how a crap day got even crappier. thanks for that.

Today was my first day back at halls, which as anticipated sucked bigstyle. I was dreading coming back, after seeing a friend/boyfriend at christmas just because this place seems to have this massive depressive impact on me. Possibly something to do with the fact that i spend a lot if time in the room where i tried and nearlt succeded in killing myself, but hey, what can you do. Also a lot to do with the fact that this room is pretty much identical to my room at Liverpool Uni, and that is soo much of a bonus, not.

The thing is, having anticipated today was going to be a massive pile of shit, i had plans-to call people if i needed help, that sort of thing. and mostly it was ok, in between bouts of crying, cos i watched a lot of xmas telly on iplayer and unpacked and generally mooched. And i was ok until i went to eat and ealised that NOTHING had changed. I thought id done well he last week, being away, i tried so hard with food, the effort did my brain in and made me incapable of talking at times. but i just about crawled through. and i got back here, ate then threw up, again and again and again until i made my stomach bleed, kind of like i was making up for the last week or something. what os wrong with me? I know this isnt normal behaviour-oh sorry, excuse me, its BPD behaviour, my mistake.

Then i got a phonecall from the psyc who has been assessing me at the EDS to arrange next appointment, and she asked me how i was, and how the fuck am i supposed to tell her that actually, thanks very much for screwing me over with the BPD thing, cos now i cant ask for help without being told m attention seeking, so no, im not going to tell you that i feel like jumping out of the window. shame i live in a ground floor flat really. So we can all guess how i managed to deal with that little hiccup. Que some DIY 'bodge my cut back together' handywork. cos im not going to A&E to have the attention seeking lecture. So i thought fuck this, im tired, im done in, im going to have a petite little sleep for a bit, and hopefully feel better when i wake up. Which i did until one of my best friends accused me of lying to her. Which i haven't. Ever. which has made me more upset than i ever realised was possible. which is quite a lot, all things considered.

I'm so unhappy. I never wanted any of this. I cant i cant i cant. not any more.

important thought of the day

sometimes i really do wonder why I bother.

lacking inspiration

i dont want to live, but i'm not sure if i wat to die?so where does that leave me?

im really scared about the new term at uni.im scared abut the half stone ive gained back, and im cared that im not going to get any help all over again.

i miss my mum-or the idea about what she should have been.couldhave been. I miss my old life, with ponies, but i made so many enemies whilst being ill i cant go back. my life is empty. the only hobby i want i sponies, and i ive recked it all because all the centres around where i live know me, and know what happened when i was at the top of my game, and how i bombed out. noone wants to know, will touch me with a barge pole.

its so upsetting. ive fucked everything up and its ALL MY FAULT. as usual. i want to cut right through me until there is nothing left. chance would be a fine thing. ive eaten so much over the last few days, having o have meals cos of compnay that if im not sick soon im going to go crazy batshit insane.

how do i save myself?or why would i even bother?

i want my pony back cos he was there when mum wasnt. and i want her to have given a shit.

needing something....but i dont know what

I feel horrid. Like depressed horrid, and also like the most horrid person in the world. Everything feels nasty inside of me. especially the half stone that i suddenly put back on retty much overnight.thanks for that body. I dont want to be me, anyone but me. please. I'm feeling really stressed right now-im worried about what is going to happen with my treatment plan from the hospital-basically nothing, it seems-and about yet more exams in january which means more stress and revision. I need to do well-like this intrunsic need to not fail, but trying to revise makes me freak out and feel stressed and then i end up spending more time freaking out than working. I want to cut myself to pieces and curl up and die.

I just cant do it.its so pathetic i know, because i dont really know whats wrong. but i just feel overwhelmed by life, and the effort of everything. Its so hard to get up out of bed, talk, function. Its christmas-whoop-di-do. I just dont get it.

christmas when i was a kid was a non event. actually thats not really true-it was a god awful nightmare, but you know what i mean. when i was 12, she tried to kill herself. 13- i think that was the time she literally forgot it was christmas. I gave her a present and she dropped it in the bin, in a confused haze. whatever. Christmas dinner was always interesting, as im sure you can imagine. Family-well frankly i dont see the big deal. If anyone had actually cared they would have got me the hell out of there. One christmas i got told i couldnt have dinner because id gained half a kg. fabulous. and a few christmas's in between were spent visiting mum in hospital, whilst she got the tube fed version of dinner. Merry christmas.

now the idea is in my head, i cant get away from it. I mean-mum did it, so where there is a will, theres a way. I think the only way i could manage it is through cutting badly enough. its just there banging away in my head. i want it to go away and leave me alone space to breathe. but i dont, not really. I want my head to tell me how to do it.

Because its not alright and its not ok, and i dont think i can make it anything else.

bad, bad times

someone help mePLEASE.just tell me what to do, and il do it.but it too too hard now.

i wish i was someone else

So, after this post i'm not really feeling it.

It's made me kind of lose sense of who I am-not that I had a lot of that anyway, but they dont feerl like part of me anymore, they feel like this thing, that someone can put in a box and label BPD, not Vics. And it really gets to me because I dont think thats its the right diagnosis, but there is no way of conveying that to anyone without seeming like it IS.ARG. I got some books out of the library at uni, V useful having medical school library at disposal. And they all say that biggest mistake in metal health is labelling people BPD when they have PTSD, because the trauma is then left untreated, and they get worse, making them appear more borderline, when actually they are just traumatised and exhibiting symptoms of this in a variety of ways, eg eating disorders.

I cant take this bullshit anymore. I dont feel well-cos im not well. But apparantly having the insight to understand that im not well means that i get this cop out diagnosis-and clearly is nothin to do with the fact that i watched it all with my mother, so therefore understand where it might be coming from.oh and the fact that i can read.ARG. What am i supposed to do? I want help with my Ed, actually more than anything i think i need medical help with it, because my fluid balanace is prob fairly dire right now because i've been sick a lot over the last few days, washouts and all. And ive puked up what feels like a good glass full of blood. But hey, last time i tried telling a doc about that they thought i was beig hypochondriacal (is that a word?) beacsue of the BPD thing, so actually, why bother.

Yesterday was shit. I had the most compelling urge to chuck myself onto the tube track. I loitered on the platform for about an hour beofremy brain kicked in and started to work again. And it freaked the fuck out of me because i have always been so sure that if i did chose to die, then i would do nothing that would involve another person-train driver etc etc. I dont know whats going wrong with my head. I swing from feeling massively suicidal to okish, and back again. It;s not suicidal in the sense ive felt it before though-its just alll this pent up frustration that nothing is going to change, i thought someone finally got me, and was goingto help and now i find myself with the same old thing again. And the fact that she specifically told me at the first appt that she didnt think i had BPD makes it seem like even more of a massive pile of shit.

I had a really nasty flashback earlier today. it was v difficult to come out of, i felt completely stuck in it, even after it had finished, the thoughts just wouldnt get out of my head.

on top of all this fabulousness one of the people in my flat is being a massive dick and still cannot understand that i do not want him using my stuff to cook with. for the last few days his new thing has been chucking any washing up i have on the side in to a sink full of hios dirty water, normally with bits if meaty food in it. This is because he hates people not doin washing up the second after they have eaten. Actually, in fairness-im kinda with him on that, cos i get a bit ocd like. But i cvannot stand being in the kitchen, or people seeing the evidence of my eating. therefore, i do all food aking and washing up when nooone else is there. we had a flat meeting recently wher i explained thsi to people-which was fairly hideous-and now i just feel like im out and out being bullied.

enough people please.

mixed feelings

Yesterday i had my first physio exam, and hurray, it seems i have made it through an entire term, although i would have to concede that nearly killing myself wasnt the best start to the academic year. Hey ho.

So I've done the student thing-I've turned up to (a few ) lectures, been to all my seminars, practicals and tutorials. I've been hineously drunk and made a tit of myself. I've got dressed up and gone out, I've kissed boys I shouldnt have at SU Disco's and rocked a whole lot of fancy dress outfits. I drank many, many Kahlua based cocktails last night at the end of term/post exam party, declared my ridiculous crish on somebody and fell in a bush on the way home.

I've also spent a lot of time in occupational health, hospital and at the CMHT. God damn people what more do you want??? why isnt that enough? I do my schoolwork, I force myself to appear to be having a good time, i participate and i joined your stupid clubs. What the fuck else do people want, seriously??? Everytime i see grandpa psyc, and at the EDS they always go on about social life and friends and 'particpating'.  Im bloody trying, alright. But you know what, just keeping myself alive takes up all my time and energy most of the time right now, so anything else can just sod off. I have friends, Amazing friends back home and from when I was younger, and I have met some lovely people here. But clearly, its not enough unless im some sort of 'miss teen prom queen rarararara chairperson of every society going type'. Im 26, I want to go to school, and watch eastenders and go to bed when i get home, not go out partying like a crazy teen every single night. Been there done that.

I've been really upset today. I had ny follow up with the EDS today, and she was asking me lots more detail about flashbacks and things, and then said that BPD had come up in the team meeting, WHEN SHE TOLD ME LAST TIME THAT SHE DIDNT THINK THAT WAS THE ISSUE AND THAT CLEARLY BEHAVIOURS CAN BE LINKED TO TRAUMA AND GROWING UP WITH A DYSFUNCTIONAL FUCKED UP FAMILY.RAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

why does it always come back to that? Its not the label that annoys me, its the stigma attatched to it. But the thing is, it doesnt how matter how lovely you are when you talk to me about BPD, it makes me feel like i dont have the right to be upset and traumatised by being raped, and fucked up from everything else. Because its like your just telling me that im BPD, and therefore am just 'like that'.  It makes me feel like i cant be upset, and i hate it. I thought someone was listening to me for once, and then she was all like 'the team think you should go to DBT group because we dont like to use individual based therapies with a diagnosis of BPD'. This being after i told her last time i went to a group and they tried to teach us mindfulness, i had such horrific flashbacks i ended up in hospital for 2 weeks. it made it a little more bearable because she clearly wasnt agreeing with the team, and could see how pissed off it made me-she got it when i told her i felt like i couldnt be angry/upset about stuff that happened. She still wants to get me on the day unit, but the list is so long it wouldnt be until at least next summer. But its ok, cos in the meantime i can go to 'group for people that are on our wait list'. great, thanks.

