Meh

I feel really, really terrible. I actually don't know if I have ever felt this bad before. Can't explain it. Don't even know what feeling it is that is so bad, but I know that overall I feel a complete and utter fucking wreck. I feel like I am about to cry all the time. My heart feels all funny. My head is constantly telling me how useless I am. The video of me killing myself is on loop in my head. I can't get away from it. I am so desperate. I would do anything to make it stop, but the only thing that will make it stop is acting on it and killing myself. I don't want to be here. I am angry with my dad for being ill yesterday, even though it obviously isn't his fault. I am angry with myself for choosing the wrong day. I am angry with my mum for generally pissing me off, even though she isn't meaning to. I am angry with the world for being against me. But I don't know if angry is the right word. I don't know if I am upset or angry. I just know it hurts. Lots. Too much to live with. I hate myself. I can't even be civil to my parents. The only times I have spoken to them today I have snapped. Before my dad went to bed he asked me why I was so down today. I said I wasn't down, I was tired. Where the fuck did that come from?! Of course I am bloody down. If I was any lower I would have fallen through the floor. But I don't know why. I don't know why so I can't say why. I am crying now. I don't know why. Every day feels so unbearable, and then the next is even worse. Earlier today I felt terrible, now tonight it has gone so far beyond that. I am scared of how fast I am falling. I actually can't cope with feeling like this. That statement means nothing and so much at the same time. Can't cope means nothing and everything. Maybe can't cope is the wrong term. When I say can't cope I mean I am not going to carry on. I have no intention of carrying on. I am going to kill myself. I just need to make a new plan. And not fuck it up this time. Or have it fucked up for me by people getting ill. But I can't last that long. I need to die now. I need to stop my head. It is going too fast. I can't keep up with it. I need the fucking head voice to stop talking to me. Not talking to me. That makes it sound like we are having a conversation. We aren't. My brain is screaming at me.
You're useless.
You're worthless.
You're a waste of space.
You're fat
You're ugly.
Everyone will be better off when you're dead.
You need to kill yourself.
You can't do anything right.
You have no purpose.
You're a horrible person.
Nobody actually likes you, and never will.
You will never be good enough.
Things will never change.
You're selfish.
You should have killed yourself long before this.
You will never be happy.
And it is right. All of it. It is all true. I should have killed myself long ago. I should never have let things get this far. How can nothing hurt so much? How can emotions be so crippling? Emotions that come from nowhere. From nothing. There is no reason for me to feel like this. None. And yet I do. And I am going to stop it because I have to. Have to stop the video loop. By making it real. Just need the right time. Just need to get it right this time. Please let me get it right.

Slightly Political Rant....

Haiti is in complete chaos. Hundreds of thousands of people have been killed, been injured, lost their homes etc. Millions of people have been affected. And one of my friends on Facebook has their status as

'Shame on you ENGLAND !!!!!! the only country where we have homeless without shelter, children going to bed without eating, elderly going without needed meds, and mentally ill without treatment - yet we donate £50 million to the people of Haiti ... 99% of people won't have the guts to copy and repost this..............'

This absolutely disgusts me. It isn't about having the guts to repost it - it is about having some sense of how lucky we, as a nation, are. We are so priviliged, and we lose sight of that so much of the time. Yes, our country has problems - I am not denying that, but our poverty gap is tiny when compared to most countries. How can people have the audacity to say that we shouldn't be doing what we can to help Haiti?! They have nothing, and we have so much in comparison - even those of us living on benefits. It makes me sick that there are people in this country, who I consider to be friends, who would rather that our nation did nothing to help countries struggling so much. Nobody in Britain is facing the sort of conditions that people in Haiti are. Everyone here can access free healthcare. There are benefits. There are charities to help people. Our country is by no means perfect, and the problems mentioned in the Facebook status do apply, but they pale into insignificance when compared with the problems faced by less developed countries. Obviously not for the people experiencing them, but surely to an extent you have to look at how society as a whole is functioning?

I would be very interested to hear what other people think about this. Do people agree with the Facebook status? I am not left wing at all, but this really has disgusted me. Rant over!

Failed (or foiled)

Do you ever feel like the whole bloody world is conspiring against you? I am having one of those days. Since last week I had been planning to overdose today. I was going to do it in the morning soon after my mum left for work, which would give me about 8 hours before anyone would find me, which would make it at least 9 hours before I could have got to a hospital, and hopefully by that point the damage would be irreversible. So I set my alarm, woke up, checked my mum had gone - all fine. Except my dad was here. He had taken the day off work because he felt ill. My dad never bloody takes time off work for illness. But today he had. And so the only time I was on my own was when he went to see the Doctor. No bloody point overdosing then. I feel angry. I feel like I was cheated somehow. And it has made me feel even worse. I thought I had a get out, it was planned, I had my escape route. And it was taken away from me, and now I feel even more hopeless. I just want to make everything stop. And my mum will be home tomorrow because she has fridays off, and then it is the weekend, which means monday is the absolute earliest I could do anything, and I really really don't want to be here that long. It feels like an eternity.

Aaarrrggghhh!!!!!

I feel really tense and horrible. I have not had a good day. I started by eating 2 biscuits and purging, and I don't even know why as I hadn't even wanted them in the first place, I just ate them because there was nothing better to do. Then I went back to sleep because I couldn't cope with being awake. Tried to watch some TV, couldn't concentrate. Tried to read a book. Couldn't concentrate. Tried to catch up on the blog reading I have been neglecting. Couldn't concentrate. You know things are bad when bloody Facebook games seem complicated. Then realised I had an appointment to see Dr O at half 5 that I thought was next week. Ended up crying because she asked me if I had any plans for this year or anything I would like to do, and I just can't think like that at the moment - all I can think is that I want to be dead. She asked if she had pushed me too hard, I said yes (through tears) and she backed off and just kind of chatted to me about lighter stuff. She suggested I do crosswords. We talked a bit about my psych appointment last week. I said something and she said I was mental. I said that I was fully aware of that - that is why I see a psychiatrist.

