Lean On Me (Triggering)

So it’s been a while since I’ve blogged. I guess there are many reasons for this. After all, they are pretty much the same reasons I have between each blog I write.

Firstly I find it very difficult to write about my thoughts, feelings, what’s going on, etc because that then makes it all very real. It’s puts the terror and sheer fear I face on a regular basis in to words and it means I’ve acknowledged they exist. As a Borderline I struggle with “black and white thinking” so having my thoughts in black and white, down in writing, it makes them real. I don’t even know if that makes sense.

Anyway, I go for so long without blogging, without admitting these things until its the only thing I haven’t tried.

I’m in a very dark, bleak place right now and regardless of the fact this has been made known to a very select few, I still feel very alone, very isolated, very scared.

The negativity I’m experiencing right now isn’t just doing my head in, it’s affecting me physically too. I guess it could be argued that the two are very closely linked.

As some know, I had a stomach operation back in November 2010. It’s not really been a smooth ride. In fact, as I’m writing this, I’m sat at the hospital waiting to have more tests done and to see my consultant at an emergency appointment. I can’t keep food down. Even liquids don’t want to stay down sometimes and I honestly think that although there may well be some physiological causes, the triggers in their own right are psychological.

I’ve not slept for what seems like such a long time. Not proper quality sleep anyway. I may well fall asleep, it doesn’t stay that way though. I’m woken up quite rudely throughout the night – panic attacks, night terrors, cold sweats, stomach pains, you name it – they render their disgusting guises and they torture me. They interrupt any quality sleep that I have.

It’s quite apt really “Lean On Me” and “How Am I Supposed To Live Without You” have just come on the tv in the waiting room. Perhaps I’ll come back to that later.

See, in the very same way my train of thought was broken, as is my sleep. Something always gets in the way! I can’t take much more! Surviving on a couple of hours sleep really isn’t enough. It’s got to the point where I’m now self-medicating to get myself to sleep. That in itself is a problem. Yes, it chills me out, makes me horny, helps me fall asleep, does all of those ‘positive’ things but I think, no, I know, it’s not healthy, that I’m hooked, that I’m now addicted.

I’m in such a bad place. Wrongly or rightly I’ve told a very select few that I’m not coping. I’ve told them the ‘highlights’ I guess – not said more than they need to know. With the exception of one person I guess, and my Social Worker who to be frank, I could tell I was planning a way out and would probably just assume I was being an attention seeking borderline. Saying that, I’m not sure anybody actually believes me when I say that I’m in a bad place and how bad that place actually is.

It’s now got to the point where I not only have an idea, but the plan and the method are also quite apparent in my mind. They didn’t used to shine with such prevalence. In fact, I had ideas, thought… But it never all quite fitted just as it does now. I was sat at home the other evening and a sure way of doing it all just appeared in my head. Yea, sure there are flaws – admitting the thought is there is no doubt my biggest flaw. My problem is I don’t quite have the ability to switch off my emotions for others, as selfishly as it may sound, my fight isn’t for me anymore, I fight or others, once they ‘give’ me a reason not to fight, which trust me I find the flaws, I find their downfall and I rip the situation apart. Not because I necessarily want that outcome but because I feel that it’s inevitable. Why would anybody want to help me, to love me, to care for me? They don’t… They do it because that’s what the role they’ve found themself in prescribes! Yea, of course most people would humour me, humour anybody – what does it actually mean to love somebody to care? Who can I ‘Lean On’? Who will be there for me when I need that lifeline? Who is genuinely there for ME? Not for what I can give them, not for the returns; work, nurturing, sex, etc but for ME! Somebody for me to lean on.

It really is quite fitting that that song came on whilst I was sat waiting. I’ve always said I’d like ‘Lean On Me’ played at my funeral to remind people that it’s ok to have that need, the need to have somebody help. Perhaps if I had done it more frequently I wouldn’t be in such a dark place. For a very long time I never, ever asked for help. I didn’t volunteer any of my distress – what was told, even back then, was information I was prompted for, seldom did I open up because it’s what I wanted or needed, it was either forced and expected or it was a necessity.

