No excuses

Theere are no excuses for my abscence.

I just haven't felt like blogging.

There still been plenty going on. Maybe there's been too much going on. I don't do very well with time management; My room is a tip, I haven't completed the extra bits on the volunteer project i've been doing, I haven't started the college (yes i'm attempting to study again)assignment i got monday (its now Friday), I'm trying to get fundraising bits sorted for my run (paper forms & cards with online sponsor page, just a T-shirts & the emailing round/publicity to do) - oh & i'm still trying to lose all the weight i gained over Christmas. Probably about half a stone, but its not just over eating at christmas, its huge lack of exercise due to illness too. So that flat tummy i worked so hard to gain has gone. But i need to be thinking about running really as i am extremely behind with training. So for now it will be running 4 days a week, yoga/pilates etc 4 times a week, a couple of my beloved classes on a sunday (although one of them is one of those 4 yogaish ones) and fridays i may do a weights class but taking it gently.
Except for half term & tutorial weeks when i get the chance to do classes with instructors i really miss doing classes with.

That kind of brings me onto why i've returned. The nightmare last night was that mixture of painful upsetting because it was comfort that i know will never happen & very distressing because it was dragging up some of the worst of the past. I can't recal the order of events but it included all of these points:

• M, an instructor i miss doing classes with rescuing me when my car broke down & i was very distressed & taking me back to her place


• Where my psych called me and told me i was going to be sectioned (It was my first adult services psych who couldn't really speak english & grabbed my arm & pushed up my sleeve to see my scars - funnily enough i always hated him) when i asked why it was due the arm band marks that mum had seen on my tummy - which apparently made me a danger to myself (WTF goes on in my head while i'm asleep?!)


• I told M it would be fine as i hadn't been harming, so i'd go but they had no grounds to section me.


• Except they did. horrible psych was there with another of my current instructors R who was trying to get him to see the benefits of the classes while he just said it was me damaging myself. There was another bloke in the room i was in too & i can't recall what but he doesn't have a positive feel attached to him - quite the opposite.


• Somewhere along the lines i was talking to someone at a yard who was telling me she had met me before when i'd had a car accident with a horse box, but i was sure that i had only had one serious incident which didn't involve anyone else (which is true). I felt all confused in the dream but kind of confused when i woke up too. Its like the dream was becoming reality and i couldn't separate the 2.


• There was something else too about getting ready for a party & getting the theme wrong & then we were at this restaurant & someone dropped the game of battleships & mum & i were trying to find all the little pieces. All though there were no familiar faces other than mum, it still didn't feel like a happy dream. like there was something underlying which still makes me want to wake up & cry.

Which is pretty much what i did - well on the car on the way here, to college. Is it a bit risky blogging from college? That does seem to be a big theme with me right now - Apathy. I couldn't give a shit about anything. Its taken me a month to start stressing about the weight gain - stressing to the point of harming at least and even then i couldn't be bothered to do that damage i felt i wanted too.

Anyway in 7 minutes i need to be in class where we are giving indvidual presentation - just what i need!

Long time, no see

I saw someone today that i used to trust with my life and even though we haven't spoken in a couple of years, i would still trust her will all my secrets if i saw her again tomorrow.

I'm going to call her Rose, because i will never forget the day she told me i looked like a rose when i smiled. I was 13 years old & had been seeing her at school weekly (the benefits of going to a private school - they hire in a professional counsellor) for a couple of terms when one day i finally gave her a smile. It was a rare occassion where she saw a different glint in my eye - a slightly happier one.

I've always know she lives in the same village as me. I can recall on one occassion she gave me a lift home from school because she wanted to see me after school when she could give me more time to talk. I've bumped into her outside of school on a couple of occassions through amateur dramatics as a teenager. I'm not sure she actually saw me today as it was very busy with a fete going on. Or maybe it was because i was with mum, that she bypassed me. Mum saw her. Mum hates her. On one occasion Rose offered mum a session so she could talk about what went on in her childhood with her siblings & parents & the divorce with my dad. Mum didn't like the fact that Rose wanted her to talk about those issues. As far as i know she had never done so before then. As a result mum now hates Rose, yet as i said i would trust her with my life.

