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.
Showing posts with label muddled head. Show all posts
Showing posts with label muddled head. Show all posts
Monday, 12 April 2010
Monday, 11 January 2010
Looooong post
Set alarms early. Just in case the snow had gone, and I would get to my appointment. Woke up enough to snooze them/turn them off after about 5 post-snooze alarms, but was basically not going to wake up. I felt rubbish.
At the appointment time, Mum came in and put the phone by my bed, saying that she had spoken to someone at the office, and my psychologist will ring to check on me as we haven't seen each other since before Christmas (snow prevented last week's appointment too.) Psych rang. We spoke for about an hour on the phone, I was sitting in bed, still under the duvet, still in my pyjamas, still with a teddy under my arm. She didn't know those things though. Anyway, we spoke for ages on the phone. I said something (I forget what exactly, I don't assimilate auditory information well, that is why I avoid phones) and she got concerned. I have told her I'm not in danger, I'm not about to do anything, but she is worried. She booked a time for end of the week (shouldn't be seeing her again until next week earliest), and told me my CPN would ring later to discuss supporting me (I was meant to see CPN today too).
CPN rang to make sure I was safe, and to chat about stuff. She is going to come around in a few days to "check on" me, and to speak to me. If her car is not stuck in snow... She seemed concerned too.
One syllable (yes) to a question my psych asked me has led to this. A complete over-reaction. I'm not about to be found somewhere by the police, not now. For one thing, it is far too cold out there for me. Ok, stupid response, but I'm not going to be found by the police anywhere, and needing hospitals or ambulances or someone to take my body away, or emergency psych assessments. I'm not. So why are they doing all this "calm-panic" mode stuff?
In a normal week, I could have 2 - maybe 3 - bits of contact with the team. A psychologist appointment, a STR worker, and a CPN. The latter two tend to see me alternate weeks, psychologist every week normally. I don't see a psychiatrist at the moment, as I'm not on medication (my choice, after over 5.5 years of being medicated, I took myself off them, about 7 months ago). This week, I currently have 4 contact sessions planned/happened today, and my STR worker might ring if she can get through the snow.
I'm not complaining about all this support, I know I'm very lucky to get it. But it isn't hugely necessary, in my opinion. Let me just hope the crisis team aren't going to become involved, as I am not in anyway in a crisis.
I want to scream and shout "Go away, help someone who needs it" but they deem me to need the support.
-
What I didn't tell any of them is how bad nights are. I said I'm using my normal strategies, and that I'm usually down at night. In the last week, I've either cried myself to sleep (I don't cry very often at all), written a lot of angst-infested splurge writing (again not often done), hurt myself, or just sat with things in my hands that I *could* hurt myself with for quite literally hours. I get to sleep eventually, and I wake up, feeling very empty of energy. My dreams/nightmares aren't particularly pleasant, and make me feel rubbish.
Psych couldn't understand why self-harm had reduced. It is because I can't trust myself to be "contained" and stop appropriately. Which I admit doesn't sound very positive, but isn't a huge issue.
-
In positive news, everyone has gone back to school today. So I finally got some time in the day when I was alone in the house - that hasn't happened since months ago. I was looking forward to that last week, but snow meant people couldn't get out and about and leave me alone. It felt a bit like a little bit of freedom. Ok, so I couldn't go out, as the phone might have rung, or a parcel might have arrived (I've got a few things I'm waiting for, as have others), but I could do what I wanted. So I didn't have a big meal for lunch, and had it at 2pm, rather than midday. I played piano a bit, received a big parcel of music books (13 books, all with several [up to 150 in one book!] pieces in them - will keep me busy) and flicked through them once I had managed to rip off all the parcel tape and open the box in which they were contained.
I've been "stood down" from working tomorrow, as my boss has cancelled his medical appt. to run the class (the snow has meant the plans put in place to cover the class have not worked), which I suppose is good.
I've also just paid £62 for a driving practical exam for my younger brother. For my bank balance, I hope he passes this one (I've so far paid for 1 practical exam and his driving license...not a cheap idea) and it will also give him a bit of freedom for when cycling isn't an option. I'll do the same for my sister in a couple of years, so she doesn't feel like I've helped out him but not her. Sibling rivalry consists of what the oldest sibling helps both of them do, oh the joys.
-
I'm muddled, basically. I've got lots to say, but words aren't coming out of my mouth in the right way, and people are taking my comments to mean different things. Apparently my voice has gone too loud and monotonic, and I look sad. Nice for them to tell me that, just what I enjoy hearing. *sarcasm*
So yes, I apologise for the length of this, but it has been a long day considering I haven't left the house, or done anything of particular use to outside people.
