Living Without Answers

Perhaps a little manic....

2010-06-15T14:22:00.000+01:00

Today everything feels a bit brighter, a bit more interesting and I feel like I could do anything.

I'm in the middle of so many different tasks, ready/watching/listening to things simultaneously and my thoughts are just racing. It's fascinating and thrilling and I feel so good. I don't really get manic......not properly manic, but this mood on my spectrum of mood swings is one of my favourites and most productive. Although ussally it leaves a lot of loose ends once I swing back into the more normal unmotivated state of my depression.

I want to go and fly a kite.

Relationship stuff....

2010-06-10T22:50:00.000+01:00

How easy are relationships meant to be? I know that even the best couple has to work hard to keep things ticking over all the time....but during the easy times are things not meant to be just that; easy? And enjoyable?

The past few months have got me questioning more and more if I'm capable of being in a single, monogomous hetrosexual relationship. It seems no matter how hard I try, no matter how happy I know I ought to be and no matter how much I love my partner and want to be with him, I'm never quite happy in the relationship. I constantly feel like there's this big question mark hanging over it, I feel like something is missing or rather, I'm missing something.

I can't quite put my finger on it. But the more I think about it the more I think I'm not able to be in a "normal" relationship. I don't think I can be happy in one. I love my boyfriend dearly, I truly want to grow old with him in my life. But there is something that is not completing me. I have a wise friend who is good at seeing through my bull-shit who doesn't believe this and doesn't believe that my other half is right for me. I think he's only half right....I don't think my boyfriend is all that is right for me.

I'm well aware as I write this that it sounds very much like I want to have my cake and eat it; that I want to have the security of a relationship AND play the field. But that's not quite it. I've played the field. I didn't much like it. I genuinely want the settle down. But even with my lovely, amazing, wonderful man, I still find myself falling for other people and wanting to explore those feelings.

I know many would say that that in itself is a sign that perhaps things aren't right in my relationship. Things aren't 100% right, but they're good. Just not enough for me.

I've tried to consider what would be the RIGHT sort of relationship(s) for me; single, married, gay, abstinent or polyamourous. I've thought about what my needs are and how I would like to live my life. And if I'm honest I'm not sure any of those would fit me quite right. I don't know what would make me happy.

All of this is leaving me rather confused at the moment. And feeling like more of an outcast then ever before....I don't "fit" anywhere.

A postsecret

2010-05-30T18:54:00.002+01:00

I only recently discovered PostSecret. It's one of those things I heard about ages and ages ago and thought "oohhh, I must read that", but then never did. Around 6months ago I clicked a link on another mental health blog to the website and since then it's been in my feed reader (RSS is also something I only discovered through blogging!).

I feel a lot of the "secrets" are a bit lame; not really secrets and more musings. A lot are easy to relate to but it's too easy to just say "ohh, that's just like me", but really it's just a general statement or feeling we all feel at some point in our daily lives! And for that reason I've avoided posting any on here and making comments, as it would feel a bit empty. But they make good reading and each week there's always a few good ones (I especially like the follow up comments that Frank posts). This secret from today in particular I liked and felt compelled to discuss:

I don't think "oooh, it's just like me". But I rather like the sentiment and it rung true with me, as it relates to coping mecanisms. This person probably needs a bit of help to work through some issues in "more appropriate" ways, but I like that they've admitted the find ways to cope one way or another.

I could easily get hooked on drugs and/or alcohol or go back to cutting, a full-blown eating disorder or promiscuity in an attempt to cope with how I feel. I'm trying to give up my anti-depressants and all of those things are fears of mine. But I'm trying to get "clean" without and I'm constantly reminding myself that I shouldn't replace them with an alternative "treatment" or coping mechanism. If things start to go wrong, I need to find some therapy to deal with these issues. Recovery, good health, happiness......it should be found in happiness and acceptance, not the bottom of a bottle, the sting of a blade or the comfort of food (or lack thereof!). This secret reminded me of that.

I don't need fixing.

2010-05-27T23:20:00.000+01:00

Screw this. I've just written out 5 paragraphs of text, all of which I've just over-written. I can't be bothered to explain. Mainly because I can't even begin to understand what's going on with me/everyone else at the moment.

The people I love & trust are letting me down. One because they won't talk to me, the other because they want to fix me. Both because they believe I'm broken and that everything that's going on is my fault. Or at least that's how I see it.

The people in my life who I can talk to about this are male and are far away. And all of whom I've previously been involved with sexually, so probably aren't the best points of reference. No matter how much I trust them. It's just another notch in my screwed up life-story of a bed post.

Up until very recently my previous coping mechanisms were becoming a thing of the past. In fact this morning I was considering writing a blog post on how I thought I was moving past self-harm and it's hold over me was diminishing. Now all I can think about is how good that blade would feel and how much I hate myself for finishing the Krispy Kreme's I was supposed to be sharing with my boyfriend.

Dammit all.

Even a stopped clock is right twice a day

2010-05-05T01:27:00.001+01:00

2 months! It's felt like longer since I last wrote anything! Apologies for anyone that's reading.

So....where to start?

Life with me seems to go by quickly and a lot of nothing can happen in pretty short periods of time. I guess that's the impact of the mood swings. What's frustrating is I forget these little experiences so quickly & with such ease. It's one of the reasons I wanted to write, so it's a pain I've not felt like it the past couple of months!

I shall start with the simple, medical stuff. I saw my psychiatrist about 6 weeks ago. Options were discussed. I explained my moods were still all over the place, that I was feeling unstable. But determined. I wanted to try something new. He was open and stated he didn't feel that my current medication on it's own was working (he is in my good books for this). He suggested, to my surprise, an anti-psychotic (Clozapine) which at a low dose has a mood stabilising effect. Together with a lower dose of my AD it might do the trick. I hadn't heard of this drug before and as such he sold it to me quite well. I like the idea of a mood stabiliser very, VERY much.
I should've realised the next part was coming though, in my line of work I see a lot of people who start taking anti-psychotics and the subsequent side-effect of massive weight gain. And low and behold, the doctor confirmed that was a side-effect; although at low doses it would be difficult to say if it would come into play. But that was enough for me; I very quickly started to lose my cool, calm composure (I am the LEAST difficult patient in the world) and the wobble in my voice was not easy to control and the tears hard to hide. I explained putting on weight is simply not an option. I have been losing weight and with that has come an overall increase in my happiness. I am not willing to sacrifice that happiness for the sake of controlling mood swings. Which might sound odd, but it's pretty non-negotiable! It's a shame though, as I would've liked to try that option. Maybe if other things don't work.

Anyhow, he moved on to suggesting Fluxotine, however I've used that in the past with little sucess and have no desire to try again. I was not happy on SSRI's and it would feel like a step backwards. Next option; Venlafaxine - a drug I'm confused about. Good points; have heard people speak highly of it, potential weight LOSS as a side-effect. Bad points; have heard people speak poorly of it and it's similarity to SSRI's in terms of range side-effects. I discused it with the shrink (I like him, I feel lucky that I feel I can properly discuss this with him) and agreed I'd be willing to give it a go. However, he went one better and gave me a final option; try being drug free.

DRUG FREE.

I've been medicated continuously for 7 years. As my last post mentions; this is something I was beginning to question and I had wanted to give it a go. I just didn't expect anyone else to see that. But, he did. (again, he's picking up brownie points all the way!). And I'm giving it a go. I've just dropped down to 30mg of Mirtazipine, from 45mg (he suggested a straight drop, but that scared me a bit so I was taking a half dose every other day to ease into it) and at the end of this packet it will drop further, I guess to either 15mg or 20mg.

It's hard to say if I'm noticing any change. I'm trying not to go down a "placebo effect" route and imagine that things are getting worse because I'm dropping my meds. People have suggested it, but I don't think I feel worse. I do feel.....different. I think I might just be feeling more. One of my medication concerns was that it was dulling my feeling & emotions (and possibly creating BPD symptoms) so I wonder if this is just me starting to come back to normal a bit.

Medication aside, I am feeling rather loopy. No other way to describe it! Mood swings are still in full force and depression is still a bitch. I did start to feel happier at one point, but then had a bad day or two just it kick me in the teeth and remind me how shit unprovoked depression can really be! It's incredible really and blew me away - the logical side of my brain was fascinated, the rest of me pissed off that I'd forgotten how much of a bitch proper, soul-destroying depression can be! Thankfully (I can't believe I say this) mood swings are in full force and I swung from depression to mild mania, joy, anger & the rest fairly quickly.

I'm going to stop writing now. There's a BIG thing I need to get out into words pretty soon. It's hard to pin-point, but I'm in a confusing place regarding my personal situations and the choices I make. There's a lot of questions inside me, querying decisions I've made, options I've taken, things I choose to deal with, act-on and explore. Perhaps a realisation that being me is really, really not the same as "most other women" (I write that with raised eyebrows) and that I have manipulated my mind to believe the things I told myself I "should" do and "should" want, rather than accept that the way I need to do things might be different to how other people do them and that's not necessarily a bad thing that will make me unhappy. COMPLICATED!

