Invalidation and anger

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

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

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

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

New Year blues

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

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

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

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

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

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

Childhood Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yuck

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

Dinner

I think I do have a chest infection. I decided that coughing up green nasty stuff is not good, so phoned and asked to speak to my GP. They got her to call me back, and she said she would send a script down to the chemist for antibiotics. So I will get them tomorrow. Which is leaving it rather late for Sunday, but there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. The Sudafed is definitely helping with the congestion generally - I have gone through far, far less tissues today than I did yesterday or Wednesday, so that is something!

I went out for dinner with a friend tonight. It was the friend I was supposed to go out for lunch with weeks ago ago, and then I cancelled because I was getting stressed about eating out at lunch time etc. She texted me earlier and said she was free tonight and did I want to go out for something to eat. I wasn't sure whether to or not, I didn't know if I fancied eating out (well, I rarely fancy out, but I wasn't sure if I felt up to it) plus of course I am not feeling great physically, but she isn't often free, so I decided I would. We went out about 8, and I hadn't eaten anything all day, so it was easier than if I had already had a meal. I actually managed to eat a 2 course meal without even trying to go to the toilets and purge, which is unusual for me. I usually at least go to the toilets and then if they are empty I purge and if there are people in there I don't, but I didn't even go near them, so that was good. I knew I really couldn't purge, since I already have a sore throat, and purging always hurts my voice, and more damage is the last thing I need right now. Which is one of the reasons I wasn't sure about eating out, but I managed it. It was nice to see her. Despite her living down the road, I hadn't seen her since August, which is kind of ridiculous really, but she works during the day, and then in the evening I am often out at rehearsals or dance classes, and she is often busy, so there just rarely seems to be time when we are free. So yes, it was good to catch up with her.

Fed up

I don't know what I am doing with myself today. I am really finding this lack of concentration hard. I don't know what to do about ballet tonight. I was intending not to go because of hurting my back the other day. But it is feeling slightly better today, although it is still uncomfortable. I suppose I just don't know what else to do with myself if I don't go. Dancing on an injury isn't the brightest thing to do, but maybe it would be ok. I kind of have issues with missing dance classes because then I am not burning calories and so my weight is more likely to be a problem. I found it hard last night not being able to dance at rehearsal - I kept thinking of all the calories I wasn't burning. And then when I ate I felt like I didn't deserve to because I hadn't done anything to burn off the calories. I am supposed to have a dance rehearsal tomorrow too, but I don't think I will be able to do that. Doing a ballet class is one thing, because I can just do what I feel able to etc, but I wouldn't feel comfortable doing lifts etc when I still have an injury because it would be too easy to aggravate it. My weight is really frustrating me at the moment. It is just stuck. Which is my own fault, because I am eating too much 'extra' food. Comfort eating. Which isn't even comforting because it makes me feel like a disgusting greedy pig. Yesterday I meant to have a nap in the afternoon because I was so tired, but in the end I ate and purged a piece of carrot cake instead. I don't know why. I didn't enjoy it. I didn't even fancy it. I wasn't hungry. I just saw it and felt compelled to eat some, even though I didn't particularly want it, and knew I would purge afterwards. I felt hideous afterwards, and yet I nearly repeated the whole thing again today. I don't know what I am doing at the moment. My brain feels broken.

I am tired. I am just not really getting enough sleep at the moment, even with the Zopiclone, and I am still tired when I wake up however much sleep I have had. I want to read or watch a DVD or just do something that feels vaguely constructive and I just can't because I don't have any concentration. It is stupid. I really hate myself at the moment. I feel completely useless.

Quiter day

I am still feeling really shit, but it has been really good not having to do anything or go anywhere today. People always say that keeping busy is good for you and will distract you and make you feel better etc, but I just don't find that works - when I feel really bad I find that the more I do the worse I feel. I just get increasingly stressed and pressured and overwhelmed, and it puts me in a worse place than I would be if I had sat at home on my own doing absolutely nothing. I can cope with doing maybe a couple of things in a week, but more than that starts getting too much, and this week was 2 ballet classes, a photo shoot, 2 meals and a birthday party - that was just way more than I can cope with. I feel pathetic for saying that, as some people manage to go out to work and do all sorts of things, even when they are feeling bad, but I just find the more I do the worse I feel. Next week will hopefully be a bit quieter - I have 2 ballet classes and 1 rehearsal, but I think that is all. Or that is all I have in my diary at the moment - I am sure some other things will pop up, but I really hope not too much.

