Friday, 31 December 2010

New Year blues

Today has been a shit day. I just feel like a tonne of bricks dropped on me a few days ago, and every day another tonne has been added. My aunt was here today, which was ok, but I just find speaking to people, and trying to show any enthusiasm in what they are saying so much effort - I don't even feel able to fake it properly any more. I ate like a fucking pig - yesterday I weighed less than a pound more than I did pre-Christmas, which I thought was quite impressive in the overall scheme of things. Today there was loads of food out because we had people over, and so I just ate fucking non stop. I felt sick and still kept eating. I desperately wanted to purge, but that wasn't an option, and so for some reason I just kept eating instead. I am not sure whether it was supposed to be comfort eating, in which case it failed miserably as it made me feel like complete shit, or whether I was punishing myself, and since I couldn't purge I just kept eating until I felt ill instead. Either way I ended up feeling grotesque. All day I was getting really graphic images popping up in my head of me hurting myself. Mostly bad self harm, which is quite random as I rarely self harm, and when I do it is never deep. But I just kept getting these images of me cutting myself really deep, and slicing big chunks of fat off my thighs. We have a bread knife, which is supposedly 'The World's Sharpest Knife' (says that on it) and every time I see it I imagine sawing through all of the fat on my thighs with it. It will saw through frozen chicken portions, so it obviously is quite sharp. I know I would be very unlikely to do it - that just isn't my style. I don't like anything that involves medical attention. Proper suicide attempts are slightly different as the medical attention is not my intention or plan in those situations, but I would never take an overdose or self harm and then present at A&E - I am not judging people who do that, but it just is not something I would want to do. If I want to hurt myself I want to do it in the most unobtrusive way I can find, again barring suicide attempts, as by their nature they have a tendency to attract attention. But if there was a way I could just disappear then I would. Anyway, so I had lots of films in my head of self harming badly, and also of jumping off a multi storey car park, and of hanging myself. My head isn't a nice place to be at the moment. It is quite distressing really I suppose. Even if you want to die, you don't really want possible scenarios playing out in your head constantly - it all gets a bit much really.

I loathe New Year. More than I can express. I think it is actually my least favourite day of the whole year. It is even worse than my birthday I think. At least most people either don't know, or forget, that it is your birthday, and so you can generally get through most of the day without it being brought to your attention, and if you look at it from a materialistic view point you usually get presents and a cake, and so there are some nicer aspects to it, although I have to say that I think birthdays are pretty shit really, and I refused to acknowledge mine on the correct day this year. But anyway. New Year. What the fuck is the point? It is another year. And people actually seem to think that because the number of the year is different, your life will also be different. That things will change for you this year, or that this will be the year that is good for you, or where you will achieve something, and bollocks like that. No. It will be the same - the date will just be slightly different. And then you are expected to stand around drinking Champagne and singing a stupid song that nobody actually knows the words to, and saying Happy New Year to everyone you see for the next couple of days. And I don't know what we are fucking celebrating. I have never understood that, ever. It makes no sense to me. All it does for me is remind me of everything I have wanted to achieve but haven't in the past year, and make me realise what a failure I am.

My mother has done a good job of reminding me of that this evening actually. She doesn't do it intentionally, but she really seems to have a knack of tapping into my insecurities. Earlier on she told me she really thought I should have applied for drama school this year, and that if I didn't go this year (meaning 2011) she didn't think I would ever go, and that this would have been a really good year to apply. I said that I didn't feel well enough, but according to her I am because I can get up on stage and perform, and that is all you do at drama school. Which is of course complete rubbish. She then pointed out that if I didn't go this year I would be at least 26 when I started, and that I would be getting old, and when I said that actually some people go to drama school a lot older than that she said that they would have achieved something first, whereas I haven't done anything. Which is all fucking true, and makes me even more angry and upset because of that. If she had been talking bollocks then I could have coped with it, but she was saying all of the things that I always think. That I am getting old, that I haven't achieved anything, and basically that I will never accomplish the only thing I have ever wanted to do, because I am leaving it too late because of my mental health problems. Great. Just what I needed to hear the day before my least favourite day of the entire year when I dwell on all of those things anyway. She didn't say any of it in a nasty way. It just felt like salt being rubbed into a very raw wound.

Apparently my sister has invited my parents to spend New Year's Eve at their house. Not me of course because she still hates me. I was hoping they would go, but it seems they aren't going to. I had it all planned out. If they went I was going to tell them I would probably be asleep by the time they got home, take an overdose as soon as they had left, and leave a note somewhere where it would be found but not immediately, so that they wouldn't see it when they got home. Then when they got home they wouldn't have known I had taken an overdose, and so would just think I was sleeping, then I usually sleep until at least 1, so they wouldn't come up to see me before that, and it may even have been an hour or two after, and so my overdose would have had a good 18 hours to work before I was found, possibly even 20. Unfortunately it seems they aren't going to go. Primarily because my dad doesn't want to, although my mum also said that she didn't want to leave me here on my own on New Year's Eve, despite me protesting that I really didn't mind at all. They know that I loathe New Year and don't want to celebrate it. They see me having a complete breakdown every year. And yet they still try to give me champagne and say Happy New Year to me. When I said something to my mum tonight about how much I hate New Year she said she thinks someone must have said they hated New Year to me, and so I say it as well. Because I clearly couldn't actually have a thought of my own - everything I think and feel that she doesn't understand or disagrees with, she calls my 'quirks' and seems to attribute all of them to things that other people have said or done that I have copied. I suppose that fits in quite well with her agreeing with my sister that there isn't actually anything wrong with me and that I do everything for effect.

I am feeling really terrible. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. I can't imagine anything at all that would make me want to live, or make this constant pain bearable. I really want to die. I don't want to be told how much I have achieved, or how strong I am, or that 2011 will be better for me, or anything else. I just want my life to end, and I consider myself incredibly weak for not making that happen before this.

'Turning, turning, turning through the years.
Minutes into hours and the hours into years.
Nothing changes, nothing ever can
Round and round the roundabout and back where you began.
Round and round and back where you began!'
 - 'Turning', Les Miserables

Thursday, 30 December 2010


I am still struggling enormously. I am completely terrified by how close New Year is. I want so much not to be alive by then, but I know that realistically I am not going to get an opportunity to act on it before then, and I don't know how to cope with that. I want to be dead now. Not in a few weeks or months or years. Tomorrow my aunt, who has been over from the US for Christmas, is coming over, which means I can't do anything tomorrow, and couldn't do anything tonight. And then it is New Year's Eve. At the moment I am coping by taking Diazepam when things feel too much, and am generally just a bit of a mess. I think the only way of getting through New Year's Eve will be taking a lot of Diazepam, and anything else that might help, and just sleeping through it, but even that isn't really a solution because I will have to wake up the next day. I want to die so much. I really just can't express how hideous this feels. And it is just so bloody unrelenting. Ok, sometimes I get a few weeks when I feel crap but I am slightly more able to cope, and less suicidal, but things are always shit, and I seriously believe that suicidal is a completely logical decision for me - I feel like it has reached a point where the pain is just too much, and too unrelenting. I want out as soon as possible. I know that it is very unlikely to be before the New Year, but it will be as soon as is practical after that.

People say I have achieved things this year and that I should be proud of myself. But the point is, that none of the things I have done actually mean anything. They have no impact on my life, or how I feel. Sure, I have done things, but they don't mean anything. I still feel hideous and I still want to die. I don't want to wait and see what the future brings, or what opportunities there are in the New Year or anything else, because it doesn't matter. None of it matters. I am just desperate and I don't want to be here, and nothing can change that.

Tuesday, 28 December 2010


I am feeling worse and worse. In the last couple of days I have turned into this tense, anxious mess, constantly on the verge of tears but never actually letting the tears out, feeling desperately alone regardless of whether I am with people or not, continually thinking about how I can kill myself before the New Year because I can't cope with it. I feel sick with anxiety, and just completely overwhelmed. I feel like a complete and utter failure for letting yet another year of my life go by without achieving anything significant. My mental health problems are not getting any easier at all to cope with - if anything I would say that in many ways they are more difficult to live with now than they used to be, and so I can't see myself being able to achieve anything in the next year if I were to stay alive for it either. I have had enough of everything. I have been feeling like this for too long and I just can't cope with another year with no end in sight. My usual coping mechanism when things start to feel impossible is to turn to my weight and food, and to try and control that, but that is absolutely impossible at the moment as there is food everywhere, and I have gained several pounds - I haven't eaten an enormous quantity, but I have eaten a lot more than usual, and I have eaten a lot of foods that are high in calories and fat, so it isn't surprising. But it means that my normal method of attempting to control my mood even slightly isn't available to me.

I know New Year is just a day, I know that things might improve in 2011, but I don't actually give a shit, I just need everything to stop, and before 2011 starts. The thing that scares me most is that it is so few days away and I don't know when I will have the opportunity to do anything about it. I wish it wasn't this time of year, because I do appreciate that it is not good timing, but I just can't cope with the start of another year, I really really can't. I am feeling so desperate to get out. I wish I had killed myself years ago, or that one of the attempts I had made had been successful - there has never been a point when I have been pleased to still be alive and that I survived, and I think that has to prove something. Maybe some people just aren't meant to be, I don't know. I just know it feels completely unbearable at the moment, and I don't want to be here for the start of another year.