Got home, ate dinner, felt guilty for doing so. Went on MSN and a friend that I haven't spoken to for a while started talking to me. Asked me what my plans were for this year. I cried again. Then just now I was having a conversation with another friend. She is someone I met online quite a few years back, on an ED support website. She used to be bulimic, and we were always about the same size. Then she became anorexic and is now tiny. She has just got a job that she will be starting in a couple of months working as an au pair in New York, and before Christmas she did volunteer work in South Africa. I think it is really great that she feels able to do all that, although I do think she is kind of kidding herself about how 'well' she is - she still has a severely anorexic BMI. But that isn't the point. The point is that SHE then started on at me about what my plans are. Do I have any holidays planned? I should go and do some volunteer work abroad. I can't put my life on hold until I feel better. I tried explaining that I was really pretty unstable at the moment, and that I didn't want to plan something big and then back out of it, as I have a tendancy to do that. Things in the past have included being offered multiple au pair type jobs in various countries, teaching Acting and Directing at a Performing Arts Summer Camp in the USA, doing a 6 week Musical Theatre summer course in California, being offered 2 jobs in London and planning to move there, going to university, moving to London to do a performing arts course etc etc - all of these have either been attempted and quickly failed, or planned - most in the past year or 2. I have big ideas, apply for things on an impulse, then realise it is completely unrealistic and back out. That is very typical me. Anyway, she didn't seem to understand that pretty unstable meant fighting not to kill myself, or if she did then she chose to ignore it, and told me that I need to try and just push myself, that I can't just keep my life on hold until I am more stable. By this time I was pretty upset and replied that the reason I wasn't doing that is because I want to be dead, I don't give a shit, and that there is no point planning things if I am going to have killed myself first. She didn't reply after that. I went downstairs and ate a massive piece of Ginger cake, and now feel sick and desperately want to purge, but both of my parents are home and my dad has bat ears so would hear, and I really can't be arsed to get into an argument about that. So I will be even fatter tomorrow and feel even more shit.

This really isn't working. This whole life thing really is not going too well at the moment. I just can't do it. I want to scream and shout and cry and purge and cut and overdose and just anything destructive, but I know that nothing short of a serious suicide attempt will be enough. I can't keep going like this. I really am desperate.

An update

So I haven't written for a while. I am struggling with depression big time, and just don't have the concentration or motivation to really do anything. Am very behind on most of the blogs I read as I start reading and then realise I have absolutely no idea what is going on. Getting through a whole post is a real mission. Anyway. So yeah, very strong suicidal thoughts. Very overwhelming. I can't remember if I mentioned it or not, but my dad was at home last week as he had an operation so couldn't work, and knowing someone was here all of the time stopped me from acting on the thoughts. But they are getting more and more intense and I am feeling like it is only a matter of time. I saw N today, but I didn't talk about the suicidal thoughts with her, I just said that things were bad, as I was concerned that if she knew just how strong the thoughts are then she would have to go back at tell someone at the CMHT, and the only one of them that I trust is L, who is still off (but will be back next week). And last time I told N just how bad things are and that it had got to the planning stage etc was back in the summer, and resulted in my ex care co-ordinator insisting on me going to A&E to be assessed by the duty psych - the alternative was a MHA assessment apparently. And I really didn't want a repeat of that so I kept quiet.

I am a bit ill as well. I felt like crap yesterday emotionally, and found that I was feeling quite weak, but that often happens when I feel crap, so I didn't think much of it. Despite it being the last thing I felt like doing I went to ballet, as when I had weighed in the morning I promised myself that if I was X or under I would go, and if I was over X I wouldn't, and I was X, which meant that I absolutely HAD to go. My mind works in strange ways. Anyway, felt bad when I was there, ended up having to sit out some of class, and felt ill all the way home, ate my dinner, and was then sick. So I think I have some type of bug. Unfortunately I found it quite triggering eating wise. It kind of reminded me that I can eat and then be sick and have a nice, empty stomach again. So today I was still feeling sick, so ate some bland food that I didn't think would make me feel worse, and then purged. I hadn't intended to, but I just got a flashback of me being sick last night and I couldn't resist. It is a long time since I have done that, and a very long time since I have done it at home (the last few times have been when eating out) and now it just seems so tempting again. Not good.

But it is the suicidal thoughts that are the big problem at the moment. I am trying really hard, but I just don't want to live, I don't want to be here, and my head is just screaming at me to kill myself. Feels like when rather than if.

Weird

I feel really out of it. All floaty and like everything around me isn't real. It is like I am not sure if I am awake or asleep. My heart feels all funny. I have felt awful all day and I don't know what to do. I want a Diazepam but my mum has gone out and I don't think she has left me with any (she looks after my meds - I am not considered sane enough to have them myself). I just need something to feel real. So disconnected.

Borderline Personality Disorder

I hate it.

I don't want it to be my diagnosis. I don't want professionals to look at my notes and think oh great, another bloody Borderline. I don't want to be thought of as a manipulative, attention seeking, pain in the arse. I don't want to have the diagnosis that all the professionals hate. If it was going to help me access specialist treatment, like a theraputic community, or DBT, then fair enough. But it isn't. The treatment I get is the same I would get without the BPD diagnosis, except with the added bonus of my psychiatrist telling me how lucky I am that they are providing me with treatment, as they generally turn down all PD referrals. Which I am assuming means that as soon as it isn't convenient for them to treat me I will be discharged. Perhaps I am being overly cynical here, but I have seen the difference in treatment I received from the Crisis Team before and after they knew I had a PD diagnosis. Before, I was getting daily visits, and although I generally scorn the crisis team, it was actually helping. Or it was at least stopping things from deteriorating. Then they found out I had a PD diagnosis and I never received another visit from them. It is all very well the NICE guidelines stating 'People with borderline personality disorder should not be excluded from any health or social care service because of their diagnosis', but this isn't the reality. People *are* refused treatment because of their diagnosis. I am lucky - I have L, who is possibly even more anti BPD diagnosis/stigma than I am. But if she were to leave I have no doubt that I would just be dropped. I want my diagnosis to be Depression again. There are no advantages for me in having a BPD diagnosis, and many disadvantages.

But also, I don't want to 'be' Borderline.
I don't want constant suicidal thoughts
I want to be able to have 'normal' relationships with people
I don't want to form ridiculously strong attachments to people who can't genuinely care about me in return
I don't want the crazy changes in mood
I don't want to get so angry over such minor things
I don't want that horrible empty feeling all of the time
I don't want to make impulsive decisions that lead to me being disappointed in myself

There are so many other things, too many to even go into. Some are more related to my Depression or Eating Disorder or Anxiety, but really it all links in. I don't know where one issue stops and another starts.

I don't want to be Borderline.
I don't want to be me.

My Experiences in the MH System - Part 2

I have decided to write about my experiences fairly chronologically, but divide it into experiences within that. I don't know when my mental health problems started really, so I am going to start writing about my experiences from the first time I sought help for them. I am a little hazy about the timing of all of this, for example I know that the following events all took place between the Summer of '03 and the Summer of '04, but I may have some in the wrong order. Which doesn't really matter to be honest. Again, it may all be pretty dull, but I have already forgotten so much of what happened that I want to write it down before I forget everything!