I have purged 4 times this week. Whilst in the grand scheme of things this isn't that much - a lot of people do it far more than that, and there have been periods when I was purging that much every day - it isn't that great for someone who doesn't consider themselves to do that any more. In my head purging is something I used to do, rather than something I still do, but clearly that isn't quite true... I don't want to get into purging a lot again. I am much more comfortable with restricting - I don't feel bad about myself then in the same way I do when I purge - but if I eat things I think I shouldn't have, or have the opportunity to purge then I just need to. But it hurts my throat, and therefore my voice, and makes me feel shitty and it is not nice. I need to be able to get back into restricting and losing weight. Since a few weeks ago when I got back from Cornwall and aimed to lose 1.4lbs a week on average, I have gained a pound. That is really shit. At first it was going alright - I wasn't losing much, but it was at least going the right way. Then this last week I have just gained loads - I think I have just been feeling so low that I have stopped caring in the same way and been comfort eating, but I still do care when I gain, and I feel so terrible about myself now.

The suicidal thoughts are still really strong. I am finding I am constantly thinking about when would be the best time for me to act on the thoughts - when I would have the longest before being found, what the best thing to do is. Just planning basically. Quite obsessively. I don't know what to do.

Crap day

Today has been difficult. I knew it would be. I slept badly yet again last night, so have been very tired again. Even when I haven't had much sleep though, I still can't sleep any better the next night - I don't understand it. It is very frustrating. Today started badly. For a start my alarm went off and I had that weird thing when it just completely shocks you and you have no idea where you are or what that noise is, and then when I realised it was my alarm I had no idea why I had set it and nearly turned it off. I then realised it was going off because I was going out for lunch with T, and my heart sunk. I did not want to have to go out and have to be sociable and pretend to be fine and happy and I did not want to eat out, particularly at lunch time, when I generally don't like eating until the evening. It then got even worse when I went to weigh myself and had gained yet again. I haven't been this heavy since I was on holiday, pre stomach bug. I feel like a complete bloody failure - I have gained nearly 3lbs in the last week or so. This often happens - as my mood gets lower I lose the motivation to focus on my weight the way I do normally, and I just end up comfort eating. It is ridiculous, as comfort eating does not help me, and it does not make me feel better - I just feel guilty for being such a greedy pig. And then obviously my weight goes up the next day and I feel even worse about myself and even more depressed, and end up comfort eating yet again. So anyway, I was in about the worst place I could be emotionally for going out for a meal, and I had only been awake for 15 minutes.

We went to a local pub that does good food. T had a main meal and I had a baguette. We both had desserts. I felt hideous eating the whole thing. I felt greedy and disgusting, and was worried about gaining again tomorrow. Naturally I purged - I just can't seem to help myself when I eat out. I rarely purge when I am at home nowadays, but when I am out I just have to do it. I then had the bloody disaster of the toilet refusing to flush. Not because of my purging - it just didn't have any water coming into it when I flushed the handle. So that was fun. In the end I had to just put the toilet seat down and leave....

Tomorrow is yet another fun packed day. It was baby nephew's 1st birthday today (what is it with this week and birthdays - my dad, T and baby nephew within 2 days!), so tomorrow we have to go to my sister's for his little birthday party thing. Which will involve food and cake no doubt.

I had a letter from the CMHT today, so that was fun. It said;

'Dear Bippidee,
As you may know L has been off work for a few weeks. I am expecting her back week commencing 27th September and so would like to offer you an appointment at the CMHT for Tuesday 28th at 11am. If this date is not convenient, or of course if you would like to speak to a member of the team in the interim, please contact the office and we can make the necessary arrangements.
Yours sincerely,
The Manager'

So that was lovely to finally receive some communication from them. I particularly liked 'as you may know L has been off work for a few weeks'. Really?? You know I hadn't noticed. Since you told me she would be back the next day I just assumed she had been ignoring me for the last 3 weeks. But anyway, hopefully I have an appointment with her in nearly 2 weeks. Unless she is off for longer of course. And assuming I can get through the next 2 weeks, which feels fairly unlikely at the moment. The suicidal thoughts are very strong. I do not want to be here. At all. I am just finding it harder and harder to keep going.

