Another day

It isn't getting any easier. Last night was horrible. I literally was unable to keep my eyes open, and fell asleep, crying because I needed to stay awake longer so that I could wait for my parents to go to bed and kill myself but just couldn't do it. I slept for a few hours, and then woke at about 2:30am I think. I was still feeling utterly exhausted, but not sleepy. I needed the toilet but I didn't have the energy to move, so I held it in for about three hours before I finally reached the point where it was moving or wetting the bed. When I woke up I was questioning whether or not it was too late in the night to go ahead with my plan. I don't do things on impulse, and I will not attempt suicide unless I think there is at least some chance of it working, and obviously the higher the better, and for my first choice plan this means leaving as much time as possible before anyone will find me. My second choice plan isn't time limited, but is very much a last resort plan as far as I am concerned. I knew that the man from the DWP could arrive any time after 9:30am, which meant that potentially I didn't have that long, or at least not in comparison to the length of time I would sometimes have, and I was yet to write the note I wanted to leave, which would have taken some time, and so ultimately I decided I couldn't do anything. I decided I would prefer to wait one or two more days and have a higher chance of it being successful. I was still very upset about it all though, and once I had woken up I couldn't get back to sleep for at least four hours. I came online and talked to Danni on Facebook chat for a long time, who was very supportive. I found I was getting increasingly worked up about everything, and so in the end decided to call out of hours, and ended up speaking to the same woman I had spoken to the previous night. She seemed different last night - I suspect she had looked at my notes and seen the BPD diagnosis, as she was certainly less supportive than she had been the night before, and started going on about doing a part time college course and moving out and various other things that feel beyond me when I am doing better, let alone at the moment, whereas the previous night she had been surprised by the lack of support and was telling me I needed to fight to get suitable help. Of course I can't prove anything, but her attitude was definitely different last night. It didn't really help talking to her, as the things she was talking about were just so far out of my realm of possibilities that it was more frustrating than anything else. After I spoke to her I came back online for a little while, but was feeling really quite upset, and decided I would go and invade my mum's bed and sleep in there, which I sometimes do when I feel shit.

Today my mum woke me up at around midday, as the DWP man arrived. It was pretty ridiculous really - he had been sent around because the Inland Revenue had a query about the amount of interest my savings account had made in 06/07. They thought it seemed too high. I said that since I have always had to send off bank statements to the DWP, they have always known how much money I have, and so I don't see how there can be a query about the interest, when they had a statement to go with it. He said it clearly hadn't been entered on the system properly or he wouldn't have been sent around. It seems ridiculous that they will send someone around about something from five years ago, that would have been unnecessary if people had done their jobs properly. He then had to go through all of his form and ask if I had had any changes in circumstances, if I was still unable to work, etc etc. I have got to dig out all of my bank statements since November '09 and send them to him - that will be a mission. He was very friendly though, not remotely confrontational or pushy, and if I hadn't been feeling so awful and exhausted it wouldn't have been remotely stressful.

This afternoon my mum dragged me (pretty much literally) out on a walk with the dog with her. I didn't want to go - I felt ridiculously tired, my head was feeling like it was going to explode, and my legs felt like lead. I can't say it was remotely enjoyable, in fact I loathed it, but at least they can't say I am not trying. She has also been making sure I have some food, although I have absolutely no appetite. I am not eating three meals a day, or anything even approaching it, but I am having something every day. The suicidal thoughts have been very intense again today. I got very upset earlier and just kept telling my mum I wanted to die. Today I felt like I reached a point where I no longer wanted help, I didn't care that L wasn't doing anything, or that I couldn't see the crisis team, or anything else. I just don't care anymore. I am too drained and too exhausted, and too sick of fighting. I have given up on trying to get help, as it clearly doesn't work, and I feel fine about that. I just don't want to be here.

