Falling Apart at the Lightest Touch

One of the aspects of my mental ill health which I detest the most is my fragility. I fall apart – no, disintegrate – when even the smallest of things go awry.

This morning went from off the charts anxiety, despair and suicidality to dissolving into non-functional panic when my psychologist phoned to let me know that my appointment was now to be at a different time over the other side of the town.  I had been so terrified of the appointment anyway, and am in as bad a way as my psychologist has seen me, so I was already only holding myself together with blue tac and string. At this point, I fell apart and became an even bigger, shameful mess. I now couldn’t get to the appointment without dragging my poor mum out of work, which she needs pre-approved permission for as my carer. I no couldn’t spend the morning trying to piece together the thoughts I so desperately needed to share with my psychologist. I no longer could function at all.

Thankfully, I have many wonderful people in my lives. So, with a few texts to my mum and to Care Coordinator 2 (CC2), the appointment was rearranged to next week on the provision that my psychologist would speak to wonderful CC1 who could help back me up and make sense of what’s going on and lovely CC2 actually came to see me, spur of the moment, on her way back to the office. We sat and talked, I cried, explained how this feels like further evidence that everyone would be better off if I was no longer alive,  she suggested hospital, I cried some more, we spoke about how hopeless I feel and how hard I’m trying, I still cried. She is yet another person who I am blessed to have helping me. They are all far too kind for such a pathetic, hopeless burden as me, but they seem determined to stick around and do all they can for me. I feel so guilty. I’m just so sorry to be such a mess who needs so much help and support over the tiniest of things. I hate that they need to repeatedly discuss suicide with me and fight the case for me continuing to live. I hate that they must feel some responsibility for me, that they’re going above and beyond to keep me clingimg on and that they might face questions if I give up.

I am a complete and utter hopeless mess. But a lucky one. These people that support me – the professionals, my friends, my family, my mum especially – deserve medals. These are real heroes.

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