Difficult patch

I am really struggling. I suppose being so exhausted all day hasn't helped, but I am just feeling so low anyway. I spent most of the afternoon feeling too tired and shit to move, and then in the end decided I really had to start getting ready to go off to the photo call as it was getting late. That was alright I suppose. I got dumped in an awful skirt and blouse that were both about 4 sizes too big (no exaggeration) that had to be pinned liberally for the publicity pictures, but they looked alright from the front once pinned I guess. Then just had to have my headshot done (back in normal clothes) which only took a minute.

After that I was going out for a meal with my parents for my Dad's birthday. I didn't actually want to eat out. My weight has been going up anyway lately - slowly, but it is still moving in the wrong direction - and so eating out felt quite scary, plus of course it is very difficult to sit and make conversation and pretend everything is fine when you are feeling like complete shit and sitting there contemplating suicide. But I didn't like to say I didn't want to go since it was his birthday, so off we went to Pizza Express. I ate a pizza and then shared a dessert with my Mum. I naturally felt like complete shit after that and did purge. To be honest it ended up being a pretty half assed job, as my mum came into the toilets only a few minutes after I had gone in, so I hadn't had time to do much, but I didn't want to risk carrying on with somebody in there (I didn't actually know it was her at the time - just that someone had come in). I also felt really low and crap all night and just wanted to get home and be by myself.

I am really finding everything so difficult. It has definitely got to the point where I don't know if I can keep going. I am feeling so desperate and terrible, and I don't know how to make things feel easier. I also don't see the point. Even in my 'good' patches, I still feel crap. I still think about suicide on a daily basis. I still don't really enjoy anything. And then the bad patches come along, and I just can't deal with them. And if I want to die even when I am doing better, then really I don't see the point in fighting it. If I were to kill myself it wouldn't be some impulsive thing because I was having a bad day. I don't remember the last time a day went by without me thinking that I wanted to die. And that is really fucking exhausting. In some ways I am coping, even at the moment when I am feeling so bad. I am going to rehearsals. I went to ballet on Monday. Therefore I am functioning. So I must be fine. But in some ways I am not coping. I am having constant suicidal thoughts. I have no concentration, so I can't read or learn lines or do anything else constructive. My sleep is terrible. My eating is not great. I have no motivation. I only get dressed when it is absolutely essential because I have to leave the house, ie when I have rehearsal. The same goes for showering. I spend the rest of the time in my bed. A lot of it just staring into space, because I don't have the concentration or motivation to do anything else. I hate being around people, so avoid whenever possible. So am I functioning? I don't know. I don't even know if it matters. Ultimately it doesn't really make any difference. I am not going to think 'well I went to rehearsal last night, so things must be ok, therefore I won't kill myself today', and neither would I think 'I missed a rehearsal, therefore I can't cope with life and need to kill myself'. I don't know if I will kill myself or not. There is absolutely no question in my mind that death is what I want, but I don't want to upset people, and unfortunately that is an inevitable consequence. Even if I know that they would be better off without me, they wouldn't see that, and I know that. It is definitely difficult not having anyone to talk to with L away. It makes me feel very isolated. Which I am actually, and to a large degree it is self enforced, but that is because I find it too difficult to put on a happy mask for extended periods of time, which is what I have to do when I am around people. L is the only person that I ever feel I can be completely honest with about how I am feeling, and without her I think I am just closing off from the world even more than I do normally when I am feeling bad. I don't know what to do. I don't know if I can get through this period. I don't know if I have the energy to. I don't even know if I want to.

It is 1am, and I am exhausted again. I want to sleep, but I am terrified of having another night like last night when I sleep for an hour or so and then spend hours and hours trying to sleep and getting increasingly stressed because I can't. I really just can't cope with things any more. It all feels too much. I can't do it.

Cornwall Day 7 and Home

I am back home. The last couple of days of my holiday were ruined rather, as I came down with a nasty bug, that had me vomiting for 8 hours on Wednesday night. Very unpleasant. I have no idea where it came from - I am sure it wasn't food poisoning, as I hadn't eaten anything that could even be remotely suspicious, but I don't know anyone who was ill, so I have no idea where I could have caught it from. I didn't feel that great Wednesday evening, but I was ok, and then about midnight I started feeling really quite sick, and half an hour later I was being violently sick, and that carried on right the way through the night. It was quite strange, because it is unusual for me to get stomach bugs - my mum usually gets any of those going around, and I get headache/earache things, and nausea but not actually being sick. Whenever I have a sick bug it always strikes me how different it is being sick when you are ill to purging. Strange really. I suppose it is partly a control thing - when you are purging it is a choice and you are in control of it, whereas when you are ill it just happens, and is really quite hideous!