Monday, 27 December 2010

Christmas and New Year

Christmas Day was actually ok. It was pretty quiet, as it was just me and my parents for most of the day. It was actually nice to just be relaxed and for it to be quiet, rather than busy and noisy with lots of people - it felt easier to cope with. Food was difficult, but then I think that food will always be difficult for me, and particularly at the moment, when food plays such a central part in trying to control my mood. I didn't eat an obscene amount I don't think - it is just far more than I am used to eating, and when there is constantly food out then it can be difficult to deal with. Plus alcohol calories always bother me. But it was quiet and relaxed, although in retrospect I am not really sure what we did with ourselves. Then at about 6 one of my sister's friends came over for the evening - he is single and had his children with him until 4, and then they had gone to their mums so he came to us, and we played Jenga and cards in the evening/night. I wasn't excited or enthusiastic about it being Christmas, but I got through it, and it was fine and not too stressful.

Today was more difficult. Both of my brothers came over with their families, so there were 8 people in the house, plus me and my parents, so it was much busier and louder, and I just found it a bit much really. I went down for a while and then just found it all too much, so came upstairs for a while to spend some time on my own and then went down again. It wasn't that they were doing anything wrong - I just wasn't feeling very good, and I didn't have the energy to put on my happy face or sit and make small talk. My parents are going to visit my brother tomorrow, but I have decided to stay here for a couple of reasons - firstly I don't see a need to see them again when we saw them today, it seems pointless, but really I just can't face another day with a lot of people - all of his wife's family will be there tomorrow as well, and I just don't want to have to see lots of people, and it is much harder to escape when you aren't in your own home, so I will stay here with the dog.

I am feeling really quite awful. I wasn't feeling great yesterday, but I put on a happy face, and because it was all pretty quiet and laid back I got through it alright. Today was a lot more difficult, but I was trying to hold up but it was like a big wave of desperation and hopelessness came and hit me this evening, after not feeling good all day. I don't really know why - I just know I feel really awful and nearly burst into tears in front of my parents for absolutely no reason, which is so unlike me. I even said that I felt really crappy, which I very rarely do. I just didn't want them to think I was just being grumpy or ungrateful or anything. I suppose that although I haven't been consciously thinking about it, I am very stressed about New Year. I do not want to be alive by then, it feels like more than I can deal with, and I don't see the point, and the speed with which it is approaching is really quite terrifying, particularly now that Christmas is over. Not having anyone I can contact to talk to doesn't help, but then I don't think talking would make any difference - I have felt for months like I didn't want to live to see 2011, and I still feel like that - telling someone that I feel like that won't change anything, so maybe it doesn't matter anyway. I just feel really horrible.

Saturday, 25 December 2010


It has been a rather busy few days. I went Christmas shopping on Wednesday. That was a fairly good resemblance of hell I think. It was of course pretty busy, and I had been very organised and made a list of everything I needed to get, and when possible what shop I was getting it in. Naturally everything I had planned to get was out of stock and so I then had to search around for alternatives. Then shops I had hoped would have the type of thing I wanted didn't have. And basically it was all quite crap, and I didn't end up getting anything at all that I couldn't have got in a much closer, smaller, less busy town. During the afternoon I had a headache which got worse and worse, and by the time I got home it was really quite agonising, so I had dinner and then ended up going to bed at 8:30. During the night I woke up feeling really ill, all shivery and cold, with a really nasty cold and streaming nose and just feeling crap. Ended up going back to sleep after a couple of hours, woke up in the morning not feeling any better. Got a hot water bottle and took a couple of paracetamol and went back to sleep for an hour, and woke up feeling a little bit better, and so made myself get up because I had lots to do. Went off shopping again - this time to much closer, smaller town, where I managed to find everything I wanted within about half an hour, and then spent another hour and a half pacing the streets in the cold because my mum was at my sister's house, where I am obviously not very welcome. I noticed my sister left me off our Christmas card this year - she really does have it in for me.

Shopping finished, came home, felt ill so had a couple of hours relaxing time and then cracked on with the wrapping. Wrapping is a time consuming affair because I like making presents look pretty. I like using lots of ribbons and bows and curling ribbons, and so trimming a present to make it look pretty takes at least as long as the actual wrapping. And then I decide which ribbons and labels I will be using before I wrap the present, and choose the paper accordingly, so it is all rather time consuming and complicated really! I don't bother when I am wrapping for the children, because they just rip paper off as they are children, and my dad doesn't care what his presents look like, so I don't spend that long wrapping his, although I must admit I find it really difficult to leave a present just with paper and a tag, so he sometimes ends up with a little bit of ribbon because I just can't help myself.... But my mum really loves presents to look pretty, as do I, so we both put lots of effort into wrapping our presents for each other, and so it takes hours. Plus I have to help my dad with his wrapping, because he refuses to touch a ribbon and will use completely inappropriate paper unless I stop him, so I either have to wrap and trim all of his presents for my mum as well as my own, because I think she deserves to have them looking pretty, or I do what I did yesterday and make him wrap them himself but then tell him which paper he has to use for each present and which label he has to use, and then do all the trimmings on them myself. So lots of hours wrapping. I may be ever so slightly obsessive about wrapping.

Today was surprisingly calm. Scarily calm actually for Christmas Eve in our house. Generally that is when most of the wrapping gets done, plus pretty much everything else, but I had finished my wrapping (and my dad's) last night, and my mum only had to wrap about 4 presents for my nephews today, so that didn't take long. And then she made some mince pies and sausage rolls, although not that many, and that was about it. We think we have probably forgotten to do something vital, as it was all far too laid back and relaxed - we have never had such a calm Christmas Eve before! I watched 4 films. Miracle on 34th Street (my favourite Christmas film - I watched the original yesterday and the remake today), then The Queen, then Prince Caspian, then Chocolat. And the fire was alight and the tree looked all pretty and it was nice and cosy. And had a couple of glasses of chapagne which always helps matter. Champagne goes straight to my head. I blame the bubbles, because it is much worse than any other alcohol - I am always pretty lightweight because I don't drink very often, but I feel the effects of Champagne rather quickly. Probably doesn't help that I still have a nasty cold and am therefore slightly lightheaded anyway! I have had a cold and sore throat continuously for a month now - as soon as one starts to go another one comes along and replaces it.

I should go to sleep since it is 2:15am and I have been told I have to get up at 9. Father Christmas has already been. We all came upstairs to bed, and my stocking was empty, and then I went down an hour later and it was full - how's that for proof?! I may have watched Miracle on 34th Street too many times the last couple of days..... I am not feeling too stressed about Christmas - food is always an issue, but I think because it is just me and my parents here tomorrow it is less stressful than it would be ordinarily as it will be pretty quiet. Both brothers and families are coming Boxing Day, so that might be a little chaotic, but neither are coming for the whole day, just the afternoon, so hopefully it will be ok. It is New Year that I am really dreading. I can just about cope with Christmas, despite the food situation, but New Year is hideous.

I hope that everyone has a good Christmas, or at least as stress free as possible. I leave you with a picture of my Christmas Tree......

Thursday, 23 December 2010


Just a very quick update to let everyone know I am ok and will write a proper update later - have a nasty cold and been very busy. Hope everyone is ok.

Tuesday, 21 December 2010

Happy Birthday Blog!

Today is my blog's 1st Birthday! I would really like to thank everyone who has read and commented over the last year. Starting this blog was one of the best decisions I have made in recent years - I have met so many really incredible people, and I am so thankful to know all of you. I would never have dreamed when I started this blog a year ago, just as a place for me to write about how I was feeling, that I would get so many readers, and that I would end up feeling so close to my fellow bloggers. So thank you all very much for your support over the last year - I genuinely have no idea where I would be if it wasn't for all of the support and understanding I have received from readers of this blog, both here on the blog, and on Twitter, Facebook, and via email and MSN - people staying up half the night to support me through bad times by talking to me, or leaving me comments, or just checking in on me when things haven't been great. It really does mean more than I can say, and whilst it sounds somewhat melodramatic to say I don't know where I would be without it, I really don't. This really has turned into one of my main sources of support, or at least the people I have met via it has, and there are definitely times I don't know if I would have managed to get through without the support. I couldn't wish for a more caring and compassionate online support network, and you all mean so much to me. Thank you so much for everything.

Monday, 20 December 2010

Weather and Christmas

Lots of pretty snow. It started snowing yesterday afternoon and snowed all afternoon and evening, so we ended up with a good 6 inches of snow, which is the first proper snowfall we have had this winter - when everyone else had shit loads a few weeks ago we just had a tiny covering. Very pretty. Not so great from the practical point of view.

Firstly, our poor Christmas tree, which was supposed to be put up this weekend, was standing outside when it started snowing, and so got covered with 6 inches of snow, along with everything else. Therefore it couldn't come inside, or the snow would have then melted and flooded the lounge, which would have been somewhat inconvenient. Then there is the added problem that it needs potting, which involves needing soil, and the ground being a) frozen solid, rock hard, inpenetrable, and b) also being covered with 6 inches of snow. Not entirely sure what the plan is. Can shake most of the snow off the tree, but it doesn't help the problem of having nothing to plant it in of course.

I had a carol concert tonight. I wasn't sure if we would be able to get there or not. The roads had been gritted, but unsurprisingly grit isn't terribly effective on top of lots of snow - I think they are meant to put it down before it starts snowing, or when there is a tiny bit, rather than when it has finished snowing and it is laying thick everywhere. So the roads are a nightmare. In the end we decided to go, but had to drive very slowly the whole way, and there was a bit of skidding at times. The concert was fine. The majority of both the band and choir had managed to make it, which was pretty impressive given how many of us live in the middle of nowhere, with terrible roads, and therefore had a nightmare getting there, although one person did point out that we must all be completely mad to have bothered. My sister is still doing a wonderful job of ignoring me - in a way it is quite impressive that we could both sing Soprano in the same choir, and her not speak to me at all during rehearsals or the concert. I have made some effort several times, but she certainly is not reciprocating, so there is very little I can do about it. I just find it quite astounding how immature she can be.

