72 hour section, and other fun things

The trouble with finally having a therapist that i trust and feel comfortable talking with, is that I get myself in trouble by saying things that maybe i shouldnt. or should. the jurys out on that one, i guess, but being honest about how bad i feel has got me in a whole heap of not-goodness.

So, on monday I went for my normal session with her, and was just feeling awful, stressed and just a mess basically. I have to leave uni halls on friday, but after i paid all my halls rent, i have like zero money left, and cant afford a deposit or rent in advance for a new place. and because im taking next year out, im not going to get any more student funding at the moment, which, so not good.  and my care coordinator still hasnt sorted out anywhere for me to stay, and its just a massive mess. so i was just in a total state, and pretty  suicidal to be honest. cos its just the same shit all the time, and one thing after another. and we all know how i deal with that. And i meant it, and im not really sure how much i still do. I still feel very wobbly, and like i dont know what to do for the best, and a lot of the time, i do think i would be better off dead. and i think the longer i have been ill, the worse it gets. each tim i hit a rough patch, and feel lower, the harder it is to get back where i was. and im so tired of it, and worrying about everything, it just gets way too much. Anyhow i think i worried the crap out of her, cos she asked if i would stay and be assessed by a doc-which i agreed to. but by this time it was 5, so we had to wait for the duty doc. after a never end stream of phone calls, my poor therapist, who was stuck waiting with me, finally managed to get a doc over at 9.30pm. considering my appointment was at 4pm, this wasnt much fun. mostly cos by this time i was feeling bloody awful for ruining her eveing and her having to wait-cos shes so nice, and the nicer she was about it, the worse i felt.

so the doc finally assessed me after talking with my therapist, at 10.30pm. i was waiting on the ED inpatient ward, which is in the same building as the day unit and where i go for outpatient appts with her.  it was pretty weird being there-we first got there when at the ward dinner time, which was pretty hectic. I  gradually felt a bit better, waiting all that time, it kind of all seeped out of me a bit. we talked lots in a casual, jokey kind of way, and i guess i managed to admit a lot of stuff that i wouldnt have normally been able to. anyway, the doc told er that i wasnt sectionable (remember this bit of info for later) and that he thought i should stay, but couldnt make me, and was just going to talk to home treatment, to discuss options. So she tells me this, and i feel better-cos it was the hottest day of the year so far (like really), and i was really anxious to at least pop back home to check charlie, my guinea pig, had enough water, and feed him, and grab a change of clothes and wash stuff if i was gonna stay in. admissions make me totally ocd about washing-just feel horrible sleeping in beds others have been in, showers etc, and wards are never the cleanest of places, and it makes me feel so nasty. and i only live 10 mins away from the hosp, so she, and a social worker she talked with rekoned it was totally reasonable.