First contact - I was 17 at the time, at 6th Form College, and had been feeling very low, and also started making myself sick. I knew this wasn't right, and I ended up going to talk to my English teacher, AJ, about it. She was very supportive, and I ended up talking to her a lot, most weeks for the whole academic year. She persuaded me to go and see my GP about what was going on, which after a month or 2 I did. She also booked an appointment for me to see the college counsellor. She also got me a lot of literature on bulimia, and found out about treatment etc, and also got the college to buy a Self Help Bulimia book that had been recommended to her by someone she had spoken to when finding out about treatment.

First GP appointment - This was not a terribly positive experience. I was obviously very nervous, and went in there and mumbled that I was there because my teacher at college thought I might be depressed. He started asking me the usual questions - how is your sleep, concentration etc etc. When it got to how is your eating I said that I had been making myself sick. His response was 'Why have you been doing that? You're not overweight are you? Jump on the scales. (I did so). No, you're not overweight, so why are you doing that?'. As anyone who has had an ED knows, this is NOT a helpful response. And it almost felt as though he was saying that if I was overweight it would have been acceptable to have been purging. I left the appointment with a prescription for 20mg of Citalopram and instructions to come back in 1 month.

Second GP appointment - When my month was up and I was due to go back to the GP I decided I couldn't face seeing the same one again, as I had left feeling so awful. I decided to see the other GP at the surgery that I sometimes saw. I felt slightly uncomfortable about this, as although I was happy enough to see this GP for physical problems, I did know him personally, having sung in concerts and been in plays with him etc, and so felt a little awkward talking to him about my mental health problems. The appointment went far better than the previous one had though, and he raised the Citalopram dose to 40mg, and made a referral to the CMHT. Although he was very helpful, I did feel a bit uncomfortable talking to him about things, and so made the decision to change to the other local GP surgery, where there was a female GP, so all future appointments were with her. My anti depressants were changed at some point from Citalopram to Sertraline, but I can't remember when, or to what dose.

Counselling - As I already mentioned, AJ had made me an appointment to see the college counsellor. This was a very difficult experience for me. I wasn't used to talking about feelings - I just didn't do that. And this particular counsellor was the type where you both sit there in silence until you start talking. Needless to say I didn't get on very well with this approach. I remember having appointments where we would both just be sitting there in silence until it got too much for me and I would make an inane comment about the curtains or the colour of the carpet or something. I didn't feel like I was getting much out of this, and after a few months I switched to seeing the other college counsellor. To be honest I don't actually remember that much about her. She did ask more questions than counsellor number 1, which I found easier, but I don't remember finding it terribly helpful. I remember her making a funny little 'mm mmm' noise every time I said anything at all, even if irrelevant, which was slightly distracting, and her talking quite metaphorically about bulimia a lot - the purging was about getting rid of the feeling and emotions that I was experiencing, and by throwing up I was attempting to get rid of them or something.

Assessment - At some point, I believe in early '04, I had my assessment appointment at the CMHT. As I had no formal treatment prior to this, only the counselling sessions at college, I had absolutely no idea what to expect. My assessment was with the team Clinical Psychologist, and one of the CPNs. They asked me lots and lots of questions, which I answered as best as I could, which in retrospect was probably pretty badly, as talking about feelings was still such an alien concept to me. It was the usual deal of one talking, and the other writing, and they were both very nice. The outcome of the assessment was that I would be put on a waiting list to see the Clinical Psychologist, which would be about 6 months, and they recommended a self help book in the meantime, which was the same as the one that AJ had already got.

Next time - being under the CMHT, suicide attempt, more anti-depressants, and various psychiatrists.

Personality Test

I did this test for no reason other than Seeking Sanity had done it and I was curious. The results were more or less what I would have expected to be honest, but obviously none of these tests are diagnostic in any way - I just did it out of curiosity, partly to see how well the results matched my Diagnosis and other 'issues' I have been told I have. The result for Very High and High were a pretty accurate match - I would have expected those to be high, and would have been suprised if any of the others were high.

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid Disorder:	Moderate
Schizoid Disorder:	Low
Schizotypal Disorder:	Low
Antisocial Disorder:	Low
Borderline Disorder:	Very High
Histrionic Disorder:	Moderate
Narcissistic Disorder:	Low
Avoidant Disorder:	High
Dependent Disorder:	High
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder:	Moderate
-- Personality Disorder Test - Take It! -- -- Personality Disorders --

My Experiences in the MH System - Part 1

I have decided to write a series of posts about some of my experiences within the MH system. I will discuss my experiences of inpatient and outpatient care, NHS and private, and people who have been important to me during this time. To start with I am going to do a timeline, outlining the major events, both MH, and what I was doing life wise at the time. This will probably be fairly dull, but will help to form the basis of future posts.

2003 - Aged 16/17
- Was at 6th Form College - took my AS levels in the Summer of '03
- First spoke to someone about the difficulties I was having with my mood and eating
- Had first experience of counselling, at college
- First saw my GP regarding my MH problems
- First started anti depressants
- Was referred to the CMHT by my GP

2004 - Aged 17/18
- 6th Form College - took my A levels in the Summer of '04
- Was assessed by the CMHT
- Was diagnosed with Bulimia and Depression
- Began seeing a Clinical Psychologist at the CMHT
- Saw the first in a line of Psychiatrists
- Started anti depressant number 2

2005 - Aged 18/19
- Still at college - had stayed on an extra year
- Started anti depressant number 3
- Bulimia diagnosis changed to EDNOS
- First serious suicide attempt - was in hospital for medical purposes, but did not go into a psychiatric hospital
- Went to university
- First psychiatric admission, to NHS Acute Psychiatric Ward number 1
- Started anti depressant number 4
- Returned to university
- Second psychiatric admission, to NHS Acute Psych Ward number 2, then transferred to Posh Private Hospital
- Was discharged from Posh Private Hospital, deemed too ill to return to Uni, so came home

2006 - Aged 19/20
- Registered with a new GP, which meant I was now under a different CMHT to the one I had been prior to Uni
- New care coordinator was an OT
- New GP went off sick
- Was first under the Crisis Team in terms of daily visits
- Was referred to day hospital
- Was out of area for day hospital
- Started Art Therapy group
- Started seeing a support worker
- Started attending local MIND drop in centre
- Care Coordinator went off sick
- GP returned

2007 - Aged 20/21
- Had informal family therapy
- GP went off sick
- Had 3 session assessment appointment with a Clinical Psychologist
- Received a new Care Coordinator as the other was still off sick
- Started anti depressant number 5