Today I have felt very undecided about whether I was going to act on the thoughts tonight or not. It is actually another blogger who has made me decide not to do anything tonight. I desperately want to, but another day can't hurt right?? A couple of days ago the lovely Karita offered to come and visit me tomorrow. At the time I was planning to kill myself last night, but since I am still here today, I have decided that I can get through one more night. It amazes me how kind and caring people can be - I am so grateful to all of you out there who have been so supportive of me. It means so much. Lovely Frankie phoned earlier and we had a nice chat. I feel very lucky to have such caring people around me, albeit online rather than in person (except for tomorrow of course). I also have my GP appointment tomorrow, which again, I wasn't planning to be here for, but the combination of that and Karita visiting are making me think I must get through tonight. I know there is nothing my GP can do, and as I said, I am past the point where I want help to be honest, but she was very caring and supportive when I spoke to her yesterday, and she said repeatedly that she really wanted me to go and see her tomorrow, so I will. There really is nothing she can do - L has effectively blocked both the crisis team and hospital, and I don't even think that seeing the crisis team would be enough anymore anyway, and I don't want to be in hospital. I think this is the worst depression I have ever been in. It isn't lifting at all, and there is usually at least some part of me that wants help, but trying so hard to get it and getting nowhere has just taken the last of my fight out of me, and I have nothing left. I have been trying to do what I am told - I went to bed early last night, and it was a disaster, I went for a walk and hated it, and it exhausted me to the point that I had to go back to bed and just lie down in the dark when I got back - I didn't even have the energy to have my laptop on. At least nobody will be able to say I haven't tried everything. But I will get through tonight, and tomorrow I will spend some time with Karita, who is lovely (and I am sure spending time with friends must be another approved thing to do - they always seem to ask if I have friends I can see), and I will see my GP, and hopefully that will be the end of my involvement with any professionals. I did feel like it was unfair of me to let Karita come all this way to see me when I am such a mess and will probably be really shit company, but she has assured me that she doesn't mind. I don't care what anyone says - the internet is really really great. (Any musical theatre fans can carry on with the lyrics from there!)

This evening

I am absolutely exhausted, to the point where I don't think I can keep my eyes open any more. I got very little sleep last night, and it has been a really draining day. I feel gutted. I was really determined to kill myself tonight, but my parents will still be up for another hour/hour and a half, and I don't think I can say awake that long. I feel immensely frustrated. My GP rung me earlier, after afternoon surgery. Actually she rung the landline and spoke to my mum first, but I don't know what she said to her. Then she spoke to me and said that things were really tough at the moment weren't they, and I said yes. She said how it seemed a particularly bad period, and I said it is. I talked to her for quite a while. I got quite upset several times. She said she wanted me to go and see her Friday - I said I couldn't cope and I intended to be dead by then. She said that she had spoken to L, and L had very clearly told her not to refer me to the crisis team under any circumstances. She kept saying she really wanted to see me on Friday and we could talk about things then. I said there was no point, as there was nothing she could do, and I wanted to die today, but she said she was putting it in her diary anyway and would expect to see me. She said I sounded too exhausted to act on my thoughts. I said I was absolutely shattered but that I would find the energy. And yet now I don't seem to be able to, and it is upsetting me. I can't remember what else my GP said. She was very supportive, but it was also very clear she had been told by L not to suggest admission or crisis team input, as she responded different to how she usually would, and did make a point a couple of times of saying she had spoken to L. I said how pissed off and upset I was that I felt like I was being treated like a typical Borderline, and given no support or help, when this was quite clearly a depressive episode, and that if I didn't have a BPD diagnosis there was no way on earth that I would just be left to get on with things like this with no support, and people knowing I was planning to kill myself. She didn't disagree.

My mum then wanted to talk to me. I explained to her the same BPD/Depression frustrations, and how I don't understand why when I meet every criteria without exception for one illness, and just about manage to get the 5 criteria needed for diagnosis for the other, that is seen as my primary diagnosis and I am treated based on that. She asked to see the diagnostic criteria and printed it off and said she would call L tomorrow. I also told her how much L had changed - that she used to be really supportive and caring and how she is just totally unhelpful and I think she hates me, and I think she has been taken over or replaced or something, because it is genuinely like she is a different person - based on the way she speaks to me now compared with six months ago I wouldn't recognise her as the same person. I am worried about my mum talked to L. L can clearly force her way of thinking onto others, in the way that she has with my GP (although I believe it was somehow forced onto L in the first place, but I am not sure how) and so she will make my mum think she is right about everything. All of this was probably about a ten minute conversation and then she seemed to get bored of the wanting to talk thing and went off downstairs, and then later when I said I thought she wanted to talk, she first of all said that I wouldn't ever talk to her, then remembered I had and said that we had already talked and that she wanted to go downstairs and drink her wine. I can't trust anyone. Nobody is reliable. I was prepared to tell my mum everything, including my suicidal intent, but she was more interested in going and having a glass of wine. My GP has been restricted so she is as good as useless, as she can't even refer me to someone, and it doesn't matter how sympathetic she is, if she can't do anything it doesn't help. And L has changed beyond recognition.