What I will end on is simple - this is, in a strange way, a POSITIVE blog post. It probably doesn't read like that, but I feel things are positive at the moment (despite a rather problematic phsyical set-back that I will go into in my next post!!) and I am generally coping. Coping is good. Even if I'm completely stark-raving mad, full of crazy moods, anxieties, bad behaviours, stress & unhappiness, the fact I'm sucking it all up and DEALING WITH IT. I feel like I'm coping, keeping my head above the water with relative ease, almost enjoying the experiences I'm facing. I can't help but smile at that.

Sick of this time, sick of this place

2010-03-02T20:20:00.001Z

I've pretty much had enough this week. Weirdly, I don't feel particually depressed but for once I'm recognising the signs.

I've lost all motivation with life, even at work. That's been going downhill for a few weeks and I had hoped things would start to improve on their own, like they normally do, but it's just not happened. I'm struggling more than normal to get out of bed in the mornings. I have no interest in the work I'm doing and am doing the bare minimum to get away with it unnoticed, my hours have reduced because of it so I owe the company time. At home I'm not making any effort, the house is filthy and full of clutter (I'm a hoarder anyhow) and it sickens me. Even tonight, I went to start to clean and tidy the bathroom, thinking to myself that if I start it, I'll get some motivation and will finish. But I got as far as taking everything out of the bathroom (plants, clothes etc) and no further.

My eating is all up the spout. I've been doing Weight Watchers since August & doing reasonably well; it isn't too difficult, it makes sense, it encourages you to eat healthily and doesn't encourage you to eat processed crap (like ready meals, diet or low-fat foods etc). I'd even managed to get in control of my eating disorder. But the last few weeks I have lost that control again. I have been making myself sick regularly (which I haven't done on a regular basis for a year or more) and I am using a scary amount of laxatives and although I'm not using them day-in-day-out, if I do use them, the "starting" dose is so much higher because I have been using them more and my body has built up a tolerance.

I'm in a bad place financially. My finances have been rocky for a the last couple of months and I've had to "borrow" money from the joint house account I have with my boyfriend. But rather than being careful, budgeting, planning, shopping carefully, not indulging, ebaying spare junk - all things I'd have done 9 months ago - I'm spending. I'm spending to make myself feel better. And not just the odd tenner here and there. I spent £65 in Primark today. That's the equivalent of a new pair of Irregular Choice shoes or a set of wheels for my skates!! Instead I've got some cheap tat that will last a few months before having to be binned. I'm so annoyed at myself. But I really loved the calm, care-free place I went to when I was piling up that shopping basket. The "fuck it all" attitude and pretending to be guilt-free about the spending. Now though, I'm worrying about how I'm going to last the rest of the month until pay-day. I'm angry at myself that for the second month in a row I'd got through all my wages (and then some) within a week of being paid.

So with stress and worry, I'm getting sad. And I'm getting angry, which I take out on my loving boyfriend by being a cold bitch towards him. I'm getting depressed and thinking about comforting myself with food; a nice fat take-away pizza. But that would result in more purging. And more guilt.

I really, really wish I could cut. That's what always used to fix this. But I can't; I have no-where on my body I can cut that won't get seen and I refuse to allow anyone to see me like that. I could burn; that's easier to excuse and explain away. But it doesn't give me anywhere near the same relief and I'm left with evil blotchy scars, not the lovely straight white lines left by the razor blade.

Without cutting, I don't know how to realase all this crap gonig around and around in my head. I'm looking back on times when I've felt bad, trying to figure out what got me through. But generally it was an epic breakdown!! When you hit the bottom things can only get better. But I'm well enough in my mind to know that I DO NOT want to reach the bottom. But I'm scared without any realse these suicidal tendancies that are always lurcking in the back of my mind will become more tempting.

About 10 days ago I had started to reduce my medication. I had 45mg pills that were scored, so they split in two. I was taking a half dose every other day and a full dose on the other days. But, annoyingly, when I picked up my new 'script, the pills were from a different company and aren't scored, so I can't split them. Damn. I was going to see my GP about reducing, but decided to start on my own. I had a feeling that he'd just tell me to wait until I see the psychiatrist again (in around 5 weeks) before making any changes and I didn't feel I could wait that long. I feel so utterly unsupported at the moment. The CMHT are not exactly involved, they did not offer me any support between seeing the shrink. And my GP has put me on renewable 'scripts, 3 months at a time. Presumably because he thinks the CMHT are involved. But I don't really want to keep bothering him. I realised I hate that I have become someone that actually knows who their doctor is and sees them regularly!!

Shit shit shit, I don't know what to do.

With or without?

2010-02-15T23:59:00.004Z

I'm currently watching Horizon's Pill Popping episode which I recorded. It's only vaguely interesting and isn't really revealing much that I didn't already know or couldn't have figured out. What's got me sitting up to write this post is my reaction to hearing my least favourite word in the world......Seroxat.

I'm pretty emotional anyway these days, but the very mention of that word leads me towards tears of frustration, anger and sadness.

Seroxat (Paroxetine) was the first anti-depressant I was ever prescribed. I was 18 years and 5 months old and in the first year of university. I had been depressed for sometime, but uni really bought it out in me and I sought help because I was afraid that depression was going to stop me from passing my course. How ironic that seems now.

I had vaguely heard of Seroxat before I started taking it however when my GP explained he'd be putting me on an anti-depressant he told me he was giving me "something you've probably heard of - Prozac". I was a little confused when I picked up the prescription and was faced with a box of Seroxat; despite my limited knowledge on the subject I knew that Prozac (Fluoxetine) and Seroxat were not in the same drug. Nonetheless I started the course and hoped for the best. The first dose made me violently sick. That was probably the best side-effect of the lot. I'm not entirely sure how long I took it for but I recall what it did to me.

I would experience serious withdrawal if I was even a few hours late taking a dose. I became withdrawn socially, my uni work suffered and I lost the part-time job I had as I was struggling to concentrate and couldn't carry out a series of simple tasks.

I have a vivid, but dream-like memory of walking down the long, wide tree-lined road to the university campus. I think I'd just gotten off a bus and was on the phone to my mum. I was feeling spaced out, experiencing "brain zaps" and was verging on hysterical, although held it together whilst on the phone. I got as far as the gates to uni but couldn't face going in and just kept walking. I recall wondering if I was experiencing a panic attack and trying to mentally sober myself up. Then, a moment of clarity through the mist in my brain; a thought that popped up in my head things became clear; If I walk in front of the next bus that passes by, all of this will stop.
I don't know how I got home. I don't even know what came next, although am glad it wasn't a bus. It prompted me to approach my GP and ask to switch drugs. His first reaction was to ask if I'd seen a recent Panorama (a follow up to this article) expose on Seroxat and was over-reacting to the media attention. I explained that whilst I'd heard of the programme, I hadn't seen it and in fact I was concerned because of the side-effects I was experiencing. He reluctantly agreed to switch drugs and I had to go through my first experience of dose-reduction/withdrawal before being prescribed another SSRI (I have no idea which one, but I tried most of them, including Prozac later on.).

Whilst things didn't exactly improve after I switched meds, I can confidently say that I never experienced the same obvious reaction to any other drug. A couple of years later the manufacturer GSK admitted that Seroxat considerably increased risk of suicide and recommended it not be prescribed to under 18s. The whole experience makes me so angry, that a medication could make me act and feel so crazy. That the manufacturer knew this could happen. That other young people took their lives because of that drug. I had been suicidal previously and I have been suicidal since but I have never, ever felt the way I did that day and I honestly believe that Seroxat caused those feelings in me.

Back on point. This Horizon programme started off explaining that most medications are discovered accidentally; penicillin, Viagra, Ritalin, weight-loss drugs and so on. Most side-effects are not discovered until the drug has been licenced and is in active use in the public; well after laboratory, animal and human trials have shown them to be "safe". Every years drugs are taken off the market when thousands of patients report horrific side-effects; heart attacks, suicide attempts, seizures, addiction.

For example; benzodiazepines were wide prescribed at one point and were famously called "mothers little helper". Tens of thousands of women became addicted. It's still widely used for anxiety and opiate withdrawal & I work with addicts who have as much a problem with benzos as they ever did with smack. The painkiller Vioxx led to heart failure and strokes (I had first-hand experience of its other side-effects after my mum took it for serious whip-lash). Redux; a hugely popular anti-obesity drug in the early 90s was withdrawn following tests which proved it damaged the heart. Unsurprising given that it was amphetamine based. But still experiments continue with amphetamine based weight-loss pills, combined with other drugs which have an awful track record; the manufacturers have seen results (I can tell you first-hand that legal and illegal amphetamine-based drugs will help you lose weight) and they are determined that they can "iron out" the flaws, the side-effects, but at what cost?

I'm off-track again. My point is, do we ever know what we're taking is safe? Is it worth the risk?

I've been on my current medication for around 4 years. It was the first non-SSRI anti-depressant that I took and I have loved it for a long time; the lack of side-effects wooed me from the very beginning. However the last few months have left me wondering if it's making any difference. And the last few weeks have had me questioning if it's actually suppressed or even killed off essential parts of my personality that make life enjoyable. I feel like I've lost so much of myself over the last few years and it's only recently I've questioned how much of that is down to the medication.

One expert from the Horizon show said - "You show me a drug with no side-effects," and "I'll show you a drug without benefits. The difference between a drug and a poison is basically the dose.".