2008 - Aged 21/22
- GP returned
- Stopped Art Therapy group
- Care Coordinator was promoted to manager, so stopped seeing me
- Support Worker left
- Stopped attending MIND centre
- Started seeing the Psychologist I had been assessed by the year before
- Was diagnosed as having Narcissistic Personality Disorder
- Started an evening course in London, and was planning to move there
- Second serious suicide attempt - again was on medical ward, but not psychiatric
- Started anti depressant number 6 (which was number 1 again, but a higher dose, and with Tryptophan alongside)
- GP went off sick
- Switched GPs (to my current GP - Dr O). This meant I was now under the original CMHT again
- Under Crisis Team again
- New Care Coordinator was an incompetant Social Worker

2009 - Aged 22/23
- Started seeing my current Psychiatrist - Dr E
- Had formal family therapy
- Started seeing my current Support Worker, N
- Attended an Anxiety Management course run by MIND
- Multiple visits to A&E
- The Narcissistic Personality Disorder diagnosis was scrapped, and replaced with Borderline Personality Disorder
- After much fighting, got a new Care Coordinator - my fantastic CPN, L

And that brings us up to date! Sorry that was so boring, and far longer than I expected. I have missed out some minor overdoses that weren't proper suicide attempts, and am unsure of all the dates of my GP going off sick and returning, so I guessed some of them. I am unsure whether to continue the rest of the series by talking about things in chronological order, or in themes. Chronological order may be a bit dull, but themes might get confusing if I start talking about things that haven't happened yet! I am leaning towards chronological, perhaps with some old diary excerpts, and them a separate post on the important people in all of this (ie those I have been quite attached to). I might start with that, as it is the simplest. This is probably all quite dull to people reading, but if there is anything in particular that you would like me to write about then please say.

Yes or No?

So I can't sleep again. No change there then. Tonight was a bit different though. I heard my dad walking past my room on his way back from the toilet at 4am, and as he had an operation earlier I thought I should check he was ok, which I dutifully did. He had woken up and wasn't sleepy so I went into his room and chatted to him for a while, and then I had the genius idea of playing the yes or no game - you know the one where 1 person thinks of an object and can only answer questions with yes or no? So we started playing. I am apparently rather predictable. I thought of an object first and it went;

- Is it an animal?
- Yes
- Does it have 4 legs?
- Yes
- Is it black?
- Yes
- Is it the dog?
- Yes

Next go round I decided to pick a trickier object, and settled on a baby tomato plant. I don't know why. I wanted to say a tomato seed, but I couldn't work out what the answers would be for that, so I settled for a baby tomato plant. About 10 minutes of questioning later including 'Is it small?' 'Yes'. 'Does it flower?' 'No' he eventually got it. And I came under heavy criticism as apparently tomato plants DO in fact flower (who'd have thought it?) and his tomato plants are 7 feet tall. That apparently doesn't class as small. My answer that I was thinking of a baby tomato plant caused even more outrage from him. He got his own back by making his next object for me to guess a rusty screw on the shed floor. I got it though, which I think makes me the winner, yes?

Anyway, that took up an hour of my boring night - broke up the monotony a bit! I think I will try to sleep again now. Third time lucky and all that!

Shit

Really struggling. Felt so terrible overnight, didn't know what to do with myself. Had to take a couple of Diazepam to try and calm myself down, but I still felt like complete shit. Kept trying to tell myself just to get through until today and I could speak to L. Just called and she is still off sick, they are now expecting her back wednesday. That means not only can I not speak to her today, I won't get to see her for my appointment tomorrow. I can't do this, I can't cope. And there is no point me speaking to whoever is on duty at the CMHT because they will just tell me to go to A&E to be assessed by the duty psych, and I know from experience what a fucking pointless venture that is. I don't even know if I want help anymore. I just want to die.

The Good, the Bad, and the Bad

So. The good news is I have lost 2lbs over the last few days on the feeling too shit to move diet. This is despite my mother bringing me food at every available opportunity (generally chocolate). Result. I should perhaps market the diet. 'Guaranteed weight loss. Side effects may include complete loss of concentration and interest in anything, including personal hygeine, friends, and all other aspects of your life. May result in suicide.' Think people would go for it?

The bad news is I still feel like shit basically. The suicidal thoughts are getting more and more overwhelming, and I am well into the planning stages. Unfortunately my dad has to go into hospital for an operation on monday, which means he will be home the rest of the week, which is kind of ruining the planning a bit. It basically makes it either monday, or means I have to be alive for another week. Being alive for another week is feeling pretty impossible right now, but I am trying. Am in that slightly strange place where you desperately want to die, and genuinely feel suicide is the right, and sensible option, and yet part of you is telling you that you probably need to get help for these thoughts. I keep telling that part to fuck off. To be honest, there isn't really anything anybody can do anyway. Nobody can take these feelings away. Nobody can stop me from wanting to kill myself. Nobody could even say that I wasn't thinking rationally, because I am being perfectly logical about it all, and have weighed up living vs dying. I just wish people would let me go. I wish I could do this without hurting my family and friends. Whilst I know that in the long term they would be far better off without me, I know that it would hurt them now, and I hate upsetting people. People often think that suicide is selfish, but I don't think it is. You have to be really very desperate to feel like suicide is the right answer, and if you have reached that point of complete and utter despair then why is it more selfish of you to kill yourself, than the people around you to keep you alive? Answers on a postcard....

Self hatred rant

I am a horrible and useless fuckwit. I left the poor dog in the kitchen on his own for the entire 7 and a half hours my mum was at work without even going to say hello to him, because I felt too shit to get out of bed. Poor dog. He deserves better than me. And then when I finally did go downstairs at about half 8 this evening he was absolutely delighted to see me and was licking my and cuddling me and snuggling up to me and I felt so guilty for bloody abandoning him all day. Poor little pig. Animals are great the way they love you unconditionally though. Even though I had abandoned him all day, and this evening he had 2 other people he could have been making a fuss of he made a beeline for me straight away. I am a horrible person, I don't deserve to be liked.

Today has not gone well. I didn't get to sleep until about 6:45am, and then I slept quite badly. I woke up at 12 and was feeling really terrible so called the CMHT a bit later to speak to L but they said she isn't well and won't be back until monday. They asked if I wanted to speak to someone else, but it was hard enough to phone anyway with this whole not trusting people thing that I have going on at the moment so I said no. I then slept again most of the day because I didn't trust myself to be awake.

My sister called and asked me to look after her baby whilst she took my older nephew to his swimming lesson but I lied and said I wasn't well and didn't want to make the baby ill so I had better not. I am a crap aunt.