I do not have fucking a personality disorder. I know what I feel, when and why I am feeling it. I just dont happen to like what i feel like most of the time. You wouldnt trust people either if you'd lived through my sheet, and you'd also probably feel really insecure and anxious. AAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.

The thing is-fine, label me with whatever, cos its all bullshit. But now I cant get the fucking help i actually need.  She said herself theres no way I could be expected to get better from a self help book on eating disorders, it was more comples and that id need a lot of help, and dietic support. So why the fuck do you say that then tell me I cant have it???? And now she needs to convince the rest of the team that the day unit is a good option for me, and that they shouldnt just redirect me to the 'dont bother they have a personality disorder' service.

FOR FUCK SAKE. do i actually need to be dead before someone understands where im coming from?

photos!!!!

Some pics i found :)

 This is me and my friend Tommi from back in the day, at the physio christmas party (which i made her gatecrash lol)

Me quite a few years ago at world trials

And this is from My friends birthday a few weeks back:) i havnt liked a photo of myself for ages, but i like this one:)

Glamourous?Ed's?I think not.

Somehow feel compelled to pointout that there is absolutely nothing glamourous about choking on your own vomit and having to blow it out of your nose after it went down the wrong hole, having seen yet another pile of crap in the media about the 'glamour and lure of eating disorders'.

I mean really? come on people. There aint nothing pretty about having puke in your hair and a blocked up toilet, let me tell you.

my big day

Today I had my Assessment at springfield Hospital-The MHT attatched to the St Georges catchment area, and they have a very specialised Ed service (set up by the dude I used to see in cornwall!). Have been seen by one of the doctors from the CMHT weekly since THAT incident, and finally got an appointment to see the Ed team.

Saw one of the clinical psychologist's there and she was lovely. I mean she actually listened, rather than just piogen holing me into a diagnosis, with the usual 'you need to tick the boxes for that' kind of criteria. Like i mean, seriously lovely woman. Unlike the receptionist, who was really pissy with me cos got there 20 mins early! She talked to me quite a bit about PTSD and asked me if id ever been diagnosed with it, as it sounded like i had a lot of trauma symptoms, flashbacks and anxiety type issues. I said id had every diagnosis under the sun thrown at me-but no help offered in Cornwall, and had a little rant about how i was so sick of being called borderline because i self harmed. She said that a lot of people are diagnosed with that simply because they dont neatly fit into anything else, and that it really annoyed her when peope did that.  She also explained that the reason my ED had probably been hard to diagnose (or as she put it-the reaso why services didnt know how to deal with it) was because although it has emotional links now, they developed secondarily to it being a learned behaviour. And that maybe people weren't quite sure how to approach it. Which is exactly what I got told by the dude I was seeing in Cornwall just before I moved.  And that because I dislike talking about my mum-most people just call it PTSD reaction to what happened in Liverpool.

We talked for quite a while and I felt really ok with that. I usually really clam up with peope i havnt seem before, but i sooo want help, i made myself tell her al the details that make me so ashamed, like how much im throwing up, and the restricting and how happy i was when i lost weight this week, but how scared it made me too. And how I was just scared i was going to end up like my mum. she drew this funky little diagram of me-it was actually like my life on a piece of paper:depressing as hell. She said she was quite worried about the amount in being sick, and how rapidly ive lost weight- well over ha;f a stone in a week and a half. So i have to go and get repeat blood tests on monday. She said that i needed to be helped from both sides-the PTSD angle, and with the ED, but at the same time, so I didnt end up replacing the ED with more severe self harm.

We talked a bit about treatment options-and thank christ she said she didnt want me to go to group again! So my options are-a course of individual CBT for approx 20 weeks, or a more pschodynamic approach, for around 40 weeks. we decided that CBT would be more helpful of the 2, because i like structure. Th other option-which she was quite keen on, was the day unit option-9-4pm daily. You have your meals there (excep dinner which they help you plan), and therpy/OT etc throughout the day. This was suggested as she felt i might need more support to prevent self harm replacing the ED than 1 hour a week would provide. The avaerage length of treatment is around 6 months, and would also provide a lot of dietic support. The major issue i have with that, is obviously uni. But i also acknowledge that it would be a really safe and supportive option. Except there is a bitch of a waiting list for both of these options.

I'm going to see her again next week to talk it through , and decide which option I want to go with, so I can get on the list. In the meantime, either way she's quite keen for me to see one of the ED specialist nurses fairly regulary so i have a contact, and they can moniter weight and bloods. They are going to discuss the options at the team meeting before i see her next week, in case anyone else has any other ideas.

I think i finally got somewhere.

that fuggy head feeling....

that you get from purging is not your friend when you are trying to revise for massive exam that you missed most of the work for.

I dont think my tummy has appreciated 13 years of this....

well, actually i dont think my brain has either, but thats a whole over thing.

My tummy aches.all the time. It hurts when its empty, it hurts when i eat. It hurts when I make myself sick and it hurts if I dont. Sometimes it hurts so much that I end uo being sick without making myself. When I eat, it feels like someone is stabbing the inside of my tummy.

it hates being empty, and doesnt like being full. Anything over than literally empty feels like its full. I was in bed tonight crying cos my tummy hurt, and i felt so hungry, but didnt want to eat cos i knew it would hurt more. Eventually couldnt take being starving anymore and went and made some food. 1 slice of beans and cheeses on toast and my tummy is angry.

i feel like my body is giving up on me now.

dont think thats quite what he meant...(weight talk)

I have managed to lose half a stone since last wednesday. its now monday. oops.

Last wed's session with Grandpa psyc did not go well. Turn up, go into his office, and he's got the scales out. Some warning would have been nice-he NEVER weighs me and wondered why i had a completefreak out. I dont even weigh me, cos it leads to bad times. I guess i should have taken a blind weight, but freakout turns into burning sickening curiosity. Obviously, I didnt like the number. He also had a clinical psychologist-who i had not met before sitting in on the session, asking me endless weight related questions. I'm not stupid-I know that i technically class as overweight. I also know that recovering from bulimia-and heck even being bulimic makes you likely to gain weight. but it doesnt mean that the logical side of my brain wins this one. So telling me just how overweight I was probably wasnt the best move. Thanks for the tact and all.

I dont know why I felt i so desperately needed to lose weight. I mean, I always want to anyway, but this time it seemed to be fuelled by how pissed off i was at being told multiple times in many ways that i was overweight, and as a result didnt meet current criteria for ED therapy. Even though the bloods they made me get done showed how fucked up my chemistry and blood counts are. How does this sytem even work? I have to practically kill myself losing weight to get help to put it back on? even my screwy brain doesnt see the logic.

Its not really about the food. Its about the relief i get from being making myself sick.wjich is the same feeling i get if i self harm, although in a slightly different way.

what am i supposed to do now?

all i really have to say

In a way, this is probably the most pointless thing I've ever written. It's not going to change anything, it's not even going to 'get it off my chest'. Because things dont change, not really, do they? Either I cant let them change, I cant seem to grow and adjust to it. Or maybe its the external things that dont change. But, mosty, its me.Sometimes, I think i've got it all sussed-this magical life mystery- and the it comes and smacks you in the face again.and again. and makes you wonder why you bothered in the first place. Each time it knocks you, it takes longer and longer to pick up and try again. Yes, you learn as you go along. I'll tell you some things I've learnt shall I?

That you've only really got yourself. Because it doesnt matter how much people tell you they care-it doesnt make it better, it doesnt take it away. That you can hate yourself incredible amounts, and that it can get more and more until you feel drowned by it.I have learnt, and I have curved. All the way back to where i started. A complete circle. Because the most important thing i have learnt, is that i have this really special ability to just screw everything up for myself. Its like this inbuilt ability-'oooh something has worked out, quick what can I do to balls it all up'.I get into Uni to study what i wanted, and I fuck it all up by shoving a razor blade into my artery the minute things start to get tough. well, brilliant old me. Tomorow I have a meeting with the head of the faculty to discuss how im coping. This is because in a moment of idiotic weakness i confessed to one of my tutors that i felt like shooting myself cos i was so stressed, and railroaded by the whole situation. ANd how am I coping with that stress? By cutting myself up a little bit more. Apparantly, i havnt already learnt and curved quite enough on that one.

I always thought suicide notes were a little bit odd, yknow. Like, why bother? If it feels that bad, then how the fuck can you even write it down. Maybe thats the real test of how bad I feel. Because I cant even find the energy to even bother with all that. people would find my diary, they would read all about my secrets, my private thoughts. So why give them a headstart. I mean, can you imagine? - 'dear whoever finds me, i cant be bothered to be alive anymore, it hurts too much. please say thanks to Cornall HTT for me'. that would actually be it. Shit, thats actually quite tragic. Thats my life, and thats all i have to say.

I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I was clever enough to start over, do this and move on. The thing is, I fogot to work in the fact that im the same old me-and thats not counting for very much.

I should have just bled to death while i had the chance. At least I know a sure fore way of getting it right now though. Cos clearly, OD'ing isnt going to work for me, or i would have been gone years ago. I couldnt do anything 'traumatic' like jumping in front of a train, cos I dont want to mess anyone else's life up. ditto jumping off buildings/in front of buses and all that jazz. Hanging. well,  I tried that in cornwall and brought down half my ceiling. So that would need some thought.

