What do you do?

What do you do when it feels like every day you are inching closing and closer to the edge of the cliff? The cliff that you have spent the last two weeks feeling like you are hanging on to by your fingertips in fact, so perhaps it is that you are now losing grip and starting to slide down the side? What do you do? When is it ok to say that you have been actively fighting this for over seven years, and that you just can't do it any more? To give up essentially. Particularly when you don't seem to be able to get much support, and so really you are having to do it on your own. There must be a point when it is considered acceptable to stop fighting. When you have tried hard enough for long enough. When people would understand that you can't keep living for others, and that you have kept going for as long as you can.

I honestly don't know what to do. I feel like I am at that point, but I know others would disagree. And I suppose part of me wonders if with more support, although right now it would need to be quite a lot more, I could keep going. But what is the point? What would it achieve? Another two months or so and I would be back in this position. To me, I have done enough and suicide is a perfectly reasonable option. For the sake of others I am trying to continue to fight, but I cannot do it on my own. So what am I supposed to do? Telling my parents won't help. They know I am not doing too well anyway, but talking about suicide just panics them, and won't change anything. My mum takes away whatever pills she can find, but actually that doesn't change anything. So I don't see talking to them as a helpful option. L knows I feel awful. I could tell her again, but I don't know what difference it would make. And there is nobody else I can turn to. That's it. She is the only person I trust, and she is the only person who could actually do anything. But she already knows. So here I am. Sliding down the cliff, and feeling like any day I am going to lose my grip completely and fall off. Which would be an enormous relief to me, but even in this state I know that it wouldn't to those around me. I do believe that they would be better off without me in the long term, but I know that they wouldn't be able to see that. So what do you do?

Times Like This

Today has been difficult again. My weight was significantly higher than yesterday, which I knew it would be, but it still upset me a lot. When I am already struggling a lot gaining weight can really tip me over the edge. I have been very irritable again today. I have tried to stay as calm as possible, but a tiny comment can just make me snap and scream, and then 20 seconds later I will be ok again. I think it only happened once today - I told my dad I wanted to kill him, but then I calmed down again soon after. My temper does seem quite out of control at the moment though. Things have been ok with my mum. It was actually fine last night - things were normal when we got home but I was still feeling guilty, which was when I wrote last night. The night time was hard. I felt really alone. I ended up going downstairs at 4am and woke the dog up because I wanted a cuddle. He was very obliging, and didn't object to being woken up and cuddled in the middle of the night. Dogs are good like that. And then I came back upstairs but I was feeling really quite desperate. In the end I decided I would go and sleep in my mum's room at about 5am, so I went in there. I said to her that I was sorry for being horrible and she said that she was sorry too. I managed to fall asleep in there, and then woke up at about 9am due to bloody hammering from next door, and so then went back to my bed as it is a bit further away, and went back to sleep again.

The day has felt really long. I am finding it impossible to concentrate on anything or distract myself from my thoughts. Unless there is something I particularly want to watch, which there isn't usually, then I can't have the TV on when I feel like this - it just irritates me. Music is the same - I love music but I can't cope with the noise. Thinking even a day or two into the future sends me into a complete whirl, and trying to think further than that causes full blown panic attacks. The obvious solution is just to not let myself think ahead, but sometimes I can't help it. The more I think about the future, the more I want to die now. I hate that it is the weekend. I hate weekends. I find them really difficult. I think because I am not by myself as much, and I find that draining. We are going to see The King's Speech tomorrow. I have wanted to see it, but I know I won't be able to concentrate properly. I keep finding myself just sitting and staring into space. I keep wondering if I will get through this or not. I don't actually want to.

I might go and see my dog for a cuddle again. I don't think he will mind being woken up.

'A friendly face, the kind of face
That melts you with a grin.
The kind of eyes that welcome you
The minute you walk in.
A tender glance you simply can't refuse
At times like this a girl could use
A dog.

He listens when you tell him things,
There's nothing you can't say
And unlike certain people you can teach him how to stay
And if the world is giving you the blues
He cheers you up by chewing up the news.
It's things like that that make you choose
A dog.

Other people need romance, dancing, playing around.
Other people need constant fun, well I'm not one.
I have my feet on the ground.

Give me a quiet night, a stack of books
A tuna fish on rye.
A simple walk together
Underneath the starry sky.
And suddenly the night is something rare
And all because there's someone special there.
Who's gazing at the views.
His head upon your shoes.
At times like this, I sure could use
A dog'

- Times Like This, Lucky Stiff

Invalidation and anger

Today has been difficult. Last night was difficult too actually. I have been feeling more and more strongly that I don't want to be here. I feel completely alone - I know I have the support of people on here, but that is different to real life support, and actually what I feel like I need at the moment is professional support, and that is what I am not getting. Last night I was actually feeling really tempted to discharge myself from mental health services - sometimes it feels like an appointment for an hour once a fortnight is worse than nothing at all, because when it is helpful I still leave feeling hopeless, because I know it is 2 weeks before I will get that again, and then there isn't time to talk about everything I feel I need to talk about - I found that even with weekly appointments, so fortnightly are even more difficult, and then even when I am really at crisis point I can't get any more support, so it all seems kind of pointless. Fortnightly sessions feel a bit like 'so here's what you could have won!' L has always been very supportive of me, and I know I have been lucky to have her, but I almost feel like she has given up on me or stopped caring or something. Either that or she thinks I am making up these feelings. I am not sure which is worse. But either way I don't feel supported at the moment. So I did consider contacting her and asking to be discharged, but I decided against it. She would probably have suggested we discuss it when I am next due to see her, in a week and a half, and by that time goodness knows how I feel or what position I will be in. I could be dead, or I could have attempted suicide but failed, or I could be feeling differently about things. So I suppose essentially it seemed pointless to ask for discharge now, when I am not even due to see her for a week and a half. I am just really struggling with the lack of support when I am feeling so bad. I suppose I just feel abandoned, and like nobody actually gives a shit whether I kill myself or not, which in a way is a good thing, as it makes me feel less guilty.

This evening was really difficult. A friend of my dad had asked him to go to a quiz a couple of days ago, but they only needed one for their team, so my mum and I couldn't go. My mum was going out with a friend, and asked if I wanted to go with them, but I didn't. Anyway, my dad phoned me at 5:45 and said he had spoken to his friend and there was room for me at the quiz after all, as someone couldn't make it, and that we would need to leave at 6:45. I wasn't actually sure if I wanted to go by that point, as I was anticipating a night here on my own, but I also knew that with how I was feeling that probably wasn't the most sensible option, so I agreed to go. The trouble is, it wasn't giving me nearly long enough to get ready - it was about 6 when I started to get ready, and I had a quick shower but didn't have time to wash my hair, so just straightened it instead. That didn't take too long. Getting dressed is another matter however. I find it incredibly hard to know what to wear if I am going anywhere other than an appointment or rehearsal, in which case I either don't give a shit what I look like, or wear dance type clothes. When I am going anywhere else getting dressed is an incredibly stressful and time consuming process. I put on a skirt, top, and cardigan, then decided the tights were no good, then decided it wasn't the tights that were the problem - it was my huge legs. So off came the skirt and cardigan, and on went skinny jeans and boots and a long cardigan. I decided my legs still looked hideous, and was getting really quite upset and crying by this point. Told my mum I wanted to stay home and that I couldn't get ready. All along my mum had been trying to be helpful, but was actually making matters worse, by saying that I was being ridiculous and my legs looked fine, and that the jeans looked fine, and nobody else would look at me and think my legs looked awful, and that I was making my dad late (which I was), and I ended up yelling at her that I felt hideous and I didn't give a shit what other people would think - I couldn't go out feeling hideous. Was sobbing uncontrollably by this point. Took off the jeans and cardigan and tried on a different skirt, but still didn't feel comfortable, and didn't have a cardigan that would go with it so would have been cold. She kept on and on, and it felt like absolutely everything I said she was just dismissing and invalidating, which is an ongoing theme, and I totally snapped in the end and screamed that she was being really fucking invalidating, to which she replied that she didn't even know what that meant in this context, and so I said that she was just dismissing and ignoring all of my feelings, and she said that was because they were stupid, and I said (when I say I said, I mean I screamed) that they were real to me, and that she was constantly invalidating my thoughts and feelings, and that actually that can be a major contributory factor to BPD. I wished immediately that I hadn't said that, because I never want to make my parents feel bad, or like they are to blame for my problems - partly because I don't think it is fair to blame someone else, and partly because I don't want them to feel guilty, even when I do think they have contributed to how I am now. So I felt like a complete bitch, and was in a complete state, crying hysterically and hyperventilating. I said (cried) that I couldn't go out and I needed to stay home, and had put my comfy jeans on by that point, not with the intention of going anywhere. My mum said I looked nice in my comfy jeans that I had on and that I should go like that. I just couldn't stop crying. My dad came upstairs then and tried to calm me down a bit - he asked what the matter was and I said (cried) that I felt hideous in everything and I had made him late and I couldn't go anywhere, and that it was my mum's fault (unfair I know). He said we weren't too late, and that I looked fine how I was, and I didn't need to dress up or anything and that I needed to just calm down. I think my mum was also quite worked up by this time as she said what I needed was a slap, and at that point I completely lost my temper and screamed that I was going to kill her and my dad had to hold me back from going into her room after her. I don't think that I ever would be really physically violent - I have been known to hit my dad when I have got really angry and worked up, but it is generally when he has intentionally wound me up, which he has a tendency to do it, but I don't get any more violent than that - I have grabbed a knife and said I am going to stab him in the past, but I am certain I would never do anything like that - my anger just gets out of control occasionally and I say things that I don't mean, like I did tonight. I then said that she was a fucking bitch and cried some more. After a minute my temper disappeared and I was just back to being upset. My dad said he really wanted me to go with him and I calmed down a bit, although I was still sobbing, and said goodbye to my mum, and we left. I then sat in the car crying and was talking to myself a bit, but my dad managed to get me to stop. I decided I needed a Diazepam a minute or two after we had left, and looked in my bag, to find that I had grabbed my Zopiclone instead of my Diazepam (and very nearly taken one - they are the same size tablets, and apart from the writing, the blister packs look identical) and so I then had a panic attack and said I had to get out of the car and I would walk home because I needed my Diazepam. A moment more of rooting in my bag produced some Diazepam though, and I took one, and after about 10 minutes had managed to calm down enough that I was just sobbing quietly, and a little while later I started to feel a bit better, and was relatively calm by the time we arrived.