My mum got home and decided that chocolate was clearly the answer to everything (not eating, low mood etc etc) and would make me feel better so brought me some up which I said I didn't want but ended up eating anyway because I am a fat greedy pig. Although I have since had a carrot, some crisps and a slice of toast that she presented me with, she seems to have it in her head that I need more, and has offered me a Twix, some fruit and nut chocolate, a rocky bar, and everything else we have in the house that contains chocolate. Can you tell that she likes chocolate? I had a bit of a cry earlier and she was asking me what L would say if I could speak to her, so that she could say it instead bless her. But naturally I couldn't think of anything. I just feel so desperate, it is horrible.

I also realised this evening that I am a complete and utter fuckwit. I set this blog up anonymously, made an anonymous email address to go with it, and then have been commenting on everyone's blog using my non anonymous email address. Stupid moron. So much for bloody anonymity. I do wonder how I can be so stupid. I still want to move to WordPress, but the fact that I can't have the same username is just making it all too complicated for my small brain to handle. If I have a new username nobody will know who I am when I comment on their blog. And I will have to make another anonymous email address. I should have bloody researched properly first instead of just diving in. I am so stupid. I haven't always been stupid, but it is like brain cells have been streaming out of my ears these last 6 years. I won't even have enough left to know how to kill myself unless I do it soon.

Just to even things out with some positivity, my weight was down 1lb. And to even the positivity out with some negativity, the 1lb will probably be back on tomorrow after all the chocolate I have had today.

Not good

I am kind of falling apart and I don't know what to do. The suicidal thoughts are getting more and more intense. I can't sleep because of all the thoughts in my head even though I am exhausted. Everything feels massively overwhelming and I just can't cope. I feel so desperate. I hoped writing would make the thoughts go but my head is spinning so much I can't even slow it down enough to identify the thoughts let alone write them down. I feel like I am hanging on by a thread. I don't know what to do. I can't keep going like this. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. I don't give a shit if things will get better and I will be happy at some point (which they won't and I won't), I just can't cope anymore NOW. It is now I am having to live with feeling like this, and no matter what the future holds, I don't want it.

Little rant

I am unsure whether to be pleased or pissed off. The CMHT just called and said that N wasn't going to visit because of the snow. Now this would be an appropriate time to point out that where I live virtually all of the snow has melted, and that for the last half hour there has been a light flurry and that IS IT. But since I couldn't really be arsed seeing her today anyway I didn't actually mind her cancelling as it meant I could stay in bed. BUT this is the second time she has cancelled because of the weather, and both times she has got the receptionist to call instead of ringing herself, when she has always told me that if for any reason she can't see me in person then she will call and talk to me and support me in that way. Except when there is half a cm of snow on the ground. Clearly that disrupts phone calls. So whilst I don't really mind that she cancelled (even though it was clearly unneccessary as there is very little snow) I DO mind that she couldn't be bothered to tell me herself and ask how I felt. Rant over.

Bad day

Today has not been a good day. I woke up for my physio feeling shit and tired so I rang and cancelled and went back to sleep for a couple of hours, until my mum threw a shoe at my window to wake me up, as she had been out and managed to lock herself out. Nice one! My dad pointed out tonight that a shoe was possibly not the most sensible thing to have thrown, since it could have broken the glass and all, but that thought didn't seem to have occurred to my mother. She is a bit of a ditz to be honest. Actually she is a complete ditz, but in a very sweet way.

So then I did a bit of wall staring, and watched Neighbours, and was feeling more and more shit, so decided to call L for a chat, but as I said earlier, she had gone home ill, so I couldn't talk to her, and that made me feel even more shit. I decided going back to sleep was the only safe option, so I went back to sleep for a couple of hours, but set my alarm to wake me up before my mum got home from work because she shouts at me when I nap in the day, because my sleep routine is so horrendous and I get the 'you're not helping yourself, I think you must want to be awake all night, sometimes I think you don't want to get better' speech, which makes me want to scream and shout and hit things. But yes, so I have probably fucked up my sleep for tonight now. Nicely done.

Feel like I am dangerously close to the edge. The suicidal thoughts are getting more and more overwhelming, and I am seeing less and less point in trying to resist them. I am also doing this ridiculous thing that I sometimes do when I am feeling very low, when I focus all my attention onto my weight, and that determines whether I should kill myself or not. So if I get on the scales in the morning and have gained weight then that is a sign that I should kill myself that day. If I have stayed exactly the same (and my scales weigh to .2 of a pound) or lost then I am not supposed to kill myself that day. Everyone think that is a good plan? Excellent.

I have an appointment with N tomorrow, and another bloody ballet class. Feel like cancelling both to be honest. I just can't be arsed with seeing N. I don't want to go and sit in Costa and chat about stupid Christmas and things. And at the moment I don't trust her enough to talk to her properly. I used to trust her, when I only had my shit care coordinator then seeing N was good because she was the only person I could talk to, but now I have L to talk to about proper things, and N cancelled an appointment before Christmas, and made my appointment for last week at the same time as my appointment for L was, so I couldn't go to that, so I haven't seen her for ages and I don't want to talk to her. I don't want to leave the house, I want to stay here. People are starting to scare me again (this happened in the summer - I got absolutely terrified of people and thought they were all going to hurt me, so wouldn't leave the house, and when I absolutely had to, for example when my mum took me to the out of hours GP and A&E I took my teddy bear with me as I felt that he could protect me. The out of hours GP asked me what his name was. I am unsure if she thought I was 4, or stupid.) and I just want to stay in my house where I am safe. Except I am not because all the tempting suicidey things are here. So I am not safe anywhere. That scares me. I have no safe place.

'i'm not right now at all
there i go again
pretending that i'll fall
don't call the doctors
cause they've seen it all before
they'll say just let her crash and burn she'll learn
the attention just encourages her'

Girl Anachronism, The Dresden Dolls

Crap

I feel really bad and I don't know what to do with myself. I want to just sleep to make the day go, but then I won't be able to sleep tonight. I just tried to call L to talk to her but they said she has had to go home as she is not well, so now I don't know what to do. I fucking hate this.

Ramblings

I ache. I have had a cough (might actually be a chest infection, it is all rather rattly and gunky) for several days and I have achyness across my ribs. Very tender. And crampy calf muscles from ballet. And we didn't even do any pointe work so they have no excuse. On the plus side, 4 weeks with no exercise whatsoever and I can still sit in the splits on both legs. It bloody hurt though.