Now I’ve found myself asking for that help, the support, asking more and seeking that comfort but if I’m honest, I haven’t felt as if my needy mind has been welcomed. If anything, perhaps I’ve just been humoured. I don’t know anymore.

Last night I was asked to not give up – why? For what reason? So I could sit awake all night and antagonise over the despair and hurt I feel? So I could fight for every second of every minute of every hour of every single day – alone? Why strip me of my feelings, allow me to open up, make me more vulnerable just to leave me all of my own and leave me with nothing else to lean on but my blade? My blade never, ever let’s me down. In fact, it’s not yet reached its full potential. It has so much more to bring, so much to control, so much to end…

It’s a waiting game. It’s not a fun game. The object isn’t to win. The object of my game is to get out. Hurting as few people around me as possible. If I break the ties, make them pull away now, that’s what they’re already doing… Pulling away, abandoning me. Leaving me. I’m so vulnerable. So scared. So alone.

Nobody cares.

Yea, I’m ok…

I don’t really know what to say, I’ve got so many thoughts buzzing around in my tiny brain that I really don’t know where to start!  I know the beginning is usually the best place but if I’m honest, I don’t even know what that is.  I apologise now for the rambling this post will more than likely contain.  Actually, I don’t even know why I’m apologising… this is my blog and I guess I have to remember that I type as I wish, say what I feel I need to say.  The only concern I should actually have is warning of any possible triggers…  I’m in a bad place right now, so to be honest I’m not really sure how triggering any of this will be.  Saying that, I’m sat here thinking, sod it, don’t even bother typing anything more.  See the conflict in my head?  The confusion in my mind?

I sit and play these scenarios, conversations, thoughts – call them what you will – over and over in my head.  So much so that it’s hard to recognise the true emotion behind it all and to a point, how I’m really feeling.

I had Group Therapy today – as usual it started off with intros, I did just that and then when asked how I was feeling today, I responded with a smile ”I’m ok” – how far from the truth is that?

“Ok”  What does that actually mean?  I had my nails done earlier - they look “ok”, I’ve put the washing machine on -that’s “ok”, the courtesy car I’m driving – that’s “ok” – how on earth can I use those same two letters to describe how I’m feeling today?  I’m not ok…  I’m really not…

Happy New Year – Is It?

So, today is New Year’s Eve… What does a new year starting even mean? Why is so much emphasis put on the ‘new year’, in this case 2012, being so much better than the year prior?

For the past five years, I have made suicide attempts on each NYE – why? Quite simply because it’s full of triggers and upset. I fight so hard every other day of the soddin year that my ‘plan’ always includes doing away with myself on NYE – after all, if I meant that much to the people who tell me I do, then they would be there with me, no? Instead I’m trapped. I get scared. I get the courage. I eventually see all my hard work in the light – I realise that all of the fighting, it won’t get better, it’ll just, continue. I don’t tend to have good days – bad days or even worse than bad days. I start to trust, open up, have faith in people, in the words, believe things will change and then when they break that trust, when nothing changes, it breaks me that little bit more. Time and time again.

I’m vulnerable. I’m scared. So many triggers. So many thoughts. Paranoia. Real life. Broken promises. False hope.

Maybe the only way 2012 will be a better year is if I don’t see it. Maybe it’s best for all. I don’t know anymore.

Change? I Hate Change!

It’s taken me a while to actually be able to sit down and blog and now I’m sat here doing so, all the words, phrases and thoughts I had buzzing around my mind appear to have gone in to hiding.  By no means does that illustrate that my mind is now ‘quiet’ – quite the opposite in fact, it’s the loudest white noise I’ve had in a VERY long time!!

A theme which I find repeating itself over and over is ‘change’.  Sadly, I do not respond very well to change.  The whole saying “change is as good as a rest” really does not apply to me, I guess that’s the Borderline in me.

Lots of areas of my life are undergoing change.  The two biggest changes are probably my eating habits following recent stomach surgery and then the fact that my place of work will be changing next week.  The latter is something which has had more of a negative impact on me as it is something I have absolutely no control over so I’ll talk about that.