The actual quiz was fine. I only knew my dad's friend on our table, as did he, but the other people all seemed nice. I answered a reasonable number of questions, although not nearly as many as my dad - he is very good at quizzes. Food was an issue. There was a Ploughman's included in the ticket price, so there were baguettes and cheeses on each table, and then the people on our table had brought lots and lots of crisps and nuts and things with them, and when there are things like that out I just can't stop eating, so I ate all evening, and was feeling worse and worse about myself. Then finally there was this chocolate cake thing that someone had brought, and I had a piece of that, and it was incredibly rich (and something has to be really rich for me to say that as I have a very sweet tooth!) and I just couldn't cope, and I ended up going to the toilets and purging. That is the first time I have purged for ages - it has been months since I last did it, but quizzes are a real trigger for me where that is concerned - there are always lots of nibbles around, and I have no self control where things like that are concerned and so just keep eating, and then feel terrible and go and purge as much as I can. It was also at a quiz that I first ever purged, so I guess they are one of the least safe places for me in that respect. I hate myself for the amount I ate, despite purging. And even though it is now 3:30am, and so it was hours ago, I still feel sick from it. I am feeling really shit about that - my weight had been slightly down this morning, and it made it that tiny bit easier to get through the day, and now it is going to be way up and I just can't cope with something else going wrong. So it was a really bloody hard night. Although out of 15 teams we did win the quiz, and so my dad and I came home with a bottle of champagne and a box of chocolates.

I am feeling really guilty about the things that I said to, and about, my mum. I feel like a terrible person. When I lose my temper I just seem to lose all control, and when I am very upset and then she says things that upset me more I just snap. My dad does it too, but kind of intentionally - he does wind me up on purpose sometimes. Strangely I don't think he means to upset me - it is like he doesn't realise that what he is doing or saying is really upsetting me or making me angry, despite the fact it happens on a semi-regular basis. I think he just genuinely doesn't realise how his words affect people. I suppose it is just a complete lack of tact, and not thinking before he speaks, and an almost childlike sense of him thinking something is fun, even when the other person quite clearly isn't enjoying it. And so I do get really furious with him. My mum is different. She means well, and she tries to help, but I really do find her very invalidating a lot of the time, and when I am already upset I just can't cope with it. My mum and I bicker a lot, but it is very rare for me to lose my temper with her to the extent that I did tonight. In fact I am not sure that I ever have - I have always had the self control before not to point out that there may be a link between her behaviours and some of my problems, and I lost that tonight, and feel really guilty for doing so, as I know it will have upset her, and that is the last thing I want to do when she does so much for me, and tries so hard to support me. I think I am just feeling so awful at the moment that it really isn't going to take much at all to flip me over the edge in the way that I did tonight. And the worse I feel the more I hate myself, and the more self critical I am, and the more irritable I am, and therefore the more frustrating I am to my parents, so it does tend to be that the lower my mood, the more we argue, which then makes me feel worse and more suicidal, and acts as proof to me that they would be better off without me. I am really not in a good place at the moment, and I don't know what to do. Suicide looks more and more appealing every day.

Assessment

I had my assessment appointment with the psychologist today. It was fine. I feel like my brain is quite slow because of how I am feeling, and so I think it probably took me quite a long time to answer some of her questions, although I am not really sure as my perception of time seems a bit wonky at the moment. Anyway, she was very nice and friendly. She didn't ask about my history at all - she asked why I thought I had been referred, and then asked what my current problems are and what I would want help with changing in therapy etc. She asked how I felt about therapy, and if I felt like I wanted it at the moment. I said that it was really difficult to answer that, because a month ago I would have said yes, but that at the moment I was feeling very suicidal and didn't see a future. I said that I didn't want to waste her time by saying I was interested if I was then going to go home and kill myself in a few days. She said she would offer me CAT, and talked a bit about it, and asked if I would have interested in that if she had asked me a month ago rather than today. I said that a month ago I would have said yes, and so she said that she would put me on the waiting list because with how I am feeling at the moment I wouldn't really be able to make a decision. The waiting list is up to 18 weeks, and therefore probably longer than the therapy, as that tends to be 16 weeks, although she said it would possibly be 24 weeks. I was getting a bit emotional at the end of the appointment - I think I was just feeling so hopeless and overwhelmed, and I was starting to feel a bit teary, but I managed to hold it in. I am not good at showing emotion.

I had quite a lot of time to hang around in town before and after my appointment. There was about 45 minutes before and I went into Costa and tried to read a book, but I couldn't concentrate - the words were swimming around on the page and I couldn't concentrate and just ended up staring into space. Reading really isn't working for me at the moment. After the appointment I had to wait for about an hour before I could be picked up and I went and sat in the library. I was somehow there for an hour and yet it felt like 10 or 15 minutes - I was just in a daze. I didn't even bother trying to read, I just sat there. I think I am dissociating quite a lot at the moment - time just keeps disappearing without me being aware of it.

I am struggling a lot. I made it until today, which was what I said I would do, and I went to the appointment. It was fine, and the psychologist was nice, but I am now back in the position of feeling very depressed and suicidal, with just fortnightly appointments with L to get me through, and a 3 or 4 month waiting list for therapy. Essentially that does not feel like a realistic option. It is now nearly 2 weeks again before I am due to see anyone. To be honest even if I had more help I don't know whether I could get through this, but it certainly doesn't feel like a possibility as things stand. I know that it is my life and I have to take responsibility for myself, but when I feel this bad the only way I feel able to do that is by telling someone how bad I am feeling and trying to get help, which is really hard to do, but is all I feel able to do. I do find it frustrating that it is always just assumed I will be fine and manage to get through. There have been a lot of times when I have been desperate and coped, but there are other times when I haven't. I think because it has been over two years since I last attempted suicide there is just an assumption that I will be fine. The last time I attempted suicide it was actually very similar, although that time it had been even longer - it was over 3 years that time, and again actually I was only seeing someone fortnightly, and that person wasn't even remotely supportive when I did see her, and completely ignored how bad I was feeling. I don't feel like L is ignoring how bad I feel, but I do just feel like there is an assumption I will just get by because I usually do, and sometimes I just feel so desperate, and like I need more support to cope, and when I can't get that it makes it even harder to find the motivation to keep fighting - it feels like they don't care enough to support me, so why I should I keep trying so hard when I don't want to be here? I just don't know what to do.

Tax doesn't have to be taxing??

I am really tired. I didn't get to sleep until late again last night, and then our next door neighbours are having work done on their kitchen, and so there has been drilling and banging all day, and even though their kitchen is the other side of the house, somehow it disturbed me and stopped me sleeping. It is strange because it is so quiet, but it just kept me awake. So I didn't get enough sleep, and what I did get was very disrupted, so I am exhausted and feel like shit.

I have to go to a rehearsal tonight - again the last thing I feel like doing. I also only have a few days to sort hundreds of invoices and receipts into date order for my dad's tax return. At the moment my eyes are so blurry I don't think I could even make out the dates, and I will keep getting hassle from my parents until I do it. And then when they are in date order I have to help him enter them onto a spreadsheet. I could really do without all this at the moment. Unfortunately a couple of years ago I made a deal that I would do the accounts for him in return for them paying my mobile bill. I  now think that was a shit idea. For a start I am crap with money. I thought we had until April to do the taxes because that is when the tax year starts. Who knew it had to be done in January? Well, seemingly everyone apart from me, but that means I have now been left with the stress of having to get it all done in a few days. Tax doesn't have to be taxing? Bollocks!

I have this assessment appointment tomorrow. Don't really know what to think about it. It is only an assessment so it isn't going to change anything. I am feeling really exhausted and hopeless. My mum will be home from work soon. I should go downstairs and pretend I am filing these stupid bloody invoices, or I will get a bollocking when she arrives. Yesterday she said I was the most frustrating person imaginable because I was lying in bed in the dark in the afternoon. She clearly doesn't have a very good imagination.

Frustrated

I am really struggling. I saw L this morning, but to be perfectly honest I don't feel like it helped at all. I don't feel like I really ended up talking about anything I feel like I wanted or needed to - it just seemed to go off in a direction that may have been helpful for her in understanding more, but didn't do anything to help me. I wish I could re-do the appointment and somehow change it. Although I don't really know what I did want to talk about. I just feel frustrated that I have had the one hour in a fortnight when I could talk, and I wasted it. Although maybe I would feel like that regardless of what we had talked about. I don't know. I don't know what I wanted her to do, but I suppose I just felt like I needed something. She just made an appointment for a fortnight's time like usual. I suppose I have this appointment on Thursday, but that is just an assessment, that isn't going to help - it will just be going over my history. I will still wait until then and go to the appointment, but I am not feeling hopeful in any way. Quite the opposite to be honest. I am exhausted.

