly in my congregation (I'd like fortnightly), I've started putting the dates in my calendar so I actually go that week. The most reminding I've had lately that God actually loves me has come from an elderly woman who forced her company upon me in a cafe, and whom I later bumped into whilst serving at a dinner for the underprivileged at her church.  People say encouraging things, but it usually feels just like words which the last seven years of my life bring doubt upon; this woman has the gift, gets under my skin.

At the moment I need affirmation of God's mercy. I'm still in hospital, as it doesn’t feel safe to go home. There's enough of me that wants to live that I'm not absconding and going home to kill my self, but left to my own devices at home the strong, negative power within me would have me dead in a couple of days. The sensible thing to do would be to go home and immediately grab my drug stash and hand it in to my pharmacy. I can't. The part of me that wants to stay alive is small and scared of living; so it needs an exit plan. What I need is the assurance that God's mercy is greater than the sin of my final act on Earth being murder of self. I don't believe that if we fail to confess a sin we are not forgiven for it, we can't remember everything we've ever done and thought. So perhaps suicide is just another un-confessed sin. It does take away from God the power to teach through suffering, and perhaps (but I believe unlikely) to glorify himself through healing. But suicide is much like dying from any disease, it's the illness that kills you. In my case BPD, depression and anxiety. Is it a sin to die from an illness? A friend, K, learnt a lot about grace last year and has given me droplets of it. I think God understands. And I think we've got church and small groups quite wrong.

Three Bottles of Scotch

I only have 19 imovane and less than a gram of Largactil, definitely not enough for a suicide attempt, but combined with a few bottles of scotch, maybe. I’ve spent this afternoon googling the effects of overdosing on various over the counter medications thinking I could use them to supplement my meager supply of prescription meds; it is not to be, they would all cause liver damage and are very unlikely to deliver a nice fast death – or any death at all, just the liver damage. I’m sure it’s obvious by now that I’m not well but I’m not in a pit of depression either. I’m trying to deal with two conflicting things, one being my faith and I’m very stressed about my future. I can’t see past this period of inactivity I’m in. I’m trying to hold off on the suicide plans until I find out if I’ve been accepted to the teaching course I’ve applied for because that will provide me with daily activity and give me a future. My writing course, when it recommences, will provide me with activity too but not a future stable career and something to do with my days until retirement.

I saw my doctor today and he suggested another short admission and maybe ECT if things keep getting worse. I’ve come close to calling him a few times today to arrange the admission as my thoughts have been on nothing but death but I don’t want to go in and it would put more stress on my family which they don’t need at the moment with dad still being in hospital and my aunt and uncle over from the UK to see us.  I think I’ll just ride this out. If you have time to spend with me please do the boredom and loneliness aren't helping. 

Shackled

After a long and complicated discussion with a friend yesterday I’ve accepted that my faith is in a terrible state and this really needs to change. In recent days I’ve accepted something that may tear me away from Christianity completely; and because I don’t feel I have a relationship with God but merely follow all the rules thinking that’s what makes me a Christian I don’t feel I have God’s help as I face this situation. I’ve been attending church regularly since I was 14; I’ve been praying little prayers throughout the day and longer ones at night, reading the bible and attending bible studies. I’ve sought to obey all the rules and suggestions the church has - these are usually drawn right out of the bible and therefore are from God and I’ve assumed that all these things would be pleasing to God and are what a Christian should do. I don’t know how many times I’ve asked for salvation and for the holy spirit to come into my life, you would think that once would do! I don’t know if I haven’t been truly repentant and so it hasn’t worked or if as it should it worked the first time when I was 14 and there’s some other problem in me. I’ve never felt the influence of the spirit, I’ve never heard from God, reading the bible is just like reading any other book and praying is like talking to the ground or ceiling. If my faith doesn’t soon become a genuine relationship with God where I feel a connection to him, and the thing in my life which defines me I will end up resenting it and turn away or be very miserable for the rest of my life trying to follow rules that I don’t want to but feel I have to.  I know faith isn’t about feelings but there ought to be some, it is after all a relationship. All logic tells me to persevere and try to fix my faith but then there’s the part of me that says I’m never going to have the relationship with God that all the Christians I know seem to have and that I should pursue this sin that’s tempting me. I hope more help from friends and from my churches pastoral carer (though I’m a bit frightened of that conversation) will change things for the better, I really don’t want to lose my faith if I have one. I want to love God.

