Spoken Word

I did a voice recording after i got home from seeing K, as there was so much going round in my head and it was moving too fast for my fingers to keep up with to type it. I thought about how i was going to record it and although i could have pointed the camera away (or probably turned it off, had i been in the mood to figure it out, and still had the right type of file to upload). I'll figure out a way to sort it.

I decided it was unlikely anyone would recognise my voice should they listen to it - as i hardly speak to that many people. Only mum would probably recognise it and if she's discovered Seeking Sanity then i think she would have realised it was me already simply due to the content of the blog!

In short though, i still feel like i want to cry and i'm hoping the meds i got off K tonight will cut short the length of time spent crying myself to sleep, and maybe reduce the dreams' vividness. Trouble is to take away emotional pain and distress i would normally turn to physical pain, to create a physical focus. But i have nothing in my room to cause such damage, and although there are still disposable razors in the wheely bin, that is where they are going to stay. If i have to cry until i have no tears left (is that actually possible?) then so be it, but if i want a career to be proud of then, there can be no more harm. It's been 3 days without even so much as a pin prick, by the next time i see K it should be 17 days, so lets hope i can tell her that it has exactly that.

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.

where to stop?

why is it when i start eating i can't seem to stop? Breakfast was controlled, or rather within my control.

Then we went to my grandparents and it started.........

Toffees in the house.....times 3........ packet of crystalised ginger on the side board, couple of bits of that. Jar of festive mincemeat in the fridge - just a tea spoon to stop the craving mind.

Lunch with nice thickly slice soft bread on offer & flora buttery. Soft creamy blue cheese and then rather more controlled salad with fruit afterwards.

Snacks of nuts, morish salty cashews before dinner, which mum eventually took away from me and put the rest of the small dish my grandfather had put out, back in the jar, stating the question "Shall i save you from yourself?"

Dinner - a non compulsory roll with the soup. more potato that i should have served myself with the salmon and vegetables. Did i really need the creme fraiche with the pear tart tatin? In fact did i need dessert at all? Or the extra mouthful i sneaked along with a mouthful of blue cheese, in the kitchen whilst clearing up?

Now we're home the (low calorie) hot chocolate was to help me sleep, but the measure of Baileys? Did i deserve such a treat? And now i feel like i want to carry on, i want more. But do i really and truely, or is it tiredness and emotional hunger after an emotional day? Or is it the thought of the start of another week, a week which is supposed to be a new start and is scaring me, because a large part of me is terrified by the change. If i ate something more tonight though, would it matter? Afterall i know the weekday restricting will set back in. The question is will i finally get my arse in gear and get to a gym or do some proper exercise, or will my energy levels fail me again.

Hopefully the stress, and fact that i have nothing to cause harm, after the clearout & i know how easy it would be to restock, but what was the point in clearing out and trying to move on?

Seeing K tomorrow afternoon, i'll probably be a wreck by half 3, part of me hopes she see how hard it is and what the dreams/nightmares are doing to me too. I can't take another night of images of hospitals, overdoses, teachers i loved and miss. The past won't leave me alone or stop haunting me right throughout the night. Maybe the tears are a sign i should just try and get some sleep even though i know what is awaiting me during slumber.

Mission complete

After lots of tears, changing my mind about 6 times and in fact having to go back to the doctors again after my appointment - i have got rid of all sharps. Thank you to J for making me realise that if i'm going to do this i need to do it properly.

"Think Green" is my new motto.

Now i'm going to get a hot chocolate, go to bed, put "I'm a celebrity" on and cry until i get this emotional roller coaster of a day out of my system. Perhaps a little hand written diary writing too.

"It's a new dawn, It's a new day, It's a new life, for me......"

"And i'm feelin' good"


So maybe the last part of the song isn't technically true. If anything i'm shitting myself right now! (excuse the language)

I had a bit of a clear out this morning. 2 drawers in particular containing all things dangerous and harmful. The chemicals, razors, tatty bandages, half an odd tablet and other bits and pieces are all in the bin - not just the bin in my room but bagged up and in the wheely bin. Old bits of paper, letters and other boxes are in the recycle bin. Confidential & named documents and letters are shredded.

I did keep lots of get well cards, letters by and from my old GP - yes, there are still some things from my past i can't let go of & she was such a bit part and so, so good to me, going beyond the call of duty, as they all have done at that surgery over the last 13 years (watch out blubbering Susie about!). I really wish there was something i could give them or do for them. Which i guess brings me onto part of the reasons for todays actions.

I've been watching a programme on TV of a morning whilst forcing myself to eat some kind of breakfast, which has reminded me of the career i wanted to do when i was 15/16, and gave up on over the last 3 years. But after speaking (well, emailing) someone already in that profession, he's given me a spark of hope that i may have a chance, if i get myself together mentally.

A huge part of be is terrified that i'm getting my hopes up and because of my history i will have no chance (although as my email buddy said, having life experience can bring so much more to the job), and if i then find out later on that i really do have no chance then i'm petrified of how i will react and deal with the fact that it is not an option and never will be. If i know that down the line, even if they said 3 years self harm free & stable - i would at least know i had a goal to work towards. My email buddy said he actually had to state that he was taking an anti-depressant to help him though the final stages of his previous career, which he was struggling with and not enjoying - and he obviously got accepted. So maybe there is hope.