Another terrible night last night. Got to sleep at 6:45 this morning. Slept for 5 or 6 hours, and then had to get up to go and see L. That went ok. It was definitely better knowing I had an hour and a half. For some reason I found myself getting a bit upset, and I don't even know what about. I just can't accept that someone can not consider me to be useless and pointless and a waste of space (I believe I termed it a waste of oxygen in my appointment...because there is clearly a shortage of that?!). We talked a bit about how useless I am at looking after myself. Well, I don't do it in essence. I will occasionally grab something to eat, but it tends to be something junky with no proper nutritional value, like crisps or chocolate or babybels or something. Something that takes no effort or preparation. But most of the time I don't bother, and I will only eat when my mum persuades me to. Same with hygeine and routine. Unless I have to go out the house (and I only go out of the house for appointments or dance classes) I don't get dressed. I rarely leave my bed. I only shower when nagged sufficiently. And my sleep pattern would be even more chaotic if I wasn't woken up etc sometimes. I don't know what I would do if I lived by myself - I am very reliant on my mum. I suspect I would just spend the entire time in bed, only getting up to go to the toilet, or occasionally to grab a snack or diet coke. Would probably be a good weight loss regime. I am not always as bad as this. When I am feeling a bit better I do shower and bother a bit more about my appearance, and make more effort to leave the house etc, but at the moment I just have no motivation at all. It just all seems pointless, so I don't do it. I am really quite down at the moment. I am isolating myself quite a lot from people - ignoring phone calls, not logging into MSN and talking on there like I usually do, often not replying to texts. Crap friend.

Have been exhausted all day. Although I did have one of my hyper half hours earlier, in the middle of my ballet class which was interesting. I was finding it all terribly funny, and kind of talking to myself quietly (you can get away with that in a dance class because if people see your mouth moving they assume you are counting the music or something!) and grinning inanely. Not entirely sure what people thought, hopefully they didn't notice. I was rather bouncy though.

I am hoping I am going to be able to sleep tonight. I am exhausted and I feel shit and I have had enough of the day to be honest. I have to get up in the morning as I have a physio appointment (I have slightly dodgy hips - that is what comes of having hyperextended joints), but then I have nothing the rest of the day thank goodness. Being out for a few hours today has really taken it out of me. I had to leave to see L at 1:15, and then I got back home at 4:15, and had to go out again at 5, and then got back at 7:30. That is a busy day for me. I fell asleep on the sofa this evening, which annoyed me as I was trying to watch the television. But fingers crossed for sleep now.

Busy doing nothing...

I haven't really done much this weekend. My sleep pattern is still all over the place. I watched So You Think You Can Dance last night, and Dancing on Ice tonight, and that basically formed the structure of my weekend. Good old trash TV eh - what would we do without it?!

The other thing I have been doing is knitting. I am not a good knitter. I first learnt to knit maybe 4 years ago, when I was rehearsing a show. For some reason knitting seemed to be the in thing to do at that time, and several of the cast members would sit knitting scarves when we were not needed in the rehearsal, and between them they taught quite a few more cast members to knit. I think by the end of the rehearsal period the entire cast could at least knit a few stitches! Later that year I was in hospital, and the majority of the women there knitted, as it was something to do, and so I knitted a scarf for one of my nieces. I couldn't cast on or off - I had to get other patients to do that for me. And I couldn't correct my (many) mistakes - I had to get other patients to do that for me. And I couldn't purl, so I just knitted the whole thing, but I finished it, and gave it to her for Christmas, and all in all it was a decent first attempt. I hadn't knitted since then until friday, when my mum decided I could knit the ear flaps to go onto a hat that she had knitted for my 16 week old nephew (who is gorgeous by the way, if absolutely enormous for his age!). We made an attempt doing a bit each, and she cast on and off for me, but I did learn to pick up stitches, so that was the first new knitting skill I learnt. We finished it, but it looked a bit messy as we had both done bits, so I did another one by myself, but still with my mum casting on and off for me, and this was much neater. But I decided I didn't like the shape of it, and that I would knit another one. So I did last night, and this time I mostly cast on and off by myself. And then today I knitted another one to match the new design and did it entirely by myself with no help at all, and it turned out rather well if I do say so myself! So they are now ready to sew onto the hat, so my mum then told me I had to knit 2 more, for a different hat, but these needed to have a row knitted and then a row purled, so she told me how to purl, and I had a little practice, and now I am ready to start those ones. So now I have learnt to cast on, cast off, pick up stitches and purl. I am feeling rather smug and pleased with myself - can you tell?! I am quite liking this knitting lark. My concentration isn't good enough to read at the moment, which I usually do a lot, and I am finding the TV irritating unless I am specifically watching something, so it is quite nice to have something to do with myself. I like knitting whilst watching the TV best, but just knitting is ok too, as it doesn't take too much concentration, but definitely beats staring at the wall. I am going to start on one of the knit/purl ear flaps now and see how it goes.

I have been doing my food diary that I mentioned thinking about starting. So far I have been very good with it - I have written down absolutely everything I have eaten, even things I think I shouldn't have had. It is quite useful - it is making me think a bit more before eating things, but also it is quite useful to be able to look back at a day and see exactly what I have eaten, and sometimes to find that actually a day hasn't been as bad as I have thought etc. All totally feeding (no pun intended!) my controlling, obsessive streak of course, but that's ok - there are worse things I could be doing. I am keeping a note of my weight in there as well to see how that changes (or doesn't), and how that relates to what I am eating.

I am seeing L tomorrow, and also I am back at dance class after the Christmas break. Was told to keep practicing over Christmas, but have done absolutely nothing, so that will hurt like hell, and I am expecting extreme stiffness on tuesday! Not really feeling terribly comfortable about getting into a leotard and tights given my body at the moment, but I need to try and make myself go, because stopping doing things doesn't help me, and maybe dancing will make me lose some weight, and that would make me feel better about myself.

Paranoia!

Eeek! Following on from what I was discussing earlier about anonymity, paranoia has well and truly hit! Firstly I should say I am very proud to have been included in TWIM on Mental Nurse this week for the very first time ever. HOWEVER I told L about Mental Nurse once because I love it, and because there was a discussion there I thought she would find amusing, and I know she looked at it, and I am now paranoid that she will do so again, see that post, and then find my blog. She would know it was me from the bit printed on MN as it includes a bit of an article that we discussed. And what if she hates me for talking about my sessions on a public blog? Hopefully she has better things to do with her time than read MN and my blog but otherwise, ermm hey L - please don't hate me!