I feel horrid. Ive felt horrid for years and i cant see it ever getting better. I dont want to just be going through the motions anymore.

thats all.

the three step guide to having a nervous breakdown....a proven method

1. Finally admitting to one of your tutors that you are severly screwed up, sick of hearing people bitching about you behind your back and wanting to shoot yourself from exam stress. Thus trashing the hard work of the orevious few weeks, which were spent convincing them that you were totally fine, thank you very much.

2. FUCKING PAYPAL. I need to make a payment bigtime and it wont freaking let me and owing the payment is making me freak out and panic bigstyle.

3.Realising that none of your 'uni friends' actually notice if you are there/have been invited or not. And this actually does upset you.

inpatient-ness

how to make me really fucking stressed-

went to see grandpa psyc agian today (as per weds norm) told him i feel like crap and that i was finding it v hard to not cut/restrict/binge/purge blah and he freaked (i swear this was my nornal in cornwall and noone took any notice??) and decided he wants me inpatient. i said no-because of how it might screw up uni, but that i would think about it. hmn. he was suspiciously vague about how long it would be for. He did show me around both the general PICU ward and the ED specific ward though, and i dunno. maybe it would help, but for the most part, i think i would be freaking out and worrying about school. and i have exams in 2 weeks, hello timing. Why could i not have had decent help offered to me before i got to uni?? i just really really dont want to be putting my life on hold for longer. dont tell me in young, plenty of time and all that-cos it doesnt wash. ive spent so long just bumbling along with no aim, and i need this. I just needed the help, possibly, before i started. but i want to try and carry on. its so damn  hard.

amyway, so tomorow, i guess i have to talk to uni about how going IP is going to screw things up.great. cos im only just convincing them its all good in the hood right now.

fucks sake.

i dont know what to do. this is when, i occasionaly think, having family who give a shit might actually be slightly useful.

its just really hard

It all feels so hard right now.

i feel like the biggest bitch right now....

I feel like such a bitch right now. Housemates in the kitchen, which is opposite my room, with music on-its not mega loud but i can hear it pretty loud cos my rooms so close, and i could feel myself getting really wound up at them, so went and really nicely asked if they could turn it down a bit-which they did, straight away-but they all looked at me like i was a total freak for asking, and that it was this massive inconvienience. I know its reasonable to ask them, but theres no way of doing it without looking like a total killjoy, and now i feel like a massive bitch. The thing is, if id just left it, i would have got more and more pissed off, and that frustration would have turned on me (for being annoyed at something so petty) and i would have ended up having SI issues. So i know from that point of view i was right to say something, but i still feel like an idiot. and like a freak for having to rationalise wanting people to shut up!

when we first moved in, we couldnt really gage how loud was too loud with music and if the person next door could hear it. so im really carefull now, but im also mindful that i probably inadvertantly pissed people off with noise sometimes. So I now feel all anxious that they think im all double-standard-y. But i really need to study, cos i want to do well in these exams to prove to the uni that i should be here. but thats my probem, not theres. arggg feel really anxious. and its so silly. but i hate that ive prob annoyed them loads with my stupidness.

its things like this that make me think im never gonna make it through life.

4 weeks isnt really a long time to do a whole terms worth of work.....

calm calm calm. look at kings of  leon email conformation. calm calm calm.

4 weeeks!!!!OMG!! i cant do this.its not like college when i actually could do the work, it was just the volume of it that made it such a bitch in the timeframe i had, but this time- i dont even understand most if it.FUCK i dont know what to do. I dont even know if im going to be here in another 4 weeks, which isnt really helping either. Grandpa psyc is being a lege though-he was really pisssed at what the uni were doing, and told me he would tell them that kicking me out would probably finish me off and that i need focus blah blah, which might help.And that i probably care about being there more than a ot of people cos i had to work on getting my head together and not just the academics, so they should cut me some slack already and be supportive, rather than gestapo-like.

I had to see the head of the physio school the other day, and he surprised me by saying that they were actually seeing that y attendance was ok, well, they must actually be blind. I go to all the foundations of physio practice stuff, unless i have appointments, and all that stuff is registered. And i go to as many practicals as i can. But the big multi discipline lectures for the other modules scare the CRAP out of me cos there are sooooo many people and sooo many bitchy people at that.and sometimes i just cant do it. I see it as sanity preserving-sometimes when i do go i have such meltdowns im useless for days afterward, esp if i end up sitting with idiots that keep taking the oiss out of me for 'that incident', or there version of it anyway.and i alway read through the lectures at home if i dont go. but somehow i think the uni prob takes a dim view. im working on it- for that module we have a block of lectures of 3 or 4 in a row which is quite intense. I make myself go to the first one, and try my hardest to stay for at least the second, but sometimes i just cant. i get to the point where im actually throwing up from anxiety, but i know avaoiding it forever is gonna make it worse.so at least im trying.i really am actually. i wish they could realise this. cos its bloody hard work, and sooo draining. why cant i just be normal?

i dont think venlafaxine is agreeing with me,its still making me feel really sick, and giving me strangeky restless legs-although that could be do to nerve damage from ;that incident' to be fair i spose. Ive started getting a little feeling back in the tp of that eg now and jeeeez it hurts!

new anti anxiety srategy is to look at KOL confirmation of booking slip:) calm calm calm cos i haveto still be sane enough to see caleb!!!!!

sqqqueuuuuuuuuuuueeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

SQQQQUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

OMG OMG OMG

IM GOING TO SEE KINGS OF LEON IN HYDE PARK!!!!!!!!!!YEH BABY!!!!!!!!!!!

AND I STILL HAVE BOTH MY KIDNEYS!!!!!!

IM SO EXCITED!!!!!!!

EEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!

BEST PRESENT EVER, THANKYOU!!!!!

XXXXXXXXX

if i were a moomin, thigs would be better....

They really would! I could shake my little moomin tail and and do a little happy moomin dance and spend my days playing with snorkmaiden and sniff and snuffkin.

Heres one I drew earlier, when i probably should have been doing some work...

oh crap

its four weeks until my exams and im soo behind. doubled with the fact i dont even know if im still going to be at uni in four weeks time. this whole process is literally killing me.I cant bear not knowing what the plan is at the best of times, but this would really screw everything up, and make me homeless all at once. And i want to be a physio dammit. and il be a good one. raaaah.

I have the most overwhelming urge to cut right now. it would take my head away from all this and let the pressure out in the only way i really get, to be honest. It somehow makes it an even more attractive option knowing that it is most def not an option. not with occupational health and all the other shit.

SHIT i hate this. I also know, that if i did cut again right now, id do exactly the same thing on the other side, and this time i wouldnt be calling for help. why caqnt i just be normal?fucks sake. all week ive had grief from just about everyone, occ health, cmht, uni staff, and other students. I sat in a lecture theatre n thursday and the people sitting around me spent 4 HOURS taking the piss out of me. people look at me funny, sneer at me and generally make me feel even shitter than i already do.thanks for that. on top of this, it appears to be mental health awareness week. everyday there has been at least one session on mental health, behaviour and professionalism or other similar bollocks. and people are so fucking ignorant it makes me cry, literally. and this people want to be health professionals.fucking great, well done georges.thats a fine selection of people you have this year.

ive had to change the dressings on my wound 8 TIMES today. its still literally pouring fluid out, when the pressure builds up it get fairly projectile too, funtimes. its costing me a fortune in dressings,cos for some idiotic reason doc wont prescribe them, and people dont seem to realise that im getting through about 15 a day right now. yummy. ive spent £45 in boots  in a week on dressings, and tape and saline satchets to clean it with. and occ health have the cheek to ask me if its not healing cos ive been interfering with it!! ive finished a really hardcore course of antibiotics now and its no better, so im going to have to try and beg a docs appt tomorow, bet thatl be easy, not.

something nice happen please.

xxx

on being the poster girl for messing things up'.

So, I think i'm about to lose my place at Uni. which is pretty shot considering it was, really, the only thing i really had going for me. And its my own stupid crappy fault for fucking up with the self harm.

What makes it really hard to swallow is that it was getting better. If i hadnt of given in that day and cut myself, if i hadnt called for help, then the uni wouldnt have found out. Interestingly we seem to have gone from them being supportive, to 'anything you say will be used against you'. Basically, the uni-occupational health-want access to my psyc notes from the CMHT, and if i dont agree, then i am being non compliant with the conditions of being on the course, ie openess about my mental health. So ive been railroaded into the mother of all catch 22's. Because i have to agree to info sharing to stay here, but in that, they will find out what i have been saying to the psyc at the cmht. which, if im honest is not going to do me any favours.at all.. And now, i dont feel able to talk to anyone, because i dont know who will have access to what i am saying. So now i have all these millions of appointmets, to which my attendance is monitored, and my engagement in the sessions is also noted, except i cant say jack shit without digging myself the biggest grave known to mankind. Also, while the staff were busy being 'supportive', they refered me to the progress monitoring commitee, WITHOUT TELLING ME. so i go to occ health on monday to what i think is an appt to get me signed off pracs cos of the injury, and all get tols that little nugget of info. which means at the emd of the month, they gonna decide if om fit to carry on with the course-decided on wether they can offer me adequate support. On top of this, ive also been bullied into starting to take the venlafaxcin, which is making me feel fabulous, NOT. Because occ health told me it would be deemed unprofessional and unaccetable for me to not follow advice and take the drugs.and they would be checking with cherries on top.