Audience numbers at the concert were down on other years, which was to be expected, but there were still probably 250 people or so I would guesstimate, so not bad given the conditions. Carols were fine - sore throat and snotty nose weren't really helping, but it was fine - the throat is getting better, and although I obviously could have sung better I think it was fine. And nobody would have known if it wasn't actually - the joys of singing in a choir rather than as a soloist! It was bloody freezing though. A blouse and skirt just are not very warm, and the church wasn't very warm, I suppose because there was about half the number of people there would usually be, so I felt like a snowman by the end of it. Then had the fun of the journey home again.

We were supposed to be going Christmas shopping tomorrow but I think realistically that isn't going to happen - it is a good 45 minute drive to where we were going, which would take much longer with the roads as they are, and it isn't meant to get above -3, and is supposed to be foggy too, so I think it would just be dangerous to try and travel that far. We will go on Tuesday or Wednesday, although Tuesday could be difficult because I am seeing L at 11, and I think after that would be getting a bit late to go off shopping, so it will probably have to be Wedneday. Which is leaving it a little close for comfort, but never mind! The weather is so frustrating - I wish it had stayed dry this week, and then just snowed loads on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day - that would have been so pretty, and wouldn't have caused any inconvenience. We could have just made a snowman. As it is I think it is going to melt before then and we will just end up with nasty slush everywhere. Yuck. Wrong timing by 1 week unfortunately.

I am not feeling too stressed about Christmas, but I am about New Year. I am trying not to think about it, because I get really upset and panicky when I do. I just absolutely do not want it to happen at all, under any circumstances. I just don't. I really feel at the moment like I can't cope with it. It is just too overwhelming and stressful. As soon as I hear the words or think about it at all, I get this sudden mad rush of totally overwhelming thoughts. I genuinely have absolutely no idea how I will get through it right now - I might try and knock myself out early in the night and just sleep through it, but then I will still have to wake up and it will be 2011, and that is just so unbelievably shit. I need to freeze time or rewind time or erase myself or something. Very anxious, very stressed, very desperate.

Saturday, 18 December 2010

Still here

So I am staying put until further notice, but am in the process of moving. Deciding on a name is surprisingly difficult. Obviously I have become known in the blogosphere as Bippidee, but I feel like I am going to need to change that even if I do move to WP, which is the current plan. Unfortunately, the only other name I have thought of so far has a rather unfortunate shortening, which is what I would end up being called all the time. Hmph. When I do move I will make sure that anyone who wants to follow me to the new blog can do so.

So what with all the posts about my childhood, and then the identity crisis yesterday I seem to have been neglecting day to day stuff somewhat. I am not sure how I have been doing. I am, without a doubt, better than I was a few weeks ago, but naturally I am still not feeling great. I am slightly confused by my sleep lately. I have always needed about 10 hours sleep ideally, to wake up and not feel tired and stay reasonably alert the whole day. I used to end up napping every afternoon, virtually without fail, even if I had slept ok the night before, but definitely if I had got less than 8 hours sleep.  But there have been several days lately when I have only had a few hours, and yet after the inital pain of dragging myself out of bed, have been surprisingly alert all day, and still not been able to sleep that night. Thursday was an example of this. I only got 4 hours sleep, which is nowhere near enough for me, and yet I stayed awake all day, no naps, was pretty awake and alert, and still couldn't get to sleep before 5am. There is surely something wrong with that? I should have been exhausted and been able to get an early night, but I didn't get to sleep any earlier than I would have if I hadn't woken up until the afternoon, and had 9 hours sleep. I was out for a lot of the day too, which should have made me even more tired. And I never nap anymore. I am always tired, but my ability to sleep properly seems to have disappeared.

I am singing in a carol concert on Sunday, just as part of the choir. Well, it is just the choir and silver band. I realised at the rehearsal tonight that I don't have a bloody clue how the descant goes for While Shepherd Watched, which is slightly problematic, and I have no idea how that happened. I have sung in so many carol concerts/services, and I know all of the descants really well, but I actually don't think I have ever sung that one before, but I don't see how that could be possible when I have sung in carol concerts for 12 years. Although the audience can never hear the descants properly anyway, as by the time you have a full choir, organ, silver band, and all the congregation singing, I think the descant gets somewhat lost. Someone had the bloody brilliant idea of making Twelve Days of Christmas a song that everyone sings, ie audience too. I have no idea what they were thinking. The arrangement that we use is very much a choir version - all the voice types sing different days etc, and the tempo changes loads - at one point it gets really fast, and one of the other sopranos pointed out that there is no bloody way they will keep up with that, and it will end up sounding like we are singing it in a round. Bloody ridiculous idea. I always get bored of that song after about 5 days anyway - I am sure the other 7 are unnecessary. Or we could just start with 12 rather than 1? The Hallelujah Chorus goes on rather as well, although I probably shouldn't say that. And I can never sing For Unto Us properly. I cheat. I can do it slowly, but then when it gets up to speed I just can't fit all those notes in. I am not really a classical singer, I am a musical theatre singer - The Messiah is a bit much for me really!

Christmas. Hmmm. I still have shopping to do. I have actually done most of it online, but I need to go to the shops to buy things for my mum - the things I wanted to get for her weren't things I particularly wanted to buy online. And then I need to get something for one of my nephews, but I know what and where to get it, and something small for one of my nieces to go with things I have already got for her, and a few boxes of chocolates for various people, and then I will be finished. I have stopped buying for siblings, since they all have children now, so I just buy for the children, although I haven't bought for my eldest nephew this year for the first time, because he is 19, works full time, and has far more disposable income than I do, but has never bought for me, despite me buying for him every year. It is a bit weird, because I am his aunt, but he is only 5 years younger than me. So I have always bought him presents because he is my nephew, but it is kind of weird because he is so close to me in age, and now that he is working full time and I am on benefits it just seems a bit ridiculous to be spending money on him really. So that just leaves his younger brother, my sister's 2 boys, and my brother's daughter, and step daughter and step son. And my parents of course. If I get time/inclination I might try and make some fudge or something for siblings and their partners, but it was getting too expensive buying for all of them and all of the children - even just with my parents and nephews/nieces I had 8 people to buy for, and it would have been 9 if I had bought for eldest nephew. Oh, and I buy something for my dog.... I wouldn't actually mind buying for my sisters in law - they are both easy to buy for, and I quite like buying presents for people who are easy to buy for, but my sister (who still isn't speaking to me) is a nightmare to buy for, and so are my brothers and brother in law. I haven't started my wrapping yet. Wrapping takes me forever. I am a real perfectionist with my wrapping - I will take ages deciding which paper to use, and which ribbon and label to put with it etc, and then ages making it look pretty. Takes bloody hours, particularly given that I also always have to wrap everything that my dad buys for my mum, a) because he doesn't have time, b) because he can't be bothered, and c) because he doesn't make it look pretty - he just wraps with paper, and my mum really loves prettily wrapped presents with bows and ribbons and things. So I have to do it for him. I tend to get all my presents and find cheesy Christmas films on TV and wrap it all whilst watching them.

We went and bought our Christmas Tree on Tuesday. It isn't really what I wanted - it is a bit small. But the place we went to weren't going to be getting any more in, and it was a nicer shape than the bigger ones. We then tried a couple more places, but one didn't have any, and the other only had 3 left, and 1 was enormous, and 2 were tiny, so we just went back and got the first one. We will put it up this weekend. We will stand it on a box. That will make it look bigger, and keep it out of reach of the animals, which is always a bonus. My old cat will love us putting the tree up. It is his favourite day of the year. He gets ridiculously excited and starts playing with tinsel and baubles etc like a little kitten, despite now being 15. The other cat never plays. The dog will be excited, but the dog is always excited. I don't buy presents for the cats, but I always buy for him, because he will unwrap them himself and it makes me laugh to watch him. I am trying to think about the positive things about Christmas rather than the things I find stressful, although it is hard. New Year will be worse, because it always is. I hate New Year so much. It makes me feel like such a failure, and I find it incredibly difficult to get through without resorting to self harming behaviours. I tend to end up in a complete state crying hysterically and saying that I want to die. Which I do, but I can usually keep it hidden, but for some reason I just completely break down on New Year's Eve. I am already dreading it.

Friday, 17 December 2010

Goodbye Bippidee?

I don't bloody know what to do. I really don't want to make my blog password protected or invite only, because I have met so many great bloggers, and want to continue to do so, and think that invite only/password protection puts up a big barrier up in that respect. I considered starting a blog with a new title and URL on WordPress, and still posting under the name Bippidee, but then realised anyone googling Bippidee could still find it if I did that. So essentially I am looking at having to start completely from scratch, and it is going to be a fucking nightmare. My email address, my Twitter, and my Facebook are all Bippidee. A new account means replacing all of those as well, or I would have the same problem with Google. Well, not the email address, but I would want my email address to match everything else because I am neurotic like that. Also, I would want to export this blog to the new account, because I don't want to lose everything I have written in the past year, but again, there are posts that mention Bippidee, or comments to Bippidee, and so Google would still be a problem. But I don't want to just dispose of my last year of posts. I also considered setting up another account on Blogspot, making that account co-admin of this blog, then changing the URL and Blog Title, then deleting the Bippidee admin from admin. But either way means getting rid of Bippidee, and ridiculous as it sounds I am really reluctant to do that. It is what I have been known as in the Madosphere for the past year now. I have an identity linked to it. And I feel like changing the name will somehow make me lose that, and that is sad. I don't see how I can keep my blog going, even by exporting it to a difference account, without starting completely afresh, and that is the last thing I want to do.