Watch the Horizon Pill Poppers episode here

Blah blah blah

2010-02-14T02:20:00.002Z

It's 2am.
At 6pm this afternoon I nearly fell asleep in the car on the way home (I wasn't driving!). I am exhausted. But for some reason I just don't want to go to bed. It's been the same every night this week and a fair few in the preceding weeks. I have no clue why.

At one point in time it might've been as a way of avoiding sex, or rather being seen naked and vulnerable and reminded of how fat and gross I am, or how emotionally useless I am, what a rubbish girlfriend. But that (sex) hasn't really been on the cards much this week & hasn't been an issue, the boy's been tired with 5am starts for work and I generally plan on staying up another hour past his 9pm bed-time just to become that more tired and in the mood for bed. But 10pm suddenly becomes 1am and I'm still downstairs. So I head up to the bathroom to get set for bed. Then 1am has become 2am and I realise I'm stood in front of the mirror, my face covered in angry red bumps from the picking that I barely realised I was doing. I lose hours in that trance-like state; I lose hours more the following morning recovering from the lack of sleep (I've been off work this week, but the weeks before that I've been rolling up late).

Tonight's not really much different, although I've not done much picking. The boy's gone out to see friends. I skipped this (what a surprise) but for once I had a credible excuse given the rather active day I've had today. But still I don't seem to want to go to bed. I almost feel like I can't be bothered. But where's the sense in that?! I like sleep. Sleep is like the next step from that trance-like state I enter when picking. Or an alternative to the dis-associative haze of alcohol. I don't get bad dreams, in fact I don't get many dreams at all and it's rare I remember them for any longer than a few minutes after waking up. So sleep for me is a pretty safe place. But something is finding me things to do as an alternative to bed. I've watched a few of the TV shows I have downloaded and recorded. I've done some social networking, I've even caught up on the news and the results from the Winter Olympics. And now I'm sat here typing this. (2.17am).

Unlike most of the other crazy things I do or think, I can't seem to come up with any logical or even illogical reason as to why I'm avoiding sleeping. And an answer would be good, I'm expected back at work in a few days time.

Time flies

2010-02-12T01:20:00.002Z

It has just occurred to me that in 6 months time I will be 26 and officially into my mid to late twenties. I'm feeling pretty cheated. I'm fairly certain that somewhere along the line I was lead to believe that your early twenties were supposed to be the best years of your life. When all the fun, excitement and laughter happened.

I've missed it all. If you click "read more" you can read a less-than-interesting summary of my early twenties that I had to write out in order to recall what had happens to my life! I've made it a smaller font so anyone reading can skip to the end - it's not particularly interesting reading the ramblings of a tired, confused and slightly intoxicated woman facing the prospect of a wasted life!

20 - I seem to recall that on my 20th birthday I met the (then) Prime Minister, Tony Blair. I was in Barbados. I was working part-time in a pub, having dropped out of the 2nd year of uni earlier in the year because I was struggling with depression. I returned to uni in the autumn and lasted all of 6 weeks or so, before getting scarily close to suicide & quitting uni once and for all. I started a relationship with a guy I'd met through the music scene. At this point I'd moved so often between home and uni no single GP really had a hold on me. I'd seen my GP at uni when I was in my 1st year and was prescribed anti-depressants. I'd also seen a counsellor (Uni GP's have so many more services to access!). But because of all the moving it didn't last long. Once I finally moved home, I saw the local CMHT. That didn't really go anywhere and I didn't understand that point of it back then. I wasn't that interested in knowing what was wrong with me or how to make it stop, I was ignorant to the whole mental health thing.

21 - My 21st birthday was actually pretty good. It was a house party. There were bands, friends & drinking. There was still some of "me" left in this body that looks like me and I remember feeling like "myself". It's got to be one of the last times I felt real. I had some private therapy at this point; I think my mum was scared for me and referred me to a lovely therapist. But I didn't know what was going on and struggled with it. Sometime during my 21st year I moved away from "home" to be with the aforementioned boyfriend. The therapy had to end as I moved away. At that point I'd already cheated on him a number of times and probably realised that I didn't love him all that much. But he kept me from being on my own and part of a social circle I adored. I'd given up much of my life when I moved to uni and I gave up a hell of a lot more when I left; I was clinging onto the only social circle I had left. I started a job in his neck of the woods, firstly forced to live on a camp-bed in my best friends living/bedroom in London (it was an awesome few months!) before moving in with his parents and then into a shared place with him.

22 - I spent my 22nd birthday on a plane returning from Chicago. The boyfriend had won us a trip to the Warped Tour. The trip was amazing. But at that point we'd been living together for a while and it wasn't working out, whilst the trip was brilliant it was strained because of our crap relationship. I was in the early and severe grips of bulimia. I felt totally alone. I remember for Christmas that year, even though our relationship was basically over, I got him a present I knew he'd love. I felt so good picking it out, finding that perfect gift for someone just so I could feel good about giving it, even though there was no real sentiment behind it. Shortly after Christmas I moved out of our shared house to live with a colleague. We never formally broke up, neither of us was brave enough to do it. I was binging & purging every day at that point and it was all I thought about. I sought help, I was referred to an eating disorder clinic but they took little interest, I don't know if I lied or misled them, or was honest and wasn't as sick as I thought, but it went no further than an ECG and a brief chat. No-one was interested but a lovely lady at the CMHT took me under her wing, even though I didn't really fit the critera for a CMHT client. I recall talking to her about suicide and my preferred method. I'd been looking at pro-sucide websites at that point and felt utterly hopeless. I think she saw that in me. Sometime during this year I finally switched from SSRI's to my mirtazipine, which I've been on ever since.

23 - I think I spent the weekend of my 23rd birthday moving back home to my parents. I left my job the Friday, moved out of my workmates house on the Saturday (by that point so alienated from her I left whilst she was out shopping and simply left a brief note) and walked into a casual job on the Monday. I'd been seeing my now-boyfriend most weekends when I'd been driving the 180mile return journey home to escape and when I moved home it became more serious after about 6 weeks. But those first 6 weeks or so were messy and it took a stern talking-to from my mother to shake me out of a depression and stop being an idiot. I'm ashamed of those 6 weeks. But then I'm ashamed of a lot of what I've written (or rather have left unwritten) in this post. By the later part of that year my boyfriend had pretty much moved in with my & my family. Love. I started my job mid-way through my 23rd year. I don't love my job, but I need it and I was so grateful when I got it. I love working. My bulimia had pretty much fizzled out during this year. I mainly put that down to being in a situation where it wasn't an option. My house was never quiet and it couldn't have been hidden. The self-harm could though.

24 - I have no idea what I did for my 24th birthday. I imagine it was something drug + alcohol-fuelled with the boyfriends' friends. By this point I was pretty close to them, before I started withdrawing from everyone. We moved into our little house in autumn. That winter was one of the lowest points in my life. I guess the upheaval of having a new home took it's toll. I became controlling, abusive. I was self-harming & had made friends again with bulimia. I became emotionally engrossed with another man, I needed an outlet for all my crazy and he was gentle, kind, understanding and that made me feel good about myself. The arguments with my boyfriend became more and more hysterical and violent and neither of us were coping very well because we love each other so damn much and couldn't understand what was going on. We split up briefly, for a week or so. That could've been it, it certainly felt like my life was over. I thought about it every moment of every day. But I couldn't end it like that; on someone else's terms, out of spite and hurt. I couldn't do that to him. My family were on holiday at this point and I was so alone. I kept working though. After a week I couldn't take it any longer and we somehow started to make things better. I got counselling through MIND which helped a bit, with the issues I was facing then, but the moment she told me that our time was limited I shut-down & didn't want to do it anymore. Things have been better since then though. Not perfect, but lots better.

25 - Again, I don't recall what I did for my 25th birthday. A big milestone and yet I don't seem to have anything to show for it. I'd become pretty withdrawn from our friends here by that point. I feel so alone, so alien to everyone else that trying to sit in a room and pretend to be normal is too difficult. I hate it. And I can't stand to do something that makes me feel so alien as it depresses me and makes me feel crazy. My GP re-referred me to a different CMHT after the MIND counselling ended (I'm on the border of boroughs and because of my work am deemed suitable to be seen by other areas). This time I wasn't letting the opportunity slip by. For some time I'd been trying to figure out what was wrong with me and had settled on the possibility of BPD. That's the angle I've been working. (I know the fact I'm "working" that angle shows a degree of manipulation on my part, but fuck it. I've been feeling like shit for too long to faff about). I now have so little to do with "our" friends I often feel like my boyfriend and I live separate lives. Every time something goes a little wrong I wonder what I'm doing here, if this is the life I'm supposed to be leading. I wonder where I'm supposed to fit in.

So that has been my early twenties. I am looking back and finding so little happiness and contentment. Is this all life has to offer? I feel so fucking cheated. These were supposed to be the best years of my life and they've been fucking taken from me by some dark, hidden secret inside that refuses to go away. I can't help but wonder if it's my fault? Or if I've done something to deserve this? Have I just been a drama queen, spending too much time worrying, over-analysing and fretting the little things, that I've allowed life to skip past. Tapping me on my shoulder as it goes by and sticking it's tongue out - YOU CAN'T CATCH ME, you can't have me.