I can't keep my eyes open. I suppose I am going to have to sleep. Maybe I will be able to wake up in the night. I don't know. I don't want to sleep. I don't want to get through tonight. I want to die. But it appears that my GP was right and I am too bloody exhausted to even do that. I feel thoroughly useless.

Broken

I don't know what to say. I feel broken. Everything feels wrong. The suicidal thoughts are incessant. My concentration is non existent, as is my motivation to do anything. I am constantly exhausted and yet still can't sleep properly. I don't seem to have much appetite at all, which my eating disorder is of course not minding, but it feels a bit wrong. If I have the TV or music on, even quietly, it feels like it is drilling through my head, unless I have a Diazepam first, which helps slightly. When you can't read, watch TV, listen to music, or do anything involving brain power (sometimes I do puzzle books when I can't concentrate to read, but they take more brain power than I have at the moment) I find there really aren't any distraction techniques. I come online but most of the time I seem to just stare at the screen in a daze. And then it gets too much and gives me a headache and I have to log off. I am completely alone as everyone in real life is against me. I am not entirely sure about my dad yet - he may not be, but I am not convinced. My mum is definitely completely on their side, 100%. In fact it is worse than that because she comes up with theories on everything, including me, and then presents them as though they are fact. Apparently it is like being a drug addict who needs more and more drugs, except for me it is support. Which is bollocks. When I was doing better and had weekly appointments with L I didn't have a problem with my level of support. However, when I am feeling how I am now, I do feel I need more support because it is too much to try and deal with alone. Today has been a very difficult day. Very emotional. I suppose this evening/tonight really. The suicidal thoughts have been incredibly strong and I have spent a lot of time either staring at the wall feeling completely numb, or getting upset and finding myself rocking and crying. There has been screaming at my mum for continuing to justify the shitness of mental health services and screaming at my mum because I am just in so much pain. Lots more crying. Desperate. Even now the thoughts of killing myself are incredibly strong. My eyes are stinging from all the crying. I have been very attached to my teddy bear the last two days. This is something that happened once before in a particularly bad patch. I wouldn't leave the house without him. At the moment he is being carried wherever I go, and my arm is around him as I am typing, which isn't convenient, but I suppose he is my security. I have had him since my first Christmas, and he has been virtually everywhere with me - his home has always been on my bed, and he has been on holiday with me, he went to university with me, he went into hospital with me - he has been nearly everywhere I have been. And throughout my life when I have been upset I have come to my room and cried on my bed with him. I am getting increasingly scared of leaving the house. I was trying to remember when I last went anywhere but thinking gives me a headache. I shouldn't have tried. All the days and nights have merged and I am thoroughly confused. On Monday I have to go to ballet and rehearsal and I am already feeling incredibly anxious about it. Not going isn't an option unless I am dead, but the thought of having to go out and be around people and be sociable fills me with dread, and ridiculous as it sounds, I don't want to be without my teddy. It is my mum's birthday on Monday. That means I need to pretend to be ok so I don't ruin the day for her, and I don't think I can do that at the moment. I feel like a shit daughter and that she would be better off without me. Everything feels much too much. I feel like I am going to snap really soon.

Nothing

Today has been a strange day in that nothing has happened. That wouldn't usually be strange, but given that when I saw the crisis team yesterday they told me they would be speaking to L and psychiatrist today and try and get me an appointment to see a psychiatrist as soon as possible, and then when I spoke to the crisis team woman last night she said they were going to phone first thing today (amongst other threats), I am slightly baffled that I haven't heard from anyone. They may have tried to phone the landline I suppose, but I gave them my mobile number when I was first referred to them and told them to contact me on that as I don't answer the landline (I don't like not being able to see who is calling, and nobody ever phones me on the landline, so I just end up being an answerphone on the odd occasion I do answer it), and so they have called my mobile whenever they have rung me, plus there is no answerphone on the landline, so I am assuming they haven't called, and I haven't heard anything from L either. I wasn't necessarily expecting to, as I am due to see her in the morning, but if for example the crisis team had spoken to her and decided to stop seeing me, I would have thought she would have phoned, or they would have phoned to tell me so, and if they are still seeing me then I am not sure why they haven't contacted me.

