Futile. Life seems futile.
I'm not sad. I'm not happy either, though everyone thinks I am.
I'm not angry. I'm not at peace either.
I'm not scared. I'm certainly not calm though.
I've got that "urgh" feeling in my chest/throat. Like someone trying to strangle you, willing you to stop breathing. It feels horrible. Really horrible. Has only come on in the last 8 or so hours, but hasn't left.
I am not going to do anything, but sitting with these feelings hurts. I am coming up to a year out of hospital, a year without purging, a year without crisis team intervention. My 6 month trial period at work has only 6 weeks left, it is bound to made permanent. Spoke to someone this morning about arrangements for a week-long residential course I am doing in the summer - I need to have extra support basically.
It is April. April was when I was first admitted to hospital, it was horrible. Complete disrespect of the poor children on the same unit - being given medications which turned them into dozy bodies (not even dozy people), not reacting to stimuli. Then being forced to stay awake during the day by someone literally poking them and pulling their hair. Horrible.
I was different as I was the oldest, just a few months before I officially turned into an adult. I was studying for my A levels, and had a conditional place to do a 4 year course resulting in a Masters, and big exams only weeks away. Most people in there hadn't had any formal education for years, if ever. One boy just needed someone to accept him, listen to him talk about his chosen subject - mostly a cartoon about cars. He was lovely when I took an interest in that. Turned into an angry 11 year old when he felt ignored, which happened often, as he was ignored. The psychiatrist that admitted me was horrible, and my care team who took me there made a formal complaint about his unprofessional manner. I was shown a horrible existence in there, one which I never want another child to ever go through.
I'm feeling shit today. Walked across town to get a Railcard for my new found freedom on trains to cost less. Applied for student ID, so my new found freedom for solo concert trips costs less.
New found freedom scares me. Freedom means I could go backwards very quickly. I could end up being found at a station looking at the rails. Or in a pharmacy. Or on the busy dual-carriageway. Or walking down the street with vomit down my front. In the back of an ambulance. On 24 hour watch...
Maybe this is what finishing psychological therapy is about? Been nearly a month since I saw my psychologist, seeing her next week, then an even longer stretch between appointments. At other points in the past, feeling this bad would result in my care team being involved, maybe crisis team if care team couldn't cope with it. But today, not even my Mum knows I'm feeling shit. I've got to the stage where inside I'm feeling like a bit of rusty barbed wire, but outside I'm smiling. People are so happy for me to be happy. For me to be getting back to a normal shape (medication changed that, but I have lost nearly 4 stone since July last year when I took myself off them all). For me to be "flourishing" or "giddily happy" or "just smiling" means others feel my life is back on track.
"If I make others happy, I feel bit better about myself" was always a motto. So I did just that, I tried to make others happy. Now it seems I have succeeded in making others happy, but I'm feeling worse about me. Seems futile.
Life is chaotic. People come and go. I work hard to make a difference, and people are indifferent about it. Not realising what a difference the lack of this work would have. Everyone seems to have become complacent. Somehow I have become part of the furniture. Just an accepted being in the scheme of things.
When I was on the edge - flitting from crisis team to general hospital to psych ward to a few weeks at home, to crisis point again - people seemed grateful of me just *being*. They could see I was hurting, they could see I was vacant, but if I turned up to something, people seemed glad to see me. See me trying to be in normal society.
Now, I'm just here. Not on the edge, not actively running at the metaphorical cliff trying to jump off, everyone has just gone "yeah, great, you are so happy, I am so happy to see you blossom into a person" and they think I am suddenly not affected like I was.
Doesn't feel so bad, but people having hope and faith in me sends me into complete panic. I'm going to let them down. At some point. Whether it be another hospital stay. Or even just moving away to start a new stage in this life of mayhem - they'll think I have abandoned them. I'm going to let them down. They will see how horrible my head is, and be disappointed in themselves for ever believing I was good.
My chest and throat hurt. My mouth feels like I have been purging daily for weeks. My stomach feels like I have taken several overdoses. My feet feel like I have hurt them too. I have bits of unexplained raw skin, unexplained bruises, mouth ulcers. Sometimes my head causes the rest of me to fall to pieces. Today that has made me feel rubbish.
Smiling on the outside. I'm not smiling on the inside. I'm not crying either. Devoid of emotions, devoid of meaning. Existing. Lacking anything, apart from too many memories and a few too many ounces of insight. This is shit. Horrible.