Numb

Not feeling any better. Exhausted. Went to ballet and rehearsal. Felt like shit the whole time, as predicted. Desperately just want to give up, but I am trying really hard to just keep going for the next few days. I am seeing L in the morning. Don't know how I feel about it. Usually I look forward to seeing L, but I am just feeling nothing. Kind of numb. Can't explain it. Just empty. I feel like a zombie, just getting by on auto pilot. Don't want to be here. Have had enough. Three days to go. Then I can make a decision. My brain feels jumbled. Random words and song lyrics keep popping into it. I type decision and my brain starts singing 'It's your first big decision. The choice isn't easy to make'. That's from Into The Woods. Not relevant. Brain is just linking random things. Type another word and my head shoots off in another direction. Can't think in complete sentences. Brain is just too jumpy. Can't concentrate. Can't write. Can't make my head calm down enough to extract any thoughts. Feel horrible.

Decision

So I suppose today has been vaguely productive, even if I have felt shit. I showered. It is so weird the way you don't realise how disgusting you smell until you are clean. It's lucky I hadn't left the house since Monday. Something as simple as showering really shouldn't take so much effort and feel so difficult. People do it every day. I do it every day when I don't feel like this. I never find it difficult. Then full blown depression hits, and it suddenly seems like a completely pointless, and rather strange thing to do. So what if you stink and look like shit? It involves being out of bed for more than 5 minutes, and therefore absolutely is not worth the effort. In the end my mum tells me how revolting I am and makes me shower, and I then realise that I am indeed revolting, but still don't actually care. So anyway, I showered and washed my hair. I am sure that I must deserve a medal of some kind - I managed to do something that the rest of the population do daily without even thinking about. What an achievement.

I also had rehearsal. I managed to make myself rushed and slightly late by getting up too late, which was because it was 7:30am before I got to sleep, so I fairly naturally then didn't want to get up. I then spent half an hour persuading myself to get out of bed, then spent over an hour showering, throwing on the clothes from the top of the pile, and drying my hair for 3 minutes. Oh, and cleaning my teeth. I seem to do everything in slow motion at the moment - I am still trying to work out how those things took over an hour. I didn't spend time wondering what to wear - I just threw on some dance trousers and a top and cardigan that were conveniently at the top of the pile because they were what I wore last time I left the house. The cast probably think I only own one set of clothes.

Went to rehearsal. It wasn't quite as painful as last week, but I think only because I was there for an hour less. I still spent the whole time wanting to go home. Felt useless because I hadn't warmed up my voice properly (ie I had sung for about 5 minutes in the car on the way there) because I just couldn't be bothered, and so I sounded like shit. Typically the director wanted to listen to me sing my biggest solo for the first time. Never mind. Sung a bit more, pranced around a bit, said a few lines, had a few kisses, came home. I think I must have been functioning on auto pilot, and at least partially dissociating, because there are big chunks I don't remember, and one time I remember starting the number, and then realising we had finished, but not being aware of anything in the middle. My concentration is all over the place. I have to go to another rehearsal tomorrow night, after ballet. That is a full cast rehearsal, whereas today was just me, the male lead, the director/choreographer, and the musical director, so I need to try and be a bit more focused tomorrow or I will probably end up looking like a complete idiot. Again, I don't want to go, but it would fuck up the entire rehearsal if I wasn't there, so I don't have a choice.

I made a decision today. That sounds a bit monumental doesn't it? And it isn't, or not really anyway, given that I quite frequently change my mind. But I realised I have been a bit hypocritical lately, because I have been planning to kill myself, but allowing myself to forget something I have said to friends when they have been feeling suicidal. That I think suicide can be a valid option once you have tried all other options that are realistically open to you at that time, but not before then. On Thursday I have an assessment appointment with a Clinical Psychologist whom I have never met before. I have no idea if she would be able to help me, and to be honest at the moment I still feel like I would rather be dead regardless of whether I might start to feel better at some point, but it is something that is currently an option I haven't explored, and I think I would be very hypocritical if I were to ignore that, so I decided that however bad I feel I must at least keep going until then. Deciding not to kill myself within the next four days probably doesn't really sound like a very big deal, but it feels like it to me, because I am just feeling so terrible. So I need to really focus on getting through the next four days. After that I have no idea what will happen - I am not going to commit to anything further ahead than that, because that would feel impossible right now, but at least I am making the effort to go to the appointment and meet her etc. So I just have to get through tomorrow, when I will probably sleep the majority of the day, then have to go to dreaded ballet and rehearsal in the evening, then Tuesday I am seeing L, but I am not sure what I can do after that. My mum has a hospital appointment, but I find hospitals kind of triggering at the moment - they make me want to kill myself even more than I do usually. I suppose association of ideas. Anyway, then Wednesday will maybe be another sleeping day, and then I will have to go to another rehearsal. And then it will be Thursday and I will see the Psychologist. And that is as far as I am going to think or plan, because it gets too overwhelming after that. It all feels quite scary and difficult - even just thinking about being alive in four days time is hard, and I really wish I could get out of rehearsals and things, but realistically I can't without getting a lot of very awkward questions and inconveniencing a lot of people, and even if I could it wouldn't help really, because it is my head I need a break from, and I can't get that any more at home than I can out - it is just easier being at home because I don't have to hide behind a facade all of the time. I still desperately want out. I am exhausted. But I will stick to what I believe and at least go to the appointment on Thursday. Obviously I know nothing will change then, and that she won't be able to magic me better. But at least I will be going and meeting her, and getting an impression of what she is like. If I still want to kill myself after that then I think it is pretty much fair game - no big dates coming up for a few weeks, not too close to the show that I can't be replaced, no particular reason stopping me that I can think of. But I won't make a decision before Thursday, or I will try not to. I can't not see suicide as an option, because it is basically, but I am seeing it as an option I can explore after Thursday if I want to, not before. That's not something I can do long term, or keep doing time after time for various reasons, but I think I can do it for the next few days. I suspect this entire paragraph would make no sense to anyone but me, but I understand how my mind works. Or I do some of the time. Sometimes I find it utterly baffling.

Inside I'm screaming

Things aren't getting easier. I am still feeling really desperate, and really like I am going to fall off the edge of this cliff I am clinging on to by my finger nails. Tonight I made the decision to call the out of hours number. This is not something I usually do. I have called before, but I don't remember the last time, and I have called perhaps once in the last year. I find it really difficult to phone and say I am struggling - I even find it hard to call L when I am going through a bad time, as I just don't know what to say, and it is like my entire vocabulary disappears from my body apart from a few words like 'I'm not feeling very good' or something equally ridiculous and meaningless. But when I call and speak to L, I know the sort of thing she is likely to say, and it is safe - it doesn't feel scary, apart from my dislike of phoning anyone, and the knowledge that I won't be able to express how I am feeling. Calling the CMHT when she is not there is more difficult because I don't know who I will end up speaking to, and it makes me far more anxious, and so I have to be more desperate to do it. However, once I know who I am talking to, again I know what they are likely to say, and what I feel able to say as a result. For example if I end up speaking to my old, shit care coordinator, I know not to mention the word suicidal, even in passing, as I will be told to go to A&E. If it is one of the women I can say pretty much anything, and won't be told to do that, but they will almost certainly suggest I go for a walk or have a bath, and ask when I am next seeing L, and tell me to wait until then and talk to her about how I am feeling. Calling the out of hours number is a whole different situation, as I don't know anybody, or at least occasionally I have spoken to someone who has said they have talked to me before, but I never remember. So I find that a really difficult and scary thing to do, which is why I ring so rarely - I have to be really desperate to even consider it, and I have to feel right on the edge to actually call. I don't know what I expect them to say - I know they can't change how I feel, but a couple of times I have spoken to people who have been really helpful and understanding and who have helped me - other times it has been completely unhelpful, so it is pot luck really. Anyway tonight I decided I had reached that point and so called the number I have been given, which goes through to the local psych ward - you can't call the crisis team unless you have been referred to them, so if you phone out of hours you speak to one of the psych ward nurses. I rung and asked if there was somebody I could speak to, and she asked if I was a service user, and said I needed to phone the main hospital switchboard, who would put me through to the crisis team. So then I had to try and make myself make another phone call. Calling the crisis team is scarier than calling the ward for some reason. Anyway, I rung the main hospital switchboard and asked to be put through to the crisis team. She asked for me name and asked if I was a doctor or professional, and I said I was a service user. She said that they can't put service users through to the crisis team, only professionals, and that I needed to call the psych ward. I said that I had just done that and been told to call them. She sounded slightly confused and said she didn't know why, as they used to be able to put people through to the crisis team, but now they had to give people the number of the ward. She gave me the number, which was a different number again - I now have 3 numbers for the psych ward - there is the one on the trust website, the one I was given and told to use out of hours that I have called before, and now the one that I was given tonight. At this point I gave up. I couldn't face making another phone call, when I had already gone through the anxiety of calling the ward, to be told I needed to call the switchboard and put through to the crisis team, to be told I needed to call the ward, who would probably have given me yet another bloody number. So I just gave up. I am pretty unimpressed with the quality of the out of hours services in the trust though. Other people seem to just be able to call their crisis team out of hours. In fact, I could in the other trust I was under. It is frustrating that on an occasion when I am really struggling, and could really do with talking to someone, and I actually manage to pluck up the courage to ring, I can't actually get through to anyone. Ironically I received a Service User Questionnaire from the MH Trust in the post today. I may not be overly complimentary.

