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