What's the point?

Losing my grip on reality

2010-01-31T12:13:00.000Z

I'm not having a good morning. I'm feeling quite mad.

Every little thing is upsetting me. My house at the moment is a total tip. I struggle to look after myself when I just had a single bedroom, but now I have a 2-bed house and a live-in mess machine (the boy) I don't stand a chance. Every six months or so I blow my top over the state of the house. I try to explain to the boy that I can barely look after myself and need support with the house. I explain that I hate that it's only me that thinks of hoovering, cleaning the sheet, washing the towels, cleaning the bathroom & using cleaning products. I explain that every once in a while I could do with him thinking of these things. And he says he'll help out more, be a better boyfriend & try and support me. And for a few weeks he's a bit more helpful, he picks up after himself and tidies the living room and kitchen (tidies, never actually cleans though). But the things that I actually expressed my concerns about - the towels, sheets, cleaning etc - they never get done. So I mention it again. And I get yelled at for trying to make him change. So I feel bad, I feel like it is my duty to do those things and I get on with it. Only I don't do it as often as it needs to be done, because I simply don't have the motivation, the depression saps ever little ounce of energy and interest out of me and I simply don't care. Only I do, because I end up having a morning like today where I am crying just looking at the dust on the stairs, the grime on the sink and the piles of laundry I'm expected to do.

And I end up questioning if I really want to be here. Laundry and cleaning is making me question if I want to stay in a relationship with the man I love.

How fucking stupid is that?

And because I'm getting all emotional, I start to think of all the other things that bug me about him (or how I perceive him) and our life together and my life as a whole. That makes things worse, as there's plenty of things that normally we just grin and bear for the ones we love. But when I feel like this and I list them mentally I come up with a fucking great question mark and it breaks my heart.

There's a part of me screaming that I'm being ridiculous, overly sensitive; I'm exhausted and emotional. That my mental health crazy issues are blowing all of this stuff WAY out of proportion. Which is making me so angry at myself, that I can't manage to function like a normal person and just get on with my life. Being angry at myself makes me what to hurt myself, or binge or starve or shout and scream and cry. Actually, it makes me want to do all of those things.

And I feel so fucking crazy.

Busy week, busy week, no time to stop, no time to think.

2010-01-21T18:52:00.000Z

I'm well behind on my blog reading, my poor feed reader is completely overloaded!! I'm hoping to spend some time catching up this weekend as I really do love reading what everyone else has to say.

A quick update today. I've just got back from the GP. My knee is now supposed to be resting for 6 weeks, but unfortunatly that's not going to happen as I've got a couple of training events and matches to play over the coming weeks. Maybe after then! I queried with him that the psych had suggested my medication may not be helping me much, but I've now got to wait 4 months for it to be reviewed. I've spent 7 years medicated and I'm actually quite bored of it now and if it's not helping, please get me off it!!! So my GP reviewed the case file and the psych had sent him a letter. He just scan read it and read out to me...."depressive episode, a-typical bulimia nervosa (query) and borderline personality disorder (query)". That's pretty much set my mind at ease. At least they're in the right ball-park, as far as I'm concerned. The letter ended saying that the psych will discuss at the next meeting and hopes to refer me on to psychobiology interventions.

I know so many people feel that BPD is a real cop-out diagnosis for doctors when they're faced with a "difficult and emotional" woman. But for me, it's the only thing I've found that fits and I'd ruled out everything else first! I know it doesn't always lead to good places in terms of finding a good medication programme and treatment options but I'm hoping that I can keep pushing and come out with something.

What I'd really like is to not have to take any meds, however I fear coming off the Mirtazapine. I've been on it now for around 3 years and it's been the only anti-depressant I've taken that's has to some extent helped me cope on a day-to-day basis whilst not giving me awful side-effects if I forget to take one! It's a big crutch for me and although I barely register that I take it, it's such a part of my routine, I am very conscious that I haven't been un-medicated since I was 18 and I'd quite like to know how I'd work without. Would I be any different? Would I actually be "normal"? Has taking anti-depressants for this long left me believing I need them when I don't? Would I go off the rails and into an awful place? Would that be so bad?

Damn NHS

2010-01-18T21:38:00.000Z

Called the CMHT earlier to find out when my next appointment was....it's been 6 weeks since my last one and I'd not received a letter yet.
The receptionist had to call me back and kindly told me that my next appointment would be in APRIL. She couldn't tell me why....when I asked why it was such a long time she suggested it was because they were pretty fully booked. Whilst I appreciate that might be the case I know there will be patients they see on a more frequent basis than that, especially early on in assessment days.
Anyhow, I burst into tears after the call. Why don't they care about me? Why don't they want to help me? Why can't they see I'm sick? It all seems to bloody unfair and it's put me in such miserable place.

I've made an appointment to see my GP this week about a physical complaint....I'm hoping to get referred to a knee/joint specialist. I bet that'll be easier than getting the CMHT referral! I shall also ask him to put some pressure on them to see me sooner. Might help. Doubt it.

Up & Down, up & down.

2010-01-17T17:39:00.001Z

It's been pretty hectic since the boy's been back from his brief holiday. Only a few days, but already my emotions and behaviour have been all over the place. It's made me realise just how much I respond emotionally to other people's needs, especially after having such a chilled-out week whilst he was away. Yet another thing that's pointing towards BPD, but I've still not heard back from the CMHT dammit.

I'm well and truly suffering with the "MEH" the last few days....it's too much effort to write, too much effort to read and even doing nothing I'm exhausted! I'm finding it really frustrating, I'm trying to find the motivation to write this blog (as you can see from this post I've got loads to write about) and I'm also trying to start a blog about my only other passion, that sport I've found that I love. But the words just aren't coming. And to demonstrate that, I'm going to have to finish this post.....possibly the shortest one I've written to date!

I just need a "power-up", I'm sure, if only life were a video game!

Fun whilst it lasted

2010-01-12T21:58:00.000Z

I went to bed on a high last night. I had a good evening; came home & was pottering about the house, muttering to myself (it's nice to externalise the inner monalogue once in a while!) and generally being quite constructive. I enjoyed writing last night and it didn't leave me drained or manic, like it often can.

I was, dare I say it, content.

For the first time in MONTHS I managed to look in the bathroom mirror and stop myself from picking. Every night for the last few months I have spent, at minium, 15minutes in front of the mirror picking. Most nights it's closer to an hour. I zone-out and enter a trance that helps release all the days anxiety. But last night I had said to myself I would not, to prove that I don't have to. So I looked in the mirror, not too hard (inspecting potential picking is what puts me in the trance!) and was able to look away. It felt good. Then, just to make myself feel even better, I did a few exercises before getting into bed. Just a few sit-ups, squats and leg-lifts. But it's better than nothing and it made me feel like I'd achieved another little win. So I went to bed on a high.

Unfortunately it took me 90 minutes to get to sleep as I started dwelling on things. I didn't sleep well and I completely missed my alarms this morning. I have two as I struggle to rise in the mornings anyway, but today I slept right through both...even though my radio stays on for an hour! I was late for work & exhausted all day. The day did improve a bit as it's weigh-in day with Weight Watchers. I've been good this week & was rewarded - I lost 3lbs, taking my total to 14.5lbs!

I go with my mum, so after I went back to my parents for dinner. I made the mistake of showing her the style of dress I dream of for my wedding, if I ever get asked! It's a knee-length 50's style swing dress from Vivien of Holloway. Mum hates it, as it'll mean my tattoos are visible. I knew she would, but had hoped showing her would make a difference. She helpfully reminded me I wasn't even getting married and doesn't want to have my tattoos shown off on my wedding day. It makes me feel like she loves me less because I chose to have tattoos and it's put me into such an awful mood that I had to leave straight away.....as soon as dad dropped me home I burst into tears and haven't stopped, 20 minutes later. Despite that, I just feel fucking stupid for pushing the subject and dwelling on a wedding that isn't even going to happen at this rate. My desire to get married will need several posts to ponder so I won't start now! But it's a tough subject for me.

Anyway, I guess being tired doesn't help things, so I'm going to kick off to bed....early for me tonight. I'm going to try again not to pick and do a few more sit-ups, just so I can achieve something today.

Bad things / Good things

2010-01-11T23:33:00.001Z

Generally, the things I do (or used to do in the past) to make myself feel better end up making me feel worse. Then because I feel bad, I try another thing to make me feel better & I end up feeling worse. It's a self-perpetuating cycle. It also RUINS activities I would otherwise love to do.

Some examples of these things include:

Eating
Spending + Shopping
Casual sex
Taking drugs

Hmm. I had a whole long list in my head early and now I've forgotten. My memory really is shot to pieces.

All of those I have over-indulged in. I get that knot of excitement in my stomach & a feeling which I let myself think is happiness (I'm sure it's probably not). I tell myself these things are good, they will lift my spirits, keep me focused on the good feelings and steer my mind away from the awful things inside me. I end up feeling dead inside afterwards.

Food. I now struggle to eat a proper meal. Years of bulimia, once my beloved friend, have twisted my brain signals and now what I think is "full" is in fact over-stuffed and greedy. I'm fat because of it and I hate food. At least, I want to hate food. Weight Watchers, as depressing as it is, does help. I've lost a stone over the last few months. Slow progress, but it took my years to get this fat (with help from faddy diets and possibly-illegal weight loss drugs) so if it takes me years to get thin I will be happy in the end.