Now, im not saying occupational health dont have a right to check that i am safe to train, and that i will not affect patients that may be in my care in a negative way. I understand their role, and what they are doing. I just didnt think it was in their job spec to bully someone into compliance, by threatening then with exclussion if i dont agree to everything they say. I want to be here, therefore i am more than happy to do, within reason what they want. I go to their appointments, i engage, and i say as much as i feel able to. I show them my scars, i let them check for new wounds so they know im not lying. which is pretty degrading actually. But if they were genuinely being supportive, wouldnt they want me to have a space i felt confident and safe to talk in.cos at the moment im not going to tell anyone anything real, cos its going to come back and hit me in the face tenfold. Does that make sense? cos noone seems to get where i'm coming from with this. to his credit, grandpa psyc was PISSED when i explained all this, and was actually really upset i;d been pushed into the meds, because he wanted me to take them in my own time, thus ending up trusting him more, and not feeling that the decision wasnt mine.

aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggg

please dont take this away from me. i really need this place.i need this chance to do something, and move forward. I really dont know what im going to do if they kick me out.

you've got problems when breathing feels like too much bother...

I'm officially the girl with no friends. No, seriously. I am literally the only person in the lectures we have with the other healthcare professions that has no one to sit and giggle with. I am the wall hugger. You'll find me about halfway down on the left hand side. It really fucking hurts when you find out the people you thought were your friends have been laughing at you behind your back. oh well. Don't tell me im not in Liverpool now-cos if one more person says that to me im going to go barmy. I mean, theres a lot of simialritities. My room is pretty much identical, and i hate my flatmates. I dont have any friends, and ive fucked up any chance i did have of making any by being the crazy girl that slashed herself up in halls. well, thats todays version of it. ive been comparing the rumours, there is quite a lot of variation in them.I'm also officially about to fail.why do occupational health keep bringing up how much i have been absent from lectures, when the main reason i have missed them, apart from the few days i was in hospital, is because they always schedule my appointments right in the middle of 'really dont miss this' lectures and practicals?how can they not see the link?and how stressed they are making me for getting more and more behind. No, i cant concentrate on your stupid pointless sessions, because im too busy worrying about when i am going to be able to catch up with yet MORE missed work.


its guy forkes tonight. evryone has gone to various displays, but even if i wasnt so antisocial i wouldnt have gone, cos i dont do fireworks-here's the laughable version of why not (from my very old blog!), but you have to admit, its pretty tragic that the first thing i thought was 'oooh if everyone is going out tonight-in the rain,  nutters- that means i can get a machine in the laundry to do my washing without waiting for hours!!! i think ive got issues. I just spent friday night doing my washing.and was perfectly happy with that until i realised just how tragic that was, and that it was prob something to do with why i dont have any friends.hmn.said washing is drying in my room right now.what once would have consisted of a fabulous collection of 'omg dont even thing about machine washing that' pretty dresses and oddball shorts has now entirely been replaced with tracksuits. what has happened to me. i cant even remember when i last put a bow on, its just too much effort. its hard enough bothering to breathe right now.

what am i ment to do next to make this better?

xxx

what to make of it?pass.

i went to see GP today, and at this surgery you dont have a specific doc, just whoever is on duty. todays delightful doctor told me to 'just look at all my nasty scars and think how unattractive they are next time i want to do any of that silly cutting business'.wtf. anyway, she then made me go to the walk in centre at the hosp cos they didnt have a nurse free to take the skin clips out (wtf). so after waiting 3 hours there (bye bye afternoon lectures-no wonder im so fucking behind) they get taking out and it hurt so much, cos of all the pressure from the infection i actually couldnt take it. all of the skin and on my stomach and down my thigh, and round my back is burning hot-you can feel the heat coming off it over the top of a jumper!-so even touching the skin around it is painful, and makes me want to vomit, let alone anything else. they took the last clipout and the wound burst open and all this fluid came flooding out, so much of it that it filled a freaking jug (people i told you it hurt!how did the doc on saturday miss this???)so they sent me back to A&E where i had to wait another 2 hours for the surgical team to come and look. the same dudes who did the operation, coincidently. and very unethically, they were like 'how the hell have you been to the GP twice, and A&E on tuesday and NOONE has refered you back to us, cnsidering you have a massive abscess right nest to an artery repair.hello, people, septacaemia risk x 1 million'. but now the fluid is continuosly pouring out (and very attractive it is too) i can put knickers on without crying from having something touching my skin, which is def progress me thinks. its been driving me actualy crazy every time i put a dressing on it, clothes on, just from touching the skin near it and the pressure literally made me sob. so i might even be able t go to slepp tonight without waking up a sweaty betty and puking from infection-ness cos its all leaking out baby!

sleepy sleepy

xxxx

Bad day

bad bad bad day.

this is the kinda day that makes me forget how much the freaking op wound hurts, disregard it, and do it again.particulary now i know how to make it fairly disasterous. All i really want to do is rip it open and slash that stupid branch artery open again.  Fuck i want to do it soo bad right now,ARG FUCKING HELL.

ok so right now i think im supposed to work out whats making me so stressed/doomed/depressed/appropriate word fails me. Ok, so ironically its the op wound thats pissing me off because it hurts like a bitch and the absess/haematoma thingy under it filled up again overnight, and decided to empty itself whilst i was in a freaking practical class earlier. which was really really gross, and yes i did cry. so now that everyone thinks om even more of a freak, how the heck i am ever going to make some actual friends here. everyone is so cliquey already, and the people i naturally would want to be friends with, im just too quiet and get forgotten, and dont fit in, yknow. And im not cool enough to pull off the 'i dont need friends my own company is enough thing'. The work load snuck up on me. one minute it was easy as pie, all the stuff ive done a million times before leaving me enough time to be a headcase without it causing issues, and all of sudden its a million times harder, thoroughly overwhelming (we have to learn more anatomy than a medic, and they teach all of it in a fucking fortnight!!!), and then i make it a while lot worse by dealing in my eneviatable way, landing up in hospital and missing loads more.which makes me even more stresses. And now uni think im officialy nuts, (and CMHT for that matter) i have all these ENDLESS occupational health appointments, and psyc appts and on it fucking goes (not just grandpa psyc from cmht, also have to see uni' psyc, why did i want to come to a proper medical school again??) which makes me miss more and more work, cos they cant seem to understand that actually, i DONT HAVE ANY FREE TIME ARG and no time is a good time, actually, for an appt. And i cant do any of my other 'arg im stressed cures', like playing katy perry REALLY LOUDLY for ten minutes until i feel better, or go in a different room away from it or all the other stuff cos i live in freaking halls which i HATE.  I think even george the skeleton wants me to chill out, because i just accidently knocked several f his teeth out.sorry george, i will but some glue tomorow. then my tutor forgot to tell me she was off sick today, which was freaking annoying cos i pretty much dragged my gammy leg/tummy in this afternoon for nothing, and the 20 min walk to uni is currently taking me an hour, so im not that amused.

ive got a doctors appt right bang in the middle of a set of lectures tomorow, which is really fucking annoying. and im now on my fourth set of clothes today cos my stupid wound has leaked its gammyness over everything i own today.multiple times.yummy. and then my old friends from london have NO FUCKING CONCEPT OF THE FACT THAT I DONT HAVE NEVER ENDING SUPPLIES OF TIME TO SOLVE THEIR DRAMA's, and that i realy dont give a shit. my old friend from college is always nagging me to go and see her, and i dont want to.it takes hours to get there, which i really dont have, it costs a fortune to get there , and i just dont want to actually. and she moans when i try and leave to go home, so end up spending soooo long there. and is still cant ever manage to get in the kitchen without someone following me in there and asking endless questions about what im cooking/having for dinner etc etc PEOPLE CANT YOU SEE THAT I DONT WANT YOU TO FUCKING NOTICE/TALK TO ME ABOUT IT WHICH IS WHY ITS 2AM AND IM MAKING MY DINNER YOU KNOB.AFTER IVE WASHED ALL MY STUFF UP SO I CAN USE IT, THANKS FOR THAT.

I think ive actually lost it. and i still feel like i want to cut myself to pieces.

stress, dunno what that means.

firstly, i just have to get this out of my system-

OMG OMG OMG OMACTUALGOD!!!!!!!!!!!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

KINGS OF LEON ARE PLAYING IN HIDE PARK THIS JUNE!!!!!!!!!
OMG!!!!THIS IS LIKE THE OST EXCITING THING EVER!!!!!!

have decided that the only thing i can do is to sell a kidney or two on ebay, and throw in my liver too, because i HAVE to be there!!cos how else am i going to have caleb's lovechild? and besides, its high time i saw them, being there most longstanding and devoted fan in the world ever!i loved them when they were all hairy and unknown when 'red moring light' first came out. and FANS! i listen to that song for hours on repeat, no kidding, ask all my neighbours ive had since that song came out lol. KINGS OF LEON!PLAYING THE BEST GIG VENUE KNOWN TO MAN KIND!!

i will find a way of being there!dammit, il sell all my limbs too :P

anyway, moving on. (but i will be back to KOL, you can count on it!) so, on sat i went to the docs, and not only was she so crap she didnt give me any painkillers, she is officially stupid. turns out i was right when i thought the op wound wasnt looking too good. its got a mahussive haemotoma under it, which has made my whole tummy turn pretty much solid, and the skin staples are straining open under the pressure. i bloody knew it wasnt right, but she wouldnt listen to me!also, slightly worringly, i cant feel half my leg. they said there would prob be nerve damage, which would recover in time, cos i cant feel anyone touching my skin across my thigh, all the way around. but the area this is has got quite a bit bigger over the last day or so.im hoping its because of all the pressure from the gunk trapped under the wound. its driving me mad, cos i get these weird itchy sensations, and sometimes it randomly feels like someone is pouring hot liquid over it. So i had to go back to A&E today and they literally popped me!was sooooo gross. have now got industrial strength antibiotics, and if itsd not looking better by thursday, it has to be surgically drained.how fun, cant wait. hmn, maybe i should look online and see if anyone has a fetish for pus...i could supply in return for kol hahahahaha

man i feel shit. I feel really ill and sore from being all infected.ewww. the guy in the room next to me asked if i could die quietly yesterday, cos he was trying to study hahaha. said he would go and get me some bloody painkillers himself if it ment id stop crying all night, cos 'i cant take hearing a girl crying anymore, its making me feel all soppy!'hahaahhaahahahhahahahahhahahahahaah. oopsy. i was in a bit of a state night before last though.it hurt SO MUCH and then i just randomly started throwing up everywhere, bathroo was like swimming pool of vomit in about 5 mins, was sooo gross.which we can now put down to having a temp from the infection.