I am not sure how I feel about it. Part of me is relieved. I didn't want to speak to scary woman from last night again. And I was feeling less and less like I wanted help yesterday, and feeling increasingly that it was a mistake to tell my GP how I was feeling and get referred to the crisis team, so perhaps it is for the best. But I dislike changes to plans, and the plan was that they were going to call me this morning, so for that reason I don't like that they didn't, just as I didn't like that they didn't call yesterday but just randomly turned up. I suppose I am still slightly concerned that might happen and that they will just randomly arrive, but I think it is unlikely now that it has got to this time of day and I haven't heard from them at all. And I would certainly have a massive complaint if they did turn up and felt it appropriate to break confidentiality as threatened yesterday, after not even contacting me all day, as they are quite clearly not concerned.

I was supposed to go to ballet and rehearsal tonight but I couldn't face leaving the house. I did try to make myself, but in the end it just felt impossible. I told the director of the show that I have an upset stomach. I just couldn't even face the showering and getting dressed part, let alone leaving the house and having to be sociable. I think I would just end up having a complete melt down. I don't even want to leave the house to see L tomorrow, but I will. I am also exhausted. My sleep isn't really improving, although I have taken 10mg Diazepam the last two nights, at the suggestion of the crisis team. It was about 6am when I got to sleep, and then my sleep was quite disturbed, and I eventually stopped trying to sleep at about 12, so allowing for the time spent awake I think I got a maximum of about 5 hours. I am still feeling much the same really, although feeling less like I want help. I am not sure if that is because I am feeling worse, or because I felt intimidated by the woman last night and it has scared me. It sounds ridiculous as they are meant to help, but I found that whilst I was talking to her the suicidal thoughts were just getting more and more intense, and I was getting a lot of really graphic images in my head, which I wasn't able to shake all night, or today. I have been having quite intrusive thoughts regarding killing myself, which have been somewhat different in content to my usual thoughts. I am feeling thoroughly exhausted.

Crisis team visit

I have had a visit from the crisis team. They called about 2:30 and checked it was ok to come, and arrived about an hour later. It was a man and a woman, both of whom I have seen before, but don't really remember much about. I had a vague recollection of the man when I saw him but if he hadn't said that he had seen me before I doubt I would have remembered. The woman I recognised by her voice - she has a lovely Irish accent, and so when she spoke I remembered seeing her before. It all feels a bit of a blur, I feel a bit like I have been hit by a bus. Not implying that they were bus-like or anything. It is just exhausting. The man did all the talking whilst the woman wrote notes.