at midnight the doc finally came back, asked if i would stay, i said no, cos of sorting charlie out, but would be willing to come back if they let me pop home-after all id been left with the idea that i was free to go if i wished, not being sectionable and all. so he goes off again. and comes back with 2 other senior nurses and puts a bloody 72 hour holding section on me, and had security drag me to a high security ward. WTF!!!!!i said id agree to stay the night!! by the time i got to the ward it was 1.30am, and almost 3 before they finally let me go to bed. on constant observation, so even had to pee and shower with the door open, and couldnt pull up bed covers higher than my hips, and leave lights on so they could see me. wtf is that about!!but they give me a wash kit with a disposable razor (again!!this has happened to me before, and baffles me, since they confiscate the most bizarre things off you, but give you blades. um ok.) i was sooo upset about charlie and really worried-he hadnt been so well in the heat, and was really scared he would have finished his water bottle, and didnt even know why id been sectioned-which is now gonna coause me issues with uni, cos im a healthcare student, so really hacked off. but be proud cos i kept my cool until 8.30 the next morning when i exploded with anger cos i doc couldnt reassess me until the next day-cos id been dragged off to a ward that wasnt covered by my team, i had to wait for a transfer to be assessed by someone who knew me. anyway i think they saw my point-that i was extremly pissed that id been told i could go home, then got sectioned, and had been in a boiling hot waiting room from 5pm til 2am without being offered anything to eat (oh the irony-and i was on an ED ward at that point!!), hadnt had my rights read to me, per policy, and was being forced to neglect the welfare of my pet. Anyhow, saying the words 'give me your complaint procedure and the name of your trust exec NOW' seemed to do the trick, and i was transfered to a much nicer, not insanely scary ward, and re assessed, and taken off constant obs. the section got revoked-but will still show on my record, so i am appealing it, because if school, and because it was so unfair,the doc that did it spoke to me for a total of 5 mins!!. They wanted me to stay informally on the ward, but not keen-i just wanted to check charlie, and have a shower, and eventually they ageed to keep me on the patient list, but grant me leave from the ward-so i can go back to the ward if i need, or stay at halls. I wanted to not be there also cos i need to be around to sort the housing issue out-to go to the council, fill in forms etc. so i had to agree to home treatment visits-which actually helped a bit today, though im considering going back to the ward. its weird cos i hate being there-but its a security thing. an like a mini break from dealing with myself and my weirdness-its taken away from me, someone else helps decide things-but theres a fine line, cos i suddenly end up hating that, people being in charge of what i do, and it makes me soo angry and uneasy and insecure. but in a weird way i feel comforted. i know hospital worls best for me very short term-im talking like 2 nights absolute max, but i also dont like feeling like i need other people. i guess its the little things. i felt really touvhed on monday night, when i eventually started to drift off at about 5.30 am and a nurse who must have trusted me a little, came and pulled the sheet up over my arms cos i most have looked cold. or maybe she was just the mother type, co she stroked my head a few times and when i cried just cuddled me and said 'oh baby girl its ok' over and over.

I do now feel awful about going back to see H, my therapist. shes lovely, and thats the problem. I caused a total nightmare for her, and she was so genuinely nice the whole time, and stayed far longer than she needed too-she stayed when the doc first spoke with me, cos she knows im liable to be super anxious and not say anything with people i dont know, and checked wth me so many times that i was ok with her going. I was upset when she went off to talk with doc cos i thought i couldnt go see charlie (turns out i couldnt) but she sat with me and tried to help me calm down, and told me that hed said i could go, that they couldnt keep me. and its not her fault it all took so long and turned out how i did-i totally dont think that at all. i feel bad for wasting her time, and like i just caused a load of trouble, when im not worth that amount of trouble.loads of times i tried to backtrack and say i was fine to go home, but she wouldnt have any of it-i kept apologising to her the whole time, so she knew i felt awful about it. while we were waiting i told her a list of all the things that were worrying me-no money/food, that i needed to get back for charlie, that i thought she hated me now, about being scared about the day unit-mostly cos i wouldnt be seeing her anymore, and didnt want to start with a new person., and all kinds of things. all just kinda spilt out. and she just wrote a list of it all, told me to calm down and now she knew, she could help.said she would talk with my cpn, and sort some emergency cash out, and would try her hardest to get the cmht to realise the proper urgency of the housing situation-cos they dont seem to get the fact that i dont have a home to go back to for the summer. and she tried to sort it so i could pop home quickly. so really-it was a horrid situaltion but im glad it was with H, cos i feel comfortable with her. and it was ok that she was seeing me falling apart. and its hard to admit, but i liked that she cared enough to get me assessed, convinced me to stay and wait it out, and was just NICE. its always nice to think someone cares, and like-ok, i know she was covering her arse cos she didnt want to get sued if i went home and topped myself, but she did a lot more than she could have done. I was soo tired waitng for the doc to come, ans she knew i just wanted to go, and i kinda like the fact she didnt believe my 'im ok' bullshit.  but im so ashamed that it came to that.