When we parted as i left school & our professional relationship ended, she told me that if i ever wanted her as a friend she would do her best to help me. Its not the same as being able to spill my heart & soul though. I think i took her up on that offer once, when i wanted the phone number of the local Samaritans rather than the national number, to save my mobile phone credit, whilst babysitting. I knew it was in our village magazine & she was the only person i could think of to call to aks, who might have the magazine. Needless to say the number is now saved in my phone. Perhaps i should remember that at this present time. Rose's number is still saved there too, but i'm not sure its right to call her, depsite what she said those years ago.

Seeing Rose today.....it made me wish she was still my counsellor. For a year she supported me before telling me i should see my GP as she thought this was more than the teenage blues, by that time i had been feeling low & scratching my wrists for 2 years. She was right & its thanks to her that i sought professional help. I still wonder, if had i not taken her advice, whether i would have gone through all the professional services that i have, but then i think the same about my first hopsital admission & my entry into inpatient services. However i also look back & remember how many weeks i saw Rose & sat there & cried (some things don't change) and how after a year of seeing Rose once a week, i then started cutting in the summer holidays - when i didn't have her support.

Its probably because everything is bottled up inside of me right now but i wanted to talk to her, tell her how things aren't good, let my eyes well up & take comfort from her. In my head, she'd put her arm around me & we'd go for a walk, away from the crowds & she's listen to the things i can't trust anyone else with. I'd brush my hair away from my face & she'd see the blue bruising on the back of my hand & knuckles, knowing the signs....... But of course with mum there i'd be lucky to say hello. I didn't. I couldn't.

I wish i had said something & ignored the fact that she was saying hello to someone behind me. Perhaps thats why she didn't see me because she had spotted someone else before me, i still could have pulled her attention back towards me, yet i didn't. I could have walked back towards her, followed her & initiated a conversation once she had finished speaking. Instead i followed mum, left my mind crying for her & ended up wanting to be back hiding at home wishing we had never gone out in the first place.

The only good thing about seeing her - reassurance. Reassurance that she is still around & maybe the hope that one day we'll talk again.

My favourite rule breaker

She always took her lanyard & name badge off when she took me out, escorting me to the shops, for a walk or even to the hospital canteen.

She always had perfect (fake) nails. I'd sit at her feet if there was no room on the sofa and she'd tickle/scratch the back of my neck.

She used to wear Burberry Weekend perfume, which is a fragrance that comforts me to this day. The memories of her breaking more rules, giving me a hug almost every shift i saw her.

Today i was reminded why i don't got to Hospital Town. Not only are there too many bad memories, people i don't want to be reminded of or ever meet again, but there are a few (literally 3 or 4) people who bring tears to my eyes every time i see them.

I saw her before she spoke to me.

"Hi Su."

She was pushing a wheelchair with an elderly lady clearly from the hospital, as she was still wearing hey lanyard & name badge whilst taking this lady around the supermarket to get her shampoo (which is typically the only reason we were actually there!).

I felt a wave of anxiety take over me and a surge of tears just fighting their way past my eyelashes. Mum looked at me and told me that it was in the past and to "leave it there." I told her that i wasn't going to even bother trying to explain what was going on in my head (and why i was about to burst into tears) but that the reason seeing CaS was upsetting because "she was one of the few staff who gave a shit".

I held it back so much, had i been on my own i would have walked out of the shop there and then and sobbed my heart out in my car. Today i couldn't though. I can't let mum see how much things are really affecting me, like when we bumped into Boss from the farm during lunch.

I'm really starting to struggle in hiding and supressing a heck of a lot of crap. I want to fall apart so badly, but i can't upset mum and i have to make sure Nan gets her 2 week holiday in July, and even after that i can't fall apart because i would still hurt them too much. Mum said it was in the past and to leave it there much i don't think she realises how close things always feel to S ward becoming a reality again. It's not as close as last November but its always a possibility.