Spending and Shopping. How I love it. So much. Even a simple trip around a supermarket to get the weekly groceries puts me in this wonderful, serene trance. I could wander around for hours, muttering to myself, day-dreaming, picking up items and inspecting the labels. It probably ties in with the eating habit, in my Mia days I used to spend ages day-dreaming at work about what I would buy on the way home to binge on. But I can be almost as bad clothes shopping (but only on days when I can stand to look at my reflection. And when I get a hobby, I will stop at NOTHING to get the best gear, the most variety and I spend hours researching potential "big investments". It's cost me more in credit card interest than I care to think about.

The casual sex? That's still a part of my life I can barely think about, let alone discuss & I'm glad it's in my past. I can't understand how casual sex made me feel better, but an intimate relationship with my parter scares the crap out of me. I guess that's the difference....intimacy. But generally the sex within any of my long-term relationships dwindles and I seek that false satisfaction elsewhere. I don't think about how I treated my ex-boyfriend as the end result for myself would not be good. Thankfully I love The Boy and am in a better place now to deal with a committed relationship.

And drugs? I used to love those precious hours (or minutes) when I could be free of all the issues that fuck-up my daily existence. It didn't happen often, I didn't have much access to illicit things nor the money (although this probably wouldn't have mattered after a point), but when it did I felt free & alive. Some of my best memories come from nights I spent high. Some of the worst come from the fog of days/weeks smoking weed. That truly is the devils work for anyone depressed with no motivation; it stops my brain connecting with the painful emotions but it digs me deeper into the hole. It's a love/hate relationship.

Anyway, the point is made. Instant gratification is usually bad. It also takes the fun out of activities that would otherwise to a normal person be quite enjoyable, making recovery that little bit more difficult. It's probably a good thing that I can't recall the other good/bad things I was thinking of earlier as I'd never stop typing......And I've just done that thing I do every night...promise myself an early bed-time after a quick check of messages, only to find I've lost another hour glued to the keyboard. Damn damn damn. The bags under my eyes need some rest! If anyone has some tips for shrinking those dark circles, I'd be very appreciative!

iHuman

2010-01-06T22:39:00.002Z

I want to start this post by saying I detest the way that companies use "i" as a prefix to market a "cool" new gadget. I hate it. Car companies (and I'm sure others) are starting to do something similar by using an exclamation point as a suffix - as in "Go!" and "Up!". It's terrible abuse of the English language; which is saying something coming from a writer as terrible as me!

Anyway, out of all the pending blog entries I have going around in my head I wanted to start with this one as it's a pretty good representation of how I've been feeling the last few weeks. It's pretty obscure, but I'll do my best to explain.

The concept of "iHuman", or in unbranded terms, "Human Lite".

The iHuman is the first generation of A.I. Lets call it "iHuman v1.0". The clever, clever scientist and manufactured types have essentially taken a mannequin, wrapped it in extremely realistic skin, decorated it look almost identical to a real living, breathing human being. They've taken, somewhat controversially, the brain of a woman in her late teens, they've observed and copied it, turned it into a computer chip and wired it up into this mannequin. They've done their magic tricks and voilà; Artificial Intelligence.

For all intents and purposes, iHuman looks, acts and behaves like a real person. It can hold down a steady job and be good at it, it walks, talks, eats and drinks like a real person. But iHuman, because it is just AI after all, doesn't quite get it right. A.I. can't feel emotions. It can observe and learn and then attempt to replicate what it sees, but all it can replicate is the visible outer signs that make up emotions; the expressions and physical details that SHOW emotions, but without actually FEELING it. And as such, iHuman merely exists. So in a social setting iHuman struggles & it becomes clear that something is not quite right, because it is in these settings, amongst friends, that emotions are so important.

Think of the movie A.I. (it's painful to do, I know, it was an utter crock of shit!) - the characters in that looked and behaved like people but something wasn't quite right. Kryton from Red Dwarf is like and early attempt at iHuman; the programming is there, but the body isn't.

Being an iHuman is difficult - I know, I feel like I am "iHuman v1.0". I'm a fake human. A fraud.

I believe the easiest way to describe this is that terrible feeling of emptiness. The iHuman stuff just came to me during a manic moment of inner monologue (more on that in a future post).

For me, I take part in life the best I can. I go to work and I work hard, I aim to achieve because that's what having a job is about and I am to get on with my colleagues. I walk, talk and act like a successful, balanced and settled human being. I find the workplace really, really easy - there's no pressure to be friends with these people so the easy bit of human behaviour, the acting, that's no problem at all. I excel at that and I make a damn fine example of a normal human being, most of the time! But put me in a social situation, where I have to make connections with others, that's when I start to struggle. I am all to aware that I'm this walking, talking shell of a being, that my existence is somehow "false" because whilst I observe how an emotion should look and act, I can't actually feel that emotion. I talked about it a bit at the end of my last entry. I feel like a shell, so awfully hollow that I wonder if there's even anything human inside me.

The more I think about it, the more I reflect on all my past relationships with friends, partner and family. I'm so sure that I used to have good functioning friendships, have a wide social circle and interact with people in a way that demonstrates proper social behaviour for a human being. But when I review it now, I start to question it, because in fact, I've always been on the fringes of social groups, I considered myself a "social butterfly" - making friends with a huge variety of people and have a number of friendship groups. Was this my way of avoiding developing real, intense and proper friendships? Was it because I wasn't capable and I knew deep down I had to protect myself from being exposed as this fraudulent being? The few really close friends I had were singular, I wasn't often good friends with their other best friends. And even in these friendships I tended to keep feelings locked up inside me, always did my best to show I was smart, strong, capable. For example, I didn't cry in front of my 2 "best friends" at secondary school until I was in year 10....4 years into our friendship. Even one of my most recent best friends, "L", whom I shared a room with for 3 months a few years back and is one of the few people in this world I feel almost entirely comfortable and at ease with, I rarely show my genuine thoughts, worries, anxieties and concerns with.

What's happened, because I was only ever on the fringes of these social circles and I find it extremely hard to stay in touch with people, is I've ended up very, very alone. I've moved a lot, isolated myself and lost touch with people.

I also wonder if all this contributes to why I've struggled to work properly with the NHS; I struggle to express these feelings and when I sit with a doctor, therapist, psychiatrist or counsellor I do my best to come across as a intelligent, normal and "together" person. At my recent appointments with CMHT, I've done by best to hold it together so I can rationally explain my situation. I think this rationality prevents them from seeing there's anything wrong. I've done such a damn fine job of observing, learning and replicating pro-social human behaviours that I can pull it off, even around professionals. I even have my friend L fooled - and she holds a BSc in Psychology (from a top London uni), a Masters degree in Forensic Psychology (from one of the best uni's in the country) and is completing her doctorate in the field!! When I tried to tell her what was going on with me, nearly a year ago, she couldn't see it, didn't believe it. I've never felt more alone.

Phoenix xx

PS - I will add that I believe somewhere in me is a real person that can feel emotions, display them and interact fully on a social level. But it's so lost, hidden away deep down inside that I don't know if I'm ever going to find it. But I hold on to a tiny glimmer of hope and the few relationships I do have (with my mum, dad and boyfriend) and that allows be to trudge on through this emptiness. Hope is an incredible thing.

Forthcoming posts

2010-01-05T21:38:00.004Z

I'm going a bit crazy here at the moment and I've got so many thoughts running around inside my head it's hard to keep up. I've been thinking about all the different things I want to write about, I'm not sure which to start with and right now I don't have time, so I just want to record the title of the posts & a brief summary, to remind me for when I get around to it!

The Inner Monologue - No, Mr Doctor, I'm not hearing voices...just my own. All the time.
iHuman - The human mannequin / Artificial Intelligence
The insane Rational Mastermind - Personality types
Privileged Upbringing - Did the rolling countryside, mushrooming, den-building, freedom prevent me from developing social skills?
Being Normal - How to pretend to be a real person & why I need my job to function

So much to write. So much to think about. Sometime my mind never stops! I just want to understand what's going on in my head and there's so many different things that keep cropping up that I'm no really glad I have a place to ponder them. I'd write it down, but even with my lightening-speed typing I struggle to keep up with my thoughts - thank @£*! for blogging!
As an update, I realised yesterday I'm not very well. I could not sleep. I spent 2 hours lieing in bed silently crying (so The Boy wouldn't realise). My thoughts were all over the place, but mostly I just felt empty; hollow and dead inside. I began wondering if I'd even feel anything if a pointed implement was plunged into me, as I'm not convinced there's anything in there to hurt. I'm so very sad at the moment and there's no logical reason why. And logic should always be the truth.

Blog stuff

2010-01-04T14:15:00.002Z

I would like to move this to Wordpress, rather than Blogger. Wordpress seems more dynamic, better options/features. But with that comes more confusion......it's a hell of a lot more complicated and I really don't think I can be bothered!

Not Okay

2010-01-04T01:42:00.000Z

No, I'm not. I'm happy to admit that to myself and I'm not entirely sure what to do about it.