She called me when i got home on tues, after my leave had been agreed and said she was worried i wouldnt come back to sessions cos i blamed her for being sectioned-which i totally dont. Im worried about going back cos i was a major pain in the ass! so we talked it out, and now i feel like i can go back and see her, which is good, cos i get a lot from the sessions. This is just a massive nightmare thing. I have to go back to the ward on monday, for ward round, but im thinking i might go back for the weekend. i find it hard knowing what to do, because a lot of me wants to stay home so i can hurt myself.  but there must be a bit of me that wants that kind of security. dunno.

so, being sectioned is totally a good way to spend your monday night! (uh, you get the sarcasm, right??)

please have a look out my other blog :)

Hey guys

while i was still in cornwall i started this blog-about fashion/vintage stuff/customising clothes/making jewellery etc, and the general nicer fluff life is made of! pretty please have a look, and follow (its feeling lonely..!!!)

This blog has always been my place to rant, vent and talk about ED/SI related issues, and i want to get back to writing about clothes and bows again!

so clicky here to have a look at 'pretty bows and borrowing grannies clothes'

or if your horse-minded, try this one -  Vicki and Luran

thanks guys, i need some blog love!!!

the age old problem

i actually cannot stop bloody eating. im constantly thinking about the next thing. i think it must be a stress reaction or something, cos while i always purge after i eat-i rarely normally binge, i normally just end up throwing up 'normal' meals, if that makes sense. and its not denial-i really dont binge that much anymore-i used to, and now its more like i just try and purge anything i eat. so i get stuck trying to eat the same meal, cos i feel bad for being sick, and thus the cycle is set up. so i guess its kind of a binge behaviour, but its not about large quantities, normally. but the last 3 days or so-bloody hell. all i do is eat anything i can find, then ourge, then while im doing that im thinking what i can eat next. its mental. i think its slowing off  a bit now-im really trying to fight it, but its so draining. and i dont know where its come from. I am super wound up at the moment about my housing problems, but that normally comes out as restriction, or worse self harm. im not saying that its a good thing, that i react in those ways-just thats what my 'programmed' reactions to stress tend to be, until i recognise it and fight it. but its so exhausting, and makes me feel so stupid. why cant i just be normal. yeh yeh i know noone is normal, but you know where im coming from.

im looking forward to monday, cos i see my psychologist on mondays, and the sessions really help me. they dont take away the rubbish, but i tend to feel a little bit saner for letting some of it out, and having a good ol rant, and it all seems to have more context, which helps. like things tend to end up with the right proportion of feelings after seeing her.rather than me being mad for something thats really nothing, i kind of tend to realise what its really about, and things get a bit more evenly distributed. although i have huge issues believing her when she tries to tell me its not all my fault for stuff thats happened. i dont like thinking it could be any other way-it just doesnt sit comfortably. im the crap one, im the one that mad shit decisions and screwed everything up.so its my fault, liverpool, my mum, everything.

scared and freaking out

Ok, so last night was actually the best day of my life ever (apart from the day i got my first pony sam. but that is the ONLY exception, and only because sam was an absolute lege) because i went to see kings of leon at hyde park, and we all know exactly how much i love KOL, more specifically, mr caleb followill.

what scares me is how quickly you can come smacking back down to life. I dont mean, that i had a good time, and now i feel a bit blah, cios the thing i was looking forward to has gone-although it did help having this masssive incentive. I mean, I feel so fundamentally fucked-i cant think of another word. Im so scared about everything that is going on right now-i have like a week left in halls, no money (lost my student finance cos im taking the next year out for the day unit) and hence nowhere to live. I cant get help from the council, as im not enough of a connection to the local area, and not vulnerable enough. I also cannot seem o stop eating, which is getting ridiculous now. i just keep eating. and puking and then eating again. as im being sick, im thinking of what i can eat next, which aint that helpful when your food is supposed to last another week, and youve finished all of it. shit.

so its not that im ungrateful for the amazing fabulous cant beat it ever time that i had last night-its just that now i dont really know where to go from here.

Dignitas-it makes me feel uneasy...what do you think?

Dignitas is a Swiss organisation which facilitates assisted suicide for the terminally ill, due to a slight lax in the law regarding suicide there, compared to the rest of Europe (is switzerland in the EU?if it is, forgive my appalling ignorance, but you get my point). It does also, however, provide help for those 'weary of life' to die too, in certain circumstances.