I don't seem to have been functioning very well the last couple of weeks, particularly this week. My personal hygiene is terrible - showering seems to have dropped to a once a week activity. I don't remember the last time I put any make up on, and I actually have to think quite hard to remember the last time I got dressed. It must have been Monday when I went to rehearsal, and of course I would have had to on Wednesday, but I didn't feel up to going. When I do have to leave the house it takes so much energy, and just feels so hard, that I can't even think about what I look like, and so I turn up to rehearsals looking a complete mess, in whatever clothes were at the top of the pile on my floor and with no make up on. I have to go to a rehearsal tomorrow afternoon and I am dreading it. I envisage it being a repeat of last Sunday, when I looked like shit (as my mother kindly pointed out, although not using that term), felt like shit, desperately wanted to go home, and was probably a nightmare to work with, as anything that anyone said just pissed me off. I tried to stay calm and professional, but inside I was feeling incredibly tense, and could just feel myself getting more and more irritated, and just wanted to collapse in the middle of the room and sob. Sometimes when I feel like this I just reach such a level of desperation that I just want to beg someone, anyone, random strangers in the street, to please help me somehow, to make it stop, to kill me, to make the pain go away, to help me find a way of having a break, anything. Of course I would never do it - I put on my happy face and pretend everything is fine, but inside I'm screaming.

Useless friend

I feel like a shit friend today. A friend of mine, who I met during Carousel, is moving to London next weekend as she has got a job there. I didn't really get to know her very well until probably the week before the show - that was a strange show to rehearse, as I was only in the long dance scene, and then two other scenes, so until a couple of weeks before the show the only other cast members I really had much to do with were the people playing my parents, as they were who my scenes were with, the dancers and children who were in the ballet scene, and some of the other principals because you tend to get to know them at initial read throughs etc. So I had spoken to her a few times, but that was about it I think. Then on the day of the tech rehearsal between the band call and tech rehearsal, five of us, including her, went out for lunch, and we got on well and during show week chatted a fair bit, and talked online, and then a week or two after the show finished she came over one day etc. I haven't seen her since then, which would have been early November, but we have continued to chat online. Anyway, because she is moving tonight she was having a farewell drinks thing. It wasn't a massive thing - she had invited quite a few people, both people from Carousel, and friends of hers that I didn't know, but I don't think that many people were going. She told me about it weeks ago, and although I felt a bit anxious, as plans were all a bit vague and I find that stressful, I had intended to go. But then this week has been so hideous that I just couldn't face it. And the pub people were meeting at is always packed, so she didn't even know if they would be able to get in there, or if they would have to find someone else, and I just cannot do busy places, and on a Friday night pretty much everywhere is going to be busy. I would have liked to see her, and the girl who played my mother in Carousel, who is a really wonderful person, whom I also haven't seen since November, was also going, and it would have been nice to see her, but I hate anywhere crowded, and although I would probably have tried to go had I been feeling better, there was just absolutely no way that it was going to happen this week. But I feel like a really shit friend for not going, because she told me about it so many weeks ago, and I just feel like she must hate me. I spoke to her online earlier and said that I was really sorry but that I wasn't going to be able to make it - she does know that I have mental health problems, although I don't talk about them in depth with her, and when I last spoke to her a few days ago I did say that I wasn't doing very well depression wise at the moment, and so when I spoke to her today I apologised and said that was why. She said it was fine but I still feel guilty.

Then something happened with another friend today that also made me feel really guilty and like a shit friend. I have a friend who I have talked about on here before a few times - the last time would have been when she came to stay in October, and she was also here in July. Anyway, I will henceforth call her E, as I realised I don't have a name for her. She has been severely anorexic for years now, and has spent a long time inpatient as a result of it, but was really very ill both times I saw her last year. She was on the waiting list for inpatient again, but comes from Ireland, where the system is very different, and there seem to be far too few ED beds for the number of patients, as there were something like 3 beds and 12 girls waiting for them. Anyway, when she was over in October she was talking a lot about wanting to get better, and hoping a bed would come up soon for her, but then soon after she went home she actually started doing much better. She was eating more, and managed to cut down a lot on the amount she was purging, and the number of laxatives she was taking, and was starting to gain weight. I was concerned that she would get to BMI 15.5/16ish and then hit a brick wall, as I know that is the point she has managed to get to several times in hospital, and has then relapsed, and I was worried because they took her off the IP waiting list as she was doing so well. Unfortunately it went more or less as I predicted - her BMI was high 15s before December, and she was really struggling with it and starting to cut back, and since then she has been finding it really hard, and has lost some weight again, although I don't know how much, and then the last couple of weeks has been feeling increasingly depressed. I spoke to her last night and was quite concerned, as she did seem low, although I didn't get the impression she was actively suicidal, although I may have been wrong, but she was certainly feeling bad and struggling a lot with her eating, and was back into her old patterns really. She was due to see her psychiatrist today, and she said she would be honest with them and tell them what was going on, and when I spoke to her this afternoon she had been admitted - not a long term ED admission, but a short term admission to try and lift her mood, and also stabilise her eating a little if possible. I had simultaneous thoughts - I was pleased that she was getting help, because I have felt for a long time like she needs it, although I don't think a short term admission like this is the answer, and I was glad she was safe, but at the same time I felt jealous. I feel terrible for saying that, because she needed help, and I am pleased she got it, but at the same time I don't understand why it often seems so simple for other people to access more help when they are struggling, and yet I never can. I am not saying I would want to be in hospital - it is always something I feel very ambivalent about, but when I spoke to her she said how it was a relief to have a break, and that just hit me really hard. I just felt like crying. Suicide is still my preferred option, but as at least a temporary alternative a break would be really bloody good right now. I am just too exhausted to keep going like this, and I feel like if I look at the short term I either need a break or I need to kill myself. Admittedly the local NHS psych ward wouldn't actually be my place of choice for a break even if it were an option, but I don't know. I guess I just feel so desperate, and this week has felt more horrific than I can even express, and so anything feels like it would be better than this. As I said, it isn't an option anyway, and if it were then I am sure I would refuse, as there have been multiple times in the past when I have been offered admission and turned it down - the only times I have been in hospital were voluntary admissions, but I wasn't actually given a choice about going. I just couldn't help feeling jealous knowing that E saw her psychiatrist today and was admitted, when it doesn't matter how much I struggle, or how desperate I am, I just seem to be left to do. But I feel really guilty, and like such an awful friend, not to mention really quite weird, for feeling jealous that E has been admitted to a psych ward. I suppose I just really am so desperate that even something I would usually avoid at all costs seems like a better alternative right now.

I spoke to L earlier. I rung and asked to speak to her, and they said she was with someone but they would get her to call me back. When three hours had passed and I still hadn't heard anything from her I was starting to give up, but she did call back. I didn't feel able to really say how bad things were - I tried, but at times like this it seems that the words don't even exist. "depressed" "suicidal" "desperate" "hopeless" - none of them actually even begin to convey how horrific it feels. It is slightly easier when I can ramble at length, rather than trying to form coherent sentences, but I don't believe the words exist to fully explain the extent of these feelings. I did try - I said it had been a really awful week and that I was feeling very depressed and was completely unable to distract myself, and that my sleep was awful and essentially that I just couldn't cope. She said more or less all she could I suppose - to try and plan my time and do things to distract myself, and to keep writing things down, and that we could talk about it on Tuesday. It just feels so futile. Talking about it on Tuesday won't make any difference whatsoever. I don't even want to be alive by Tuesday, although I probably will be I suppose. But it won't change anything. I am feeling really disillusioned with everything at the moment. I just see absolutely no way forward from here, and I don't view continuing to feel like this as an option, which once again leads me back to suicide. Even when I try not to think about it, it always pops up as being the solution. The right thing to do. The answer. Maybe it is. I don't think my brain would push it so hard, and so continuously, for so many years unless it was the right course of action. Brains are supposed to have survival instinct, but mine just tells me to kill myself.

This isn't living

I don't know what to say. I feel awful. My sleep last night was as bad as ever. I woke up to a text from the director of the show saying she wanted to rehearse Sunday afternoon again, which immediately filled me with dread. I hate feeling like this about the one thing I have always cared about more than anything. I perform because I love it, because I am passionate about it, because it is the only thing I have ever wanted to do. And yet I have the lead part in a brilliant show, and I actually dread going to rehearsals, and spend the entire time desperately wishing I could go home.

I feel like I have reached a point where I just can't keep going on like this. It is too hard, and I need a reason other than other people to get me through, and there just isn't one. I sometimes wish that I didn't care about other people's feelings as much as I do. I feel like it constantly means that I am left feeling like shit, and like my feelings don't matter, because I don't want to hurt people, or because people make comments about suicide being selfish etc. But how do you weigh up the pain of one person against the pain of another? The people saying suicide is selfish aren't the ones who have to live with these feelings of complete desperation every single day. I feel like to get through this I really need a lot more help than I have at the moment, but I also know that isn't going to happen. I also have severe doubts as to whether anything would actually help. I feel like I am past the point where having a little chat about how shit I feel will change anything, and certainly having a bath or going for a walk or any of the other patronising bollocks that mental health professionals are so fond of suggesting will not make a scrap of difference. Having said that, I did try to call L yesterday, as I mentioned, and I also sent her an email during the night last night asking if she could call me today, but she didn't. Maybe she wasn't in work, or maybe she didn't have time, or maybe she just didn't want to listen to me whine about how shitty I feel, which would be entirely understandable. As I said, I don't actually think it would help anyway - I just always feel an obligation to at least mention to a professional if I am feeling seriously suicidal, so that I feel like I have made an effort. Of course I know they will do nothing about it, but there is nothing I can do about that. I don't know. On the one hand I feel like I really need support to get through this, but short of locking me up nothing would stop me if I decided to do sosmething, therefore it is pointless to even attempt to get help, and on the other hand, I don't even know if I want to get through it. I feel like I have had enough. This has been going on for too long, and I have had enough of feeling this terrible all of the time. And now things are at a point where I just absolutely do not want to see anyone or go anywhere, and I would do virtually anything to get out of doing the only thing I have ever cared about. This isn't living. It may be surviving, but it isn't living, and what is the point of surviving when you have no quality of life?