Sleep

I am getting really pissed off with my sleep. Or rather my inability to sleep at a reasonable time. The last 2 nights, it has been after 6:30am when I have finally got to sleep. I don't know why I can't sleep earlier - I can be completely exhausted and unable to keep my eyes open, but yet I just cannot get to sleep. Cue lots of stress and bad thoughts. I am spending the nights alternating between trying to sleep, and trying to read or do something else until my eyes get to the point where they won't stay open again, at which point I attempt to sleep again, and so it goes on.

I had a really bizarre dream last night. I had taken an overdose and been taken to hospital, and was unconscious, and when I woke up again I asked a nurse what day it was, and she told me, but it was 3 years later, and I had been unconscious for 3 years. So everyone else was 3 years further on in their lives, but to me it still felt like the same time it had when I had taken the overdose, so it was all very confusing. I left the hospital, and when I was at home I went to log onto Facebook to see what people had been up to in the last 3 years. But Facebook had shut down - it had been sued or something. It was all very weird!

Why anonymous blogging?

I have found myself wondering over the last few days why I am doing this. By this, I mean writing here. Earlier this evening I was reading a blog (Random Acts of Reality if anyone is interested), and it lead to a conversation with my parents about blogs and blogging. My dad asked if I had a blog, to which I replied yes but they couldn't see it. Which I suppose leads into my 2 questions; firstly why blog, and secondly why blog anonymously?

Why blog? Why am I publishing my thoughts on the internet for all and sundry to read, rather than writing in a diary and hiding it under my bed? Not that I expect all and sundry to read, but obviously the possibility is there. I suppose I have to be completely honest here, and say a big reason is for comments. I assume this is the same for all bloggers, or people would do the diary under the bed thing, or do their writing in some other way that meant others were unable to read it. Comments on my posts can do several things. Make me look at a situation differently. Make me feel my thoughts and feelings are valid. Make me feel less alone. Make me feel supported. And probably lots of other things too. So in the main, I would say that is probably the reason why I blog, rather than write in a diary. I do get disproportionately excited by comments. I suppose because I can't believe that anybody would spend their time reading my drivel, let alone bothering to reply to it. But sometimes people do, and that makes me feel good. Diaries don't comment back (although how cool would that be?!). They just leave you to get on with it. Not many people read my blog, probably partly because it is new, and partly because it isn't very interesting. Which leads nicely onto the second question.

Why do I blog anonymously? I have another blog, on LiveJournal, which is not anonymous. It is however friends locked - there are perhaps 12 people who can read my entries, and these are either 'real life' friends, or friends I have met on the internet. They all know who I am, I know who they are. None of them know that this blog exists. Why not? I would get more comments if they did, as they know me, and so are more likely to be interested in what I have to say - I do get more comments on my LJ than I do on here. But I want this to be anonymous. I want this to be a place where I can write about absolutely anything and anyone without the risk of worrying or offending people. I want to be able to write about being suicidal, without making my friends feel like they should intervene in some way. I want to be able to write on here in the same way that I would in an under the bed diary - with complete honesty. So when my parents asked if they could see this, the answer was naturally no. To me this IS my diary, and whilst it may seem strange to them that I am happy to have a personal diary out on the internet for anyone to read, the anonymity allows that. If someone who knew me well, such as my parents or L, or a few of my friends, came across this, then yes, of course they would recognise me. But the chances of that are fairly low (I hope). When I started this, I made a conscious decision not to let anyone who may read this blog know who I am. Already there are people that I would like to get to know better, that I would like to talk to on MSN etc, but that would then mean that I would lose the anonymity, which is the reason that I started this in the first place.

So basically, I blog anonymously because I want to be able to write with the honesty that I could in a private diary, but whilst still being able to receive feedback, and discuss my thoughts with people.

I wanted to change my blog to wordpress, as it seems that is better and has some cool little features that I like the look of (can you tell I am really knowledgable about blogging and blog sites?!), but unfortunately somebody else already has the nickname bippidee, and due to a complete lack of imagination on my part this is causing a problem. I could have bippidee as the blog address, just not my nickname. But I can't think of another nickname. Suggestions are welcome.

A thoroughly boring entry, but something I have been thinking about, and questioning, so decided to write!

Rip Van Winkle

I think there is something wrong with me (no shit!). I slept for 15 hours last night. Well, and today. I was asleep by 1am (very early for me), and woke up quite a few times in the night, but then slept through until 4pm. I am aware that this is absurd. And that I now won't be able to sleep tonight and will spend the night awake thinking about killing myself. Joy. I am so frustrated with myself over it, I am just dreading being awake all night.

I have been thinking about keeping a food diary. I have always loathed doing this when being asked to by professionals, as I hate writing it when I feel I have written too much, as seeing it on the page makes me feel even more guilty, but this is the reason why I am now thinking about doing it. In the hopes that it will make me think more before I eat. Unfortunately, what would be more likely to happen, is that if I ate something I didn't write down then I would either conveniently forget about it and leave it off the list, or decide to stop doing the whole thing. I need some fucking control over something.

I got on ok yesterday with L, except it was too bloody short, and I didn't get to talk about a lot of things I wanted to. Since we generally run over time I have almost come to expect it, and so was rather frustrated that she was seeing someone else after me as that meant I couldn't have any extra time. Although we did still run 10 mins over. Needy and demanding much? She said we could make future appointments for an hour and a half, as although we often run to this anyway, this way I would know that I had an hour and a half from the start etc, so we have done that for next week.

We talked about the theraputic relationship and our relationship, which we had also touched on the previous time I saw her, as part of my writing in the week before that had been about http://couched.wordpress.com/2008/08/21/unfortunate-truths-about-therapy/ some part of this post on the theraputic relationship which bothered me, particularly;

- You will probably never know what your therapist "really thinks"

- They will not say they like you (and even if they do you will not know if it is true)

- This is just a professional relationship

- Your therapist will never be your friend.

Naturally this bothered me as it fed right into my attachment issues. We talked about it though, and she said that although it was obviously a theraputic relationship, she also felt that it was a 'real' relationship, and that we genuinely get on well, to which I said that she could just be saying that, and it bothered me that she might hate seeing me, but she couldn't very well say that she thought I was a horrible person and that she dreaded our sessions as it wasn't terribly professional. She said that I am an intelligent girl, and she thought that I would know pretty fast if she didn't like me, and also that we wouldn't have the kind of relationship that we do if she didn't genuinely like me, and that you can tell if somebody cares about you. She also said that if the situation was different, and we knew each other outside of a therapist - patient relationship then she thought we would get on very well, and have lots to talk about etc. This did reassure me. I always think that we do get on well - we have a lot in common, and very similar senses of humour etc, but I am always worried that people are actually thinking that I am a pain in the arse and wanting to get rid of me. She also pointed out that we had actually chosen to work with each other, and that if she hadn't wanted to work with me then she wouldn't have. (That is a long story, which I may or may not go into at another time, but basically I had to see someone shit, that I didn't trust or get on with for quite a long time, due to NHS politcs, and male ego). I didn't really talk much about how things are for me at the moment, but I know that I can always call and talk to her during office hours if I need to, and hopefully if things get any worse, or I feel more at risk then I will. It is worse when the really bad patches are at nights or weekends, as I am far less likely to call anyone then, as it will mean talking to someone I don't know and don't trust, and they are more likely to make me do something I don't want to do, like go to A&E for assessment or involve the CRHT, whereas I know that L will talk to me about it all, and help me to calm down, and that she won't panic and order me to go to A&E like the shit guy I saw before her did - I couldn't even bloody mention the word suicidal without being sent off to A&E - there were many hours wasted there!