I am so fucking angry. I actually cannot convey how upset I am about this whole thing. I feel stupid for saying that, because it is just a blog, but it has got me through so much, or at least the people who read it have, and it truly has been a lifeline this past year. And I have invested so many hours in it. And because of a fucking ridiculous printer, which I desperately want to go and smash up, I could lose all that, and that is just shit. I know I can tell people where I am going and start again, but that isn't the point. This is my home, and I have no option to leave it, but I can't leave behind all my posts because they represent the last year of my life, and a lot more actually. Why oh why did I think I needed to print a stupid bloody shopping list?? If I hadn't tried to do that then we wouldn't be in this situation. Or of course if I had a printer that printed what you told it to (and there is absolutely no doubt I told it to print the right thing) rather than just printing any random page you happen to have open at the time. I am feeling really upset.

I wish I could just trust my parents not to look at it, but I can't. I think if I explained I didn't want them to see then they might respect that wish now, but if it got to a point when they thought I was doing badly, and they knew there was somewhere I would have written about it, then I don't think they would be able to resist looking. If I thought someone I careed about, who had a history of suicidal attempts and hospitalisations for suicidal thoughts, might be suicidal and I had a way of checking that then I think I would, even if it was going against their wishes and invading their privacy, because I wouldn't forgive myself if they went on to do something and I hadn't looked. So whilst I would like to think they would respect my privacy and not look, I think that there would inevitably be occasions when they would, and I can understand that, which is why I need to remove temptation so that it isn't an option. But it is bloody hard to work out a way of doing that, without losing everything I have written in the last year - everything that has made my blog what it is. I am so upset.

Blog at risk

Today has been a complete bloody fuck up of a day. My mum had a hospital appointment at 11 that I had said I would go to with her, as sometimes she misses what is said and forgets things, so it is easier if I go with her so that we know what is going on! Unfortunately it meant leaving the house at 10, and so I had only had about 4 hours sleep. My plan was to then go into town and do some Christmas shopping - I have done as much of it as I can online, but there are some things I need to actually go to the shops for, and so I thought it made sense to go when I was already there, but it didn't happen. I woke up exhausted and feeling like I couldn't be bothered. I then thought that maybe I would, but it was tipping it down with rain, which was offputting. But in the end we didn't finish at the hospital until 2pm, and I decided that was too late to get the bus into town and start shopping, so I came home and need to find some other time to go.

Tonight I had a disaster. Last night I had tried to print my shopping list for today (our printer is meant to print remotely) and told it to print but it didn't work so in the end I cancelled it. All fine. Then this evening, it decides to fucking print, but not what I told it to print last night, which would have been bad enough in that parents would have seen what I was getting them for Christmas. No. It printed my Blog Dashboard. My dad came in with some paper and said this has printed - I assume it is yours. He clearly knew what it was. My parents know that I have a blog, and they know that it is anonymous. He had a blog on Blogger himself for a while, so he would have immediately seen my blog name at the top. Therefore he now knows my blog name, and can easily look it up. He may already have. As soon as he gave me the paper I put the blog into lockdown, but since he is now in bed I will unlock it for a while. I don't know what to do. Blogging has genuinely been a lifeline for me this last year, and whilst I know I could just start a new blog elsewhere, this is like my home. This is where everything is, and my identity is tied up in it. I don't want to have to stop being Bippidee. And if I move I don't know how I will be able to tell everyone who currently reads where I have moved to, without also telling my dad if he chooses to google it. I am just so upset and angry about the whole thing. How can my printer be so fucking useless that it tells me it is printing 'Christmas List 2010', then prints nothing, then 20 hours after cancelling 'Christmas List 2010' it prints my Blog Dashboard?! I just feel really upset and stressed. My blog has helped me a lot, and it has kept me going at times, through the people I have met via it etc, and I just feel so upset that I no longer feel safe to keep posting here. I haven't made a decision about what to do yet. I may relocate, but I don't know how I will let people know where, as I obviously can't say it here. I might have to keep blogging here but password protected or invivte only, which is something I have always wanted to avoid because to a large extent that defeats the purpose for me. There is no good solution in this situation, and I just feel really upset. It has really put me into a complete spin. I feel like I have just lost the only form of support I have other than L, and I don't know what to do.

Wednesday, 15 December 2010

Nature vs Nurture

Firstly, I just want to thank everyone for all their support on my last few posts about my childhood. I was slightly apprehensive about posting them - I knew I felt like I needed to write about it, but I felt like people would see them and think 'oh whiny, irritating, obnoxious brat who has had no real problems in her life' because I suppose that is how I think of myself. I suppose in my mind if you have experienced trauma of some kind then mental health problems are perfectly understandable - it makes sense that if, for example, you are abused as a child, then you may grow up with some issues. But I have always felt like I have no issues and therefore I am a fraud in some way - that there must actually be nothing wrong with me, and I am making it all up, because if there is no reason for it then it can't exist. Particularly given that one of my diagnoses is BPD, which is almost synonymous with trauma. Of course I know rationally that a) not everyone with BPD has had a traumatic childhood, although it is a large majority according to studies, and b) that not having experienced this does not make my problems any less real. But it is hard to always think rationally about things like this, and deep down I do just feel like a fraud a lot of the time. There have been occasions when I have convinced myself that there is absolutely nothing wrong with me, and that I am making it all up, even if I have been feeling desperately suicidal all the time. Sometimes I feel like I need to tell someone that I have been lying for all these years, and wasting all these resources, because actually there is absolutely nothing wrong with me. Except there is. And not having a reason for it - not being able to justify why I have these problems and feel the way I do makes it even harder to deal with in some ways, because I feel guilty and weak and confused. Professionals always ask about triggers and what caused things, and when you can't tell them, not because there is something too hard to talk about, but because there actually isn't anything, it does make you feel like you are wasting their time in some way. So thank you very much for all the responses. They meant a lot, and actually felt very validating. At first I have to confess that I wondered if people were taking the piss, because there was all this sympathy coming from people, and I didn't see what there was to be sympathetic about, because there was nothing traumatic in my life - there were a couple of difficult periods, but everyone has them. Pandora, who experienced such real and terrible trauma in her childhood saying 'This is heart-breaking to read' about my childhood, which in many ways was so privileged, and normal, and ostensibly happy, just didn't make sense to me - I didn't understand how she, of all people, didn't just dismiss me as a whiny brat after everything that she has been through. But I realised that these comments were coming from people I trust, and who would have no reason not to be genuine in their response, and so I tried to take them at face value. Which was hard, but I do believe that they were meant, even if I don't understand why, and I want to thank you all for that.

I think talking it all over with L has helped too. I saw her yesterday. Although I usually send her pretty much everything I write between sessions, I hesitated over sending this. It felt like such a trivial thing to have written so many thousands of words about, and obviously she knows a lot of what happened in my childhood anyway, both from my notes, and from what I have told her before. Plus it just felt too much like navel gazing. So I debated with myself about whether or not to send it, and in the end decided I would, but to point out that it probably wouldn't be of any relevance, and veered off into navel gazing, and that she really didn't need to read it. Again, I was surprised by her reaction. For some reason she was impressed that I had been able to write about it, and didn't think I would have been able to do that until recently. I have to admit that she made a lot of sense (she generally does to be fair!) and talked about how as a child changes in your life can completely change your whole view of the world, because everything seems secure and safe, and then something happens to destroy that, and as a child you don't know how to deal with that, and so even things that on the surface are not massively traumatic, ie not neglect or abuse etc, can have a big impact on you. Or something along those lines. I don't have the type of memory to quote what was said in appointments verbatim, particularly as I had only had 3 hours sleep before that particular appointment. She also said that seeing your parents unable to cope can be really difficult to deal with when you are young, as you have always relied on them and expected them to look after you, and if you are suddenly faced with a situation where they aren't coping and you have to look after them then it confuses everything you know basically - they are supposed to look after you, not the other way around. She said she could completely see why I would have formed attachment issues after that, although we did also briefly talk about biological predisposition to things like that, and the nature vs nurture debate. I think I probably have characteristics and personality traits that would probably have made me vulnerable to mental health problems regardless of my circumstances, although of course it is difficult to judge how much of your personality is what you were born with, and how much is a reaction to environment etc, for example I am a perfectionist, which is a very common trait in people with mental health problems, and particularly eating disorders. But was I born a perfectionist, or was it somehow the result of my upbringing? I suspect that particular trait was one I was born with, as my dad is also a perfectionist, although my mum absolutely is not - 'it will do' tends to be her motto! I suppose you can never know how much of your character and life is a result of your experiences, and how much is just you, as you came into the world. You can guess, but you will never know for sure. I think an interesting case is identical twins, who obviously come from a split embryo, and therefore should be born with all of the same personality traits I would have thought, and are then brought up in exactly the same environment, and presumably treated the same, and yet can end up with such different personalities. I don't know how that happens. How can one egg split and form two very different people, even when they have had the same upbringing? It is strange the things you think about when blogging. That is never something that had even crossed my mind before, and yet now it seems fascinating. Or maybe it is tiredness making me think that, since it is now 5:30am, and I wasn't actually very late up today..... Time for sleep I think.