I watched this BBC documentary, in which author Terry Pratchett followed to individuals journeys-and deaths at dignitas. A word of warning before i go on-if you are going to watch it, the last 15 minutes are very difficult viewing, as the programme literally films to the end.

Now, actually, i was always very certain of an individuals right to chose to die-after all you dont chose to be born. i probably still am, i think, but ive really had some ideas shifting in my head. I believe people have a right to a dignified death. I dont think someone shopuld be forced to live through the last stages if devastating illness's, such as MS, motor neurone disease, Cancer to name but a few. But thats a personal choice. Hopsice and family care are both options, and i dont think we should ever get to the stage whee people are diagnosed, and feel forced in to an 'early death' because they dont want to be a burden.

because in real;ity-well Dignitas doesnt sit that easy with me anymore. The man who set it up, is somewhat of a fanatic-and given enough power, well, i dont think im the only person who sees a possible fascist dictator in the making. Because whilst i believe that he has genuinely done an amazing thing in setting up dignitas-it also worries me. because ultimately, noone should really wield power over wether you can die or not. its just a bit, well, weird. And yes, they have a stringent system-doctors assessments, and constant reminders that its the patients choice right up to the last minute-watching the programme, there wasnt the feeling that you couldnt change your mind-likewise, in fact, it was really bandied about before they handed the drugs over. There are checks on your medical history, and if they doubt anyones motives, they wont help at all. and supposedly they wont go near anyone having suffered from depression, or mental illness. But, having a mental illness does not neccessarily make you incapable of making choices. And there have been incidenses of dignitas helping the 'hopelessly depressed'. making it a lot more like your bog standard suicide bid, without the fall back of it going wrong. so where would that leave the genuinely depressed, who might attempt suicide in a bid for help.

I do like that the man who set it up (cannot think of his name, and had slight nightmares about the whole thing after watching the documentary so dont want to google it) is very adament that people come to him, they fill in the paperwork, they are assessed-and then they do nothing. because sometimes having the option of death is enough to keep you going. like someone from cornwall HTT once said to me -'if it werent for suicide, we'd all be dead by now'. He told a story about a young man who had been depressed who turned up unannounced begging to be helped to die. he took him in, and over the next few days, spoke to the young guy about suicide. he left about a week later with the name of a psyc, and called a few months later to thank to thank him for not letting him die. Because talking about suicide takes the taboo away-and if your feelings surrounding it are recived and validated well-then it DOES make it less likely you will act on them. there has been tons of research on the effects of talking about suicidal feelings. and i know for me-talking about it, and it being accepted and not just brushed off relieves a massive knot in the pit of my stomach.

I think it is a good thing to talk through suicidal feelings. and i think people should have the right to chose to end their life. but on what merits? pretty much everyday, i reach a point where i wholehearted,y wish i was dead. but im still here the day after, and the next. so how to tell how much i mean it, if even i dont know? it feels real at the time, and maybe given a fool proof way of doing it-heck i know i would have done it by now, perhaps thought out, but maybe on a bad day whim. I think a big part f the reason i havnt so far, is fear of it 'half working' and me ending up leaving some sort of half life.

so yes, i think it needs tightly governing-but i also dont like the idea of anyone having that power. of how easy any system is to abuse. and alright, you can refuse the 'service' to anyone with MH problems, in their present or past. but what about if i end up with a crippling, agonising illness like motor neurone disease? would i then lose my right to a dignified exit at a time i chose, because i had a history of depression? is that fair or right?

its odd. the whole thing is odd. i used to work as a vet nurse, and ive seen hundreds of people treating their pets better than they do members of their family. the dog gets terminally ill, an we put it to sleep to prevent it suffering, and to make it time as pleasant as possible. but we leave old aunty mavis in a nursing home staring in to space.