So anyway, I was in bed all day Thursday - I slept a lot of the time, as I had got very little sleep during the night, and I felt too weak to get up, plus I was still feeling ill. I felt a bit cheated really, as I had planned to go swimming again, and there were other things I wanted to do, and I was just stuck in bed all day. My parents went out for a meal in the evening, as we had already booked, but I knew that even sitting in the pub with them would be too much, so I stayed home. And then we left this morning. The car journey back wasn't great, particularly the first hour or so, as I still feel quite ill, and even though I hadn't been sick since yesterday morning, and knew I probably wouldn't be, I felt very sick, and I still can't think about any food except very plain, salty things, which I always find good when I feel sick - ready salted crisps are the best, and salted crackers, but that has been about the extent of my diet today and yesterday. On the plus side, I had lost weight yesterday morning! Obviously purely because I had thrown up everything I had eaten, and wasn't even able to keep water down, but at least it stopped the weight gain, if I am doing the looking for the silver lining thing. I didn't weigh today as the scales had already been packed in the car by the time I got up this morning, so I will have to see what the total holiday weight gain damage is when I get up tomorrow....

I need to sleep now - I am very tired, despite sleeping for several hours in the car on the way home, as well as last night and most of yesterday. I am hoping that I will feel better in the morning.

Cornwall Day 5

So it appears that yesterday was the calm before the storm in terms of weight. In the 24 hours between weighing yesterday and today I had gained over a pound, which brings my total weight gain since I have been away up to a little over 3lbs. I was really quite upset about this, naturally. If I had gained 3lbs in half a week, and I carry on at that rate, then that will mean I gain about 6lbs whilst away for one week, which is obviously absolutely shit. Why is it that I can gain this fast, and yet I failed to even lose 2lbs a week?? It seems colossally unfair, and I don’t know what to do. You would have thought that after gaining so much weight today I would have eased up on the food a bit today, but that didn’t really happen either. I had lunch, and then an ice cream, and then we went out for a meal tonight, and I had dessert. I did come home and immediately purge the dessert, which isn’t brilliant, but I don’t actually care if it has saved me from gaining some weight. I already know that my weight tomorrow is going to be disastrous again though – I weighed a minute ago, and if I weigh at night wearing these pyjamas, then I am usually about 2lbs heavier than I am the following morning, and if that is right then I will have gained another pound tomorrow. I am feeling so shit about myself. I have already undone the weight loss from the last couple of weeks, and if I keep going like this then I am going to end up back at the weight I was back in mid July, or even earlier. I feel pathetic, but just thinking about it is making me feel really suicidal. I feel disgustingly greedy and repulsive for letting this happen. I thought if I brought my scales away with me then it might help me to control things a little, but it just isn’t working – unless I do my usual thing of restricting to one meal a day then I will gain weight, and that is absolutely impossible for me when I am away with my parents like this. I really do not know what to do – I am feeling so upset and tense and desperate about it all.

The weather hasn’t been too bad today. Not warm, but we have at least seen the sun, which is something of a novelty. I have managed to get a little bit sunburnt on my face this week, which isn’t really surprising given that I rarely bother to put on any sun cream, and I am incredibly pale. I am currently sporting a fairly red nose, which isn’t too attractive. I went in the sea again earlier this evening. I jumped and dived off the jetty a few times, and then just swum across to the beach. I wasn’t going to, as it wasn’t that hot, but I was about to get in the shower and wash my hair anyway before going out, and since we are literally about 20 metres from the sea I thought I may as well have a swim first. It was bloody cold of course, and I managed to swallow a fair bit of sea water when jumping in, which made me feel a little ill. I kept thinking that surely being in the cold water, and swimming, would have to burn some calories. It won’t be enough though. It never is. The forecast for tomorrow is rain all day, so I won’t do anything remotely active then, but I doubt I will manage to eat much less, so I will be piling on the pounds. Thursday looks like being fairly similar to today weather wise – dry, and some sun, but only about 17 degrees, and reasonably windy. The weather has been pretty disappointing really. I always hope for lovely weather when I come to Cornwall, and it so rarely materialises. I might go snorkelling again on Thursday if the weather does what it is supposed to. At least then I am doing something active, even if it is freezing cold. And then home on Friday, which I have quite mixed feelings about. I am scared that when I get home the weight gain will really hit, and I just won’t be able to cope and will end up a suicidal mess. And I really do love this place, and would like to stay longer – maybe until some good weather arrives. But on the other hand, it will be good to get back to my safe space, and be able to have more control over food, and hopefully my weight, and not be so cut off from people who would usually support me – it is stupidly hard not being able to use my mobile phone, and only having internet access sporadically. But I am quite scared about going home and how I will cope with having gained so much weight when I am back in my normal environment. Badly I suspect...