Monday, 13 December 2010

Childhood Part 3

From the time when my dad moved out when I was 12, things continued in the same way for quite a few years. He would come over some evenings. He would come on holiday with us, and stay for a while over Christmas. At some point he started spending the weekends here. Then there would be times when I wouldn't see him for a couple of months because of my mum or I getting upset about it all and cutting contact with him. Neither he, nor my mother, were seeing anyone else. It was a fairly strange relationship, as it was so uneven. My mum desperately wanted him back, and so everything was on his terms. He came over when he wanted, but if he wanted to do something else instead then he would, and my mum would get upset, which would generally lead to a period of her not wanting to see him. If she didn't want to see him then I generally didn't see him either. I hated going to his flat - I only did it a handful of times over a period of about 6 years. I didn't like seeing that he had his own life away from us, and I didn't feel comfortable there. So generally either he came here, or I didn't see him.

At 16 I finished school and went of to 6th Form College to do A levels. It was a relief to leave H and co. behind - I don't think I have seen anyone from my year group since I left school over 8 years ago, apart from briefly bumping into a couple of people, including her. Maybe she is a nicer person now. I hope so. I did ok in my GCSEs, but didn't get the results I should have got, because I did no revision. That is something of a pattern for me. I think my fear of failure is so intense that I take it the opposite way and work on the premise that if I haven't tried then it doesn't matter if I have failed or done badly, whereas if I worked really hard and still didn't do as well as I should then I would have no excuse - I would just be a failure.

Anyway, 6th Form College was a much better experience than school in many ways. It was literally 10 times the size in terms of student population, and obviously they were all aged 16 - 19, rather than 4 - 16 like my school had been, so there were rather more people in a year group at college - about 50 times more.... C was going to the same 6th Form, and I also knew a couple of other people, through performing, who were going there, but that was it. Oh, and a guy from my school, but I rarely saw him. In theory everything should have improved for me in college. I had friends, and obviously I was studying the subjects I wanted to etc. And in some ways it was great. I had some really good teachers, one of whom I am still in contact with now - he came to see me in Carousel. The main problem with it was that I didn't want to be there. In the summer between finishing school and starting 6th Form, I had done a 2 week Musical Theatre summer course at one of the drama schools in London, and absolutely loved it, and therefore resented going off to study academic subjects when I wanted to be doing performing. I wished I was doing a Musical Theatre BTEC rather than A levels, so that I could be doing what I wanted to do. In retrospect I am glad I did A levels, and I don't think my parents would have let me not do them anyway, but it resulted in once again my attendance being pretty poor, because I couldn't be bothered with it, and so that, combined with not doing any work that didn't absolutely have to be done, and not doing any revision at all, meant that I finished my first year with pretty poor results. I didn't dislike college - as I have said, I had friends there, I enjoyed some of my lessons. I was very fortunate in that the Head of Music/Performing Arts seemed to think the sun shone from my arse, and so I got quite a few opportunities in that area. I was in the college choir, and got all the solos - I sung the Once In Royal solo 3 years running at the carol service (yes, I stayed 3 years - more on that later), as well as various other solos. I was always asked to perform in all of the concerts, and to record songs for the music tech students etc. In my 3rd year they did Les Miserables, and I pretty much got to choose my role, although that was actually a new member of staff directing that who had never taught me. We had a couple of auditions, and then were waiting ages for them to decide casting, and one day I asked if they had cast it yet, because I said I wanted to include it in my UCAS personal statement, and wanted to be able to say what part I was playing (oh the arrogance!) and got the reply, 'well we haven't finished casting yet, but I am assuming you would like Eponine as you sung On My Own in your audition?' I said I would please, and that was that settled. College gave me a confidence in my abilities that school never had - in college there were 2000 people, all of my age, and yet I was the one who got the solos and the leads, and who the staff knew, even if they didn't teach me. At school there was a lot of nepotism going on with casting, and so I never got leads, despite being the only person who regularly performed out of school (and regularly was cast in leads there). So college was good for making me realise I must be better than school had lead me to believe. My first year of college was fairly uneventful. I went to lessons some of the time, stayed home some of the time, did some of the work, didn't do some of the work. I was still doing dance and singing lessons outside of college, and some shows, although I had started doing less by that time.

I had just started my second year of college, and so was just 17 when the next thing happened in my home life. My mum picked me up from the bus one day and was very upset - she had received an anonymous text message saying that my dad had been seeing someone for a year and that she should divorce him. It turned out that it was true - we never did know for sure who sent it, although the assumption was that his girlfriend (another 25 year old who worked for him) had got the number off his phone and sent it, although she denied it. Whilst he wasn't living at home, and it was now 5 years since he had moved out, he hadn't seen anyone in that time to our knowledge, apart from the initial affair, and had generally spent quite a lot of time at our house and with us. Of course in retrospect we realised that for the last year he hadn't been spending weekends with us like he had been before that, and that he had been coming over less often, but since everything always had been on his terms anyway, we hadn't really questioned it before. I was very upset - not that he was seeing someone, but that he had been lying to us for over a year. It really hurt me a lot, and I think made me lose a lot of trust in not only him, but people generally. I still can't comprehend how and why he would lie like that for so long - it wasn't like he was living here - they were separated, and had been for quite a few years. My mum was absolutely devastated. As I said, she always wanted to be with him, and this news was just too much for her. She refused to tell anyone - she wouldn't even tell her friends or my siblings initially. She kept saying how ashamed she felt and how stupid she was for not knowing, and how if people knew they would laugh at her and think she was stupid. I think that for her too it was more about the secrecy, and not knowing than it was him seeing someone else, although obviously that hurt her too. Yet again, he broke up with her once we had found out. So we were back to keeping secrets (although we had never actually stopped) but this time it was just the two of us, as there were no siblings or friends or counsellors involved this time. And it really was role reversal - she was so upset, and had absolutely nobody to talk to apart from me, and so I listened to it all. Obviously I was older by this point, but she was really leaning on me quite heavily, and I couldn't rely on her at all emotionally. And I started to crumble. Not in front of her. I didn't let her know how much I was struggling. But I was struggling more and more. My mood was low and I started purging frequently.

I had a really great teacher at college who I started talking to. She was really supportive, and for a while I talked to her every week. I suppose really she was the first person I ever talked to about anything emotional at all - I had just never talked about feelings before to anyone. She was really helpful - without her I don't know if I would have gone on to get other help. She listened, and she got me information and a self help book for bulimia. She was also the one who encouraged me to go to my GP to get help (who gave me anti depressants and referred me to the CMHT), and also to see the college counsellor in the meantime. I was very attached to her. I think my issues with attachment can be attributed in some ways to my relationship with my parents, although as I said before, even when I was very young I was very possessive with friends, so perhaps it has always been in my nature. But it was after my dad left when I was 12 that I started getting really attached to people. Never men - it has always been women, who I suppose I see as maternal figures, who I have become attached to. I feel like it should be men, since it was my dad who left and wasn't there for me, but I suppose emotionally I wasn't getting what I needed from my mum, and therefore begun to look for it elsewhere. There have been a number of people I have grown very attached to - wanting to be around them all the time, and for them to care about me and look after me, and I suppose essentially to parent me. It is weird because my mum and I have always been very close, and yet I have always had these fantasies of whoever it is I am attached to at the time (only ever one at a time) taking me home to live with them. But I suppose it is due to my mum not being there for me emotionally when I needed her, because she was struggling so much herself. Maybe that is why even now I find it very difficult to talk to her about how I am feeling. I think I can also attribute my eating problems to my parents to some extent. My parents have very different relationships with food. My mum is tiny, but eats a lot of food, a lot of which is crap, and by rights should be enormous. She rarely weighs herself, and doesn't understand why I don't just eat what she does - she can't seem to comprehend that her metabolism is not normal. My dad is much more careful about what he eats - he is a healthy weight, but he weighs himself daily, and hates it if his weight goes up, and will cut out unhealthier foods until it goes back to where he wants it to be. As a teenager he used to frequently comment on my weight, and suggest that I should try to lose weight, frequently citing my career choice as the reason why I needed to be smaller. He doesn't do that any more, probably because I haven't been as big as I was as a teenager, although even then we were still talking healthy BMI range, just nearer the higher end of it. But he does still ask me how my weight is, and will make comments about what I am eating sometimes. As a family they (we?) are very sizeist - I have grown up with negative comments about overweight people etc, so I think that, along with comments about my own weight, coupled with a desperate need to feel in control of something when my life felt so out of control, was really fairly likely to lead to an eating disorder.

Despite my mental health problems, my second year of college was better than my first year in many ways. I think primarily because I felt safe there - it filled the same space for as rehearsals had when I was younger and my dad first left - it was somewhere to escape to. I suppose in a large part because college contained the only person I really trusted to talk to - at this point I had been referred to the CMHT, and at some point during the year had an assessment there, and was then on the waiting list for the rest of that year. My attendance was better, and although I was having problems concentrating, I actually did better than I had in my first year, although still not nearly as well as I should have. And then my second year came to an end, I had A Levels, and I didn't have a clue what to do next. I was terrified of leaving college, because that was where my only support was. I had no plans to go on to university or anything. And in the end I just couldn't face leaving. So I stayed on an extra year. I retook the first year of English Lit, because I had got 2 grades higher for my second year than I got in my first year, and then I took both the first and second year of Sociology at the same time, so that I got an A level in a year. I also worked part time at the college, as a Learning Support Assistant. Just before my third year started, I started seeing a Clinical Psychologist at the CMHT, primarily for help with my eating disorder, although during the year my mood got worse and worse, until I attempted suicide at the end of the year. This academic year was 2004/2005, and so was 6 years after my dad had first moved out, in 1998, and 1 or 2 years after we found out he had been seeing someone again, in 2003. During this time he had started spending more and more time back at home - staying there more often, and by some point in 2005 he was more or less living back at home, although he still kept his flat, and spent occasional nights there. But he was back home. The perfect fairytale ending right? And they all lived happily ever after....