i used to be a very firm supporter of dignitas. in fact, truth be told, i had a bit of a weird facination with it, and spent a long time researching of there was anyway i could get there 'help'. heck, i even wrote to them once, begging about the misery of depression (bear in mind this was when i first found out about needing to give evidence at the court case, and i wasnt in the best of places). funnily enough, i never did get a reply. but having watched the death of the man (god rest his soul, he was so ill, i understand completely) on the programme, i feel wretched about the whole thing. so uneasy. i couldnt sleep for 2 nights, and we all know i am a champion sleeper, if nothing else. its not that it was wrong-because i dont believe it was -it was just cold, and clear cut, and so indifferent that it made me blood run cold. Death shouldnt be made to seem like a 'problem that can be dealt with', and the thing is, dignitas make it seem exactly like that. except your not arranging for your boiler to be fixed-your phoning up to book in your death.

i cant get that guy out of my head. and i cant settle. and then i think-well, i wonder if my mum would have liked to have died that way. i wonder if she would have years earlier.

Dignitas has thoroughly upset me, and its not even their fault.

*footnote.

'EXIT' ia another 'self deliverance/assisted suicide' orgainisation that appears to publish a DIY guide to killing yourself. they market it as something to have tucked away 'just in case'. NO NO NO. its just not right. theres something really not right about that. and thats coming from ME.

i actually believe in miracles now..

hahahaa i passed my written exams. this is somewhat surprising since i wrote the worlds most vague, non committed answers to some very detailed questions!

I passed the rehabilitation practical, but need to resit the assessment one. seems i can treat you, but not tell you whats wrong! I got a first for my coursework essay, which i was really pleased with, so now all i have to do is resit the assessment practical (osce) and do the 2 exams i missed in feb while i was at the day unit. LONG, everyone else has finished!!

that bitch called bulimia

i have to say, on reflection, that this really is A TOTAL FREAKING BITCH OF AN ILLNESS.

i cant be doing with going into how much it irritates me that people think this is lifestyle choice, and all that rubbish. all i can say, is if you think that, give it  months when you have crap hair, shit skin and feel like death, and then decide if its still your best friend. ugh.

so it hit me today, that i have been ill for about 14 years. FOURTEEN YEARS.

do the math, and thats pretty much half my life.

and its still holding me tight.

ok, so if your thinking you cant want to better THAT much, to have had it for THAT long, then maybe you have a point. I became ill at age 12, and dangerously caught up in the cycle by age 15. i wouldnt have admitted to anyone-or even realised it myself that i was ill until i was around 23. so thats about 5 years of trying to recover, trying to get support, and talk myself in to carrying on with life. In those 5 years a lot of stuff has happened to push me more and more into the illness. its changed its shape now though, now i know its there. its different. its like putting up a fight, rather than finding an ally these days. and still it always manages to drag me back. sometimes i wonder if it really IS an illness-or if it just is this programmed part of me. if thats the case, my mum should have kept the reciept for me, cos she bought faulty goods.ooops.

the math is depressing, but necessary. I Guess we all need a reality check from time to time.

all the same though. today, im so tired it makes me cry-well everything does. my throat hurts, i feel like ive done the marathon, rather than walk 10 minutes down the road. my tummy hurts more than words, my eyes are blurry and i cant concentrate for more than 3 minutes at a time. i have a dirty headache, split nails and dire skin. my hair has completely blocked up my shower, and im a really fetching shade of deathly pale. and this is a normal day. but oh, i lost a kilo, so clearly its worth it, right....

im kidding clearly. well, sadly not about the side effects, but about the it being worth it. even i know its not, and that pretty soon, i will have no life left. which is debatebly a good thing and not what im trying to get at here.

actually i dont know where this is going, except that im sick of this, im sick of me and im sick of not being able to make myself better.

so i really cant do failing exams

so i passed one of the practicals but failed the other. i cant do failing things.

not really sure-ness

about lots of things really. though principally, why i bother. seriously. im not too sure.

Back to the day unit

Got my date through to go back to the day unit to start the full recovery programme. depending on current patients disharge dates, will be between last week of august and mid september.

i havnt quite decided how i feel about this. I want to do it an i want to get better, but i cant imagine devoting an entire year to myself. weird. and i dont want to take leave from uni, now i have finally made friends in my year.

but, it is a really GOOD chance.

Fuck it

give up