Audition

Audition over and done. It went ok. I sung Nothing from A Chorus Line. I could have done it better - in fact I think I did in my lesson Thursday, but it was ok, and then they asked me to sing part of Cabaret, which was okish, but I could have done with the music really, as although I have sung it before, it isn't part of my usual repertoire, so I don't have it prepared to the standard I would other songs. It was all ok, I don't know. Depends how good everyone else was I suppose! I did feel a bit clogged up still from my cold and sore throat - I steamed last night and this morning, but there is still lots of nasty stuff blocking me up, so that wasn't ideal. I did all I could in the circumstances though, so that's that done.

Miraculously I wore the first outfit I put on! That never happens. Well, I did try 2 pairs of shoes with it, and change my top once, and then back to the first one, but I don't even count that! Lucky I did decide quickly though, as I didn't have any spare time. I ended up doing my make up in the car as usual. I always seem to have to do my make up in the car. One day I will be on time for something and have got ready and done all my make up and everything at home, instead of rushing around late and doing eyeliner on country lanes....

Weight is shit. I had bloody gained again today, so this week I managed to gain half a pound. Am beyond unimpressed with myself. I clearly don't have enough self restraint. I am getting quite stressed about going away. Obviously there is the worry about what I can wear, and not having clothes etc, but I am getting quite concerned about food etc whilst I am away. There is no way I will be able to stick to my usual thing of not eating until the evening, and generally we eat a lot more away than we do at home. We eat out quite a lot, and then lots of things like ice creams, and obviously clotted cream and scones, because it is Cornwall, and that is what you do in Cornwall. And I am quite stressed thinking about the amount of food I will eat, and the amount of weight I will gain. I will restrict where I can, but it is much harder when my parents are around all the time, like they will be when we are away, than when I am in the house on my own, like I often am here. I am scared of how much food I will eat, I am scared of being desperate to purge all the time and not being able to, I am terrified of gaining weight. I am not sure how I will cope with it. If I came home and had gained a lot, then I really would not be able to cope with it, and I am worried that it could trigger a really bad patch, because even gaining half a pound today absolutely devastated me. Going on holiday should be fun, but it is just endless stress - about clothes, about not being in my safe space, about food, about weight. Just everything.

London Day

I made it to London. Just. I very nearly cancelled. By last night I was getting quite stressed about it, even though it was only about 2 hours after I had arranged it, and I woke up this morning and just didn't want to go. I was pretty stressed. I decided to use my usual decision making technique - weigh myself, and if it had gone down then I would go, or at least get ready to so I could decide later, and if it had gone up I wasn't leaving the house. It had gone down, so I went off to shower etc. Getting out of the house was a bit of a nightmare - I was supposed to leave at quarter past 11, but it ended up being 12 when I left. Those 45 minutes were spent getting increasingly frustrated and upset at not being able to find anything to wear that I felt comfortable in. Everything I put on I just felt enormous in, and so kept changing, and then had a bit of a cry because I felt so horrible about myself. I finally ended up in the second outfit I had tried on, which was very boring - black linen trousers and a black top, but I decided I would rather look boring than wear something I would feel even more enormous in. But yes, that made me pretty late. And then in the car on the way to the station I really did not want to go - I was basically just having one long panic attack, and I desperately wished I had cancelled. I had a Diazepam, and in the end I texted G to see if she had already left or not, because if she hadn't I was just going to turn around and go home. I said that I was on my way to the station, but had a nightmare getting out the house due to clothes, and was very anxious so might be pretty crap company. She replied saying that if I didn't feel up to it then she would completely understand, and that she was on her way and would love to see me, but that if I felt crap I wouldn't enjoy it, and to let her know what I wanted to do. The Diazepam had started to kick in by that point, and her text made me feel a bit better too, so I decided I would go.