Dying with clean hair

I stayed home tonight. I decided I just couldn't face going out. My mum was slightly unhelpful as I said that I was thinking of saying I was ill and couldn't go, and she said I couldn't do that because I wasn't actually ill, 'only in the head'. That helped. But I decided to ignore that. I didn't have to make an excuse for ballet, as my teacher knows that I generally won't be there on Wednesdays because of show rehearsals, so that just left the rehearsal. I sent a text to the director saying that I wasn't feeling well and so wouldn't be going to ballet, but that I would go to the rehearsal if she needed me, but that I obviously wasn't feeling great, and she replied saying not to worry. That meant that I felt ok about missing rehearsal, as I had offered to go if required, but said that I wasn't feeling well, which was pretty much the truth, and I was just hoping that she would reply in the way she did.

I am feeling shit about my weight. I gained a little this week, which I always find really difficult. Because I am feeling so terrible I am finding myself comfort eating, which is fine at the time, but not remotely comforting afterwards, as I feel extremely guilty, and then of course when I weigh myself I gain weight and feel shit about myself, which makes me feel even worse, and so the cycle goes ok. It is strange, when my depression gets really bad I either lose interest in food altogether and just don't get hungry at all, or I just want to comfort eat. Not out of hunger I suppose - I just feel like I have to do something to make me feel better, and eating cake seems like a good idea at the time. There is also a part of my brain that tells me I may as well eat what I like, as I will be dead soon, and it doesn't matter what I weigh then, whilst another part of me tells me that I must lose weight, as I can't die fat. I am assume that is somehow linked to the part of me that tells me I can't die with dirty hair.... I have no idea what that is about, but even if I am really depressed, to the point where I am really struggling to move, I have to wash my hair if I am planning to kill myself that day. You would think that would be about the least relevant thing possible, but for some reason it seems important, and I suppose dying thin is somehow related to that.

My sleep is still terrible. I seem to be permanently exhausted, and yet unable to sleep until at least 6am, regardless of what I have been doing that day, what time I woke up, and how much sleep I got the night before.

I am really finding everything very overwhelming. I am feeling so low, and then when that is combined with my dreadful sleep, and my complete inability to concentrate on anything, it makes the days feel incredibly long, and very difficult to get through. I have tried to think of reasons to live, things to keep going for, but I can't think of anything for myself. There is always the thing of not hurting others, but there is surely a limit to how many years you can be expected to go on feeling cripplingly low for the sake of other people? And I cannot think of a single reason to live for myself. Sometimes when I am feeling really bad I am able to cope by setting myself days, for example when I have an appointment or something - I suppose the hope that talking to someone might change things or help in some way helps me to get through, but I don't even have that at the moment. I am due to see L next Tuesday, but I can't see it as something to aim for, because I know it won't change anything. There is literally nothing that I can use as a motivator to keep going. I feel terrible.

Sickie?

I am supposed to be going to ballet and rehearsal tonight, but I am exhausted and feel like crap, so I am considering pulling a sickie. Ordinarily I wouldn't, but I don't think I will actually be needed very much at the rehearsal if they are doing what the schedule says, and missing ballet wouldn't be the end of the world.... I just really don't want to have to go out and be sociable. I went on Sunday and Monday and just felt hideous the whole time, and was desperate to be back at home, and just felt so horrible, and I don't know if I can cope with that again tonight. I am feeling really low. I tried calling L earlier, but she must have been doing a half day or something as they said she had left for today. I don't know what to do with myself. I just don't know how to cope with feeling this low.

Response

This is a reply to the comments I received on my post before last. I was writing it as a comment, but it got a bit long so I thought I may as well make it into a post.

Karita - essentially trusts will fund treatment out of area if they think it will be more cost efficient for them in the long run, so for example if someone frequently presents at A&E and has regular admissions to acute wards, and often has crisis team intervention, then they may well look into funding a therapeutic community, because it will probably not cost them any more in the short term, and in the long run should save them money. As Harriet said, these places do produce statistics showing that treatment with them is more cost efficient than frequent crisis intervention.

However, I am in the fortunate/unfortunate position (depending on how you look at it) of not having frequent crisis intervention, which is obviously a good thing in many ways, but unhelpful in this situation. I have the issue of not being your 'stereotypical' Borderline - I have been told this several times, and as a result I really don't cost the trust very much at all, and so there would be no reason for them to fund an expensive treatment programme for me. I have never been the type to self harm a lot, or take non suicidal overdoses and then present at A&E, so that isn't an issue for them. For reasons I discussed recently I am not referred to the crisis team - essentially L thinks they would do more harm than good, as they have a tendency to see everything other than psychotic illnesses and bipolar as being too insignificant to require their input, and therefore treat you like shit (I have experienced this), and they are also gatekeepers for acute wards. On paper the bosses of the trust, who make the decisions on matters like this, would see me as a stable patient, who copes with weekly or fortnightly appointments with her care coordinator, and doesn't require any other input, so they would be likely to see me as not needing intensive, expensive treatment. I don't even see a psychiatrist any longer, since she took me off my meds, so I am basically as straight forward as it comes in terms of the treatment I am receiving.

What I find very frustrating, is that if I acted on all the suicidal thoughts I have, then I would constantly be at A&E, I would be deemed higher risk and so would probably have acute admissions and crisis team intervention, and would be far more likely to be able to access appropriate treatment. However, because I am able to contain my behaviours generally to those not requiring medical intervention, ie superficial cuts, small overdoses that I don't seek treatment for as they are self harm rather than anything else etc, I look to be coping. But I have no standard of life, and I have been under services for 7 and a half years, and am as bad as I have ever been. This is something that came up in a session with L once, and she said something along the lines of me being equally as unwell as those with the same diagnosis who do fit the more traditional borderline pattern, but that obviously on paper it doesn't appear that way as I have become very good at containing it. But that doesn't help, as it leaves me with this nothing of a life, where I am unable to progress or do anything I planned, and yet because I don't 'act out' I will probably never be able to access the more appropriate types of treatment for me.

L actually agrees very strongly with the therapeutic community approach - she thinks it is very effective, and I know it is something she is very interested in, and would actually like to work in herself. However, it isn't her who has the power to make the decision, and there is no point in referring me if there is no chance of getting funding. My county is also particularly underfunded - I know they all are, but there really are no specialist services at all in the county - if children/adolescents need inpatient treatment they have to go to another county, same for eating disorder patients, there are no specialist personality disorder treatments, etc etc. They have the very basic services - the CMHTs, an outpatient ED service, and one EIPS team on the other side of the county, and that is more or less it. You can't even access the Crisis Team without a referral - there is no option of calling them when in crisis like you can in virtually every other area - you have to be referred first.

Pandora - I think at this point there would be very little point in getting my MP involved, largely for the reasons above - on paper everything looks fine, and I haven't been referred to any services but denied on grounds of cost, so I have no cause for complaint. Also, he is a typical Tory twat (who manages to vote in the opposite way to what I believe on every single bloody vote in parliament) who would probably consider me scum for scrounging off the state, and would probably think it better if I just killed myself rather than cost the government the sort of money that therapeutic community treatment costs!

I may be rather cynical over the whole thing, but I think that realistically a therapeutic community is never going to be an option for me unless I win the lottery, or some philanthropic millionaire comes along and wants to pay for my treatment! DBT and MBT aren't even options in the next trust, so even going out of area for those isn't an option. Essentially, nothing is an option, apart from what I have now, and I can't cope with that. I am somehow just expected to keep going, from week to week, or fortnight to fortnight, despite overwhelming suicidal thoughts, and feeling so terrible that I can't get out of bed most of the time. And this is one of the reasons why I see suicide as a valid and logical option - I have virtually exhausted my local mental health services (I say virtually, because I have not had CAT, which I believe is the only therapy other than CBT that is offered, but I don't realistically see 16 sessions of that changing things dramatically) and I have no other options treatment wise, I don't consider carrying on like this to be an option, and since nothing has changed for the good in the last 7 and a half years, I sincerely doubt it is suddenly going to happen now.

A mess

I am really struggling. The rehearsal yesterday was possibly even more hideous than I anticipated. I felt like complete shit the entire time, hated every second of it, and desperately just wanted to be at home. As a result I was probably hideous to work with. And I have to do it all again tonight, except for 3 hours, and with an hour of ballet first. I am feeling completely and utterly overwhelmed by everything, the last thing I want to do is go out for 4 hours tonight, plus over an hour travelling. The suicidal thoughts are incredibly strong and powerful and I don't know how to fight them. At the moment lack of opportunity is stopping me, but I don't know how long that will apply. Although I am possibly too exhausted to do anything, I'm not sure. Certainly my brain doesn't seem able to think very clearly. I just feel a complete mess. I got more sleep last night, but am still absolutely exhausted. I also made the mistake earlier of looking in a mirror, and I do actually look as shit as I feel. My eyes have turned into these tiny little half open things, with enormous black rings underneath them, and I just look awful. Both parents have pointed out the black rings multiple times over the last couple of days, so I am definitely not imagining them or exaggerating how bad they are - I apparently look awful. When I was on my way to rehearsal yesterday my mum suggested I put some eye make up on. I asked why, and she said it might make me look a bit better as I looked exhausted, and maybe some mascara would make my eyes look like they were open. She definitely had a point, but I didn't have the energy, and I don't today either. I can't fucking cope like this. I meant to write a post over the weekend for One Month Before Heartbreak, but my brain is too jumbled to write anything to do it justice.

Sleep and suicide

Feel free to skip on past this to other posts - I didn't mean to write a blog post 5 hours after my last one - I just got so frustrated with my sleep, or lack of it, that I started writing.