Comments are very welcome, I could use your advise. Or PM me through facebook for a more private discussion.

Some Musings

For the last few years I have been defined by my illness, it’s really all there was to me and now that it is mostly gone I don’t know who I am or what to do with myself. I no longer spend my days in a pit of despair thinking about death or what I’ll use to cut my self to pieces. I’m not on a long list of medications and grappling with whether or not I should be in hospital; I’m just existing. I’m still on Imovane to help me sleep and about once a week I take a Largactil when I start to feel impulsive / dangerous and that’s it. Tomorrow I’m seeing my psychiatrist and it will be a very hard consultation because there will be so little to talk about. I’m going to ask if I can start seeing him fortnightly because the weekly consultations are just a waste of time and money at the moment. I’ll have to see him next Friday because I’ll be away the following week, but after that I think fortnightly consultations are a good idea.

I went to the supermarket an hour ago and on the way there I decided to buy some razor blades just incase I wanted to self harm. The temptation to do it was there so I thought I should have the necessary tools handy. It took me about 30 seconds to talk myself out of it, something I would have never been able to do in the past. It’s been over two months since I self harmed, quite the record! I don’t want to mess it up now; plus it’s summer, the scars would be hard to hide. I feel so ashamed of my left arm, it’s a complete mess and one of the scars is staying red, it’s right in the middle of my arm and has been there a while, it’s just not fading. I recently met a man who I quite liked, I was sitting opposite him for hours and had to reach across the table a bit, there’s no way he didn’t notice the mess that is my arm and I felt so awkward about it. Before I even get a chance to know someone they can make a pretty good guess that I’m messed up, so this is regret!

My dad was readmitted to hospital today after staying up all night in agony. I doubt it will be a long admission, the pain is most likely being caused by the radiotherapy treatment he’s having on his spine. He was told the treatment would make things worse before getting better, no one expected it to be this bad though. He’s been having a very hard time of late, the growth on his spine sends pain all over his body, everything hurts and he’s just miserable. I know death comes for us all, but this is just cruel. Dad’s cancer will claim his life but not in the immediate future, the poor thing has years of discomfort to endure first. He’s not at death’s door so even if euthanasia were legal I expect it wouldn’t yet be available to him but this is making me think about the issue more. Setting aside my religious beliefs, logic and compassion say to me that a quick escape from a slow and painful demise should be available to everyone; it’s very hard to make that sit well with my faith though. I don’t think it will be long before euthanasia is legal, along with other things the church opposes. When my time comes, despite my faith I don’t know if I could endure extreme pain when an escape is available and God is compassionate, perhaps he would understand.

A Post on Faith

Tonight I stayed back after church for some prayer regarding my salvation or lack of, it fit in well with the passage preached on tonight and the answer I was given is to obey, believe that Jesus is the messiah and obey God's commands. God wouldn't want me to jump off the Bolte bridge, so I shouldn't, God wants me to continue going to church so I should. I may not feel anything, but I've accepted Christ, from there I'm doing what I can. I know there are many people within the (wider and my) church who are suffering and holding onto their faith just fine, in some cases it has made them even stronger; for me it hasn't worked that way. I'm hanging in there, going to church and feeling inadequate as I watch the people around me raise their hands in worship while I struggle to make myself sing and mean the words coming from my mouth. I bow my head in prayer and just feel like I'm sending thoughts off to the floor. I read my bible sometimes at home, not as much as I should, but again it feels like nothing, just like I'm reading any other book that I'm not enjoying, but I still try and I think that deserves some credit. I still pray nearly every night as well as little ones throughout the day but I still feel like I'm praying to nothing. My athiest readers will be thinking "well that's because you are", but I don't think I am. I believe there is a God who cares about me and listens to me, but I just can't connect with him. I want to be dead, I don't like the thought of leaving hurt people behind, but I love the thought of being with Christ and away from my troubles here. L wants me to go back to hospital because these thoughts are becoming worse, maybe she's right. I don't want to hurt people, that's totally against my nature, I just want to be free.