i got cleared to start back at uni yesterday eveing, so today was my first day back, which was REALLY scary. we had practicals this morning, so couldnt even hide in the corner of a lecture theatre, and i nearly bottled it and didnt go, but was glad i did. the little gang that i hang out with (the flatmates of the girl that called the ambulance) were all lovely, and were like 'long time no see', and gave me a hug, and were just normal. and one fo the girls who caqme to see me in hosp was in my prac group and said it was really nice to see me, and plonked herself next to me, which made me feel better. and a girl that i got the worst fit of giggles with in a lecture a the beginning of term paired up with me, so it was ok in the end. i missed so much work, but i do know how to assess a shoulder join for full range of movement lol. oh, and ive made George, my skeleton (physio's get a life sized skeleton to play with over the year) a hat to keep him warm for winter.love george lol. we had a little chat earlier, and he told me that he would like a monocle. i can just see it, rekon george was v clever and vv dignified man who behaved impecably at all times. i've become quite attatched to him of late, may have to forfit my £25 deposit and keep him at the end of the year hahaha. think should try and get him a suit from charity shop also, he'd like that :)

haha i looked at my blog stats the other day, and some brave sole has been reading my blog from the begining. I cant even understand the dodgy spelling in half my posts, so dont know hw anyone could want to read em all hahaha, and seriously, its the most depressing thing in the world.

right, must do some reading for tomorow (aka put my kidney up for sale on ebay)

xxxx

on lovely grandapa-esque psycs's and 'inner pain'

i have to go see the psyc from the CMHT again tomorow. he's quite nice, but he would be a lot better at his job if her actually listened instead of second guessing everything you say, then making up his own version to fit with whatever his latest theory is. or not listening then asking exactly the same thing. Having said that-he is lovely, the kind of person you would want as your grandad maybe, but we arn't really reading from the same sheet. In all honesty, this is most likely to be because i wish i was still in cornwall, with the same care team, where i knew how and what would happen, even if it did enevitably piss me off. Like i know that if i were there now, i could call my Gp tomorow and go and see him, cry for ten minutes and get given some painkillers, without him being all suspicious that id necked all the drugs the hospital didnt discharge me with( would have had to wait another unknown number of hours for pharmacy to get my discharge painkillers, and nurse said i could just go get them from GP. which i triedto do, but cos they were written on my discharge letter, the stupid on call doctor refused to give me anything, thinking i was trying it on.yes, because i wouold totally bother crawling to the docs for painkillers, and crying at how much it hut getting there if i didnt fucking need them.). And that it being monday, id proabably have an appointment with the guy from EDS, who was actually really helping. and of HTT werent seeing me, i could, and probably would phone them.

Down here, HTT are fairly redundant. a quick ten minute chat, force yur meds down your neck and they are on their way-which is why i didnt bother with it. Everyone says they are better in cornwall because there are fewer people for them to worry about. But actually thats not true. they were just as busy, and had a massive area to care for (often they would spend hours driving from one end of the county to another-thats a long way-and however late it got, they NEVER gave the impression they were rushed, or cut you short), cornwall being a place with a very high amount of mental illness-fact-smallest county to have specialised services, the smallest county in the UK to have a dedicated EDS, and a slightly worrying number of mental health specialist hospitals and units. Right, now ive done my bit for cornwall-back to the point. If i try and get a GP appt tomorow, il get told to piss off cos i had one on saturday.and then be offered one for about a months time. I tried to book an appointment to get my skin staples taken out and they told me a nurse wasnt available for another 2 weeks. to which i replied they needed to come out in another 5 days.and i was told 2 weeks.repeatedly.it was the most bizarre conversation id ever had. I tell you what-the NHS and the DoH like to bitch about people using A&E approprriately-but i swear if GP's had more resources or receptionists that werent trained to defend the doctors from the public, people wouldnt got to A&E. its obvious (and ok, not right, but you can see why it happens) why people got o A&E for something trivial. becasue you might have to wait 3 days, but you will get seen, and itl be faster than you could have got a GP appt.

sorry, not quite sure what got in to me then. I think im prematurely ageing or something.

back to the point....ummm, oh yeh, docs appt.so thats not gonna happen. and i will have to listen to an hour of the lovely grandad psyc getting me to confess my inner pain, and how im crying inside. yes, he actually says that.a lot. and i spend a lot of time trying not to laugh, which makes me feel like a bitch, but seriously, however true that is-who can say it with a straight face??!! to which my reply tomorow will be-fuck the inner pain, im slightly more concerned with the outer pain right now.thankyou drugs would be great please.

theres also a strange argument going on between the uni and the cmht. The uni is attatched to a hospital, and they want access to my psyc notes. in theory, i dont actually have a prob with that-i mean yes, occupational health should be able to access all my notes, if only to save me endlessly having the same conversation with people. But why the heck do the registry want access to them? makes no sense to me. the lovely grandpa psyc said he will put high security login stuff on mypsyc notes, to stop inappropraite access, cos he realised im not saying jack until thats in place. I do not want potentially the entire student body having access to my notes, wheither traceable or not.but occ health keep pushing me to agree to the world and its brother be able to discuss me. No. I do not like the fact that the registry call the CMHT to check that i attend appointments.NO.not cool. i mean, i wouldnt even mind so much if they asked ME if id turned up first.

its also sunday night, and i still have no idea if im allowed to attend uni tomorow. I know im not allowed to take part in practicals, but the occ health doc said he thought it would be better for me to get back in to things as soon as possible. which in principle i agree with. But im not sure if ive been cleared, and its like a crime to turn up if u havnt been cleared. and im scared too. this is mostly because i have no idea what people do or dont know about what happened. my flatmates, and the firendc i called have been beyond super and have said nothing, and just told people im sick. but i clearly LOOK injured. i mean i can just about walk, and every four steps or so i want to cry cos it hurts.im covered in bruises on my arms from canulas-i look alarmingly like a smack addict actually-and once again, im so pale and pasty i look like i have a terminal disease again, which even estee lauders finset can do nothing for.

I dont want to let the lovely grandpa psyc down, but i really have nothing to say to him. And it makes me upset that he keeps telling me that i scared the crap out of him when he heard.apparantly A&E dont really like people spilling that much blood. il try nd bear that in mind. the thing he thankfully DOES seem to get, though, is that it wasnt a planned attempt at anything. It was genuinely fucked up SI. which if you are reading this and think that cutting is safe and you know what you are doing-well i kinda though that too, and ignored all the docs in cornwall telling me otherwise. There aint NO safe places, or ways, ok. lecture over.and yes, i know im a hypocrite, so dont bother pointing it out, ok.

Also, does anyone know anything about blood transfusions?it makes me feel a bit funny to know that pretty much all of my blood (well, apart from the stuff ive made in the last week) doesnt belong to me. When im allowed, im going to donate serious amounts of blood to make up for this. I mean, someone that was actually ill, or having surgery for something proper, could have had that blood.

this might actually be at the top of my 'weirdest most rambling posts ever' list. i only ment to say i miss the team in cornwall and thaty i dont want to talk about my 'inner pain' until the outer pain is fixed.

oh, and that also, and im not sure why, but i havnt taken any of my new antidepressant.Its venlafaxine, and i really dont know why i havt managed to take it. I remember a coupe of years ago when i very first saw HTT in Cornwall, having the same funny feeling about starting prozac (apart from the fact that when i took it the first timeit made me want to die, i mean aside from thaaat). That was the first time that i chatted with the guy that i got on with from htt, and he spen ages just quietly talking to me about it. I think its because coming off the sertraline/trazodone debacle thing made me sooo sick, and im a bit scared that im going to feel like that starting new drugs again. I know saide effects are temporary, but i just dnt think my sanity can handle that. Im a bit shit about being ill or in pain. I used to be as hard as nails, bt alas, im worse than a baby now. lovely grandpa psyc even put me on a babies dose of the stuff to start with but i just havnt got my head round it. I will tell him that i havnt taken it-im not gonna lie and say i have (because he is lovely, but also because i dont entirely trust the uni to not make me take blood tests to prove it-no point digging a bigger hole for myself, im in enough shit with them). Also, ive been on meds for pretty much the last 5 years or so. i mean  maybe i dont want to keep chucking chemicals at my brain.grandpa psyc was quite worried when he realised that the fact i stopped taking the traz meant i wasnt on anything, and i would have all been out of my system last sunday, when THAT happened.

if you have read this until the end, you deserve a medal. leave a comment to claim your prize.

oh, and if you could tell me what this was about, that would be great :p

xxxxxxx

well, now

let me see. This time last week i believe was probably about the time docs in A&E were getting slightly annoyed at my lack of veins. shame they didnt just give up looking.

why the fuck am i soo freaking depressed?why cant i just be a normal happy person, who doesnt spend disproportionate amounts of time wishing i was dead. as that too much to ask? I mean, give me a fucking break, seriously now.

The most mportant thing that ever happened

I dont want to die-

I very nearly did, and then i relaised i didnt want to.

How have i finally managed to come to this conclussion? because when you are about half a pint of blood away from bleeding to death, you suddenly realise that things look quite a bit different.

Funnily enough, I wasnt actually trying to kill myself. i was stressed and upset and feeling useless and overwhelmed. I cut, but a little lower than normal, so it would be hidden by my shorts if i had to strip off for practical class on the monday. The REALLY stupid thing is that i have spent the last month learning nothing but anatomy. So you'd think i'd know where my femoral artery was, but apparantly not. Or that branches coming off of it are fairly vital. I guess I need to spend some more time with my books.