I do not by any means think that my problems now are caused by my parents splitting up. As I said before, I don't think things were quite right when I was even younger than that. But I do think it probably exacerbated matters. I find it really difficult to admit that my parents splitting up could have even contributed slightly to me having mental health problems now. What is the statistic - half of all marriages end in divorce or something like that? And people go through much worse and don't end up with a slew of psychiatric diagnoses, which makes me think that either I must be really pathetic, other people must be really strong, or my problems come from absolutely nowhere, and it is absolutely nothing to do with my parents. I flit from one view to another depending on my mood. But I can see that L had a point when she said how difficult it must have been having to keep it all a secret, and having to try and contain my emotions to avoid upsetting my mum. That was difficult, and probably isn't a typical experience of parents' splitting up, although of course I don't know for sure. I almost feel guilty for having mental health problems when I have been through so little in comparison to other people. Ok, my parents split up, but so what? That is hardly uncommon. And apart from that I had a good childhood. I got to do whatever activities I wanted, I had a good education, I was loved and looked after. I certainly was never abused in any way, or neglected, or anything else terrible. Nothing bad happened to me. And yet here I am, at age 24, with 7 years in the mental health system, multiple suicide attempts, multiple admissions, numerous CPNs and Psychiatrists and other professionals, medications, etc etc. I feel ashamed of myself for being so weak. For having these problems, when others go through so much worse and yet cope so much better. I really do feel guilty when I think about it. I don't understand why I am in the position I am in, when there has been nothing serious in my life to cause me to feel like this. I can see that my teenage years weren't perfect, but they were not bad enough to lead to this. So what is wrong with me? I have absolutely no idea.

Friday, 10 December 2010


It hasn't been a great day, and I am absolutely exhausted, so I am going to leave Childhood Part 3 until tomorrow. There is nothing major wrong - I have been been incredibly tired all day, and my weight was up which made me feel like shit, and then I have eaten far more today than I feel comfortable with, and so I know it will be up again tomorrow, and I am just angry with myself and frustrated. It was the Christmas Bazaar at the school where my mum works, and sometimes I manage to pick up a couple of Christmas presents there, and since I've still not done any shopping I thought I had better go down, so I did, but I then ended up eating shit loads of cake - I had one little fairy cake, then my mum bought me a chocolate cupcake, then it was the end and they had cake left over so they were just giving pieces away free and so we both had a little piece of a Thorntons chocolate/toffee cake each, and by that time I was feeling incredibly sick and desperately wanted to purge, but obviously couldn't. And I didn't even manage to get any bloody Christmas presents there, so it was a complete bloody waste of time and just made me feel crap about myself. And then soon after that we went off to the Christmas late night shopping in the local town - my mum was taking my nephew to look around the stuff on the street - rides and street entertainers etc, and I wanted to go in the craft fair (again, to try and get Christmas presents - can you smell the desperation??). I bought a couple of little bits, but nothing major, and then went to find my mum and nephew, and we ended up having a mince pie each as someone was standing giving them away. I am not even that keen on bloody mince pies - they don't particularly interest me, so I don't know why I did that. And then we came home and I had my dinner - a bowl of fruit, and a slice of bread and peanut butter, and yet another bloody little cupcake (they made us take a few home when they had them left over at the end). So I have eaten an absurd quantity of cake today - 3 cupcakes, a small slice of toffe cake, and a mince pie, and then a bowl of fruit, and a slice of bread and peanut butter. I feel hideous and absolutely disgusted with myself. After my weight going up anyway, and feeling so shit about myself because of it, I just can't believe the way I have eaten today. I am just really hating myself right now. And I am blacming Christmas. And scared because the next few weeks are just going to be hellish in so many ways. I am feeling pretty crappy about everything, and I am absolutely exhausted, so I am going to try and get an early night. I just hope I don't wake up in an hour or two because my body thinks I am just having a little nap.

Childhood Part 2

A lot happened between the ages of about 9 and 12. My brother moved out, to move in with his now wife. Although obviously before that he was out a lot with friends and at work etc, I do remember being upset when he moved out. My maternal grandfather, who I was very close to, died when I was 9 or 10. I remember going to see him in hospital, but he wasn't the person I knew really. And then he died. I wasn't allowed to go to the funeral because my parents didn't agree with children being at funerals. I was sent to C's house for the day to play. I have a vague recollection of playing in the garden with her, but feeling upset about my grandad dying, and everyone apart from me being at the funeral. My paternal grandmother died a few years later (I am very hazy about dates throughout my childhood). I hadn't been close to her - she lived further away and I only remember seeing her about once a year. My mum and I went to see her in hospital, but I don't remember anything about it, I just remember going. My dad was in Japan on a business trip when she died, and was still away for the funeral. I remember he wrote a poem which my mum read out at the funeral. I was allowed to go to that one. I suppose I was that bit older. I don't remember much about it.

The main thing that happened in my childhood was my parents splitting up when I was 12. I remember that quite vividly. I remember seeing my mum upset a few times, and my dad comforting her, but I didn't know why. Then one day, I was at C's house, and my mum called and told me to come home. I didn't want to because her cousins were there, and we were all having a good time, but she insisted. I went home and my parents told me that my dad was moving out. I was incredibly upset. I had absolutely no idea that there were any problems - it was completely out of the blue. My parents were the type of people who everyone expected to be together forever, so it was a complete shock. I remember getting very upset, and I remember my mum getting very upset. She phoned my brother and he came over. I was told initially it was just going to be for a few days, to give them some time apart, and I believed that. My dad took some things off and went to stay in a hotel. For some reason, they must have decided it would be a good idea if I went with him for the evening and went home later. I think my mum was too upset to look after me. So I went off to this hotel with him, and I suppose I went home later that night, although I don't remember. I have only just remembered that he took me with him. Obviously it wasn't just for a few days. He started looking for somewhere to rent. I went shopping with him one day and helped him buy things he would need - I remember choosing a duvet cover for him. It all feels quite surreal. Again, I am unsure why they thought it was a good idea for me to go shopping with him to buy things for his new home, when I was still being told it was temporary - it had just been changed from a few days, to a few weeks, to a few months. I was told at some point, I can't remember when, that he had been having an affair with a girl who worked for him. I say girl, because that was how I thought of her. I think she was about the age I am now. It had been going on for some time, but nobody knew. As soon as he had moved out, he broke up with her anyway. I never met her.

My sister had been at university in Edinburgh, but was upset by my parents splitting up, and took a year out and moved back home. I am not entirely sure why it affected her so much, as it wasn't her dad - my siblings have a different father to me, and although she always got on fine with my dad, she had never called him dad or anything like that - she never thought of him as her parent. But she did come home, and her attitude towards me had completely reversed. When I was a young child she had been besotted with me, and spoilt me. As I got older she was still very fond of me, and when she was living in London she used to take me there and we would go to a museum or something, and she took me to the ballet once, and the theatre another time. She used to buy me lots. I went to stay with her twice in Edinburgh. We were always close. But when she moved back for the year when I was 12/13 her attitude had completely changed. That was the point where she started having issues with me. She would say that I was a spoilt brat and a little witch and just generally wasn't very nice to me most of the time. I certainly never, ever had any support or understanding from her.

Parents splitting up is nothing unusual - it is so common for couples to split up, and children just seem to deal with it. But I think in a lot of ways I didn't. I think there are a few reasons for this. Firstly, it was not a straight forward case of parents not getting on and fighting, one moving out, then getting a divorce a little later. In fact, that couldn't have been much further from what happened. There had been no fighting, or certainly not that I had ever witnessed, and our house is not so big that I wouldn't have heard screaming matches. The separation itself was I suppose unusual to say the least. Despite my dad having an affair, my mum still loved him and did not want him to leave. And they still got on. As I have already said, I was told initially that is was just going to be a few days, then that time period gradually extended. But it was always assumed they would get back together - this was just temporary, and there was never any talk of divorce or anything. I think that my mum had convinced herself it was temporary, which meant she could easily tell me that. However, as it was a temporary thing and they had not actually split up, that meant that we didn't tell other people. For years. Obviously a few people knew - family, and a couple of friends of my parents, and C and her family. But that was about it. It was all very secretive. My mum was devastated by him leaving. She didn't cope well with it at all. I remember her losing quite a lot of weight, and she is naturally very tiny anyway, and being prescribed anti depressants. She went to see a counsellor. They tried couple counselling a couple of times, but my dad was very against it, and so it only happened a couple of times. Apart from a couple of my mum's friends who knew, and this counsellor who encouraged her to punch cushions, she didn't really have anyone to talk to, so sometimes she used to talk to me. We were very close, but of course I was only 12, and I didn't understand why my dad had moved out when my parents got on so well, and everyone had assumed they would be together forever. I never told anyone about my dad leaving. My mum worked where I went to school, so nobody there knew, until one day in a PHSE class when there was something about divorce etc being discussed and I had to leave because I was feeling very upset. My mum then told my form tutor, who said she would avoid talking about that in PHSE again, but still nobody else knew.