Once you've been on the books, you always are.

Heartbreaking dreams

Last nights dream was both heartbreaking but kind of comforting at the same time. I think it was probably caused by my brief visit on monday, to drop off some clothes to sell at the 2nd hand uniform shop. Needless to say lots of tears before i'd even driven off the campus (i was there for less than 5 minutes) and for the rest of the day.


I turned up and parked in the school grounds at the bottom end of the campus and my best friend from school was there too. After a while the whole school seemed to gather around my car. It seemed they were doing registration in the carpark these days. After all the students departed, one of my old tutors came over to us.

"Why have 2 of my favourite students not come over to say hello?"

Her voice was as warm, comforting & mothering as it ever was. I felt like i wanted to cry just on hearing her voice.

She picked up so many pieces when she was my tutor. I can recall one occassion when i had admitted harming to someone and the school had decided to call my mother. Obviously i was distraught and terrified. Mrs H took me down to the school medical centre and stayed with me until my mum arrived. For half an hour she sat with me while i cried, stroking my hair & trying to calm my fears. Every time i heard a car, i sat bolt up right, paralysed with the fear of what was going to happen next. I don't recall anything other than a trip to the doctors/nurse (probably J) happening that time. But these are the kind of memories that are etched in my mind, and i guess in some ways in my body via the scars too. Back to the dream......

She ask my friend and i if we wanted to go back and see her classroom, revisit the buildings. My friend then seemed to disappear and it was just me and Mrs H. She took me into an older building (Not the actual building, the room in my dream doesn't actually exist in the school) where she let me move through slowly as my mind was taken back to times of fleeing lessons and returning to this room to cry and hide. She asked me if i remembered this place. How could i forget?

I wanted to simply sit and cry yet again, because this felt a safe place to be able to curl up and cry. She stayed with me there while i wandered around this old wooden room - wooden floor boards, beams. It was a room in the top of the building, an attic room with a couple of old sky lights, meaning the light inside the room itself was limited and dim. Dark and safe.

She showed me a card she had kept that she had wanted to give me years ago when i was a student. It was a mothers day card, with a difference. If was FROM a mother - her as a mother figure towards me. The card was flowery but sincere, not too mushy. To me, signed from her - a gurdian mother figure.


There were other parts to the dream but not significant and nothing that will remain with me for the rest of the day like that memory will. When i woke this morning, remembering the memories of the night, i was torn between wanting to go back to sleep & go back to that place, or wake up and move away from those memories before my heart shattered with the pain that i also felt. I couldn't face going back there.

5 more reasons

It became clear that an appointment with K, after the one with Terry Pratchett, wasn't going to stop me from the battle with me against my subconscious.

Terry Pratchett..... i don't really remember. I was freezing cold, shivering by the end. Having waited 30 minutes before someone decided they would check to see if he was actually free. Stupid CMHT. Started off talking about my emotional attachment to mum. Now other that living under the same roof, physically i don't rely on her too much, emotionally neither - other than the fact i feel more comfortable & safer living here, knowing she is coming home at about 6pm each day. I actually think he came to the conclusion that mum needs more help on that issue than me. But then if i do things that worry/scare her how can she be expected not to worry! At one point he told me i was answering the question fairly openly but with respect to what happened not how i felt, and asked me if i realised i was doing that. He asked me what happened - I told him - had he said "how did you feel specifically....?" well that's obviously a different question!

We then drifted onto self harm, when/how it started etc etc. i told him the "first cut" story & things seemed to end shortly after that. I think i may have glazed over and slipped into a parallel universe, because when i looked at the clock it was 2.40pm (having finally started at 1.45pm, instead of 1.10pm) I slightly too scared to ask what happened, just in case i said something i shouldn't have or didn't mean to - if i don't mention it again maybe he won't bring it up.

Although i think there will be a different topic of conversation in 2 weeks time, as K is planning to call him & let him know exactly how these sessions are affecting me after. I did tell him i was distressed although i neglected to mention that i had to be sewn up by a GP last week after. This is the bit of information that K feels he should know.