I have remembered why I don't even try to get to sleep at a slightly more reasonable time when I am doing badly. It doesn't work, and I get stressed and upset, and end up working up and crying, which of course makes me even less likely to sleep. I didn't aim to get to sleep ridiculously early or anything, as I knew that would be pointless. I Took 10mg Diazepam at about 1:30, to try and start calming me down a bit, then about half an hour/three quarters of an hour later I had a Zopiclone. I hoped to start feeling dopey within about half an hour of that when I have taken it following Diazepam like that, but no such luck. I wasn't feeling anything, and I was really desperate to get a decent sleep, so I took another one. I think that must have been at about 2:45. I decided that if I could get to sleep about 3:30/3:45, then that would give me 9 hours sleep, which would be a functionable amount. So even though I still wasn't sleepy, soon after 3 I decided that I would put on a CD I like, that is quite relaxing and soothing, and just lie in the dark and hope that I drifted off. The CD played. I wasn't feeling at all sleepy. The CD played all the way through and I started getting a bit stressed when it got to the end. By that time it was about 4am. I then decided that perhaps playing musical beds would help, and went off to try and sleep in a different bed. That didn't help, and I didn't even have the distraction of music then, so I started getting more and more intrusive thoughts, and then got quite worked up and upset and ended up crying, and decided to come back to my own bedroom, where at least I could sit up and do something until I felt sleepy. Unfortunately it is now less than 8 hours until I need to be awake, I have taken 2 Zopiclone, and I am going to get an inadequate amount of sleep, which means that I will be like a complete zombie at my rehearsal tomorrow. I am not sure what to do really sleep wise. I have tried everything. I have tried just staying online etc until I feel sleepy, but even with meds that can result in not getting to sleep until after 6am. I have tried doing the listening to soothing music whilst lying in the dark and just hoping you will drift off. I have tried just trying to go to sleep. I have tried not taking anything. I have tried just Diazepam. I have tried two or three Diazepam. I have tried not taking Zopiclone. I have tried taking one or two Zopiclone. I have tried taking Diazepam and Zopiclone together in various quantities. But I still cannot sleep. I know that if my mood were to pick up then I would start being able to sleep again - not early, but I think I am semi-nocturnal naturally (I actually think I have this - it fits me perfectly) but several hours earlier than I am currently sleeping, which would be fine by me. But I think my mood picking up is very unlikely, and that suicide is actually a far better option. I hate knowing that I have less than 7 and a half hours until I have to be awake. I know I will get some sleep, but I also know that it isn't going to be enough and that I will feel like shit tomorrow. At this fucking rehearsal that I don't even want to go to. Wonderful. I haven't even been to sleep and woken up yet, and I already know that I am in a shit mood and that I hate Sunday.

Usually at this sort of time of the week I start thinking that it isn't long until I will be seeing L, as I usually see her Tuesday mornings, and so I use that as something to hold on to and to try and get through until - my time when I can be honest about how I feel and talk about what is going on. But because of seeing her fortnightly that means there is an entire week and a half until I am due to see her, and that feels like a really long time away. I am not sure if I can get that far. I am not sure if I want to. I don't see the point. Whilst I look forward to seeing her, as it gives me an opportunity to be myself and talk about what is upsetting me that I don't get anywhere else, ultimately it can't change anything, If I saw her this Tuesday it wouldn't stop me feeling suicidal. The thoughts would still be there. She can't fix me - we both know that. She can support me and encourage me and listen to me and make suggestions of things that may help, but she can't fix me. The trouble is, I don't think anyone can - I feel like I am broken into too many pieces for it ever be possible for me to be whole again. I am of course aware that nobody can fix anyone - therapy is very much a two way process and you have to work really hard at it. But I just don't feel like things can ever change, and that makes me feel so hopeless. There are things that I think may help, or have more chance of helping than anything else, but they aren't things that are options for me, due to them not existing in my area (DBT, MBT and other recommended BPD treatments), or not having the money to pay for them or any chance of gaining NHS funding for them (therapeutic communities at The Cassel or The Retreat - ideally The Retreat as I think it looks more suitable for me, but hey I wouldn't be fussy!) The above treatments are those recommended in the NICE guidelines as being the most appropriate treatments for people with BPD, but I can't access any of them. At the moment I can't access anything except fortnightly sessions with a CPN and a waiting list for CAT. I have been under Mental Health services for 7 and a half years now, and things are as bad as they have ever been. I am just so exhausted and I feel so drained and I can't keep carrying on like this, but nobody can take it away, the only things I can imagine ever helping aren't available, I can't imagine things ever changing any other way, and even if they did it wouldn't be worth living like this, and that makes me feel like suicide is my only option. I didn't mean to start talking about suicide again. I meant to talk about sleep. I suppose that shows how much suicide is on my mind at the moment. Everything seems to lead back to it. Since I now have less than 7 hours until I have to be up I suppose I should try and sleep yet again......

Too much

My hopes that the rehearsal tomorrow wouldn't happen have not come to fruition unfortunately. I have to spend two and a half hours tomorrow afternoon rehearsing. I would do almost anything to get out of going, but I can't. I am really feeling like I can't face things at the moment. Not tomorrow in particular, just generally. Obviously tomorrow I have this rehearsal. Monday I have a ballet class and another rehearsal. Tuesday I am supposed to be meeting a friend in London, which I could cancel, but I had to cancel on her last time we were due to meet, and I also have been in need of some new pointe shoes for ages, so I have to go to London at some point, but keep putting it off due to stress. So I am undecided about that as yet. Wednesday I have another rehearsal. Thursday I have another rehearsal. I just can't face it all - it is too much.

The suicidal thoughts are really strong. Everything feels like too much, and I just can't cope with it, and that seems like the way out. In fact, it feels like the only way out. I have had enough. I have been struggling with all of this for seven and a half years now, or at least that was when I first sought help for it, which may not be that long by some people's standards, but it is nearly a third of my life, and has been all of my adult life. Perhaps if I believed that things could change, or that it would get easier, then I would find the ability to keep fighting and get through it, but I see absolutely no indication that I am likely to feel any different in the foreseeable future, and even if I did, I don't feel like it would be worth the pain that I have to go through every day at the moment. Nothing could be worth that.

My nephew and niece are staying the night tonight. Children are so loud. They are nice children, but I can't cope with being around them for too long - it is just too much. Everything is too much at the moment though. Not getting enough sleep isn't helping matters, but the worse I feel, the later I get to sleep, and I don't know how to break that cycle. I have felt like a complete zombie today - I find that if I take Zopiclone and then don't get enough sleep then I feel like utter shit the next day. I am debating whether or not to take it tonight - if it makes me sleep that would be really helpful, since I can't sleep for half the afternoon because of having to go to the rehearsal, but on the other hand if I take it and then am still awake at 6am, then that will make me feel even worse tomorrow. I wish so much that I didn't have to go anywhere - I was really getting my hopes up, but no such luck. I can't keep going like this.

How can you explain it?

Sleep still isn't impressive. Last night, or rather this morning, or I suppose technically speaking yesterday morning, I finally got to sleep at about 7:30am. It is now 5am, and I have had 10mg Diazepam and 7.5mg Zopiclone and I am not feeling remotely sleepy. I am not sure what to do. I know that it is because of my mood, and if I started to feel better then my sleep would improve, but I also know it is a vicious cycle, and sleeping in this pattern, and not getting enough sleep generally is going to make my mood even worse. I have absolutely no idea how to break the pattern though - the time I get up and what I do during the day don't seem to impact on the time I am able to sleep when I am feeling like this. Medication doesn't seem to be helping. I suppose I will just have to put up with it.

My parents both knew what time I got to sleep last night, as I was still awake when they got up, so my mum didn't wake me up like she often does. I still didn't sleep terribly well, or get as much sleep as I would have liked really. My dad said to me this evening that I had massive black circles under my eyes and looked really rough. I said that I was tired, and he said why don't I sleep at night then. I said that I am not sleepy. I am tired, but not sleepy. He asked why and I said I didn't know. He asked why I was feeling bad and I said I didn't know. He asked if I was thinking any bad, silly thoughts (his phrase) and I laughed. He does occasionally try to talk to me about how I am feeling, but he can never ask if I am having thoughts about suicide, or even self harm - he will say things like bad thoughts, or silly thoughts, or evil thoughts. Not evil as in thinking I was evil for having them, he just seems to think that the suicidal thoughts are evil, which they are I suppose, for making me feel so bad. I said I was just tired. How can you explain to someone that you don't remember the last day when you didn't think what they consider to be evil thoughts? That you don't remember the last time that given the choice you would pick life over death. That you have thoughts of wishing bad things would happen to the people who care about you so that you can kill yourself without upsetting people. Those are what I consider evil thoughts. I hate myself for thinking them. But I am that desperate to die. How are you supposed to explain that?

Overall my mood is really quite low. I have absolutely no motivation to do anything. It takes real effort to get out of bed to go to the toilet or something. My personal hygiene has become non existent. It is now the early hours of Saturday, and I haven't showered since Sunday. Whilst I can appreciate that is disgusting, it just seems like a much bigger thing than I am capable of doing. I am absolutely dreading this rehearsal on Sunday. I am desperately hoping it won't happen, as I am yet to hear about a time and venue for it, but I am fairly sure that unfortunately it will happen. I don't know how I will manage that. I suppose I will just have to turn up and hope for the best. The only good thing about it is that it isn't a full cast rehearsal - it is just the male lead and I, and then the director/choreographer and the musical director. So hopefully I won't have to make too much small talk. I am just really desperately hoping they decide not to rehearse Sunday after all. I am going to try and shower tomorrow. Well, today actually since it is 5:20am. I feel like such a mess. Is this living? Feeling terrible, wanting to die, unable to do anything, not wanting to talk to people, not wanting to see people, not caring about anything, not enjoying anything, having no motivation, not looking forward to anything, losing your ambitions and hopes and the things that mattered to you. I wonder if people would be so anti suicide if they had experienced feeling like that. Although obviously of course I hope very strongly that my friends who have mental health problems are able to keep going, I do understand that sometimes the pain of trying to live like that, with no pleasure or interest in anything, and constant thoughts of suicide wearing them down, means that people just can't keep going anymore, and I don't judge that. I can't judge that - I have attempted suicide twice in the past, so it would be hypocritical to judge others for doing the same but succeeding.