To everyone else we kept up the facade of being a happy family. I don't know why. After my dad left, in some ways things didn't change much. He used to come over and see us some evenings and weekends. He still came on holidays with us. He always came and stayed for the Christmas period. I have never had a Christmas or holiday without both of them being there, despite my dad not living with us. I have friends who I didn't even meet until years after my dad who had left who thought that my parents were together, because my dad would come and stay when needed, and they would still do things together. My dad phoned every day and spoke to both my mum and I. The few people who did know that they had split up said how lucky I was that my parents still got on so well, and that he still spent so much time with us, but actually I think it was just really confusing. At first of course it just perpetuated my belief that this was a very short term arrangement. Later I didn't really know what was going on. Sometimes there would be a period when either my mum or I would get angry with him, and refuse to speak to or see him, sometimes for weeks, sometimes for months. If I was still speaking to him but my mum wasn't then he would take me out, although I only remember that happening a handful of times. If I wasn't speaking to him but my mum was then they would still talk on the phone but he wouldn't come over. If neither of us were speaking to him then obviously that was that.

One of my strongest memories of that period in the first year or so after he left, or perhaps longer, was of how incredibly distressed I used to get when he came over for the evening and then left. He would come over, and we would all be getting on fine, and it would just seem normal. And then he would leave. I think pretty much without fail this made my hysterically upset. I used to sob for hours. I remember trying to chase the car up the road as he drove away, crying hysterically. When I was really upset I used to lie down in the road outside the house. My mum used to try to get me inside in case someone saw me. She used to cry as well. We would both just cry inconsolably sometimes. And most of the time he was coming over at least a couple of times a week, unless it was a not speaking to him period. So it was an emotional time. It was at this time, when I was 12, that I first remember wishing I was dead. I wasn't suicidal, and I certainly wouldn't have acted on the thoughts, but I do remember thinking it.

I was also increasingly unhappy at school. Probably partly because I was unhappy generally, and partly because I was being bullied. Not badly - it wasn't physical or anything. But I didn't have any friends. I went to a very small school, with very small year groups and classes. From age 13 or 14 onwards there were only 5 girls in my year - before that there were maybe 3 more. One was H. The one who used to lock me in her bedroom when I was little. H was a bully - there is no denying it. When we were younger, up to the age of 11, there had been far more girls, and there was a little clique of popular girls, who could be quite nasty, and did tease her, although I always stuck up for her, despite her not always being nice to me. However, they all left at 11 to go to other schools, and somehow, when we started back at school in September, she was the leader of our year group. I have no idea how that happened, but she had a very strong personality, and somehow just took over. She didn't like me. She made best friends with the one remaining girl of the clique who had previously bullied her - this girl was actually quite nice, but rather sheep like, and would just follow others. Throughout school from 11 to 16 I was very lonely. Some days would be ok, but other times I would just get constantly teased. I was very naive and young for my age, and one of the things H liked to do to embarrass me was stand there with everyone around her and ask me what certain words and phrases meant - about sex or drugs, or other things I just knew nothing about. Of course I never knew, and then everyone would laugh at me. And then the usual childish name calling. Despite not doing much in the way of work at school and perpetually leaving things until the last possible minute, I still did well, and so got the usual 'boffin' comments etc. And things like making sure I didn't have anyone to sit with in class whenever possible, and obviously staying away from me at break and lunch times. Nothing major by any means, but all things that were upsetting and confusing to me as an 11 - 15 year old child. Particularly as some days she would suddenly turn and be nice to me and ask me to sit with her and things like that. I never knew where I was. My attendance rate at school got worse and worse. More and more illnesses - some real, some minor but exaggerated, some psychosomatic, and some just faked. I was at an age where I could actually stay home from school rather than go and spend the day in the sick bed, so it was even more appealing.

In restrospect, when I look back I am quite confused by some things that did, or didn't happen. A lot of it feels very painful to think about, but I feel pathetic for thinking that, because so many people go through such horrific things, and parents splitting up should surely not have affected me at all in the long term? But when I was talking about it with L she pointed out that actually it was probably quite traumatic for me, as a 12 year old, to be in such a confusing situation, and to have to keep it all a secret. During the appointment, when we were talking about it, I would get little flashes of vivid memories, and some of them were really quite painful. I remember one day being at a friend's house to play, and her mum was one of the few people who knew that my parents had split up, and I remember her asking me how my mum was and how she was coping, and me just desperately wanting her to ask ME how I was, and how I was coping. But nobody ever did. My parents obviously knew what a state I was in, as they saw it. My siblings never once asked how I was. And apart from that very few people knew, and those who did only thought about my mum - after all, it was her and my dad who had split up, not me. It was nothing to do with me. Except of course it was. But I never had anyone to talk to. My mum had her counsellor she used to go and see, and even my dad saw the counsellor a few times on his own, because my mum wanted him to, but I never had anyone to talk to. I was never asked if I wanted to talk to a counsellor or anything, and there wasn't a school counsellor, and even if there had been I wouldn't have been able to speak to them because it was a secret of course, and my mum worked there, which also ruled out talking to any teachers. I remember one time when I was particularly upset my mum asking if there was someone I would like to talk to, and suggested a couple of people I knew from performing. I said that maybe it would help to talk to this one girl (although in retrospect it wouldn't have been fair - she is only 5 or 6 years older than me, so would have only been 17 or 18 at the time, although of course that seems completely grown up when you are 12) because her parents had split up when she was younger so she would understand. And my mum got very upset and started crying because I had said about this other girl having parents who had split up too, because of course my parents hadn't split up - it was a temporary arrangement remember? And so she got very upset and left my room, and me talking to someone was never mentioned again. So I learnt to bottle everything up. Because actually, I didn't have a choice. Of course I could talk to my mum, but that just resulted in her getting upset every time, so that didn't help at all. I was angry with my dad. My siblings didn't seem to care, or even think about me. And the few other people who knew would ask about my mum, but not about me. And there was no option of counselling or anything like that. So I learnt to put on a happy face, and started developing my happy mask. Looking back on it now, I don't know why my mum thought that she needed a counsellor, and that my dad needed a counsellor, but that I didn't need anyone. It seems strange in retrospect that she could see my lying in the middle of the road sobbing hysterically and not think I perhaps needed to speak to someone. But I think she was genuinely in such denial about the whole thing that it didn't even occur to her. My dad had just moved out for a little while, and would be coming back, and so maybe she thought there was nothing to talk about. I don't know. But I think that actually it would have helped me to speak to someone - both then, and further down the line. Because of course by the time I got older I had become an absolute pro at keeping my mouth shut and keeping everything bottled up, and not telling anyone anything, and never mentioning feelings or emotions, that I think I had become completely detached from my emotions and how I actually felt, and so consequently found therapy virtually impossible.

There is more to come in the saga of my parents' relationship and my childhood/adolescence, but this is quite long enough already, and I am feeling vaguely emotional, although I don't know why, so yet again I will continue this tomorrow....

Thursday, 9 December 2010

Childhood Part 1

So, my childhood. I didn't talk about all of this with L, but I decided I wanted to write about all of it, to put it into context. My childhood memories are fairly sketchy. I only remember odd bits here and there. I have no memories from when I was very young, and really very few before the age of about 10. And even after that, I know certain situations happened etc, but I don't remember how I felt about them or anything. So a lot of it is quite hazy.

I always think of myself as having a happy childhood, and I think it was overall, and certainly was compared to the experiences of many others, which means I am always reluctant to criticise it in any way. But there were downsides. For a start, I never fitted in. From as far back as I can remember I just didn't fit in with most other children. I was more comfortable with adult company, which is probably unsurprising, given that I have 3 older siblings, and the closest of those to me in age is 12 years older than me. So I was used to being around adults the majority of the time. When I was young, and I am thinking back from when I was very young up to about the age of 11 or so, I was probably what Lexie would refer to as a 'pretend child'. I spent hours and hours sitting reading. I would wander around stately homes and gardens with my parents. I was always beautifully dressed. Overall I was pretty well behaved. Which is lucky really, because punishing me generally consisted of sending me to my room, where I would become engrossed in a book, and when told I could go back downstairs reply that I was ok in my bedroom reading thank you. I went to dance classes, and was a Brownie, and had riding lessons. I did well at school. I was intelligent. I had a reading age far higher than my actual age. I got all my spellings right. I think I was generally fairly amenable, although my parents may say otherwise of course... I got on well with my parents. I got on well with my siblings. My sister (yes, the one who now hates me) absolutely doted on me as a young child. So in that sense I was a good child, with a happy childhood.

The less positive things were that as I mentioned, I never really fitted in with my peers - probably because of being a pretend child. I had a best friend (whom I will refer to as C for this post), who I met when I was 4, who lived just down the road from me, and we were at school together until I moved school after a couple of years. I was very possessive over her. I wanted her to play with me the whole time. I wasn't interested in playing with any of the other children - she was my best friend, and she was the only person I wanted to play with. I don't remember it, but I apparently used to come home from school incredibly upset if she had been playing with other people instead of me. Early attachment issues, or is that too psychoanalytical? There was another girl at that school (who will be referred to as H for this post) whose mother used to look after me after school when my mother was working, and when I switched schools, she also switched half a term later. She was a very strong character. A bully essentially. Again, I don't remember it, but apparently sometimes when I would go there after school she would lock me in her bedroom and leave me in there and not let me out. Sometimes she would be nice to me. Other times she wouldn't. When I moved school at 7, I left C behind, although I still saw her a lot, and whilst I got on fine with the children at my new school, again, I didn't really fit in. I wasn't 'cool' in any way. I was certainly not one of the popular girls. I would try and tag onto some of the other less popular girls, but I remember often finding myself alone. I was also ill a lot - I had a lot of problems with my ears - constant ear infections, multiple burst eardrums, various other infections. I spent an awful lot of my childhood on antibiotics. My mum generally used to still send me into school when I was ill, as she worked there, and I was too young to stay home alone, so I either went to lessons, or if I was really ill I went to the sick bay. I didn't enjoy school though. From a fairly young age I remember exaggerating how ill I felt to try and get out of going to class. I remember pushing near the bottom of my neck to make me retch so that my mum would think I was sick. I am not sure why I didn't want to go to school, as it wasn't like I struggled with the work or anything, and it was a nice school. I just didn't want to go.