K thinks i should give my subconscious a name like "Little Susie", "Baby Susie" or "Less mature Susie" - personally i prefer the "the demon". She said i should be......i can't remember the word she used - but basically she said something along the lines of that fact that i should be pleased that someone is finally taking me seriously. That remark made me wonder - what have her thoughts been all along? Has she long thought that the severe self harm, when i haven't really been in control, was something more than self harm? Has she been left feeling like she was totally helpless in what she could do for me because she isn't a psych or higher up the ranks? (despite being probably the most powerful at the surgery - trust me, her word is God down at that place!) She thinks my subconscious is out to get me, whichever way i look at it. Either i battle it out and keep going for as long as i can before i end up losing total control and not knowing what I'm doing - or i end up harming in an attempt to do something to cause damage before i get to a state where i don't recall what I'm doing.

I was giving K examples of incidents, most recently being November last year. I don't recall taking most of the tablet the packets and blood tests said i took. Before then with the burn on my stomach, K said it looked like a result of repeated applications of the chemical (re-reading my diary it was a week before i sought medical help from J & K), however from my memory, i can recall about 2 occasions and maybe a couple of vague ones - but that could be how it might have happened in my mind when trying to think about it.

I did, eventually, show her todays injury & was surprised when she agreed to let me see to it myself - after going and getting me some sterile sutures. Although this was perhaps one that i should have got help with - i had an injury like this previously which ended up with me being carted of in an ambulance. Fingers crossed I've sorted it though. Just have to be careful at the gym tomorrow, again.

As usual she spent more than the 12 minute appointment slot with me, but that's not too bad being last on her list - even if it does mean the receptionists have locked me in yet again!

I seem to be holding together which is good because the doctors (sister practice in the next village) closes in 10 minutes. Now i'm just shattered, yet despite that i can't shift that murky cloud with is hanging above my head, waiting to open up and let the tears flow. Although right now i almost feel cried out & too tired for anymore. I think my head has gone on lock down again, emotions and feelings are off limit, finger & brain connection is starting to fade too.

K said she wasn't surprised of my reactions to this. I still feel after so many years of talking, psychs, therapy, CPNs etc etc that i should be able to deal with it and get a grip, yet instead i'm losing my grip again. Maybe i should get some books out of the library on the subconscious as K suggested. Anyone any recommendations?

Worth the wait

Appointment with K was at 6.12pm, i knew i'd never see her at that time, but i still got there 20 minutes early because i just needed to leave the house. I couldn't worry about the appointment with mum around me.

half a dozen people in the waiting room, but my favourite receptionist behind the desk. The people gradually disappeared, leaving me alone in a more than familiar room. I've lost track of the number of times i've sat there alone, waiting, last appointment on the list, crying, praying J, Susie or the receptionsts would stop and talk to me. maybe comfort me...

Today, once alone, i got up to talk to E - just like old times. But there was still the desk separating us. I also wanted to check how she was, and that she is still in remission from the nasty breast cancer. She said she was tired, but ok. She returned the question. I wasn't going to lie to her, how can you lie through tears anyway?

Normal appointment with K, nothing she can really do, but give me the security of knowing she's there for me. I foolishly suggested i might see if there was an appointment with J or Susie next tuesday, to try and save myself from a repeat of last tuesday - trouble is i'm not sure if i want to. They weren't available though, however K is.....Maybe if K sees what i feel like after seeing Terry Pratchett then she'll understand, and that doesn't mean i have to cause injury to express that.

After finally seeing K at 6.30pm (thats not a long wait for her! i have known her running an hour late), Half an hour with her; tears - parting comments from her about me "deserving a life" which resulted in more tears and trying to stop myself from getting angry, partly at myself, because i don't agree - not after all my screw ups & failures, and a couple more appointments. I was the last patient left in the building, with 3 reception staff waiting to let me go out & go home. Waiting for me.