So.Sunday. same old upset, stressed out me. I'd done so well with not cutting as well. Just something to make it stop, just for a minute. Which it did quite nicely, thanks very much, until i realised id slipped and cut a fucking lot deeper than was the general idea (though scarily-NOT THAT deep).

Il cut it short. Life isnt very fun when you realise that there is not hope in hell of you getting yourself to a and e, and oh, look, most of your blood volume is actually on the floor now. it would have been really easy to just give in then. That choice handed to me on a plate. i could have just bled out, and that would have been the end of it.And for about 5 minutes, thast exactly what i did. Until all the nasty, hard to deal with life preserving thoughts came banging in to my head boom boom BOOOM. that was quite frightening. the niggling doubt as to what you are doing getting louder and louder. Until i bailed out (or bailed back in on life, more correctly), came to my senses and called my friend. i know, i know, shit thing to do, but in my slight defense i only had about half a pint of blood left at this point and wasnt feeling my most functional. who came and called an ambulance.

A&E is kinda frightening when your the one in re-suss. actually its fucking terryfying with everyone trying to shove needles in and asking you things you cant remember all at once and shouting cos they cant find any veins and then all the scary bits about blood transfusions and bleeping surgeons, and that part is all very hazy, but my friend stayed with me the whole time. I was in theatre for nearly 3 hours while they repaired my artery and have a really big op wound, all stapled up. which hurts like hell, but was nothing compared to the pain of when they took the drain out on tuesday. before they knocked me out, i went for a scan so they could trace the bleeding, after injecting me with loads dye. I remember coming out of it, and the room and the scanner where just covered in blood, it was total carnage and I did that.fucking hell. 20 more minutes the surgeon said, and i would have been dead. I nearly died in A&E when they couldnt get blood back into me fast enough, and i remember everything feeling like it was closing in and it was the most frightening thing in the world, because i couldnt be in control of it. Thats the irony, isnt it. people use SI because they think it means they are back in control. But your not exactly in control if you are totally dependent upon a team of docs and nurses to keep you alive. and at this point i would like to save thankyou to anyone who has ever given blood. I think in total i was given 6 units, and i certainly would have been a gonner without it.

I used to see the same staff a lot at A&E in cornwall.and i remember the concern that i was actually very likely to kill myself by accident. I didnt belive it, but in a way, i guess i always kind of felt pleased about that.

Its taken me quite a while to write this post. I got home from hospital on thursday-its amazing how quickly you can be patched back together-with instructions to get as much iron down my neck as possible and to not move too much. which i dont want to do anyway, becasue the pain is pretty indescribable. I have appointments with doctors, physios and psyc teams coming out of my ears. Want to know something REALLY lovely-some of the uni tutors came to visit me in hospital. They are being pretty great, so far from Liverpool. The skin staples (all 18 of them, this is going to be one scar that stays with me) come out in a weeks time, and apparantly i will always have a funny ache in my leg, from where the damage is.

But im alive-and thats ok. Im not happy boncing off the ceiling, but im not about to do it again. Im settling in to this new way of thinking, and you know what-i think i like it.

now, how about that.

something that has been on my mind

quite a lot over the last few days is this-

what if SGUL made some massive mistake and actually, I just dont have the brain power for this course. I mean, I have so much work to do already that I want to cry and I cant DO it. I mean, i actually cant do it, combined with the fact that my brain refuses to focus on anything more demanding than Hollyoaks right now, and even thats pushing it. And its really scaring me. I'm not used to not being able to do academic stuff. I might be pretty crap at starting to put pen to paper, but when push comes to shove I could always do it with bells on top, yknow.

I'm not used to being crap at something, and I'm crap at this. Incidently, this leads me into thinking mum was actually spot on-im not good enough. I'm not better enough, im not ill enough. im not clever enough. How could she manage to be bloody brilliant at everything and be the weight I should be. I mean, surely thats slightly a genetic thing-appart from the fact that mum had more willpower than a donkey when it dont wanna move, she was actually a small buitl person-so why cant i be that size and brilliant as well?its not fair. shes right and she was better than me. I dont understand.

ugh someone is cooking beef stew at the mo and the smell is making me want to throw up soooo bad. Which means I cant eat anything til tomorow now cos no way on earth am i going in kitchen while that is cooking. I think I need to live on my own again.

I stopped taking the trazodone. I am med-less at the moment, and my body is having a riot whilst it adjusts to the lack of chemicals in it. I tried to explain to it that pretty soon, its goona get something new chucked its way, but to no avail. Turns out the immense sickness was due to sertraline withdrawel-i gave in and took 100mgs when i couldnt take the dizzyness anymore and like magic, it went away half an hour later. I hate that doctors tell you withdrawel from SRRI's is insignificant due to the drugs half life-its such a pile of wank. I got told to just stop taking prozac and ended up in hospital 4 days later and constant obs cos i lost the plot so bad. Citilopram made me want to jump off a bridge when i stopped taking it (now theres a story for a rainy day) and sertraline made me think death was a kinder option than the withdrawel symptoms. , which im still getting a week and a half later.

well, isnt this fun!

xxxxx

angsty-ness

I have been a pretty crap blog buddy of late. Im sorry for all the comments i havnt left. Ive been reading, but dont feel like i have anything useful to say anymore. Also, it might not sound like it most of the time, but i really DO want to get better. I just dont see the sense in not writing how i really feel in the place i found to do just that. Just to clear that up.

Soo worried and unsettled right now. My halls flatmates are working my every last nerve, and i wish they would just GO.AWAY. I mean do they really NEED to have loud shouty arguments outside my door at 3am every single night? and im going to go fucking mental if they keep using and not washing up my pots and plates etc. I dont eat meat, therefore dont want meat burnt on to my pans. thats fair right? and i have asked sooo many times for them not to do it and they still carry on. it really pisses me off. And these are people that are older than me! and it doesnt matter what obscure time i try and sneak in the kitchen and cook, the time i have washed up my stuff, cooked and washed up again before scuttling back to my room with my food, they always seem toHAVE to appear. i mean seriously, your in there all day, could you really not just FUCK OFF for half an hour and leave me alone?I cant keep my stuff in my room, cos i have no space for it. im just soo sick of people being so inconsiderate. one of the guys decided to cut up a chcken on the freaking table and leave it all everywhere while he went to chat on his phone. its gross, and it really upsets me-im not all animal rightsy vege-but i just dont like handling meat, and i dont see why he couldnt have just done it in the board on the worksurface??ARG. they all hangout in the kitchen and have people over all the time. so it gets to about 2am before i can eat most days anyway and i just wish they would fuck off for a little while.we're not all litte miss/mr socialable you know.some of us like a bit of piece and quiet.

sicky ickyness

I swear i have never felt this spun out and ill in my life. The whole sick/dizzy/withdrawel thing is actually getting worse, which is kind of weird. someone or something make this go away pleeeeease. seriously please. I feel so bloody horrible. All ive done for days is puke, and im so fed up with this. I dont need it right now, ive got tons of uni work to do, and at the moment in skipping pout of lectures and tutorials every 5 minutes to throw up, cry or spaz out from dizzyness. I look like im trying to come off crack or something. ARG.

I called my GP today-after trying and failing to get an appointment for the next bloody WEEK (even telling the receptionist it was REALLY IMPORTANT) and finally managed to convince the receptionist to ask him to call me-which he did.great. Then he told me that he wasnt sure what was causing it, and did i want to just take the sertraline again?

i mean IS IT JUST BE OR FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!!THE WHOLE POINT WAS THAT SERTRALINE WASNT HELPING.BUT ID REALLY LIKE TO KNOW IF ITS USUAL TO GO THIS BATSHIT INSANE FROM WITHDRAWEL, OR IF ITS THE NEW MEDS THANK YOU PLEASE.

i mean, ok to hids credit, at least he didnt lie and make up a load of shit. but why the fuck would i just want to start taking the sertraline again?i just dont see the logic there. cois id only have to go through this again in a couple of weeks or whatever. He told me to call the CMHT, because he isnt really that familiar with trazodone-fairplay, again, but then the CMHT are like, sorry the doc u saw here wont be able to return your call until the end of the week-by WHICH TIME I MIGHT AS WELL JUST FUCKING WAIT TIL I SEE HIM THE WEEK AFTER.

FOR FUCK SAKE! why dont people listen.everytime my meds change this happens, and there answer is to just give my massive amounts of diazepma to cope with it, which just makes me feel MORE SICK. and what part of making someone who felt shit in the first place feel even shitter by giving them crazy meds makes any logical sense anyway?i mean, someone, please enlighten me.

i cant do this.it never gets any better.ever. i feel like shit, i have to fight to get back it to services-old territory, i should be used to this.they change my meds, surprise surprise.and i feel even shitter. How come some people actually get support for this bit. cos i swear to god i wish people would actually FUCKING REALISE I MEAN IT WHEN I SAY I CANT COPE ANYMORE.

meds question

I have just changed from taking 150mg sertraline daily to taking trazodone 50mg daily. I wasnt told to wean slowly off the sertraline, just to stop taking it and start taking the traz. Traz is a low starting dose cos i dont have a good history of staying sane when my meds change. Am also taking Diazepam prn, 5 mgs. I have been taking it as directed in the eve, i think to dull of the side effects of the traz.

questions-

- is it the drug change that is making me feel sick as a dog (i have not stopped puking for 3 days straight now)?
- ditto horrible dizzyness
-ditto shakeyness
-ditto omg i want to die feeling

havent been drinking, and taking all drugs as directed. But i feel awful. I figuredf it might be sertraline withdrawel, if it is-is it a good idea to just take the damn sertraline again?
The consultant who changed my meds literally told me to just swap one for the other. but i thought you were supposed to wean off each one?

help please!

if i had a comfort zone, i sure as heck dont now...