It has been decided by those above that my department will merge with another, at a different site.  Three will become nine as of Thursday 15th December.  Perfect timing, just before Christmas.  The location is not the only thing which will change, being in a bigger team obviously means that the office structure and dynamics will change.  It has not yet been made clear to me exactly what my new role will be – I know I will have the same job title, I just do not know what will be my area of focus – will I continue with the same work or do something different?  When will this be explained?  On the day of the move?  A week later?  Will I ever be sat down and spoken to about it or will I just be left to assume and pick up the pieces as per usual?  Apparently I will be sat with the other administrators, that in itself is not necessarily a bad thing, I’m more occupied with the thoughts of will I be judged on my work by the existing team?  Will I be included? Will I be given all the crappy jobs?  Give it to the ‘new girl’ – even if I have been with the company five years!  Will my new manager even like me?  Do they all know about my mental health issues?  Are they all talking about me behind my back like I know people are about somebody there?  Does any of it actually matter?  Yes – it matters to me!  One thing I do know though is that I will be losing £6k a year – fantastic!!

Aside from all that, I’m also worrying about my journey to and from work – I will have to either drive or use public transport – I don’t do either unless I absolutely have to and I’m safe enough to do so – right now, I certainly don’t feel safe.

I went to visit the new office on Thursday - was supposed to be a morning thing - we didn’t even get there til  gone 4pm.  Time ticked along, as it does when you have fun (note the sarcasm) – my colleague decided he was going to drive straight home and my boss then gave me the option of either being dropped back at work (with no means of getting home) or dropping me off at the local tube – I chose the tube!  After three attempts, walking in to the station and straight back out again I got on the busy tube.  I could only handle four stops, then I had to get off.  Anxiety took over.  I had a very bad panic attack on the tube and then another when I finally escaped the station.  I could hardly move.  My legs wouldn’t work.  I just about had the energy to light a cigarette and make a phone call.  I was stranded there.  Nobody cared.  Nobody gave a toss, as per usual.

I ended up walking to my parent’s – the hill I had to walk up felt like I was climbing Mount Everest.  Each step took my breath away more than the previous.  My stomach was in knots.  Anxiety had me in cold sweats and I was shaking.  I started to run.  Tears streaming down my face.  Then I froze.  People were walking towards me.  Complete strangers.  Laughing, joking.  Laughing at me, I was sure of it.  Truth is, the probably didn’t think anything of it.  My head was down.  It must have been me they’d been laughing at though.  Stupid bitch couldn’t even go the full tube journey.  Stupid bitch couldn’t even walk again.  I was stuck.  My phone rang.  It was my Mum.  I didn’t know this at the time, my hands wouldn’t move to take the call.

It was 10pm before I eventually got back to my flat.  A disaster.  I had no idea I was going to be abandoned in the middle of somewhere unfamiliar.  I hadn’t prepared mentally.  I’m angry at myself for needing this preparation time.  ‘Normal’ people would have just got on the tube, read the paper and got off at their stop… me, no… I sat there like a possessed fool.  I fell to pieces.

Yes, I did it, I got on the tube (after three attempts) but only because I had no other choice.  For the first time ever. walking down the platform, I understood why some feel the need to escape on to the tracks.  The noise.  The people.  The isolation and fear.  It all got too much.  I can’t do it again.  I can’t.  I won’t.

Still… five more sleeps and then…

Crisis Point

It’s quite ironic, on Monday I will be discharged from the Crisis Team (CT) after a joint visit from them and my Social Worker (SW) after ‘working’ with them for a fortnight.

Why the irony? I feel that I’m in even more of a ‘crisis’ now than I was two weeks ago.

This Tuesday I had a visit from the CT and my SW and was given two further appointments; the first was yesterday and the second next week. They then dropped the bomb shell that I’d be discharged from CT care next week as I no longer appeared to be in a crisis. How wrong are they?! Initially I was ok with the discharge as I thought I’d be going back to work next week – apparently I’m not ready though, so I’m told. Yes, they’re probably right, but being at home alone for a week is not what I need either.

For the past (almost) two weeks I have been recovering from a pretty major operation. My wounds are not healing as they should. I’ve been stressed to the max but have had small glimmers of hope, excitement even, flecked through the days and that in itself has given me the strength to get through the days. Now though, those glimmers of hope have been taken away, sometimes knowingly, often not. I have very little reason to fight and continue to do so. Yes, I have people in my life who love me, who care about me but ultimately I feel alone. Alone with nothing but fear and escapism for company, and sometimes, even they don’t help. I’ve lost my fight. I’ve been drained of all the energy I once had, I’ve lost control and any sense of having it.