I'm in a horrible, lonely pit of depression & anxiety; I feel isolated from my family, friends and boyfriend; whom I'm yet again managing to be mean to because neither of us is brave enough or stupid enough to talk about what's actually going on. This frustrates me more than anything, as I feel he's the one who lives with me and should see when I'm not right and help me. (please) I feel like I'm tearing myself in two.

We had a minor squabble last night, I've been a real bitch the last few days which I attribute to cabin-fever (I need to work to function). He's in the habit of not coming out and saying what he's actually feeling, rather says one word "hints" which usually cut through me like fire - I HATE that he can't find it in himself to actually listen to what his head/heart is saying and talk to me. So this happened last night and in my position of queen-bitch I didn't respond appropraitely. Mainly because it hurt me. He left the room, leaving me in bed. Full of rage and hurt, mostly at myself but in part at him although I managed to turn that round on myself. I couldn't face the discussion to resolve the tension and all my head could turn to was the blades. It's been a long time since I've self-harmed with any conviciton. But it's still the first place my head goes when I'm hurting. But I'm almost scared of the pain these days and the fear of the marks being seen. My arms & legs are no longer viable options for social dignity and the other options hurt and are not as satisfying. So I sat and tried to think why I really wanted to do it. And I came up with nothing! Nothing at all. So I thought back, why I did it in the past and why I started. Again, nothing. All I could think and feel was I knew it would make me feel better. But it didn't, not really. Not the same sense of satisfaction it used to bring. It helped, but not much.

It leads me to wonder what I'll do to satisfy that need to release in the future. That frightens me a bit.

Anyway, I'm also picking and plucking every single night, normally for an hour or so. And my eating is up the spout but better than it has been in the last few weeks. I don't really know what to do. I'm not *properly* sick. I feel crazy, but not properly crazy that anyone (Medical professionals anyhow) will be particularly concerned - I'm not a risk to anyone through my behaviour. I don't have a GP or CMHT appointment coming up that I know of. The CMHT doctor was supposed to write to me after I saw him last (another fairly unsatisfying appointment after he told me he didn't know why I was booked in to see him so soon after the last appointment - thanks) but I've yet to receive anything. I don't know what help I'm supposed to be getting, should I be expecting a care plan, an assessment so someone can diagnose me, therpy, a review of medication? Anything at all?! Fuck me it's frustrating enough to make me want to go private. Which I would, if I could afford it or had the balls to ask my parents for help.

What's a sad, lonely, crazy girl supposed to do when faced with a wall of apathy?

More about Phoenix

2010-01-02T14:49:00.013Z

My first ever post covered a bit about my problems, but doesn't really talk about me. I'm not even sure if anyone's reading this blog, it doesn't really matter either way, however in case anyone stumbles upon LWA they might want to know a bit more about the author.

I'm Phoenix, I'm a 25 year old female, I live with my boyfriend in a "nice" little town north of London. I suffer from a form of mental illness, not entirely sure what. But that's not what this post is about, there'll be plenty of time for that later! I did have a photo posted here, but as I'm settling into writing I've decided for now I'd rather not put a picture up. I'm not very good at staying hidden on the internet and a little anonymity can't be a bad thing. I will try and post a picture of me sometime, that doesn't actually show me....if that makes sense in the slightest.
When I say "nice" about my little town, I of course mean that this town is as dull as shit! I would much prefer to live in a bigger town/city somewhere, with a wide variety of shops and a good night-life. But this is where I grew up and since returning here after plenty of time away it seems to be where I'm settling.

I hold down a good job, based in the next town over. I work with people in a government-type job; my caseload is varied and interesting, but it's a high-stress job and one of those that is known for having problems with long-term sickness. When I first joined 2 years ago I had to have pre-employment occupational health checks and an interview with HR, who tried to warn me off the job thinking I wouldn't be able to cope with the stress because of my history of mental illness. They were wrong; very, very wrong and I have delighted in proving that to them. I am bloody good at my job. I have to be, not only to prove it to my employers, but to myself so I can tell myself I'm not a failure. I'm fairly confident that if I didn't work, I would not survive.

I have a wonderfully supportive boyfriend, who I shall refer to as The Boy (unimaginative I know, but it's simple and easy). We've been together for 2 and a half years, although we first dated (first loves!) back when we were 17yrs old. I screwed it up badly the first time but was fortunate enough that we gave it a second chance when I moved back to the area in summer 2007. We've lived together in our own house for just over a year. He's not a mental and doesn't really have any understanding of being a mental. He doesn't try to either, but he is patient, loving and forgiving and that's far more important than understanding but not caring!

My parents live "just around the corner" - it's in fact several corners, but it's walking distance if I'm not feeling lazy (which I usually am) and they're a constant provider of support, adult conversation and food (for when I'm poor or too lazy to cook!). My only brother, younger by 2 years, also lives with them. We're not close as such but I can absolutely depend on him if need be and am very protective of him. I never used to see it, but I now consider myself very lucky to have my family.

In terms of what makes me tick; I'm not really sure! I go through phases.
In the here-and-now, I like:

A rather unusual, aggressive team-sport. I won't say exactly what as it'd be taking a step away from anonymity, but I've thrown myself into this sport and am obsessed! This is a positive thing and I'm hoping it's going to be part of what keeps me on the path to recovery. I'm sure there'll be plenty more about it in future musings.
Cooking and baking, not particularly proficiently but well enough that I can make healthy meals and follow recipes to make tasty treats!
Growing vegetables; I have a patch at the end of my garden and in my first year had some very good potatoes. I'm looking forward to next year!
Reading - anything goes really, but I do love a good sci-crime novel (such as Kathy Reichs)
Internetting, although it's a habit I want to break.
Driving and all things about fast cars; I'm a petrol-head but my finances are very limited so I rely on a series of cheap bangers that I drive until they die!
Tattoos - proper artworks, not the sort of things you pick out of a book on a whim. I have a few and I have many more planned but my budget prevents it and my partner/parents hate them.
Shoes and handbags - In my girly moments at least. I actually love fashion, but I've struggled with my weight for as long as I can remember and hate clothes. So accessories are my friends until I become thin!
Sewing, although have never spent enough time to get into it I'd love one day to learn to sew properly so I can make curtains, cushions etc. My mum is good at that, so one day I'll steal her knowledge! I think it's a huge shame people aren't taught these skills as they grow up, like it used to be done.

Music and gigs used to be a huge passion of mine. But that's a long story and one I don't want to start now! I don't really get to go to gigs any more and the only music I listen to is that which I already know (from those years when I loved it). I'm living in the past! I used to be really into my photography too, I was half decent, but it took up a lot of time and I simply couldn't afford the equipment.....I lost motivation and interest and sold my kit a few years back.

So that's about it. That's the positive stuff in my life. It's good to see it written down and acknowledged as I sometimes forget that I am a diverse and possibly interesting person underneath all the crap. The greyness tends to take over. That'll do for now, I'm sure these things will all pop up in my blog from time to time but the main focus is on my mental health and hopefully recovery.

New Years Eve sme-Eve. Humbug.

2009-12-31T21:41:00.003Z

So it's that time of year again. I hate New Years eve. I refuse to celebrate it every year and generally avoid trying to acknowledge it if I can. I'm not sure when this intense loathing properly began, but I can only remember one good New Years eve event that I went to and even then, I fucked it up pretty well thanks to my drunken antics!

I find no reason to celebrate the end of one year and the start of another. I also don't like this obligation to go out and have fun and celebrate - don't bloody well tell me when I should be having fun.
I guess I generally find very little to celebrate in the end. Recent years have had little worth remembering and the only thing I wish for in a new year is to get better, become a normal person. All the resolutions in the world will never actually make that happen until I understand what's going on in my head and for that I require input from elsewhere!I can try and improve my existence in various other ways; dieting, losing weight and getting healthy, going to the gym regularly, getting better at the sport I love (Roller Derby), making new friends (mostly through said sport) and trying to keep hold of existing ones by being more social and less mental. But I do all of that already, or at least try to! I don't need to set silly targets and measure my achievements by the start/end of a year. I try and do that every week or month!

Very few people seem to understand this though. My other half certainly doesn't nor do any of his (our) friends; but then life is one giant drinking opportunity so any excuse for a party is fine for them! So tonight I'm going to sit home. And for once it's not because I'm feeling anti-social, anxious, angry, mad or whatever. For once I have a proper reason and I don't feel bad about being here whilst everyone else is out having fun. And that's a good thing, because it means I don't turn my thoughts to self-harm, bulimia, picking or whatever else to relieve the guilt and anxiety I usually feel.

Score One for me and Nil for New Years!

Morning after

2009-12-28T12:56:00.000Z

Well I didn't hurt myself, although did drink the rest of the bottle of wine I'd opened. Watched a lot of CSI and went to bed very late.

For the record, my friends baby is actually gorgeous. And I'm of the school of thought that believes all new-borns are ugly, wrinkly little red-faced monsters. But the picture I've received is of a pretty little thing and in the light of day I'm calm about it (if not still rather shocked!) and extremely happy for them. I really am a rubbish friend if I didn't know that someone I care about was going to be a father. It's making me feel a bit shit and realise that before I was in this era of madness, I was once quite a social thing, albeit for the wrong reasons a lot of the time, it was a hell of a lot more fun than this semi-reclusive existence I'm currently living in.