So, turns out Gp's dont really like it when you turn up and have a massive meltdown in their office, rather than just aske for more drugs please thankyou very much. In fact. what happens is they totally freak out when they read your referal letters from cornwall which have just been put on the system and call the psyc unit at the hospital and get you uregnt assessments at A&E. having been sent to hosp from the docs, i get there and undergo what felt like the equivalent of a MI5 interogation. After 4 hours, they finally decided that i could be trusted to go home overnight-big whoop, i havnt been doing that for the last 26 years, after all-on the proviso that i agreed to go to an appointment at the cmht at springfoeld hospital the following afternoon. which was interogation round 2 with knobs on. doc didnt listen to anything i said, then repeatedly asked the same questions as a result. I wanted to smack head against wall, i wanted to smack his head against wall. Then he told me that irritability was a symptom of depression, and not to worry.well, thankyou very much for that.

Eventually they concluded that I was depressed and had an eating disorder.Thanks, shirlock. Tell me something i didnt know.so have been refered to the ED service, and to the general psychotherapy people, cos im not skinny enough to be seen by the EDS (apparantly). Cos bulimia isnt as important as anorexia, clearly. has any of this so called experts wondered why there are higher incidences of bulimia than anorexia?possibly something to do with the fact THAT NOONE TAKES IT SERIOUSLY??!!

excuse my irritability. Its a valid symptom you know.

My meds have now been changed to Trazodone and a lot of diazepam (my lovely cornsh doc would be vvv upset by this). anyone taken traz before? im nt appreciating it right now. everytime i move my head i get dizzy and wan to puke. I have weird little dizzy spells every minute or so. Infact, lifes ne long puke fest and ive only been taking it a day.excuse me while i vomit.seriously, whats with the mini little flashes of dizziness every few minutes, really weird. feel horrible.

I also managed to have a meltdown in uni after a tutorial. turns out i wasnt amagining it-i do look like someone who wants to die right now. anyway, ni was pretty good about it, and i got a nice email frm the senor tutor telling me to skive away guilt free.or wirds to that effect. excuse me while im sick again, i moved my head half a cm.

anyway, i think im officially on 'shes gonna top herself watch'. fabulous. CMHT were tlking about an admission, and previously, i would have thought that was a good thing. But now-well, itl just get in the way of my plans, yknow. and christ if they give me more drugs im gonna walk around carrying a bucket and be done with it.

i love life. can you tell?

well whatd'ya know...

I've been referred to the same Ed service that used to treat my mum. Must be karma or something.

Tomorow I am going to see my GP, and on thursday i am going for my assessment with the CMHT and eating disorders service. Which hasnt made me very popular at Uni, cos I have to miss half a day, and they werent too impressed. I mean, im pretty sure it looks better on their precious reputation and stats for me to um, be alive at the end of term, rather than curled up in a ball in the corner from the stress of everything. But, you know, their choice.kidding.

Weird thing happened today. I totally spacked out in a tutorial. We were talking through ethics and professionalism, and one of the questions was to do with 'what should you do if a friend/colleague blah is self harming and does it effect fitness to practice'. And im not going to record what was said-one because that wouldnt be the most professional thing to do (see, i listened), and two, because its all supposed to 'saty in the room'. But i was so unimpresses. And call it ignorance, or whatever you like, and yes i was being sensitive, but it upset me and i just got my stuff and walked out.No drama, i just left. One of the senior tutors noticed and followed me and took me to their office-where i thought i was about to get a royal bollocking in the inner sanctum. But no. He made me tea, and just asked me if i was ok, and said a bit about he'd noticed that id been looking really tired, and generally anxious/upset/pick a word, and was i ok? Then told me that the best physio's are the ones that see the person inside the body, and not just the mechanics of it all, gave me a pat on my shoulder and signed me out for the afternoon.wtf??!!

Nice guy.

Why am i so tired all the time?i know its a sign of low mood, blah, but why?Even if i slept all day id still be tired.and its getting really hard to work out whats going on in my brain.like seriouysly, its so confusing. Cos the mad part of it(or the rational part, depending on how you see it) keeps on and on and on, getting louder all the time about hurting myself, killing myself, how it will make it go away, cajoling, then switches and tries a different tack-like 'its totally what you deserve anyway' kind of thing. And the little teeny bit of ok headspace is giving up on me cos its being swamped all the time. Like seriously, all the time.and i cant take it.nothing makes it stop, go away, or even just chill the fuck out a bit.and like, i dont even know if they are my thoughts, what i believe and want-which i do most of the time, but theres this bit that goes 'hang on a wee little minute', except it keeps getting shouted down. someone help me please.tell me what to do to get away from it. Because i need time away from it to decide if thats what i do want to happen without the constant shouting going on.

differences

I'm not the same person i was even a few months ago. Weird really. Take the girl out of cornwall, and i might as well just be someone else. I'm not quite sure how it happened even. I got here, and I lost a big part of my groove, overnight, just like that. And I thought it would come back,with confidence and time, but instead, everything just keeps slipping away.

I dont look like me. I dont feel like me. whatever that was anyway.answers on a postcard please.

I get up, i put on the nearest thing to me, or the thing that looks most like what everyone else is wearing (trackie bottoms. what the fuck has happened to me!My motel dresses are no longer on speaking terms with me)shove some books in my bag (not my funky picnic hamper topshop bag, but the fucking sports bag i bought when i couldnt deal with being looked at anymore) and walk to uni. I listen to lectures that bore that crap out of me, having alrwady done the topics to death in the previous courses i have done. Yes, it will get more interesting once they have established that we can all write our own names, count to ten, and name the odd part of the body (but not in detail). but in the meantime, i am going batshit insane from not being challenged. I need to think, to be made to think, it helps me, distracts me, gives focus, pushes me in the right way. so i bumble through a day at uni, try and talk to people, get home, shower and go to bed. I am sooo tired.like insanely.

and then i wake in the middle of he night and think about all the ways i could put an end to this, Depression-no.i think its a lot more reality.

heres how it is going to work-

I have to be the best. It does not matter that this is a medical school university, and everyone here was the best at school, college, whatever they did before. I have to be better.

I have to lose some weight. I am the biggets person here, and that is not acceptable. I do not look like someone who is training to be a physiotherapist. I must drop my weight by at least 2 stone. Preferably to be acheived before christmas.

I have to be the nice friendly person that people want me to be, and not the upset, stressed person I currently am.

I must stop eating so much.

And I musnt slip up and let people see that I cant manage here, because then I will no longer be perfect. and I have to be perfect. That means that I must not cut, because I cannot afford anymore visits to A&E and the concern/dissapointment/disgust that creates from the staff there.

and this is the way it has to be. If im going to live, then this has to be the way it is going to be.

chelsea bridge

Is somewhere I used to live when I was younger. The house was on a square, and in the middle was this park, just for the residents. i think people sometimes refer to them as 'garden suburbs now', but whatever. That park was actually really pretty. Iron railings, and these little picnic benches, and i remember pushing my dolls pram around the path, sometimes with the dog tottling along behind me. There was a swing set, and these little horses, on springs that rocked back and forth.I've got this really vague memory of me and mum sitting on them having a pony race, and the dog pushing his little snout into the bushes. always thinking of his stomach that dog!

anyways, thats the first place i remember living.and leaving incidently. That wasnt a fun time. I also remeber ambulances coming there for mum, the constant doctors, and psychotherapists, and home treatment teams traipsing through the house ALL THE TIME. and the really horrible times when mum would shout and get angry because they were trying to make her go somewhere, and i was sitting on the stairs with my dolly Lina looking through the banisters, knowing that they were going to take mum away again, and not knowing why. Then I would cry, and one of them would come and find me and tell me that 'mummy needed looking after'. well what about me? and then enevitably grandad would come and take me to his house and nan would not feed me there too, with fucking icing on top. I was never really sre what was worse. cos i loved being with grandaddy, but nan scared me. and my brothers would be naughty and grandad would be worried and upset, and nan would shout, until i just went and hid in the 'good sitting room' behind the couch, next to the big plant pot, pretending i was a jungle explorer, and it was just me and lina.

In that house, i remember crystal clear the first time mum tried to kill herself.

I remember the first time mum weighed me.

The first time i made myself sick

the first time i wished i was anyone but me.

i went back there today. I dont know what i expected to get from it, but it was a curiosity thing, really. The garden isnt as well kept these days. And our house has been painted a different colour, and the front door is shiny black, with a lion head knocker.

Incidently, around the corner is a private eating disorders clinic. would it have killed you to try to get better mum?did you even care?ever?

i wish i was dead. curiosity killed the cat.

not long now.

intensity

I dont really know how it got to this. I have all this stuff inside my head fighting to get out, swimming around for space, pushing everything else out of the way. Accept that when i try and explain it to someone, or write it, it all disappears, leaving me with nothing.

I feel really alone right now. Which is actually kinda normal, so hey, at least im used to it.

Just please dont make me have to leave my room. I cant be in a lecture theatre, I dont want to be in the practical gyms, and i cant cant cant go in the kitchen.

please someone understand. I want friends, i want this to be different, but please i really really cant leave my room right now.

falling

people talk about losing themselves, being lost, and not recognising the person they have become. The feeling of waking up one day and not knowing who you are anymore. About not being themselves.

I say these things too, i think them, and then i stop-because i dont think i really know who or what i was in the first place. So if you cant go back to how you were, and you dont know how to move forward-it gets a bit tricky. I've often been told that one of my main issues is that i think to much, make things to comples. and i see that, and it makes sense. I overanalyse, i think ahead of myself, and figure out all the possible eventualities.

I could make it simple here. I really could. I could just stop thinking, and accept whatever i am, whatever identity i have, and just stop caring about what others may or may not think.

Its no really that simple though.