They asked how I was, and I fairly stupidly said ok. Because it seems like the polite reply? What I find confusing about the crisis team is that they ask questions that either they already know the answer to, or if they don't then they should, as it would only take a quick peek at the notes. There seemed to be a bit of confusion as they started by saying I had switched GPs to the one I go to now, and that I used to be under another county, and I said yes, but that was two and a half years ago. I have been under the care of the crisis team since then. They then went on to say I had been under a CMHT in the other county, and I said yes, but again, that was two and a half years ago, and I have been under my current one since, and they then asked if I was still under my current team and who my care coordinator was, and when I last saw her. Surely this is all fairly simple stuff that would literally have taken a quick glance at my notes to find out? Anyway, then they said I had been to my GP yesterday and told her I was feeling depressed and suicidal and so she had referred me to them. It sounded slightly accusatory - I really didn't want them to think I was being attention seeking and to be written off as being another Borderline etc. I explained that I see my GP monthly and yesterday was just a routine appointment, but that obviously we had discussed how I was feeling. They asked some questions about how my mood was, how long it had been like it etc, and asked what had concerned my GP and made her contact them, and I said that she hadn't said she was concerned, but presumably saying I was suicidal? Seemed a bit obvious to be honest.... They asked about medication and I said that I was only on PRN Diazepam (again, perhaps check the notes?) but that when I spoke to L earlier in the week she had said perhaps it was time to consider medication again, and they agreed with that and said that they thought I should see Dr E. It is all a bit vague. I was finding a lot of things quite distracting - my head for a start, but then I have been having a lot of issues with external noises lately - I can't even have music or the TV on in the background like I would usually as I find it stressful and irritating, so noises like the wind howling (and my house is 16th century and therefore one big draft - the wind really howls) and the dog barking etc make me very tense. It appears that this was obvious in the way that I was behaving, because at one point when I talked about how difficult it was to distract myself because of not liking any noise, they said that they had noticed how tense and agitated I seemed by the dog barking and when the wind got louder etc. They talked about my sleep and went through the usual things of no caffeine too late at night, try having a bath before bed to relax you, try taking extra Diazepam etc. They asked about getting out of the house and seeing friends etc, and I said I didn't really see any friends, and that apart from my appointment with my GP yesterday I last left the house on Wednesday for rehearsal. They asked about my suicidal thoughts, and I talked for a few minutes about wanting to die, and how I feel it is perfectly reasonable given how long I have been feeling bad for etc. I think it was around this time the woman took over the talking. I liked her voice. Her accent was soothing. They asked if I thought about suicide methods, and I said constantly, and they asked if I could tell them what. I hesitated over this for a minute, as I didn't want anything taken from me or anything, so I said that I didn't really like talking about a plan. They asked if there was anything I could do to make myself safer so that I would be less likely to act on it, like give them anything, and I said that at the moment I didn't feel like I wanted to be safe - that I wanted to be able to act on the thoughts, because I didn't want to be alive. They asked if I would call if I needed to - if I was feeling worse, and I tried to explain what I had said to the man yesterday - that if I was feeling like I was going to act on my thoughts then I couldn't call because I would be too determined by that point and I wouldn't want help.

She got a bit tougher at that point - prior to then she had been quite softly spoken and gentle, and I kind of assumed she was just that type, but she got a lot more kind of authoritative and assertive and I realised she wasn't the type of person to try and bullshit actually. She went on to talk about supporting me over the weekend - she said they could call me tomorrow, and visit again if necessary, and that then on Monday they would talk to L about what the best option was, but that I had to be willing to work with them and to try and keep myself safe etc. She said one of the things that I would be expected to do was call them if I needed to, if I was feeling at risk or something. I said I understood what she was saying, but that I would not be able to call if I was feeling like I was going to act on my thoughts, because if things felt any worse and I was feeling any more overwhelmed then I wouldn't want help. She said she understood that, but that she would want me to call before it got to that point, if I felt like things were getting worse, rather than waiting until it was at the point where I was about to kill myself. That made sense, but at the same time it didn't - if things were any worse then I would be at the point where I was about to kill myself. That was why I had told my GP and the crisis team man I spoke to last night how I was feeling. I don't think there would be a middle step between here, and being at the point where it was too late for me to want help. I was feeling ambivalent about it anyway. So I wasn't really sure what to do about that, and I'm still not to be honest. I am feeling unsafe, although I think I can probably get through tonight because it isn't a night I would consider suitable, but I am struggling with that. For some reason I didn't know how to put that into words, so I couldn't explain, so I just said that I would try. She said how the crisis team is an alternative to hospital admission, and how obviously in hospital you have staff around you all the time, which you obviously don't with them, but that was why they gave out this number, and to call it if I needed to talk to someone. And that was more or less it really. Or at least it wasn't, but it was all I can remember.

I am not sure what to feel. I am absolutely exhausted. I have been writing this on and off for 4 hours now - they hadn't long left when I started it, and it is now 8:30. My head is all over the place. I just can't think or concentrate and I am finding my thoughts really distracting. I am glad they weren't completely dismissive like I was concerned they might be, but I am still feeling unsure about whether I can get through this, even with their support. I do feel like I need to see them again tomorrow, but it is difficult as my parents will be home all day, and I feel extremely uncomfortable trying to talk to someone if my parents are in the house, partly because I am worried about being overhead, and that makes me not want to be honest, and partly because I don't trust them not to insist on speaking to my parents as has happened in the past, which I don't think is fair when I am an adult who just happens to live with my parents. I am so tired, and I have a headache, but I think that if I try and sleep now I will wake up in a few hours and not be able to get back to sleep. I don't know what to think about everything. I need to stop writing because trying to think is hurting my head.