I had had another Zopiclone when I started writing this, so I am hoping that 2 Diazepam and 2 Zopiclone will be enough to send me off to sleep - let's give it a go. Shame it is already 5:30, but I took the Diazepam about three ago hours ago, and the Zopiclone two hours ago, so it isn't like I didn't try to sleep earlier. Let's hope it all works and I am not still awake in two hours time. I think it has to - surely my body can't withstand 20mg Diazepam and 15mg Zopiclone?!

'I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I'm living.
So different now from what it seemed.
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.'
- I Dreamed a Dream, Les Miserables

Bad sleep

My sleep is all over the bloody place. I am writing this at 6am, wide awake and yet exhausted. Oxymoron? Seems to happen a lot. Last night I think I got to sleep about 6:45am, or I suppose technically I should say this morning I think I got to sleep about 6:45am. Without fail the worse I feel the later I get to sleep. It doesn't matter what time I have woken up, or what I have done that day - my body just seems to break a bit. Not that I am pretending my sleep is ever good, but there is a definite correlation between my mood and the time I get to sleep. It is now 6:40. I really should be asleep, but I am still very awake. I took 10mg Diazepam about an hour ago to try and help my head slow down a bit to let me sleep, but it doesn't seem to have had any impact unfortunately. I didn't take any Zopiclone, because by the time I had realised I wasn't going to get to sleep, it was later than I like to take it - I only take it if I have 10 hours before I have to be awake, as otherwise I feel like a zombie the next day, and unfortunately my mum has fridays off work, and so will be at home, and will wake me up at some point. Not early, but I won't be able to sleep half the afternoon like I do sometimes. I suppose in theory that is a good thing, but I don't know what I am waking up for. Another day that I don't want.

'At the end of the day you're another day older
And that's all you can say for the life of the poor
It's a struggle, it's a war
And there's nothing that anyone's giving
One more day standing about, what is it for?
One day less to be living'

Ok, poverty isn't really an issue for me, but the rest feels appropriate. Good old Les Miserables - a lyric for every occasion. Except happy ones. It isn't called The Glums for nothing. Luckily that isn't a problem for me as I rarely have anything happy to express. It is now 6:50. Parents will be awake in a minute. I will get told off for still being awake. Never mind.

The mask is slipping

It is 4:30am and I am not even a little bit sleepy. My sleep seems to be getting worse and worse. This always happens - the worse I feel, the worse my sleep gets, and then I end up exhausted and feeling worse. It has been a difficult day. I have been feeling really low. Low is a ridiculous word to describe it - it doesn't even begin to express how I have been feeling. No words do. So for now I will use low, because there is nothing else. I have reached a point that only happens very occasionally, even when I am feeling really terrible, where I just can't pretend to be ok. Usually, even if I am feeling desperately suicidal and depressed, I can still keep up my facade, providing I don't have to spend too much time around people. But I can't do it at all at the moment. The mask is slipping. My parents both commented - according to my mum I looked peaky and they both asked what was wrong. But I didn't know. I don't know. I have absolutely no idea what is wrong. I just feel terrible, and I have no reason for it. So I just shrugged and tried not to cry. I thought I was going to be able to get out of going to ballet, as my mum had to go over to rescue my dad, who was at the flat he owns that is supposed to be let out but got flooded in the summer, and is just being repaired now, as he had somehow managed to lock himself out of his car with the keys on the inside, so she had to take the spare set over. I hoped this meant we wouldn't have time to have dinner and still leave for ballet on time, and I said to my mum maybe I shouldn't go, but she said she thought I should. Then later on, after dinner, I was feeling worse and worse - it was at this point that I was downstairs with my parents, and I came upstairs to get ready, but really didn't want to go, and ended up getting a bit upset and crying a bit, and went downstairs and said I wanted to stay at home and that I didn't want to go to ballet, but for some reason my mum had decided I really should go - I think she thinks that going out when I am feeling bad helps me - and so sent me back upstairs to get ready. I was really choking back the tears by this point - I felt awful, and I just did not want to leave the house. Then I got there, and nobody else from my class had turned up - I think there is a lot of illness around, and then some people have exams at the moment, and one girl had an audition, so I was the only person. The Wednesday class is always smaller - there are usually six or seven of us, but I was the only one. So I had to do the whole class on my own. It did at least mean I didn't have to make any small talk, but it also meant that I got lots of 'smile!' and 'use your eyes!' and 'perform it!' comments, which I just couldn't do today. I am so relieved that my rehearsal tomorrow has been cancelled. I absolutely cannot face leaving the house again any time soon. Now that is cancelled I don't have any committments until the rehearsal on Sunday, which I don't want to go to, but I am not even letting myself think that far ahead at the moment as it is too overwhelming - I am trying to just take things a day at a time. Or an hour.

I am thinking about emailing L, but I don't really know why. I don't know what I would say - I can't really send her an email saying 'Hi, just thought I would let you know I am feeling a bit down, which of course you already know' and I have nothing else to say. I can't express this. And even if I could, there is nothing she could do, so it would be pointless anyway. I suppose I just wish there was something. I am feeling really desperate, and I don't know what to do with those feelings, and it is really difficult knowing that there is nothing anyone can do to help, or to make them go away. I suppose the other reason I have been thinking about contacting her is because I have been under mental health services for so many years, and always been told to contact someone if you are having suicidal thoughts, and so when I feel like this it feels like I should be contacting her. But there is absolutely nothing she can do, and so I don't know if it would just make me feel worse - I suppose at least at the moment I can kid myself that I have an option there if I need it. When you have run out of options it is even worse. Although I know in reality that I am essentially out of options in that sense - nobody can take the thoughts away, or make them easier to cope with. I don't know. I just feel a mess.

Is hibernation an option?

I am having one of those days where I just want to curl up into a ball and disappear. I feel like shit and I don't want to have to see anyone or go anywhere ever again. I am supposed to go to a ballet class tonight, which is more or less the last thing I feel like doing. Actually anything thing involves leaving my bedroom and/or seeing people is. I could skip the class, but my teacher is already pissed off with me, because the show I am doing has meant that I can only do one ballet class a week usually instead of two, and she is not at all happy about that. This week is the only week in the foreseeable future (I don't want to foresee a fucking future) where I can make both classes, and that is because at the rehearsal tonight they are rehearsing a chorus number that I am not in. So I told her on Monday that I could make the class tonight, and got a lecture on why did I audition for a show that would mean I couldn't do both classes every week. But since I am already unpopular for that, I don't feel able to not go tonight when I have already said I would be able to go because I don't have a rehearsal. But I really don't want to go at all. And then the director of the show rung and said she wants to rehearse for three hours on Sunday, probably somewhere that is a 36 mile drive from where I live. Fantastic. I feel really fucking overwhelmed at the moment. I do not want to leave the house. I don't want to go to ballet tonight. I don't want to go to rehearsal on Sunday. I don't want anything. I just don't want to exist.

I am also really bloody pissed off with Sony. It has been established that it is a hardware problem, and therefore needs repairing. My warranty only covers collect and repair, which means being without my new laptop for 5 - 10 working days, so 1 - 2 weeks. I think that is completely unacceptable and want them to send out a technician - I don't give a flying fuck what my warranty is - their product had a serious fault within 2 days of me receiving it and that is not acceptable. It is not difficult to replace a touchpad - it would take them about 15 minutes I should think. So I am fighting that one, but having trouble getting hold of anyone who actually has any bloody authority. I have been told someone will call me back, but I am not holding my breath.

I feel so shit. I am having one of those days where I feel like smiling would hurt - it is too painful. I don't even feel capable of putting up my usual facade. I just want to curl up and die. Or hibernate. I don't care as long as it stops me feeling like this. Instead I have to pretend everything is ok and go off to a ballet class.

Support

I'm not really sure what to say. I am feeling bad. I saw L this morning. It was fine, but I just felt completely numb throughout it really. I am having trouble to really concentrate and think properly. There is also some not great news that I could have done without at the moment - I am going to have to switch from seeing her weekly to fortnightly. She is having to cut down on her hours for personal reasons, which means that some people are being switched to other care coordinators, and then some people that she has been seeing fortnightly will be switched to monthly, and those like me who were being seen weekly are being switched to fortnightly. I understand why it is necessary, but that doesn't make it any easier, particularly when I am feeling as terrible as I have been lately, and now am supposed to get through the next two weeks alone. I can't help comparing the support I have now, with what I was getting this time last year - last year I was seeing L weekly, and then also my old support worker N weekly for a couple of hours, and my psychiatrist Dr E monthly. I am now reduced to seeing L fortnightly. If this was due to an improvement in how I was doing then that would be great, but it isn't - it is unfortunately almost entirely due to staff circumstances.

N's job was cut due to funding issues - she was only on a one year contract with MIND and was then seconded to the CMHT, but MIND had their funding cut, and so her contract was not renewed, so there was no longer a support worker for me to see. That didn't bother me too much - I liked her, but I didn't have any attachment issues with her, and although sometimes it was nice to get out the house with her etc, it wasn't too difficult to stop seeing her as I still had L, who was my main source of support. My psychiatrist stopped seeing me because she had stopped all of my medications except my PRN Diazepam, which meant that she no longer felt like it was necessary to see me. Again, I didn't really have an issue with that as 15 minutes every month or two with her never felt particularly helpful, and I didn't really feel like she listened to me much. Now my contact with L is being cut because of her circumstances, which is really difficult, as essentially that hour or so a week I spend with her is the only time all week that I feel able to actually be honest about how I am feeling, and can be around someone without feeling a need to put on a front and pretend everything is fine.