The youngest had the keys & was about to let me out, when E, my favourite, took them and came out from behind the desk instead.

"As much as i love to see you, i hate seeing you like this & i don't want to see you too often"

Her care and compassion simply increased my tears. Her response was to put and arm round me, holding me closer to her.

"Aww, Don't cry babes"

I wish it could have been a longer hug. Without her worrying about professionalism, without me worrying someone would see & tell her off. It is a hug i've longed for & dreamed out for so long. It wasn't much, but something is better than nothing. She didn't have to take the keys to let me out, she chose to because she knows me better. She's known me over 10 years - she's one of the original gang. And she still cares. And i still dream.

Lost

I am becoming lost, even more so than i already am.

Life is becoming very hazy, blurred around the edges, no defining points or markers. I am becoming more uncertain as to where i am. In the past, present, a dream, a nightmare, a fear regarding the future or even the media - a book or TV programme.

My thoughts no longer seem my own. I worry if i have stolen them from someone or somewhere.

I'm scared of myself, or what i may do or might have done.

Have the thoughts of overdose (if they were my thoughts in the first place and not those from a book) become a reality? I feel sick, have i done it again? How many tablets were there in that packet? Is my speech OK? Am i slurring? Am i making sense?

Who am i? What do people see when they look at me?

Am i in control anymore?









M cancelled on me again this week but rearranged for next Tuesday. First appointment with Terry Pratchett also next Tuesday. M can't do anything & i don't trust Terry Pratchett yet. I could go back to J, she always makes it known that she's there for me if i want her. But i don't feel its justified, she's seen me bleeding to death & hysterical before now, despite my current fears and (slight) depression, it just doesn't feel worth seeing her for.

I should perhaps see K but again despite the constant flow of tears, paranoia and almost disassociation, I'm torn between feeling too scared to see her or feeling i really should before these feelings get anymore out of reach. I am also very aware though that I am supposed to be going away for 2 weeks in July, and i don't want anything to jeopardise that, otherwise i know nan is unlikely to travel on her own without me. I can't mess this one up. For Nan's sake.

But maybe this is just me living in the past again, where i have had trips planned & fallen ill before it happen - mainly school trips but still a lot of money was lost - just another guilt or skeleton in my closet.

Too many memories, thoughts & fears

My head seems to be running away with me. Thoughts seem to rattle through my brain, flashing past before i can get a hold on them. Then follow the memories. So brief i can only just identify the year & location before they have given way to the next. Then the fears force their way to the front. The Future, the present. The "what ifs?".

They race through like an express train. Not stopping long enough to make their intentions or meanings clear.

"Brrring Brrring, Brrring Brrring"

The telephone just rang. I answered to hear K's voice.

"Hello, it's K here. Can i speak to D please?"

At first i was relieved, because it wasn't me she was after/hunting down & it meant i didn't have to try and have a tricky conversation whilst mum & D were in earshot. I didn't have to explain why i haven't been to see her, & make up some excuse as to how i am feeling right now.

But now the phone has been put down and D has finished his simple "Yes, i'll get Hospital A to send you a copy that" conversation, i feel vulnerable. K is, once again, at the forefront of my mind. Memories of her care & concern are flooding in.

I'm trying to tell myself its best i keep away. Nothings disastrously bad right now, so i'm not going to bother her and waste her time.

Or maybe i should just focus on something else and try to forget how much i trust her.

Ghosts from the past

I was doing fine. I'd managed to make an effort with clothes, jewelery & make-up. I finally decided on ordering a starter but as a main course portion, but in fairness the menu was huge and we were handed 3 separate bits of paper to attempt to decide from, most of which was meat. In fact there was no lighter option so i think i did quite well. I'd even managed to enjoy a small pudding too, although 2 tough gym classes, a walk into town to get some space and time out in between, and then an afternoon of depression & nothingness and an hours sleep meant few enough calories consumed to be able to relax about going out tonight to eat.

I'd actually managed to make it through the evening without it feeling like a forced happiness where i have to go to the ladies to have a quick cry.