At the appointment time, Mum came in and put the phone by my bed, saying that she had spoken to someone at the office, and my psychologist will ring to check on me as we haven't seen each other since before Christmas (snow prevented last week's appointment too.) Psych rang. We spoke for about an hour on the phone, I was sitting in bed, still under the duvet, still in my pyjamas, still with a teddy under my arm. She didn't know those things though. Anyway, we spoke for ages on the phone. I said something (I forget what exactly, I don't assimilate auditory information well, that is why I avoid phones) and she got concerned. I have told her I'm not in danger, I'm not about to do anything, but she is worried. She booked a time for end of the week (shouldn't be seeing her again until next week earliest), and told me my CPN would ring later to discuss supporting me (I was meant to see CPN today too).
CPN rang to make sure I was safe, and to chat about stuff. She is going to come around in a few days to "check on" me, and to speak to me. If her car is not stuck in snow... She seemed concerned too.
One syllable (yes) to a question my psych asked me has led to this. A complete over-reaction. I'm not about to be found somewhere by the police, not now. For one thing, it is far too cold out there for me. Ok, stupid response, but I'm not going to be found by the police anywhere, and needing hospitals or ambulances or someone to take my body away, or emergency psych assessments. I'm not. So why are they doing all this "calm-panic" mode stuff?
In a normal week, I could have 2 - maybe 3 - bits of contact with the team. A psychologist appointment, a STR worker, and a CPN. The latter two tend to see me alternate weeks, psychologist every week normally. I don't see a psychiatrist at the moment, as I'm not on medication (my choice, after over 5.5 years of being medicated, I took myself off them, about 7 months ago). This week, I currently have 4 contact sessions planned/happened today, and my STR worker might ring if she can get through the snow.
I'm not complaining about all this support, I know I'm very lucky to get it. But it isn't hugely necessary, in my opinion. Let me just hope the crisis team aren't going to become involved, as I am not in anyway in a crisis.
I want to scream and shout "Go away, help someone who needs it" but they deem me to need the support.
-
What I didn't tell any of them is how bad nights are. I said I'm using my normal strategies, and that I'm usually down at night. In the last week, I've either cried myself to sleep (I don't cry very often at all), written a lot of angst-infested splurge writing (again not often done), hurt myself, or just sat with things in my hands that I *could* hurt myself with for quite literally hours. I get to sleep eventually, and I wake up, feeling very empty of energy. My dreams/nightmares aren't particularly pleasant, and make me feel rubbish.
Psych couldn't understand why self-harm had reduced. It is because I can't trust myself to be "contained" and stop appropriately. Which I admit doesn't sound very positive, but isn't a huge issue.
-
In positive news, everyone has gone back to school today. So I finally got some time in the day when I was alone in the house - that hasn't happened since months ago. I was looking forward to that last week, but snow meant people couldn't get out and about and leave me alone. It felt a bit like a little bit of freedom. Ok, so I couldn't go out, as the phone might have rung, or a parcel might have arrived (I've got a few things I'm waiting for, as have others), but I could do what I wanted. So I didn't have a big meal for lunch, and had it at 2pm, rather than midday. I played piano a bit, received a big parcel of music books (13 books, all with several [up to 150 in one book!] pieces in them - will keep me busy) and flicked through them once I had managed to rip off all the parcel tape and open the box in which they were contained.
I've been "stood down" from working tomorrow, as my boss has cancelled his medical appt. to run the class (the snow has meant the plans put in place to cover the class have not worked), which I suppose is good.
I've also just paid £62 for a driving practical exam for my younger brother. For my bank balance, I hope he passes this one (I've so far paid for 1 practical exam and his driving license...not a cheap idea) and it will also give him a bit of freedom for when cycling isn't an option. I'll do the same for my sister in a couple of years, so she doesn't feel like I've helped out him but not her. Sibling rivalry consists of what the oldest sibling helps both of them do, oh the joys.
-
I'm muddled, basically. I've got lots to say, but words aren't coming out of my mouth in the right way, and people are taking my comments to mean different things. Apparently my voice has gone too loud and monotonic, and I look sad. Nice for them to tell me that, just what I enjoy hearing. *sarcasm*
So yes, I apologise for the length of this, but it has been a long day considering I haven't left the house, or done anything of particular use to outside people.
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