Normally when I’m feeling particularly rubbish I’d use coping mechanisms such as self harm or I’d let my OCD come out and play. Neither of those can be freely used right now so instead I have no choice but to do the only other thing I know; put the barriers up and indulge in suicidal ideation.

I say suicidal ideation, it’s more than that I guess; there are constant thoughts, plans and I am on the brink of those plans becoming very real. On a knife edge (no pun intended).

I cause others nothing but heartache and misery, I do the same to myself. I try so hard. I fight. I fight some more but in the end, none of that really seems to matter.

Roll on Monday…

The Only Person You Can Trust Is Yourself! Really?

Why did I choose this title?

I guess it’s because it’s a phrase I’ve had in my mind more and more recently! I’ve never felt so alone, so scared, so petrified and to be honest, regardless of what’s said to me, I still feel very isolated. So alone. Rejected.

People will tell me that I’m not – that I’m loved and cared for, etc, etc. What I can’t work out though, if I am this important person, if I mean as much as they say I do. Why am I never Number One? Will I ever be? No… Other people, other wants, other needs will always come first. I’ve come to realise that. Sometimes, that is very valid – and I’m not saying I should always be priority, but it would be nice for just sometimes, just once in a while for me to be put first.

When I look back at when me and my needs were put first by anybody I really can’t think… I know I’m hard to please and I know I’m difficult but I really am struggling to see where I fit in to the lives of these other people. There’s not one person that I honestly believe couldn’t do without me. They do pretty fine when I’m not around, or when they choose to do things I’m not involved in.

This then brings me on to me next thought… if the only person I can depend on is myself, and I’m a fckd up mess who hates my very being, why would I depend on me? How can I expect others to depend on and love me when I don’t even do these things myself? Why?

Why do I bother? There’s a very small part of me which still has some fight left – that small part is getting smaller and smaller as the days, hours, minutes go on.

I feel the need to cry but I’m beyond the tears.

I’m all cried out.
Emotionless
Exhausted.
Dead.

I’m ok (SMILE) done!

I’m struggling massively. Struggling with the thoughts in my head, my relationships with others, getting through each and every day and well, with being me. It’s such a tough time!

Feel so isolated and alone but then, that’s because I don’t want to have people close. When they’re close then emotions get in the way… I get hurt, they get hurt, I lose them… Maybe not completely lose them, but the relationship, it changes. It’s already changed with some people and I’m sure they know it as well as I do. It’s all well and good saying things like “I’ll be there” “I won’t walk away” “You can talk to me” – when? When the going is good on the other end? When my problems aren’t quite so deep? Kinda just feel at the moment that every time I really need that support, really need somebody just to hold me and tell me all will be ok, that I’m never priority. I know that probably really does sound selfish, and I guess it is, but then why do people tell me not to give up, that they care, that they’ll help me, if when the going gets tough, they just clam up and I hardly hear anything from them. Like the social worker for example – tells me he can see I’m in a bad way, that he’s concerned, that was six weeks ago – I’ve not even heard from him since!

‘People’ want me to stop with certain behaviours and to talk, trust and open up and then when I try… it doesn’t happen because they have their own issues. I’m now thinking that I’m best keeping my mouth shut… struggle on, wear the mask as best as I can and hope that not too many questions are asked. The people who know me, they’ll know things aren’t quite right but at least I won’t be expecting them to support me – if I say all is ok, then I can’t and won’t be expecting support – if I ask for help and they know I’m struggling and then still keep a distance, then I feel rejected, lost, forgotten almost, I know I’m probably not, but I guess, by putting those barriers back up, by letting people think I’m ok-ish then I have fewer expectations – less pressure on them, and well I just carry on as normal… well, as normal as I get, which really, isn’t very normal at all, unless you’re cuckoo…

I’ve reached that point that I really tried my best to avoid, I warned people I was heading there… “You’ll be ok” yea… as I said… “I’m ok”… Fake smile… done!!