Sliding

Hmmm. Things aren't going too well. I would say for maybe the last 5 or 6 days things have definitely been sliding. Up until then I wasn't feeling too good, and I was having quite a lot of suicidal thoughts, but I was functioning. I was getting up and getting dressed, and making an effort to be around people, and things like that. Since then I have been leaving my room less and less, to the point where I am really only getting out of bed to go to the toilet. My hygeine has been shit - when I feel bad I just give up on showering and getting dressed, because I am not going to leave my bed, so there seems no point, and I have no motivation. I showered and washed my hair this evening because my mum absolutely insisted, and I realised that was the first time for 6 days. I am disgusting. My sleep is atrocious. I have been getting to sleep between 4 and 6am most days, and then sleeping until 2 or 3pm, and waking up still absolutely exhausted. Today I woke up at half 2, and then fell asleep again at 6 and was asleep until my phone rang and woke me an hour or so later. I think my appetite has decreased a little too, but I am certainly not going to complain about that. I am back to doing rather a lot of staring at walls. Just lying there staring, because I can't seem to do anything else with myself. I can't seem to read again - it is just holding no interest for me, and I don't have the concentration. I did manage to watch the high quality TV programme that is Neighbours earlier today, and dithered on Facebook for a while, but that is literally all I have done.

The suicidal thoughts are getting more intense too. There is a little voice in my head (my own I should point out) telling me to kill myself all of the time. Overdose. Go on. Do it. What are you waiting for? You are a waste of space. You don't deserve to be here. Everyone will be better off without you. Hang yourself. Go on. Get on with it. Useless. Loser. You're pathetic. Nobody likes you.

And sometimes I see it all happening in my head. Like you do a dream, but I am awake. There are different versions. In some of them I die. In some of them I wake up in hospital. In some of them I end up in a psych ward. None of them are very nice. And it happens in my sleep too. And I keep thinking about my funeral. What music I would like. If anybody would even turn up apart from my family. I don't know if they would.

I am kind of relieved I am seeing L tomorrow. I am really hoping that talking everything through will help. It needs to. Something needs to anyway, and I can't think what else might.

Strength vs. Weakness

People assume that if you are having lots of suicidal thoughts and not acting on them then you are strong. For me, still being here isn't strength, it is weakness. It is because I am too weak to kill myself. Pathetic. I know what I want. I know what is the right thing to do. And I haven't done it. That makes me weak. And I hate myself for it. I am not scared of dying. I suppose there is some stupid fucking survival instinct. And I am scared of it going wrong. I don't want to be left paralysed or with brain damage, but that isn't what is stopping me. I don't know what it. It is ridiculous. I know I will kill myself at some point. I just need to make sure I get it right.

Skin games

I was going to self harm now. I kind of did, but it wasn't actual self harm. Actually it wasn't self harm at all. It was more playing with my skin and a blade. Seeing how far I could dig the blade into the fat on my thigh. Pushing it hard. But not slicing. There is definitely far too much fat on my thighs. Looking at them makes me feel physically sick. It hurt like slicing does, but it didn't really bleed. Skin is pretty tough really. I can push a sharp blade into my leg with all my strength and it only cuts through a few layers of skin. Quite impressive stuff when you think about it. I suppose this playing with a blade game should be win win really - the pain without the scar. But it isn't the same without the blood. I want to do it properly now, but I know there is no point really. It will only make me feel better for about 5 minutes. I want to overdose really. That would be infinitely more satisfying. Even if it doesn't work it is. Obviously it would be most satisfying if it did work. But even if it doesn't, it still calms me down a bit. I suppose because the discomfort lasts for longer. And because I get taken care of for a few days somewhere safe. Safety is reassuring. But even small overdoses that I haven't been to hospital for have been quite satisfying. Maybe because I know I am hurting myself inside.

Up and down

So today has been rather up and down. I slept most of the day again, until about half 2. The afternoon was fairly normal - felt quite down, moped around on the internet. Didn't have the energy to shower or get dressed or anything. Fairly typical. Then I watched So You Think You Can Dance, which was really good, and started making me feel all inspired like I did after watching Every Little Step the other day. Then later this evening I got really very hyper. My dad kept telling me to calm down. I was bouncing and jumping around the lounge giggling and talking very fast, and telling my parents all about various dance related things, and planning to go to London tomorrow, and talking about going to New York and all sorts of things like that. Then I was back to talking about dance classes, and explaining (rather fast) about how the dance exams work, and how I need to take X modern class etc, and my dad said to me 'Don't you think you're a bit old for all this?' (ie dance stuff, and wanting to be good at it), and I burst into tears and ran up to my bedroom. It sounds a ridiculously childish things to do, but it really hurt me, because he was basically voicing what I am always concerned (and indeed posted) about. That I am 23. I am too old to be still hoping for a performing career. Which to me then means that my life has no point and I may as well kill myself (simplistic, yes). So the hyper mood has completely disappeared - I spent a while laying on my bed crying, and wanting to hurt myself, and now I just feel like shit and want to self harm. I hate the way my mood can change so quickly. I can go from really hyper and excitable, to having strong suicidal thoughts in a flash, and I hate it.

Exhaustion

For some reason I have been completely exhausted the last couple of days, and I don't know why. I am always tired, and I often have trouble getting to sleep, but the tiredness of the last couple of days is just weird. Yesterday I was awake for less than 11 hours, and had a sleep on the sofa in the evening included in that time, and then I slept for 13 hours last night, and after having been awake for 10 hours today I am completely knackered again. I know it is probably partly because I have been stressed, but I have been waking up after good sleeps, and within an hour just desperately needing to sleep again, and I don't understand why.

I am struggling a lot, and feeling pretty shit, but it is only 4 days until I see L now. I can cope for that long can't I? Just 4 days. Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and then I see her on Tuesday.