Referral to crisis team

I had an appointment with my GP this afternoon, as I mentioned yesterday. I had quite mixed feelings about what to say to her. I didn't know how much to say. I didn't know if I wanted help or not. I didn't know whether I would be able to get help or not, even if I did ask for it. I just knew how suicidal I was feeling, and that if I left there without asking for/getting support then I would not get through the weekend - it just wasn't going to happen. Within a couple of minutes of me going in she commented that I seemed to be having trouble with my concentration, which I am. I keep losing my train of thought in the middle of a sentence and then just kind of drifting off and forgetting what I was answering. I can't really remember the appointment very well, I don't remember what order things happened, or even what she asked really. I know I was in there for quite a long time. I told her how bad my sleep was, and she asked if I had any of the sleeping tablets left, and I said that I did but they didn't help, which was why I hadn't been taking them really. She had received a letter from the psychologist that had been sent to L that she had been CCed on, and asked me what that was about. I told her I had an assessment with the psychologist and she had put me on the waiting list for CAT. She asked if there being a psychologist there was new, as she never seems to have any patients who are seeing them, and I said that it wasn't, but since there is only one part time psychologist in the team not many people get to see her. She asked what CAT was, and how it was different from CBT, and I tried to explain, but my mind was really wandering, so she is probably none the wiser. She asked how long the therapy lasts for, and I said either 16 or 24 sessions, and she asked how long the waiting list was and I said up to 18 weeks. She got very frustrated by that - she said how ridiculous it is that there are such long waiting lists for things like that, particularly when the government are so keen to get people back to work and all that sort of thing - she said it really winds her up that mental health services are so underfunded. At some point I started getting slightly upset - I wasn't crying, but I knew that if I tried to speak I would start crying, so I just sat there trying to breathe for a minute. She was very sweet and asked what the matter was. When I finally felt like I could speak without bursting into tears I told her that I was just really struggling and feeling really bad. She asked how long I had been feeling like this for, and said (as predicted!) what a shame it was when I had been doing so well. I said I was just feeling really awful and the suicidal thoughts were really strong, and she said how I have felt like this before and that I know it will pass and so I could get through it, and I said that I didn't want to, I just wanted to die. She joked that if I said that she would have to suggest I started cross stitching again. She asked when I was seeing L, and I said that I was due to see her Tuesday. She talked to me for quite a while asking if I had any plans over the weekend, and if I had any friends I could see or talk to or anything who were supportive. She was very supportive and kept trying to encourage me that I could get through, and said to try and find something I could do over the weekend, and then go and talk to L on Tuesday, and that I could see her again sooner than usual if I felt I needed to, and that she was really sorry I was feeling so bad, but that it would get better etc. I didn't really know what to say - I find it really difficult to be totally blunt about how bad things are when I am actually speaking to someone, and I just felt so drained, and like I was going to burst into tears, so I said goodbye, and got about 2 feet outside her door and turned around and went back in and said I really didn't feel able to get through the weekend. She asked what I would like her to do, and I said I had no idea, I just couldn't cope. She asked if I had the out of hours number, and I briefly explained the mess of when I tried to call a couple of weeks ago. She said that was ridiculous, and that she was going to call the crisis team and ask them to make contact with me over the weekend, and that hopefully having that support would make it easier to keep going. Overall she was very supportive, and I felt like she actually gave a shit about what happened to me. Obviously mental health isn't her area of expertise, but when I am truly in crisis she does seem to try hard to support me. She spent a long time with me today - I must have been with her for about 40 minutes, and she did genuinely seem to care.