Saturday Thoughts

Barbara’s funeral was on Thursday, it was a nice service, with a lot of people there – many of them very old. I cried all the way through and a bit more at the end, it felt right and good to get the tears out. As I was about to leave a lady approached me, put her hand on my back and said “I just really felt like I should talk to you, I wonder if you could be one of the people Barbara asked me to pray for”. I gave her my name and yes, there was some sort of connection between us, Barbara and hospital A (who banned me). She is part of a evangelical mental health support group and gave me her details in case I want to have coffee, it’s interesting because my friend and I were thinking of doing something similar at our church, it could be good to hear what they do.

In other news: insomnia sucks, I woke at 4 this morning, got up eventually and watched an episode of House, hoping it would make me tired, nope! I went back to bed at 7 and got up at 11, I don’t know how much sleep I got in-between. I haven’t been very well for a few days, I’m kind of faking wellness to my parents, I’m sure it’s the sleep trouble and grief. I had a genuinely good time last night playing board games with some friends and a semi stranger who is a bit less strange now. I didn’t win, but I only just came second in both games, so I feel quite satisfied.

I’ve started drawing a play, I’ve never started the process visually before, it’s proving interesting.

For Want of a...

My favourite side effect of Lovan (that’s the antidepressant) is loss of libido; it completely eliminates it and makes life for a single woman so much easier. It’s back and I don’t want it! I’m almost tempted to increase my dose just so I get the side effect back and also to upset my stomach again so I can’t eat and keep losing weight – I’ve stagnated at -11kg. I am currently attracted to one man, who I’d say is in my league, but I think he deserves better than a scarred, insane, sometimes suicidal, B.P.D girl; I was thinking about that last night and realised that all I really deserve is an unemployed drunken abusive lout - they say girls marry similar to their father (though mine is a hard worker). Life with me is going to be a punishment, the man I like deserves reward; a man like my father deserves me. It almost makes sense to give up the faith, give up the idea of monogamy and shag whoever I please, I could never do that, but I wonder if the end result may be better.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The Next Two Days

I don’t like to post twice in one day, but the earlier one wasn’t planned...

Last night was a little chaotic, it involved a hastily arranged GP trip and an early night. Today involved another (planned) GP trip and a promise not to do anything bad until I see her again next week, we reached a compromise on nothing that requires medical attention (that means I can shallowly finish the unicyclist). I had a good God talk with my dear friend C today, it cleared up a lot things I was confused about, among one of them predestination - God doesn’t want me, I’m not predestined, as much as I might want to be a Christian I can’t because he didn’t pick me. The flaws in that thought are easy to pick out, but it’s still an enticing belief. I mentioned yesterday that being unsure of my salvation keeps me here. C suggested that if I was sure of my salvation that I may want to stick around and show my thanks for it (not her exact words).

I know I talk very lightly about self harm and suicide; it’s not because I think them minor issues, but because for me they are common, constant thoughts and to not talk about them is to omit a large chunk of my head space. I think talking about it frankly is not a harmful thing for me, or for others. More people struggle with this than anyone realises, people you would never imagine even considering it have at least tried it. I hope that when you are confronted by this issue from one of your loved ones, having read about it from my perspective will help you understand them a little better. If you don’t think you know anyone who has or is struggling with this, you’re wrong, or you don’t know many people.

