I’ve been posting more sparsely lately as my brain power and mental health have deteriorated further and I’m so much of a perfectionist that it almost hurts when I post something full of mistakes, or with little planning or thought put in to it, even when it’s unavoidable. But I’ve started to write a diary again over the past few days and thought some snippets of that might be a good intermediate step back to blogging. I’ve left it as snippets as to post everything would include some quite triggering and distressing things. So, here we go…
Tuesday 2nd August 2016
“I use the words ‘I’ and ‘me’ out of habit, but I think that the past few weeks have seen the final flushing out of those last few dregs of ‘I-ness’ or ‘me-ness’, leaving a hollow physical fasçade filled only with painful emotions and torturing thoughts. I can’t bear it. I’ve been fighting too long and my strength and energy have been sapped completely. I know that I can’t carry on living like this; I’m too drained, too guilt-ridden, too scared, too weak, too toxic, too ashamed. And it’s for those reasons that I’ve lost all hope of getting better, too – to be able to work on this, I first need to get over those obstacles, which I am simply incapable of doing. I’ve given up on life- which I hate myself for – and that means it’s over. I am selfish and pathetic, and more than anything I wish that I could switch places with someone terminally ill, someone deserving of this life which I can’t bear in my weak state.”
I almost didn’t go to therapy this week because it felt like even more of a waste of J’s time than usual, considering how close I feel to death. But she soon put that to rest asking if a terminally ill cancer patient should be denied help towards the end of their life and, if not, then why should I not be worth her time still?
“J was nice. Patient. But once again there are a few sentences playing on my mind. I know that it was all meant well, will be down to my dodgy brain putting meaning where none was meant, and that I should just let it go…but so far they’re sticking with me.
Firstly the suggestion that I just “give up” suicidal thoughts – oh how I wish it were that easy! The notion makes me feel like I should be able to flip a switch and that would be sorted, that I’m inadequate, once again.
But what mainly has played on my mind is her suggestion, once again, that therapy and mental health professionals might not be able to help me: “Most people never have therapy and are just fine! Maybe you just need to find Buddhism or campaigning for labour rights or something… Help from us self-proclaimed experts might never help you.” I know that she was trying to reduce my hopelessness, but this is a sentiment very regularly expressed by her and it makes me feel like I’m not unwell, I’m receiving help that I neither need nor deserve, and I’m just not trying. I get that my perceptions are part of my problems, but it does also seek like those could be logical conclusions to draw from the sentiments expressed. To refer back to her own analogy, would a cancer patient be medically advised to try Buddhism rather than the approved and certified appropriate treatments? I don’t know.
I’m so sure that this is all my fault that I seem to seek out and add weight to comments such as these which back that up. But I really can’t shake this.”
Wednesday 3rd August 2016
“Wide awake by 2.45am (dropped off a while after midnight), must’ve been awake sooner because I put off looking at the clock for as long as possible. Tried relaxation, breathing etc. but mind and body was already haywire. Listened to an audiobook. Eventually got up at around 4.30am as I was crawling out of my skin with anxiety and agitation by then. Took morning diazepam early, around 6am, went back to bed and, after reading for a bit I got maybe another 30mins-1hour sleep…even then I was plagued by horrific realistic dreams of this torture.”
“Horribly overwhelmed all day. So much self-criticism, self-hatred and guilt, with nothing alleviating it – enhanced by the impact that my Care Coordinator being poorly had, especially as it is incredibly selfish of me to be thinking of myself rather than just of how she is. But speaking to her was my only hope of some relief and the single chance to be honest about the truly scary stuff; this actually highlights why I think this situation is so unfair for my poor Care Coordinator- she shouldn’t have to carry this constant burden, she shouldn’t have to carry me.”
“The rest of the team have once again been going above and beyond for me – and I have let everyone down YET AGAIN. Not able to speak to others on the phone even though I really needed/wanted to, not able to go to the OT-type group they wanted me to attend under the circumstances – I’m truly useless, helpless and hopeless. All this effort exerted on me is undeserved. I couldn’t hate myself more.”
“Finding noise particularly overwhelming today. Painful. Hearing and eyesight muddled, faded, confused, messed up – just like me. Faint. Exhausted. Drained. At my wits end!”
“I’m toxic, I know that. I don’t understand it or know why but I do know it deep to my core. It’s deep within me – maybe it’s just the entirety of me with some good camouflage? I think I’ve always known that I’m not a real person and that whatever I am is bad. And it must be true because nobody has ever said anything like that to me.”
“Wow, the person covering the Crisis Team tonight was really good (he said he was just helping out as a one-off, unfortunately!):
- Read over my history and recent notes before calling
- Recognised how hard this all is
- Thanked me for managing to pick up the phone and call
- Openly admitted how nightmarish and exhausting this must be
- Emphasised my strength and the resilience I’ve shown over so many years of illness with no help at all
- Recognised that, after so long, it must feel like I’ve exhausted all possibilities
- Listened to my long, muddled thoughts, instilled hope as much as possible
- Made thoughtful, educated, psychologically-based suggestions
- Allowed me to feel heard, respected and a tiny bit less alone in that moment”
So, those are some garbled snippets of the day-to-day happenings of this girl in mental health crisis. I hope to put something more coherent and interesting together, soon!