Righto, this week I'm going to be mostly batch-cooking and hopefully cleaning. The cooking will be great as I can make loads of healthy home-made goodness for freezing, so when I come home from work tired and fed-up I don't have to deal with cooking. On the menu is vegetable soup, braised mince (for spag bol, chilli, shepherds pie etc) and my special sausage and bean casserole. The veg soup is already made - we hit the supermarket yesterday at the reduction hour and I managed to get kilos of veggies for about 50p!

The cleaning part of my week will be shit, but I have a week off and haven't cleaned properly in months. I simply haven't been bothered and the house is becoming a festering tip. I'm a proper hoarder and pile stuff up - if I didn't have my other half and friends I'd probably be one of those old women found dead in a fortress of random collected crap! But I hate it. This time last year, after we'd just moved in to our house, I was a neat and clean freak (although that was a different manifsetation of the crazy). I'd like to regain some of that so I don't have to worry about a spider crawling over my face in the night. (which I did actually dream the night before last.).

Slow start...

2009-12-27T20:52:00.004Z

I had hoped when I started this blog I'd use it little and often, as a place just to note down the little details in life that I always seem to forget. So I could use it to learn from my fuck-ups, recognise my patterns, routines, cycles. But clearly I've been a bit shit at it so far! It's not about other people reading it; although I welcome that, but more to allow me to reflect and hopefully gain some understanding of myself, that I can maybe take to my GP/Psychiatrist and they can help me find out what's wrong.

It's been a strange couple of weeks. As normal as I sometimes think I could ever be. I've not been happy, but there have been times when I've not felt anything. I often think that's all I can ever hope for. But the problem with nothing is it leaves me so empty, disconnected and lonely that it starts me down a route of sadness. And I really, really do not want to be properly depressed again, but saying that, I'm also not sure that I'm not already there! It certainly doesn't feel good.

I started crying tonight after I received a text message from an old friend. He lives locally, but I haven't seen him for around a year or so, but we exchange the odd SMS. We used to hook up occasionally, back when I was at uni and after I left - we'd go to the football together, go out drinking, fall in love with each other that night and have sex. He's one of those people I had on my "reserves" list - it sounds awful, harsh, slutty even, but he's one of a few people I always thought I could rely on adore me, make me feel better about myself and we got on well - perfect material in my screwed-up mind for settling down with. We talked about it occasionally and I know he was crazy about me. A while back though he met an amazing lady, fell in love and got engaged - I'm genuinely so happy for him, the non-crazy part of me anyway!! The text I got from him tonight was the announcement of the birth of his daughter. I didn't even know they were expecting so it was a HUGE shock and it clearly hit a nerve as I burst into tears, proper silent, unstoppable crying, weeping even. That's the worst sort for me, as I usually don't understand it.

Thankfully my gorgeous boyfriend is out with friends, as I can't imagine how he'd feel seeing me react in this way and fuck knows how I'd explain it: "A friend I used to fuck to make me feel better about myself just told me he's had a baby". Yeah, that'd go down really well.

I'm blaming hormones and the slump into a worse depression - I've been thinking about marriage a lot recently, I just want to get on with it but my other half clearly doesn't see the urgency. There's also a bit of me currently scaring me - part of me is getting broody. For the record; I DO NOT WANT KIDS! Never have, don't have any interest in them, don't see the appeal, am terrified of being responsible for brining up a reasonable human being and dare not risk inflicting another soul with the shit I've had to go through. But there's a little bit of me that's throwing the cat among the pigeons and suggesting I might want a sprog. It's wrong, but it's confusing me all the same! Throw together an urgency to settle down + marry, a confusing dash of female baby-need and unknown crazy and I reckon it goes a long way to explaining why I cried tonight.

Christ, I feel so fucking SCREWED UP tonight. I should probably sleep, because what I really want to do right now is get drunk, cut/burn myself, get angry and call the few remaining guys in my phonebook that would make me feel better about myself (1 down, 2 to go). And none of those things are the sane person's reaction. Being crazy is no fucking fun.

A weird one

2009-12-11T00:04:00.002Z

It's been a while, I've been having a relatively sane week or so, just the odd mood swing and lack of control. It's been nice, almost relaxing!

Anyway, today I spontaneously dissolved into tears whilst driving. It was one of the most bizzare and surprising things I have ever experienced. I don't know if anyone understands this, but I felt the feeling you get after you've heard/felt something really emotional that always leads to genuine tears of grief. It felt like grief. On a beautiful, clear, crisp and bright December morning. Bizarre.

At the time, I was driving through a village and passing the house of an old family friend. I take this route maybe once a fortnight, if I'm trying to avoid the traffic on the way to work. As I was passing, I thought about the man who lives there...an old colleague and friend of my fathers, lets call him Mr A. He and my dad had obviously been close and although I don't really know the family that well, I believe that Mr A was the named guardian of my brother and I, should anything awful have happend to my parents whiilst we were children. I don't know how this great position of trust and love came about, but I am aware of it and Mr A's a kind man and would have done that difficult job so well, if, god forbid, something had happened to my family.

So, some time ago, I think nearly a year, whilst my parents were away I went through a really really difficult time - I was going crazy, struggling to cope and hold on to reality and was arguing with my partner to the extent we had broken up. I called up my mum, to save myself. I was distraught and mum couldn't help me, she was 5000 miles away. She tried, over the phone and it calmed me a bit. But she told me out of the blue (or thats how it felt) that if I needed to, the person I should call and go to for help was Mr A, who would help me out and comfort me without me even needing to ask. I didn't really understand why that would be and I never sought his help, nor thought too much of it. But as I drove past his house today, that was what I thought of - that this man, Mr A, would have been there for me at that time, no matter what.

I think that's what set me off crying. I don't know why, but even as I write about it now I feel the same sense of overwhelming sadness and I'm weeping. It may be the idea that a relative stranger, close to those that I love and hold dear more than anything, would have looked out for me without judgement or question, during my darkest time. That's pretty overwhelming to me.

Or, I might just be over-analysing and in actual fact am just having a hormonal surge that triggers enhanced emotional responses to seemingly trivial and minor matters.

In other news - I'm seeing CMHT next week. I hope it's for a proper assessment. Keep fingers crossed for me.

Possible Progress

2009-11-27T20:07:00.005Z

I went to see someone from CMHT this week. I was expecting to see the doctor I saw the first time, a couple of months back, but it was someone else again. He was nice enough though. So I went through my problems, my progress (or lack thereof) over the last couple of months and somehow tried to get across to him what I feel is wrong.....but without actually saying it. In my experience, if I say "I think I might have X,Y,Z" they normally smile politely and tell me to leave the diagnostics up to them. Which I would, if they ever bothered doing it!! Seriously.....nearly 10 years and I still feel like this. I always do the cancer comparison - there'd be outrage if the NHS failed to identify and treat cancer, but with mental disorders it's okay.

Anyway, something must have got across to him somehow because he said "it seems more like your personality". Then waffled on about psychological interventions being more appropriate (than psychiatric? I don't know) and discussing me at the next CMHT panel with the view of putting me forward to CBT and other therapies. I couldn't be bothered this time to explain I don't like CBT, it's too straightforward, too rational....to damn obvious! No-one ever listens when I say that, just nod and smile patronisingly.

So, back on topic.....he said the P word - PERSONALITY! I probably should have pressed him further, but I was in a bit of a daze, but from where I sit now it feels like the first step to considering personality disorder. That or it's the first step in closing my case and denying there's something wrong with me. I hope it's the former. He is going to see if he can get me another assessment appointment (follow up appointments, which this was, are now limited to just 20 minutes!!) possibly with a psycologist in attendence too. I asked if I could have assessments not just based on me talking and trying to explain things...proper actuarial assessment tools, so we'll see.

He also said it's probably something from my childhood leading me to think and feel the way I do; which I accept, but it scares me. It worries me that there might be this awful dark secret in my happy childhood that I can't recall.....if it's hidden, I like it that way. I'm so sure everything was okay, it frightens me to think that something might not be. But i'll stay positive, not everyone with personality disorders or mental health issues has a dark past. I hope I'm one, as I don't know how I'd cope discovering something awful.

Pieces of Hate

2009-11-22T11:55:00.001Z

Over the last 24-48hrs I've been making myself hateful.....I'm full of loathing and disappointment towards myself at the moment and that's turning into hate. Which means I don't deserve to be loved.

So this morning has panned out as follows:
Me: Full of loathing, making myself distant from my partner, stroppy towards him - my words are brief, instructional, degrading.
Parter: Confused and sad that I'm being this way.
Me: Can sense he's getting upset, believe it's my fault because I'm hateful. I get upset and even more stroppy.
Parter: Fed up with me, gets snappy back at me - stops talking to me.
Me: I win, I knew he hates me, he must hate me - I'm so horrible.
Me: I fill with rage, anger. Awful violent thoughts fill my head....I'm in the kitchen and can see knives and want to hurt someone, me or him it doesn't matter. I get scared and upset, I hate myself for thinking these things.