About an hour later I got a call from the crisis team. To be honest I wasn't really expecting them to call today - I thought it would be tomorrow, so I was quite surprised. I spoke to a man whose name I can't remember who actually seemed perfectly nice. Initially I thought it was going to be one of those quick 'oh great, we've had a Borderline referred, better give them a quick ring' calls that I have had in the past. He did things like asking if this was the first time I had felt like this (I always wonder why they ask things like that when they quite clearly have your notes in front of them) and then asking what had helped me get through in the past, or if after a while I just started feeling better, and when was I next seeing L. I said that nothing really helped, but that after a while it would start to get a bit easier. He said the stuff about how if I have got through it before then I could again, and I said that I didn't want to. That I was sick of getting through a really horrible patch just for another one to come along, and that I just didn't want to be here any more. I also said that this was actually the worst I had felt for quite a long time - that the suicidal thoughts were stronger this time than they have been for a long time. He asked how long, but I didn't really know - again, my whole conversation with him was rather stumbling and confused as I just couldn't think properly. I said I have been feeling bad for years now, and things never get any better and that I have just had enough - that I don't want to be here. He asked if I had any plans regarding suicide, and I said that it was all I could think about. He asked what I would do, and I said that I didn't want to say because that makes things rather awkward (as in my experience they have then merely attempted to take away whatever method I say I am planning, which doesn't solve anything, as I am still left with the feelings). He asked if I had the means to carry it out, and I said yes, and that if I couldn't use one method then I would use the other that I consider. He asked if I would call someone if I felt I was going to act on my thoughts, and I said no - that if I was any closer to suicide then I wouldn't want to speak to anyone because I wouldn't want to be stopped, and that it was difficult enough to tell Dr O how I was feeling, but that if I was about to do something then I would not call anyone, as it would seem completely counterproductive - if I was any more suicidal than I am now then I would just want to die, I wouldn't want to talk to someone. We talked about my sleep, and how the nights are when I feel most unsafe, as I know I have quite a few hours when my parents are asleep, and so it would be quite a long time before anyone found me etc. He asked about plans for the weekend etc, and I said I didn't have any. He said that the crisis team could visit me tomorrow, but that I needed to commit to keeping myself safe and would that be ok. I said I couldn't promise that - that I could try, but I couldn't give him a guarantee, because I didn't know for sure, and there would be a chance I wouldn't be able to. He asked why not, and I said that if things got too overwhelming then I couldn't be sure I wouldn't act on the thoughts, and he said that he was hoping that if they were seeing me and giving me support then it would stop that from happening, but that he understood and wouldn't ask me to promise, and that they would come out to see me tomorrow. He did ask me more, but I can't remember, and I can't remember the order of most of the conversation. At first I felt like he was just going to make a quick five minute phone call where he would ask when I was seeing L, reassure me that I had got through times like this before, and say to talk to L about it when I saw her, but actually he talked to me for a long time, and was pretty thorough and reasonable. He said they would come out and visit me tomorrow, but that if I needed to speak to someone before then I could call, and he said that he would give me their number, which he shouldn't really do until after they had seen me and assessed me, but that if I needed to call then to phone that, which goes through to a call centre where you leave your name and number, and someone would then call me back as soon as possible. So I have them coming out to see me sometime tomorrow, which I am quite nervous about. I would actually really like it to be him that came out, but that is very unlikely. It's funny, as usually I am much more comfortable with women than men, but the women who work for the crisis team seem to be either patronising, dismissive, intimidating, or a combination of the above, whereas there have actually been a couple of men who have seemed very reasonable. I am pretty much expecting it to be a couple of the scary women (there is one in particular who I have seen several times who I find really intimidating so am really hoping it isn't her) who will come out and either be very dismissive and say that I seem to have suicidal thoughts frequently and that I can get through this and to talk to L on Tuesday, perhaps also breaking my confidentiality by talking to my mum and telling her to confiscate all pills and dressing gown cords etc as I am a suicide risk, as that tends to be my experience with the crisis team, but I am really hoping it isn't like that. It is over two years since they last came out to see me etc - I think I have been referred one other time since then, but someone just spoke to me on the phone and decided I would be ok, and I have been assessed by them several times in A&E, during Summer '09, but I haven't actually had a visit from them for over two years, and I am a bit nervous. I hate the way they always visit in pairs - it feels really intimidating. I just really, really hope that it is someone who actually takes me seriously and tries to help, rather than just dismisses how I am feeling in the way that they so often seem to. I tried to be really honest with the man on the phone, as I figured it couldn't do any harm - it couldn't take suicide away as an option, but it might get me some support. I hope that I can do the same tomorrow, and that they actually take me seriously like he seemed to. I suppose if they don't I won't be any worse off than I would have been had I not seen them though. And it might help. The difficulty is, that as I explained to him, it is the night time that I feel most unsafe, and even if they are doing daily visits, they can't be here now, when the thoughts are at their strongest. But I will just have to see how it goes.