I have also had issues with food my entire life. Not an eating disorder, but I have always been an incredibly fussy eater, to the point where it has interfered with my life. In some ways I am slightly better now with that, but overall the foods I will eat now aren't very different to those I would eat as a child. When I was inpatient on an eating disorder programme they said I had always had disordered eating because of how fussy I was. I don't know whether or not this is true, or what is behind it, or if it contributed to my eating disorder in later life, but there have certainly always been issues surrounding food. I was always very attached to my mum. I suppose most children are, but I didn't like her being out or away from me. I would stay the night with friends, but I remember getting into a terrible state when I went on Brownie camp once. I absolutely hated it. I was horribly home sick, I had issues with most of the food, and I just wanted to be at home. The whole time felt like torture, and all the other children were having a great time. Obviously none of these things were major problems. Ok, I didn't really fit in with my peers and was teased a bit, but most kids are. And I was happy at home as far as I can remember.

Up to this point I would consider myself to have had a happy childhood. Although if I look back on it I can see signs that maybe things weren't quite right even that early on, ie up to the age of 11. But I don't know if that is just going into the realms of navel gazing. But things like being very attached to certain people, and feigning or exaggerating illness to avoid school, when actually there was no reason to not want to go that I can see do strike me as not being quite right. I also always had a need to please people - generally adults rather than peers. But there have always been issues with relationships I suppose. And of course issues with food. There was no reason for me to be unhappy, but I wouldn't say that I was happy, and I don't know why. Maybe there has always been something wrong, although I don't know what. But overall everything in my life was pretty simple up to this point, and there was no reason for me to be unhappy. It was after that that things became more complicated, but I will finish writing that tomorrow, as the more I write the more flashes of memory are coming back, and I need some time to process them. There was nothing I would consider to be traumatic, or anything more than an awful lot of children go through, and not nearly as bad as lots, but I still feel like I need to write about it. The appointment with L yesterday got me thinking a lot, but I will go into more detail regarding that tomorrow.

Wednesday, 8 December 2010

Session with L - family, care plan, crisis and meds

I saw L this morning. It was quite a difficult appointment for me. It was constructive, I feel like we talked about quite a lot. But some of it was hard, and I wasn't expecting it to be. We started off talking about my sister, which was ok - L asked about the whole Facebook scenario, and how she still isn't speaking to me, and there is also an update on that. My mother found out on Sunday, via our old next door neighbour, that my sister and family are going to Scotland for Christmas. My sister hadn't told my mum this, who was fairly understandably quite hurt, as she has still been spending time with my sister as usual, and there is no reason for her not to have told her. My mum wasn't upset about my sister going to Scotland - that is where her partner is from, and so it is something they should do at some point - the reason they never have before is because my sister loathes her in laws. But seemingly not as much as she loathes me. It was the fact she hadn't even told her, and that she had heard it from our old next door neighbour. She spoke to my sister yesterday and asked when she had planned on telling her, and my sister replied when she had asked. Since only 2 weeks ago my mum had asked my sister what the plans were for Christmas I thought this was unfair, and typically immature. Last year we (my parents and I) went to my sister for Christmas Day, despite my dad and I much preferring to stay at home, and so had things been 'normal' this year, they would probably have come to us Christmas Day, as we tend to alternate since everyone prefers to be at home, but seems to want to be together. But my sister made some dig at my mum saying that she knew we wouldn't have gone there for Christmas Day, even though apparently parents are supposed to go to their children for Christmas if said children have children. I don't think this is true anyway - I think it can work either way, and there are actually 4 of us - my sister is not an only child, and I am not sure why she feels like Christmas should be arranged to suit her every year. But she does. So since we wouldn't be going there (partly because we went there last year, and partly because I don't think I would have been welcome anyway and my parents wouldn't have left me at home alone on Christmas Day) she decided to go up to Scotland instead, but not bother to tell my mother. I have to say, I do sometimes marvel at how selfish and inconsiderate my sister can be.

Anyway, then we talked about my care plan for a little while. Apparently it needs updating, so we briefly discussed what needs changing. I am pleased to report that the idea of telling me to go to A&E if I am feeling suicidal is being taken off. That was such a shit idea, implemented by my previous care coordinator, who insisted on it if I even mentioned the word suicide. It has proven to actually be quite unhelpful, because I already know that is an option anyway, so it being on there adds nothing to it, and is something I would be incredibly unlikely to do anyway. However, something I am slightly more likely to do, in that I have done it before through choice, is calling the out of hours number. This is not the crisis team. You can only see the crisis team if you are referred - there is no direct access to them (good system for when you are in crisis isn't it?) This out of hours number goes through to the local psych ward, and one of the nurses there will talk to you. However, the last time I called it I spoke to someone who said that there was nothing they could do, and my care plan said to go to A&E. This was the middle of the night, and absolutely not something I was going to do, and not even what I needed. I needed to talk through my feelings with someone and hopefully get some suggestions as to how to cope. But because of my care plan saying to go to A&E that was what they had to tell me to do. So hopefully with that erased I will be able to actually have a conversation with them if I need to in the future - it does already say that I sometimes need to talk to someone, and obviously in hours that will generally be L, but that out of hours I can call them to talk, but she is going to make sure that is made more obvious, so that they don't try and just fob me off onto A&E. Obviously I have now got a date through for the psychology assessment, so that will need updating. I think there were various other points too, but I believe they were the main ones.

We talked a bit about periods when I am in crisis. She explained more fully her reasoning for not wanting me to be involved with the crisis team, and also hospital, although we talked about that to a lesser extent. What she said was certainly not a revelation to me - it is something I have picked up on myself, and I am sure that many other people have too. Basically she said that she feels like the crisis team see mental illness in very black and white terms (does that mean they are all Borderline I wonder?), and that they will take referrals for people with psychosis, or clear Bipolar, for example if someone is very manic, seriously, but that they pretty much write off all other mental health problems as not needing their attention etc. She said she is worried that their attitude can do more harm than good, as they can be very invalidating (which I have experienced, and I know many other bloggers have too) which can actually result in making you feel even worse. She said they often just see people once to assess them, judge them as not actually being ill enough to need their help, and then refer them back to the CMHT, despite their care coordinator, who obviously knows them best, feeling that they need crisis input. Obviously my diagnosis being BPD, rather than just depression makes this even more of an issue, as there is so much stigma surrounding BPD still, and she said that she sees it an awful lot, both on the wards, and in the crisis team (and I have certainly seen it in other members of the CMHT) and that people with BPD are still so often dismissed as being attention seekers and all the other old stereotypes, and she thinks it can be very detrimental. I understand this, and I did suspect this may have been part of her reasoning behind not referring me when I asked a few weeks ago. I said that obviously during office hours, and when she is there it is ok, because I can call and talk to her, but out of hours, or if she isn't there then it is very difficult as there isn't really anyone I can turn to for support. I think that unfortunately that is just a failing of the system, and there isn't much that can be done about it though. Obviously I can call the duty worker at the CMHT if she isn't there, or I can call the out of hours number, but I think that talking to someone who doesn't know you always has limited usefulness, as really they are fairly limited to suggesting the usual patronising things like going for a walk or having a bath. I also told her that I felt like I needed some help with coming up with things I could do when in crisis. Not when things were starting to slip, but when I am really at rock bottom and have no concentration or motivation, and can't do anything. Not calling people, or any outside help, but things that I could do myself. I find it very difficult, because I just lose all ability to focus on anything, and so distracting myself is almost impossible. I try and write how I am feeling to get it out of me, but that isn't really a distraction - it is just something to try and sort out my thoughts. When things are that bad reading is out of the question, and even watching TV or listening to music are more than I feel able to do. But one of the things I am consistantly asked if I speak to someone other than L when in crisis, is what have we discussed as distraction techniques for that, and I don't think we have. It obviously needs to be really very basic stuff, as my IQ just seems to nose dive when my mood really crashes, and I don't have the concentration to do anything for long. She said that she will try and come up with some things, and has asked me to as well, but I am struggling to really think of anything, so any suggestions would be welcome. Things that don't involve much energy, concentration or motivation, and yet can still provide something of a distraction. Answers on a postcard....

I also mentioned medication, as I feel that whilst I had very bad episodes whilst on medication, overall I have struggled more since I haven't been taking anything, and this last crisis period was particularly difficult, and was probably one of the lowest I have ever experienced. Which was perhaps something of a saving grace, as I was too exhausted to act on my thoughts, despite the strength of them. But my head being so noisy was very difficult to cope with, and it was just really hideous. So she is going to speak to Dr E about it. I suspect Dr E will stick to her view that you don't medicate people with BPD, but I quite clearly have depression as well as BPD, and so I think medication for that would be appropriate. Whether or not it would help or not I don't know, but I feel like I need to try something.

I can't remember how, but we somehow got onto the issue of my childhood. I was going to go into what we talked about now, but I am actually feeling like I want to talk about all of my childhood, not just what I discussed with L today, and so I am going to continue this post tomorrow, as this is already very long, and although I have started writing about my childhood, there is still an awful lot to go, and I think it requires a post to itself. So I will finish this tomorrow. I will talk about my childhood generally, and also what I discussed with L, which was the part of the session that I found quite difficult. So to be continued.....