Throughout my appointment I couldn't stop thinking how much I wanted to die, and how I desperately didn't still want to be alive in 2 weeks, and also what a long way away that felt, and how was I possibly meant to get through that on my own. I just felt like sitting there and crying my eyes out, but I didn't want to make her feel guilty about something that isn't her fault and that she can't do anything about. When I left I wanted to burst into tears but I couldn't because I was then in the car with my mum and a) she wouldn't have understood why only seeing L fortnightly was such a big deal, and b) I don't like showing emotion like that - I have never been good at it, and I just feel awkward and uncomfortable. I am on my own now but I just feel numb.

I have been really struggling with my weight and eating lately. Whenever my mood goes down I get increasingly fixated on my weight, and since it is post Christmas that isn't really helping at the moment. I gained a couple of pounds over Christmas, which I was expecting and so could kind of accept. But now Christmas is all over, and I am still struggling with it. I always find that when I start eating more often, like I was over Christmas, I find it more difficult to go back to my usual eating patterns, and that is the only way that I am ever able to control my weight. It doesn't help that I still have some chocolates left over from Christmas that I am working my way through, but it is more than that - I am just eating more generally than I feel comfortable with. On Saturday I was back down to my pre-Christmas weight (which is still higher than I was to be), but then Saturday and Sunday I ate too much, and so gained a pound, and expect I have gained even more as I ate a lot yesterday, but I haven't weighed today because I had to be up early to go and see L, and I have particular times I will weigh myself. But my middle of the night weight last night was considerably higher than the night before, and that is generally a fairly accurate indicator. I feel disgusting. I hate myself for being so greedy. And yet I feel so shit, and food is somehow comforting, despite being distressing at the same time. So I am comfort eating I suppose, and yet not even remotely comforting because it makes me feel shit. I don't know. I am just desperate I suppose, and in a way it feels like I may as well eat whatever the hell I want, because it isn't going to matter anyway if I am dead.

I don't know. I don't know what I am doing. I don't know how to cope with things. I don't know how I am expected to get through my life with one hour of support every two weeks. I don't even feel like I want to at the moment. I feel like such a fucking mess, and I am bloody exhausted.

Not better

Today wasn't really any better. I did get more sleep, although still not the 10 hours I would really like to get one day, but I still felt really shit and tired all day, which makes me think it is probably more a depression thing than just a sleep thing. No great surprise. I just want out, I have had enough. I am seeing L on Tuesday. I won't do anything before then. I just don't want to be alive though. And I don't think I should have to be when I feel so awful so much of the time. I can't keep living for other people - it just makes me resent them and so I am moody and snappy and irritable and just not a nice person to be around. I have obviously had suicidal thoughts for years, but for quite a few months now I have been convinced it is the right decision, even when my mood hasn't been at rock bottom. It seems like a rational decision.

I start back at ballet tomorrow for the first time since before Christmas. Usually I have to go to rehearsals Monday night following ballet, but I am not needed at rehearsal tomorrow or Wednesday, as they are working on a number I am not in. That is a massive relief. I shouldn't feel like that - I should enjoy going to rehearsals. I am supposed to be performing because I enjoy it, nobody makes me do it. But when I see a rehearsal on the schedule that I am not called for I just feel such a sense of relief. I think when I am feeling bad it just takes too much energy from me - ballet is difficult in that I have to a) get dressed, b) leave the house, c) see people, and d) be energetic, but at least there isn't too much chance for socialising at ballet - 5 or 10 minutes before class starts whilst I am getting ready, 5 minutes in the middle of the class whilst we are stretching, and 5 minutes whilst I am getting changed after, and that is about it apart from a few words now and then. That feels more manageable than a 2 and a half hour rehearsal, for obvious reasons really.

I think I will take Diazepam/Zopiclone again tonight. I took 2 Diazepam last night, rather than the 1 I usually take, and then 1 Zopiclone about half an hour later, and that seemed to make me sleep, although I did have the horrible Zopiclone taste in my mouth when I woke up. I still had 2 Zopiclone left from my last prescription of it, so I could do the same tonight without having to start on my new prescription. I could sleep without it, but I did manage to sleep an hour or 2 earlier last night than other recent nights I think, so maybe it is a good idea. If I took it now hopefully I could be asleep about 3:30/4, which whilst not exactly impressive, is definitely better than 6. I suppose it is anyway. I have to say I don't really understand why it matters that much what time you go to sleep and wake up, but everyone else seems to think it is important so I suppose it must be.

Tired

I am feeling really shit. I have felt completely exhausted all day, to the point where it took me hours to find the energy to get out of bed to go downstairs and get some food tonight. I think it is a combination of lots of nights when although I have slept ok, and got a reasonable amount by most people's standards (generally 6 - 8 hours), it hasn't been enough for me, and I don't remember the last time I got the 10 hours in a night which is what it takes for me to really feel awake. And then I think I am just completely and utterly drained emotionally. I am feeling really awful and it is really taking its toll on my energy. I feel like I am just marking time until I can make everything stop. I think I am moving back into the type of depression that involves lots of feeling exhausted and staring into space. Either that or I am just having a bad day energy wise. I have taken a couple of Diazepam and am going to have a Zopiclone or 2 and hope that I can sleep well tonight and will see how I feel tomorrow. Today has been bad, but maybe it was just a blip energy wise from a difficult day yesterday and not enough sleep and that is making me think I am more depressed than I actually am. It is weird because I feel suicidal either way. I suppose it doesn't much matter. I am not thinking very clearly. I think I will try and sleep now. I hope tomorrow is better.

Same old

I am absolutely furious because my brand new laptop that only arrived on Wednesday had a problem tonight, which means I am back on my old laptop. I was just chatting on Facebook etc, and the mouse started going funny - kept sending the cursor back to the beginning of where I was typing and it wouldn't move. Assumed it was Facebook or Internet Explorer acting up, so I tried to close the window, but couldn't click. Realised I couldn't click with the left mouse button, or using the touchpad, but the cursor and right button were still working normally. Rebooted the laptop and assumed it would all be ok. It wasn't. Got angry. Rebooted again. Still no good. Found my info stuff that came with the laptop and tried calling them. Their stupid bloody phone line is only open Monday to Friday, 8am - 6pm. Since this was a Friday at about 10pm that meant there was 3 days before I could call them. Went online to see if I could get online help - I assumed things like that were 24/7, as I used to have a Dell laptop and they seemed to have online support constantly. That is available the same as the phone. I don't have a mouse I can plug into the USB port, so I can't use my new laptop now. I am concerned it is a hardware problem, as I googled it and somewhere it said to reboot and press F10 to get the start up diagnostics thing up, and if the mouse worked there then it wasn't a hardware problem. It didn't work. From when I have learnt from Google I think it is likely to be a hardware problem and need replacing, which is a bloody pain in the arse - I waited 3 weeks after ordering for it to arrive, and now it looks like I am going to have to send it back after 3 days, and goodness knows how long it will take to get back. I haven't downloaded anything, so it can't be a virus. Pissed off.

I am feeling really shit today. Worse than I have other days this last week. Not because of the laptop, although that has pissed me off. The suicidal thoughts are really strong and I just desperately want to make everything stop. It has been a really difficult evening and everything just feels like more than I can cope with. I saw Dr O earlier. I didn't tell her how I was feeling. She doesn't actually ask. I glanced at the screen and saw my notes from the last few times I saw her - she seems to judge how well I am doing on a) whether I smile, b) how much eye contact I make, and c) how 'bright' I seem, things I have noticed other times I have looked at the screen in my appointments with her. So now if I can't be bothered to tell her how I am feeling for some reason, I just try and make sure I look at her lots and smile at appropriate times. Today I didn't want to tell her because I wanted some Zopiclone, and if I had gone in and said that I had been having strong suicidal thoughts and that I was feeling really awful, then she a) wouldn't have given it to me, and b) would have told me I had been feeling good for a long time now and so why am I feeling bad now (she always thinks I am feeling good unless I explicitly say I am feeling suicidal), and c) suggested I learn to cross stitch or something of that nature. Since I have no intention of learning to cross stitch and didn't want to tell her that actually I have been feeling shit fairly consistently and that I just don't bother telling her, for her to then say that I have seemed like I am doing really well and she definitely thinks I have been better than I was blah blah blah, because it is just frustrating and serves no purpose, I thought the smiling and eye contact approach was most appropriate. So I told her I had been sleeping badly, and she asked if it was because I was coughing and I said no (that wasn't a totally random question - last time I saw her I had a chest infection), and asked for some Zopiclone. She gave them to me on the proviso that I know they are just short term etc etc, all the usual stuff. So I have 28 Zopiclone now. I am not quite sure why I wanted them really. They don't help me sleep, or at least 1 (7.5mg) doesn't. In fact, it tends to make me quite hyper. 3 or 4 do, but it isn't really advisable to take them 3 or 4 at a time. I think it is partly so that when I am having a bad day and just really need to knock myself out I can take a few and know that I will get some sleep. And partly because I like having them. I like having pills around. It makes me feel safe and like I have an option if things get too much. Obviously not just Zopiclone, but generally. I told her I am still taking 1 - 2 Diazepam a day, which always pleases her, and because I had so many boxes at the beginning I don't need a refill every month, so it looks like I take less than I do. Although I actually do only take 1 most days. But some days I have more. I technically didn't really need to get any today as I found a box of 56 I hadn't opened from the time before last that I saw her, but I thought I may as well, as I like to have spares. It was a fairly uneventful appointment really. She said she would refer me to the physio because I have been having problems with my upper hamstrings for a few months now.

I wish there was an easy way out of all of this, that wouldn't involve hurting people.