The other thing which i guess often goes through my mind, is my Nan. (Hold on i've started crying already, need to grab some tissues) Right, stay composed, Susie! Nan will be 80 next year, and everytime i see her, it kind of hits me how old she is and how she won't last forever, despite being i very good health. (I can't see what i'm typing!! More tissues needed!) And i'm her only grandchild, she means the world to me and i want to make her proud. i know she's probably say there were things she was proud of me for anyway, but i want to achieve something that she could be truely proud of. Obviously the same applies to mum but i have a limited timescale with Nan if i'm realistic.

I am truely petrified right now, as once again i'm at that stage where life feels very uncertain. I terrified someone will tell me i have no chance of this career, in which case i feel like i will be working had on life for zilch.

If i have to deal with this by being in the gym constantly, or going to the gym more that perhaps i should instead of self harming, then maybe for the moment that is the way to go. After 11 years of self harming, and still managing 2 open wounds which are unlikely to heal for at least another month, it's not going to be easy to leave behind, just like that. As K said, some of the time its almost like an addiction (Luckily i have a GP who's special interest is addictions, not necessarily self harm but generally more drink and drugs, but at least there is a slight correlation between the issues).

I have a feeling there are going to be a lot more tears to come, but to avoid them this afternoon i'm heading to the safety of D's work, possibly to do some mindless envelope stuffing (i shouldn't be able to screw that up!). However i think the tears will be back a plenty tonight when i see J to get some non-itchy dressings (before i itch my skin off - plus i haven't actually got enough from the hospital anyway), because i am also taking with me some sharps i bought only last week, but i know they have to go and i do like to try and be responsible in disposing of things!

Part of me was saying that i could carry on harming and just not tell anyone - No-one would know. Although with people i trust i do have problems lying. For some reason i just can't be dishonest. Maybe it because of all the things they've gone out of their way to do for me over the years, and the fact that they could probably tell i was lying after knowing me for 13 years!!

So tomorrow is day 1. No more scars, no more blood, no more burns. A new start.



(or at least thats the theory.........)

Bringing it on Myself

According to M, i can't handle being in a "healthy place" and everytime something good happens i destroy it.

WTF??!!

So basically i'm choosing to be this way? I'm attention seeking? I want to carry on seeing professionals like her for the rest of my life?

Yes, i agree there are certain people i panic about being with out, or rather panic about not being able to see, but they are people who i have known for the last 13 years and who have seen me and supported me through a heck of a lot. K and J know me better than most of my family (not including close family), in fact i've seen more of them in my lifetime than i have some of my family - including my father. So excuse me for feeling insecure at the thought of moving out of the area and knowing i wouldn't be able to speak to people i trusted if i needed to. I mean for goodness sakes - if i got pregnant or developed cancer i would rather see them over any other doctor or nurse, purely due to the fact that i trust them and they have always been incredibly kind to me.

Am i bringing these downfalls on myself? Could i really banish the intrusive thoughts, stop harming, stop hating myself & my stomach, if i put my mind to it?

Why does M believe i can do anything i want to? She said she thinks i make things fail and destroy them, even before they do, just so i can avoid waiting for it to fail of its own accord.

So the fact that i want to harm on my stomach or lose the extra weight i've gained, has nothing to do with the fat (which the nurse yesterday, bless her, asked me if i suffered from bloating) thats there and needs to be lost. Its apparently because i can't handle being a healthy weight and i just want to ruin my life constantly.

Its times like that this, that make me feel angry and want to turn round and show them - no i don't want to ruin things or just not be sane or healthy - i do actually want to die a lot of the time, i hate things that much..... trouble now is stopping myself from doing something that may cause such damage.

CBC News - Montreal - Depressed woman loses benefits over Facebook photos

CBC News - Montreal - Depressed woman loses benefits over Facebook photos

Ok, so i'm paranoid enough already about the DWP & feel like i'm a fraud etc etc but stories like this..... well actually i'm not sure how it makes me feel. I look at the photo in the article and to me that doesn't show severe depression. I take the woman's point about being happy in the moment and the problems still being there before and after the moment, but even so i'm pretty sure (in fact certain) that there are no photos of me posing in a bikini - but then with the state my body is in, plus the open wounds on my body mean i will never ever wear a bikini again, and haven't done since age 12. In fact for me wearing a short sleeve t-shirt in public is a miracle these days!

Anyway, i'm off to check my facebook photos, just incase, however i think the most i will see is a photo of me on holiday on a beach when i went away with my parents (yes - it is no longer my mum and step-dad - i call them my parents. Its only taken me 13 years!) but even then i'm wearing long shorts & a long sleeve jumper (i may have gone as far as to push my sleeves up...) on a sunny day. But a holiday with your parents aged 23? Hmmm, maybe that doesn't exactly show someone, an adult, who can cope on their own.

Yep - no photos of me in social situations above the age of 15.... quite sad really, isn't it? Maybe i need to stop being so paranoid, although it kind of comes with the depression i guess.