Almost made it out of the door, but then you walked in. I'm pretty sure you didn't see me, but i never forget a face, especially one i spent a few months basically living with.

The psych ward 2004 once i'd worked my way back up from the PICU. When you arrived you were a psychotic bitch who refused to talk to anyone, not because you were too depressed or anything, but the psychosis turned to you into a super bitch who was far too high & mighty to talk to anyone. After being dosed up on whatever anti psychotics Dr L decided to put you on, you changed. No longer 'super bitch' just simply 'bitch'. You were at least talking to people once you were well, but just talking to them like they were imbeciles & you were far better than them. Like when you told me that the show jumping on TV was easy & how could i ever know what jumping six foot was like if i had never jumped that high. All i said was that it was amazing how they never fell forwards when the horse landed, and that i didn't think i could do it.

I spent 4 months longer in that hospital than you did, you have no idea what it was like on the PICU & i expect you would have been beaten to a pulp had you acted that way if you were on the PICU. You had enough trouble with the lovely pregnant psychotic eastern european girl who spoke no english. She never faced up to me but then i was the one trying to distract her from your threatening stares. I've seen her since with her baby, completely healthy & doting mother. Tonight your eyes were stone cold, as though nothing had changed. Like me though you were still with your parents.

It brought back so many memories & now they won't go away. No doubt i'm in for a night of hellish dreams/nightmares too no matter how tired & exhausted i am.

Dreams or Nightmares?

According to the Cambridge Dictionary:

and then:

So are these just bad dreams? or nightmares?

I mean for me being taken to a new private boarding school/college by my dad and his wife, then never making it to the classes, breaking down in tears, running away from the school, hiding from the teachers all because i missed the first day and then didn't know where to go - well, thats pretty unpleasant. Then throw in a healthcare assistant from my local psych ward, who cared more than most of the the qualified staff, who would give me a hug when i needed one and i guess became like a mother figure. I know, I know, not totally healthy in the professional sense, but when you are on a ward constantly for 4 months (having been sent downstairs to another ward for 2 months prior to that) and barely leave the ward for all that time, how can you not form some sort of connection with some staff? Especially when you are an 18 yr old, vulnerable depressed young woman who craves a mother figure. (Then of course there have been another 4 or 5 admissions since when of course she was still working on the ward.) Why is it i always dream of people who have been so good to me and caring? And i suppose that a part of me kind of misses, even though my relationship with mum is better (part of the reason i used to crave a mother figure), i still can't tell mum exactly what goes through my head, which then leads to tears and me wanting comfort and a hug.

Then last night, once i was in the school, still avoiding the teachers, I seemed to end up in this counselling session with a counsellor. (It was the counsellor who first took my depression seriously, telling me she thought it was "more than just the teenage blues". She was the reason i first went to see a GP, and someone i feel very extremely grateful too.) Seeing her and having a session with her, where she bought in this phone which had mum hysterical and crying on speakerphone, left me feeling even more distraught and there was an aspect about food in the session, as she gave me a set of cutlery.

This particular counsellor used to live in my village and i used to see her walking her dog, but i know the dog was very old which i probably why i haven't seen her around the village, but i haven't even seen her driving either. Her phone number is still in the village magazine and she always said after both she and i left the school, that if i ever wanted anything as a friend i could call her. I have only ever done that once to ask her for a phone number whilst i was babysitting (not the best time to need your local samaritans phone number!) and she didn't mind at all that i'd called. However i'd hate to think i'd lost contact with her, again after you work with someone for 3 years, and they know you better than anyone else (apart from maybe my GP), then you do build up a relationship and trust. Maybe i should join the other village organisation that we both used to be a part of. Her phone number is still in the village magazine for it, and i know it was awkward when i went to the meetings previously but that was about 10 years ago, so as a 13yr old, i probably didn't know how to handle the situation at that age.

So in summary (because this post has taken me an hour to write - i am distracted to easily....) another distressing night. Maybe K can come up with a solution or and idea this afternoon.