I hit a vein last night, I thought it would scare me, but it didn't, this worries me, I’m only annoyed by the ache it has left.

A Slightly Saner Post

I try not to censor myself too much on this blog; which (in part) is why I don’t tell the world of its existence. I write what I am thinking and feeling even in the times when I would be better off taking a bath or a handful of valium! Sometimes I read a post a few days later, turn bright red and resist the urge to delete it; I think it is these posts which make the blog more than just a description of hospitals and drugs, they are the posts which let you see me. I can’t say I don’t mean what I say in them, because often they are written in my most unhindered state, they are the most truthful posts you will find in here.  I look back on them and see the poor logic, the unnecessary stressing about a future which is not written in stone, but I can’t deny the truth in them, they are a record of my journey.

Unless I change my mind about it I now have a home to call my own in a suburb I wish to be in, this brings its own stresses, but the independence will do me good. I really need a new permanent psychiatrist, my drugs are so wrong, I can feel it. I’m considering playing around with the doses myself – something that will probably have me seeing purple dragons, but it may be worth a try. I am feeling worse by the day, and trying not to let my parents see this is tiring, if they knew what my brain was doing to me I wouldn’t get a moments peace and peace is what I need most.

I wouldn’t wish this mess upon anyone but it has been good to hear the experiences of others. There are two women I keep in touch with from the hospital, another from church and I had a chance encounter two days ago with someone I’ve known - but not closely - for many years. It is amazing to be able to talk with these people, unlike anyone else they know exactly what I mean, they understand the muddled thought processes, but despite their own struggles they have wisdom to offer, they can share their baby steps of progress and that gives me a little hope.

I apologise for my writing being messier than usual in the last few posts, I don’t have the energy to edit properly or check 50 times for grammatical and punctuation errors – I usually miss half of them anyway!

Red Mesh Spider Horse Thing

Tomorrow should be home day but I see no end in sight. Medication re-jigs have gone terribly; mood has plummeted, agitation and anger has sky rocketed and self harm urges are becoming much more violent – I’m not acting on them don’t worry. Last night I saw a flood of bright red shapes and figures moving around the room and circling me (I was wide awake – I was standing up). At first I was utterly terrified, but once I realised it was purely visual I relaxed a bit and tried to interact with it – I could push it, I could let it crawl up my arm, and if I blew it would move away the way you’d expect a spider-web to move but then return. It only happened in the dark; as soon as the lights came on it disappeared, but I tested it a number of times to see if it would come back, and each time I turned off the lights there it was but in a different form each time – often quite sinister looking. I don’t know what to make of it because technically for something to be a hallucination the person experiencing it has to believe it is actually happening, whereas I was completely lucid during the experience. Don’t get me wrong, I am completely freaked out by the episode and wonder if it is from medications, the nature of my illness changing or even a spiritual attack – though I would think if it was a demonic thing I’d be terrified throughout and if it was an angelic thing there would be a complete absence of fear and a feeling of comfort. I was certainly not comforted, but not terrified for very long, eventually I was able to play with it a bit... Confusing, yes!


Post your thoughts below, I’m interested to hear what you think. The nurses said they haven’t heard of anything quite like that before and I am yet to see my doctor today.

I don’t have much else to say, come visit, I’ve only had two non-parent visitors (thank you to A and C) Oh actually I do have a little more to say. I’ve been house hunting and have come across one which I’m currently applying for and I hope to inspect several others on Saturday, the big challenge will be finding house-mates (and a garden big enough for a great dane and a nice outdoor entertaining area and a huge kitchen and a separate laundry all within the Blackburn area - don’t like my chances!)

That's Right, God Made Them Too

I constantly have to remind myself that God didn’t just make me and all those other lovely people who fill - or partially occupy - the churches every Sunday. God also made the woman who stank of cigarettes and filth; he made the pharmacist who messed up; he made the people who can’t drive. Maybe these people, filth and all please him more than I do with my strong opinions and self loathing. You don’t have to smell good to have faith.