I need approval, validation, acceptance. I want to be liked, so what to come across as someone who is likeable. But how do you even know what that is. And why is it that way. Why cant i just not give a shit?

if Ed is taken away, im stripped down, there is absolutely nothing left to me. well, apart from a lot of moomin love. And this is why i wish i could judt switch my brain off.

i want...well what?to feel better?different?nothing?what dies feeling nothing FEEL like?i mean, it must feel like something.safety, security-well yes.

Is giving in the same as giving up?i think so.either way, ed wins-or maybe its that i win, because il finally know what it was all fucking well for. nothing.

if i could have anything in the whole world right now, it would be the end. The end i want. I just wish i could figure out the way to get it without fucking it all up, ending up sectioned and being stopped.

bu, hey, thats life right.

fuck this.

entrapment

Saturday night...same feeling. Though i actually did my washing tonight.

I dont know how much longer i can go on feeling like this.

If veronka can decide to die, well fuck it, so can I (its a paulo coelho book. it made me think.and now its made me reach this comclussion).

I really, really dont give a fuck anymore.

im so tired of hurting and crying and feeling like im climbing up this massive hill all the time. I feel ill-in the physical sense, because of the not eating-ness, and i can fight it anymore. I dont know what normal eating is for fuck sake, it makes no sense to me, i dont like the majority of foods, and Ed's rules are easy and he leaves me the fuck alone if i just play the game.  Im trapped in my head and a slave to the fucked up part of my head.which is most of it. im tired of trying to get help, and not getting anywhere, and im sick of explaining to people how genuinely difficult this is.

The slightest thing has me in floods of tears, and i just.cant.cope.like.this.anymore.

and i'll have a shot with that double...

its friday night and its nearly 9pm. and im in my room, contemplating either doing some washing, or doing some serious damage to myself. The thing is, the thought that would have to go into either is pretty much the same.

I put this down to the fact that i really dont give a fuck anymore

make mine a double.

I've done 3 days of uni now. And im totally exhausted. This is not good, considering that all its been is endless welcome talks and induction rubbish.

I mean, clealy this tiredness is due to the fact that i am a totally normal student who has been embracing freshers week, drinking cheap booze and rocking home at 2am from some london club, and absolutely nothing to do with the fact that i havnt eaten for 3 days now. hmn, cos the 3 day thing is entirely a coincidence.

There are some lovely people here. I mean its a shame they all live in the other block, but the bonus of that is that i can have peace and quiet as needed, me being ancient and all. But the thing is, the people I met first at Liverpool were the people who screwed me over the worst  in the end. and i cant seem to let it go.

sofar i have managed to reduce myself to a sobbing mess (in public) twice. TWICE. Once when i was with a couple of lovely girls and just suddenly felt hideous, and the next when a a couple of second years were talking to me at a 'get together' at the SU bar before town, and they asked about family and i couldnt stop crying. NOT GOOD.

I saw the uni counsellor for the second time today, and i doubt im going back. She irritates the crap out of me, and today we sat there in silence for about 40 minutes while i cried. rekons i understand too much about my eating disorder to actually have one.

My new GP is quite nice. His youngish, obv thinks im a bit weird but he said he would try and hurry referalls up, but will still take forever. Counsellor rekons the only reason i wasnt help from services is so i feel validated-er, no, the reason i want help is because I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR FUCKING YEARS FOR IT, THEN GOT IT FOR ABOUT A MONTH AND ID LIKE IT CARRY ON NOW PLEASE.PLEASE.please thankyou very much before i jump out of the nearest window because i feel like im about to spill over and i dont know how much more i can copewith right now and i dont even have HTT to fall back on and im so anxious i dont know what to do, and id quite like to cut fairly significant lumps out of myself now, please can i see someone to talk to who wont judge me and will actually help me please thankyou please.

today, in a freshers packs, we were  given condoms, and a rape alarm.

bodes well, i think

I am SO offended

Some BITCH just emailed me and sent me a link to her site, which is all about spotting a sociopath. And how they are all manipulative liars who fuck other people up.

well. thank you for that VERY much.

When you have been raped and been through the court proceedings, along full a big bucketful of other shit, you just get back to me on that.

Game on...

aka how a series of random events have made me feel hideous and like i should not be here.

I went to see a University counseller today out of desperation. I needed someone to get the way i was feeling, s i could validate it, almost. But we didnt gel, and to be honest, it made me feel worse. Cos now i realise i have to start with the explaining all over again. which is triggering in itself.

I braved out the common room at halls today, which was full of bitchy girls bitching.they ignored me for half an hour-even when i said hello!-then askedme what course i was on, and kind of looked at me weirdl.and my immeadiate tought process goes-omg they think you too fat and unfot to be a physio.

I cant eat. It just doesnt feel like an option.restrict restrict restrict. The stupid thing is -i know it makes it worse. i KNOW that. But i cant break it. I just dont want people to see me eat. I dont want to have to accept i need to eat-i dont, which i suppose is the issue. it feels like my dirty ittle secret-omg vic EATS!. but its morevthan that, i could never explain, not really.

I feel inadequate and like a freak. And i keep trying to talk to people and everyone just looks right through me, cos they all cliquey wth the people in their flats/on their courses.

I fail bigstyle

xxx

the trouble is

you just take your shit with you, you just unpack it a bit slower...

well, its sure not cornwall!!

And if it were, I'd be able to call the home treatment team. And right now I'd swap everything I own for a chat with them. Hardcore.

I cant get mobile signal in my room (this seems to be a common theme in halls of residence) and they cant get through on the weird landline phone in my room.which is annoying. hey ho.

so today, me and my mangled hand tried to register with a doctor. There are MANY gp practices in this area, all of which are highly selective on their catchment area, and keep the details of which surgery i could register at, as some sort of state secret, which shall never be disclosed. I had to go back to A and E clinic this morning, which was fun (and painful) but did manage to register with a dentist. anyone looking for an NHS dentist-there are approx 1 million dentists in this area, all taking on new patients. They all look equally scary, none can speak english, but hey, i guess it tests your nerves lol.I'm not good at dentists, so not entirely sure i will turn up to appt on friday. we shall see. Today I went to in to town, and then got the bus back via kingston, so i could have a perve in my old fav shops lol.something to do anyway. NOTHING has changed. except the shopping centre I used to frequent as a tennager now only seems to cater for males. v strange.

I saw some people I used to know today, and it was not fun. They blatently saw me , from the nudging and the whisoering, and its no secret that i moved to cornwall to put space between myself and them, to try and get better. Cos they are total scene queens, and like, wanted eating disorders for the glamour. ffs.

I got my Chartered society of physio  poloshirt and badge today in the post!so now i cant get sued if i break anyone lol hahhahah

proud moment. that badge is my new fav accessory.

xxxxxxxxxx

and by the end of the day-read previos post first!!

following this post (and please help with this one if you have any ideas id really appreciate it)

I've managed to swap my catheter (which was taken out on friday-total party, and dont even care that i have to now catheterise myself with these weird temperary ones all the time) for a FREAKING BROKEN HAND!!! My second day here and im not in finger splints and a weird cast thingy. After freaking out about what i wrote about in previous post, i decided to be proactive and go up to the common room and find someone to play with. Noone there, but on way back saw someone moving in flat above me and offered to help with their stuff.and their dad managed to shut my hand in the metal security gate and mangle my hand. He was so mortified i felt more sorry for him. haha he gave his daughter £20 to take me out for drinks hahaahaha. But it was kinda icicng on the cake, and i was in floods of tears-hurt like FUCK (weirdly more than breaking my arm) and had to go to a and e, and all that palava. and now everyone knows me as the freak girl who cried her eyes out. and the halls warden was just like 'jeez, toughen up or ul have a hard time here', then asked me if i wanted her to call my mum or someone to go to a and e with me. erm, yeh please. which i KNOW wasnt her fault but then i had to explain to avoid future awkardness-and she was a bit nicer then-but really didnt help.

on the plus side, at least i have a stella excuse to not do some more unpacking!!yesss!!hahaha

omg it HURTS

xxxxx

the ins and outs of it

I went food shopping today

I havent actually bought anything i can eat

this could be a problem

see, I make a rubbish student, actually. Because I can't deal very well with sharing kitchens and food cupboards and people seeing what i'm eating'. So what I end up doing is buying tons of what i view to be super healthy food, and loads of fruit and veg(which i wont get through before it goes off), and nothing that i feel that i can actually eat. In case-shock horror-someone notices i ate something that had more than 5 calories in it. Which would tip me right over th edge, and off the planet into Ed-ness again/even more. But if i were to keep my food in my room, everyone would think I was being weird. And i cant share a food cupboard. Im not being selfish-i'd lend someone my fav motel dress, anything else-but i CANT share food space. Beacuse if it were with my things, it would make me think i should be eating that. Or if i binged, i might eat their food. there are lots of reasons, but basically im feeling a bit fragile right now.

I'm trying sooo hard to be normal. I got up and had breakfast this morning (which im pretty proud of) and managed to sit in the kitchen and eat it and not runaway when the hall warden (only other person in my flat so far) came in and started making a massive hangover fry-up. and asked what i did last night, to which i replied-went to sainsburys, got lost, went to bed. she on the other hand went to a party, and had an awsome time. But its all the little things that are making this feel like its something i cant do. wtf am i doing here anyway.i dont fit in, i stand out like a sore thumb, cos everyone looks so london-cool, and unbothered by life.

I just want to get into bed. i'm so tired.I havnt slept properly for ages now, and, well, I just want to get into my nest and have a massive cry.i want to call the home treatment team and talk it through with them , but i cant. Becasue i know they would talk with me for the next week or so, before pointing out im in the wrong county for their help, but my freaking phone doesnt get signal anyway in halls. I want to call the guy from EDS and talk with him about it all. Fuck, i'd even go with a samaritan right now.

And all this because i dont know what I can eat.