Limit

Surely I will have to sleep better tonight?! I have to. I have been so exhausted and felt so dreadful today - I surely can't have another night as bad as last night??

I am feeling really hopeless. I don't understand why you are always told to tell someone if you are feeling suicidal, but then if you do then you don't get any support or help. What is the point of telling someone? I have an appointment booked with my GP tomorrow, just because I see her every month for meds etc. I don't really see the point of going. There are no meds she would give me that I could use. I don't need the usual meds if I won't be around. She wouldn't be able to help with how I am feeling now even if I told her, which I would be unlikely to do. I could tell her, but I know there is nothing she could do, and she would try and help by suggesting something I find unhelpful or unrealistic - previous examples have included going to church, learning to cross stitch, and most randomly of all, training as a DBT therapist because it sounds like a good therapy that isn't available in our area..... Also, if I ever tell her I am doing badly she tells me I have been so much better for so long, which is of course always bollocks - I just haven't bothered telling her how I have been feeling generally because I know she can't help. So I can't imagine that telling her would help anything, but I am feeling so bad that I don't know if I could fake it in the way that I usually do. And will end up feeling patronised, and hopeless that yet another professional knows how I am feeling but hasn't done anything to help, which is the inevitable outcome. So that makes me want to not go at all.

I just want to make everything stop. I want to die. Living feeling like this is not an option, and I can't get any help, despite trying. I have tried so hard. Asking L to call me today when she hadn't got back to me earlier in the week was really difficult to do, because I was already feeling really rejected and hurt by it, and even though she was nice when I spoke to her it just confirmed that I didn't matter enough for her to bother contacting me, and that despite knowing I was feeling very suicidal she didn't suggest or do anything. And I know there is a limit to what she can do, but there is also a limit to how long I can keep going like this, and nobody seems to realise that.

Exhausted

I suppose it must be possible to feel worse than I am, but right now I can't imagine how. I feel exhausted and desperate and alone, and I can't put into words how bad I feel. My sleep was even worse than usual. I finally managed to get to sleep about 7:30am, and slept for about an hour and a half before waking up and not being able to get back to sleep for a while. Then I kept going back to sleep, but only for about 30 or 40 minutes at a time, and then waking up and not being able to sleep again. I probably managed about 4 hours total in the end, maybe a little more, but it was so disturbed and broken, with long patches of being awake in between, and the longest I managed to sleep for without waking up was the first 90 minutes, and was then awake for quite a while before I managed to get back to sleep. So I am exhausted. I feel like complete shit.

I spoke to L a little while ago. In complete desperation at about 7:15 this morning I sent her a text asking if she could please call me at some point today. She rung about an hour ago. I am shit on the phone. Particularly when I am feeling as bad as I am at the moment, and I don't think the exhaustion is helping. I can't remember much of the conversation. I know I had difficulty forming sentences and finding the word I meant, so my part of the conversation was all very slow and confused. She asked how I was and I said bad, and she asked what I had been doing this week. I asked what day it was, and she said you tell me, and I said I honestly had no idea, I was too confused. She told me it was Thursday, and I said I had been to rehearsal twice and that was about it. I was semi crying most of the phone call. I said I couldn't keep going like this, that I felt too bad and I just couldn't cope. She asked if my mood had suddenly dropped or if it had just been getting worse and worse. I was a bit confused by this, because I had emailed her Monday morning, so surely she knew my mood was very low. I asked if she had got the email and she said that she had and that she was sorry she hadn't had time to reply. Which kind of confirmed to me that I don't really matter. She asked what I thought about what the psychologist had said, and I said I found it really hard to think about, because it just seemed such a long way ahead and I couldn't imagine being alive that far ahead and that I just couldn't think about it; that it seemed irrelevant. I said I was feeling really suicidal and that I wanted to die. She said the usual type of things - that I needed to try and find one or two things that I could do each day to give my life some structure, and that I could work on getting my sleep pattern better, and not to view suicide as an option as it wasn't helpful etc etc. I spoke to her for about 15 minutes and then she said she was going to have to go, and that she would see me Tuesday, and that she was sorry I was feeling so awful. So at least now I have spoken to her, and I know that she received and read my email and knows how I am feeling, and it doesn't seem like more support is an option. I am too exhausted to care or even really have any feelings about it.

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

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.

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.

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......

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.

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.

Still here

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

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

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

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

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