That's pretty much how it went. Now he's barely talking to me, because he thinks I'm in this irrational, angry mood and he doesn't understand. I'm more upset because he can't see that my evil, manipulative behaviour started because I'm unhappy and I want him to love me. Because I just need a hug. I hate myself for not loving him enough, for being unable to love anything at the moment, even him; my soulmate & best friend. I hate myself for not being able to simply tell him - I don't feel right, I'm unhappy, I'm not coping.

The sane, logical part of me was there during this, shouting at me "what are you doing". But it was too quiet and I ignored it. Now that part of me is angry, confused. And disappointed - I had promised myself I'd stop being so abusive towards him, so manipulative. It's cruel and unnecessary and I love him too much to risk making him not want to be with me. I have no idea why I do these things and I wish it would just stop.

Connections: Tonight I want to Dance

2009-11-20T20:13:00.002Z

My biggest fear of the weekend; that I sit with my lovely, patient, forgiving parter in a busy, warmth-filled room full our friends. But I don't want to be there. I look at those people and feel no desire to connect to them - I listen to their stories of how their day went, what plans they have, the emotions they've been through and I feel nothing. No wish to ask more, no need to share my common experiences no warmth that my friend is happy, or worry that they are stressed. I am full of a grey, blank and miserable emotion....apathy, indifference, listlessness. Any of those goes some way to describing my "being" in this room.

I dwell on what's wrong. Feeling like this does not feel "right" for me, it does not sit comfortably. I like these people, I have on many occasions enjoyed their company. But as a most, I am simply not interested. But they are my friends; or rather were - this blankness inside me has pushed them away; pushing me to the side of this social group. I don't help myself; I choose not to go out - I would generally rather sit at home, alone, where my social retardation doesn't show up, than sit in a bright, happy room dwelling on how I simply don't fit in. So I stay home. I do this more and more. My partner has to explain again where I am, why I am not out. I know what people must think; I am judged for my absence.

It doesn't make sense in my head; I crave friendships deep down, I want to be able to share the menial things in life with those close to me and laugh and joke about every day activities. But when it comes to it, I keep people at arms length. And those that I do get close to, I lose - out of sight, out of mind. The few people who I have let in over the years are spread across the country from all my moves...I lose touch. I turn this on myself; it reminds me I'm a bad friend, as well as placing blame on myself for being too lazy or blinkered to stay in touch I start to question their reasons for not contacting me. Have I done something wrong? Am I not a good enough friend? Can they see I've changed into a self-hating, despairing loser who doesn't deserve their friendship? Am I just too uninteresting to warrant their time? I convince myself of these reasons, justify the disconnection.

Today, I want nothing more than to go out dancing. I want to be in a dark, sweaty basement club with heavy rock, metal, punk and hardcore tunes blaring. I want to have a few drinks, meet a few friends and dance the night away. When out "clubbing" there is no real need to connect on any sort of level. It's all about the fun, not about the individual. I can feel the music; wave my arms, shake my body and simply not care. I can share smiles and enjoyment with those around me. This is the connection I crave. It's superficial, shallow, simple and easy. I don't have to be anyone other than the girl that likes to dance; have fun.

Strangely this shallow sort of connection helps me - that's probably not surprising as it get me OUT, it gets me socialising, albeit on a superficial, frivolous level. But that builds my self confidence, reminds me that there is some form of happiness out there and develops a base for social connections to build on - friends that can share stories about their exploits.

So tonight; I want to dance. I don't want to be sat here alone, the odd one out by the obviousness of my absence from the group. But here I am. There are no clubs in this town; nothing in the next few towns over; London is the closest but expensive to get to. But even then, my partner hates that sort of thing and from a "good girlfriend" point of view, I don't like to go out without him - fearing he make think badly of me, miss me, think I prefer to be without him. None of which is true. But it's another barrier to the freedom from myself.

A quick share....

2009-11-19T23:11:00.001Z

I've been very quickly looking through blogs/websites about compulsive skin picking and hair pulling. The link below is to one post from a large blog; this post in particular relates to the authors experience of skin picking and how she reflected on this after watching a TV show about it. I share her feelings on this 100%.

http://mmaaggnnaa.wordpress.com/2009/11/17/july-17-2009/

Other people's expereience

2009-11-15T13:50:00.005Z

I have a weird relationship with reading/hearing about other people's experience of mental health.

It makes me feel less mad, more stable and less alone when I read/hear that other people feel the same, or similar to how I do. I relate most to those with borderline personality disorder diagnosis (or traits); the self harm, depression, poor relationships, eating disorders, anxiety, mood swings and anger. It's the diagnosis that I think is right for me, but we'll wait and see. To realise there's people out there that experience the same range of emotions, confusing and often scary thought patterns and generally struggle with life in a similar way I have gives me hope; I am not alone.

But the when I read/hear about people's extreme experiences (again, especially with BPD but also BiPolar) I feel alone again, like a total fraud and as if I have no right to feel the way I do; it makes me believe the people who tell me I'm not "sick enough" because I "function". The reason for this is the extreme side of people's mental health problems. I've never been sectioned, I've never harmed myself to the extent I need medical attention and I've never made a real suicide attempt. These are all good things, of course. But it makes me feel like a FRAUD. What right do I have to feel so crappy, to whine to the medical professionals (actually I rarely whine, I tend to hold everything inside me to make people think I'm capable, an achiever) about my problems, when there are people out there that go through such turmoil that hospitalisation is the best option.

These issues might explain why I've had a pretty crappy week; I feel like I've been on a downer again.
Last Tuesday I was fortunate enough, through work, to attend a Personality Disorder training even run by the NHS at Runwell Hospital (a secure mental health unit). This was run in the main by a forensic social worker but there were several presentations by an "expert by experience"....a 50-odd year old woman who's been living with iffy mental health since she was 18; having had diagnoses of BPD, psycosis, anxiety, depression and most recently BiPolar. Her story would have been moving to anyone.....but bits of her presentations left me in tears - actually having someone stood in front of me speaking the words I struggle to, about her own experiences.

On Friday, I went back to Runwell for the 2nd module of this training - again, run by the FSW, expert by experience plus a forensic psycologist. Again extremely moving for me. It's tough sitting in a room of professionals (mainly mental health nurses from Runwell and several Probation colleagues) who, as a whole, are "sane" and I'm supposed to be one of them, they don't know you're crazy inside....and I'm sat there trying to hide my tears so I'm not revealed as the fraud I am.

So maybe my downer this week is because I'm again struggling to make sense of who I am. Am I this mad person that I feel inside, or am I a total fraud with no reason or right to make out like life sucks for me? I don't know, all I know is that I've been crying alot, withdrawing from my partner, anxious about seeing people, struggling with my eating and the feeling/voice inside me is telling me to get out the razor blades to make it all better.

An introduction

2009-11-14T13:49:00.011Z

I've never blogged before, nor have I ever really been into blogs, so this is all new to me. It's surprising really, I've always been attached to my computer (normally via forums) yet in all the years have never actually sat down and sought out blogs which might be of interest to me. This has all changed over the last month or so and I'm gradually building up a reading list which I follow via RSS (I assume this is the correct way to do it?!!). The majority are mental health blogs, as that is where my interest lies at the moment and a list of some of what I follow is in my blogroll to the right. Having read more and more of these, I realise I should probably expand a bit on who I am at present.

As a brief intro; I'm Phoenix (not my real name); I find no enjoyment in day to day activities and it's exhausting for me to keep trying. I find it difficult to maintain friendships; because there is little enjoyment in my life I have don't have the stories and anecdotes to share with people and as such I am extremely isolated. I love being independent and alone, but I despise that I can't make friends and hate being lonely. To put it simply, I struggle with life.

I was diagnosed when I was 18 with depression and since then I've been attempting to find a treatment which is right for me. I've not yet found one and over the last few years I've become convinced there's "more" to my mental health than simple depression; this might explain why the medication never seems to make me better. So for the past 18 months I've been really fighting to get properly assessed and diagnosed - through my local GP I've been referred to the Community Mental Health Team (CMHT), MIND, an eating disorder nurse and, from work; Occupational Health. I've had some brief, unstructured counselling over the last 10 years, but I've never found this very helpful - other than that, I'm generally told that because I "function" I am not sick enough to warrant significant help, support or treatment from the NHS.

In addition to chronic low mood and a lack of enjoyment in life, I self-harm. In efforts to hide this from people I love, so I don't hurt them, I have adapted my methods. My preferred method is to use knives, but the scars and marks they left weren't acceptable for my family and work. Several years ago I took to releasing my frustration and self-harming by over-eating, vomiting and using laxatives. I also compulsively pick my skin, pluck hairs. Both the disordered eating and skin-picking are more "acceptable" to family and professionals, but the emotional harm they do to me is worse than the physical marks of cutting.

My background is, as far as I'm aware, a happy one; I did not suffer any form of abuse, I didn't witness domestic violence nor substance misuse. My parents are loving, supportive; they are still married and in love and I see them often. I get on well with my younger brother. I was not bullied at school. I have suffered no serious illness or injury as a child. I was supported as a child; well educated, bought up to be an individual - I know my parents love me and they did their best for me by meeting my physical and emotional needs. I do however remember being a difficult, emotional child. I'm not sure why.

I hope to use this blog to document my progress through the system; hopefully resulting in getting a diagnosis, which I hope will then provide me a starting point to becoming healthy and well.