I met up with her at Leicester Square, and she had already been to TKTS and bought our tickets for the show, so we headed pretty much straight off to that, although we did pop into a shop so that G could buy some sweets to take into the theatre! The show was excellent. We had wanted to go this week, as Tamsin Outhwaite, who is playing Charity, was on holiday this week, and we both wanted to see her understudy rather than her ideally. It was a really good production - Tiffany Graves, who was playing Charity, was absolutely perfect for the part, she was really great. The cast overall was really strong actually - there wasn't much to criticise. Fantastic choreography - was interesting to see Sweet Charity without Fosse choreography, although I absolutely love Fosse and did miss it a little at times. But it was just a very good production. It was quite funny because during the first Act I kept thinking how brilliant Josefina Gabrielle's body was, and how jealous I was of it, and the first thing G said to me in the interval was 'How good is Josefina Gabrielle's body?!'

After the show we popped into a couple of shops - there was a CD I wanted to buy, and some black footless tights for dance, and then we headed off for dinner. We were going to Pizza Express, which was hard in terms of high calorie food, but then there isn't really a lot that I could eat out and feel comfortable with. I wasn't feeling too dreadful after my main course, but then we had dessert and that was just too much, and I couldn't cope with it, and I did purge. I really wasn't intending to, but when I had eaten it I just couldn't deal with the feeling and the taste etc. I suspect G knew that I did, or at least suspected, but she didn't say anything thank goodness. I do love G - she is great. I am glad I went in the end, despite how stressed and anxious I was this morning. I couldn't have done it without Diazepam, but I guess that is what it is for.

I am worried about what my weight will be in the morning. I know it will have gone up, but I am just really scared as to how much by. Tomorrow will be difficult too, as I have a dance class in the morning, so I am back to the 2/3 meals a day thing, which is hard. Which just leaves Friday and Saturday to try and lose, so there is absolutely no way I will get my 2lbs this week. Thinking about that makes me wish I hadn't gone to London today, as if I had stayed home I wouldn't have eaten nearly as much, and I would have lost weight tomorrow rather than gained, and at the moment that seems more important than anything else. Bit worried about my throat. It has still been hurting, and I have a singing lesson tomorrow, and I couldn't afford to cancel it as I have this audition on Sunday, so I need to sort out what I am singing. Purging won't have helped that, but it is the sore throat from this cold that is a bigger problem - I am still very husky, and it is still sore. I will just have to take it easy tomorrow I suppose. I really hope I haven't gained too much. I am scared.

Insert Title...

I felt a bit better again today, but I didn't go to dance this morning, because I thought suddenly getting up and jumping around might make me feel a bit ill, and I didn't want to go 20 miles there are back and not feel up to dancing, so I went back to sleep instead. I had an appointment with L at half 1, which was good. She is referring me to the team Psychologist for an assessment - possibly just to look at what direction we should be working in etc, or possibly to see the Psychologist for a while - I suspect it would be for CAT, which is usually 16 sessions, as I think they more or less just do that and CBT, and L knows my views on CBT. I wish I could have DBT, as I would really like to try it, but nowhere in my area does it, and they don't offer long term psychotherapy either.

I had rehearsal tonight for Carousel. It was a dance rehearsal - I was learning the opening section for the very long dance section in it. My shins are hurting a bit, as the floors there are hideous - they are just concrete. I tweaked the choreography a little (quite a lot...) as the choreographer didn't seem to mind. There was a bit of a horrible suprise at rehearsal in that I had to be measured for my costume, which I wasn't expecting, and would have seriously freaked out about had I known in advance. The trouble is, the show isn't until October, and I have absolutely no intention of being this size by then, but I couldn't really tell them to measure me and then subtract 2 inches from all the measurements as I plan to be that much smaller by then?! Although hopefully it won't matter too much, as it is my bottom half I really need to lose weight from, and I will be in a dress, so the bust and waist measurements should really be the only relevant ones, and although they are bigger than I want them to be, it is my hips and thighs that are the real issue, and the problem when it comes to buying clothing etc. My bust doesn't change too much really - at the moment I am a 32C, and when I was at my smallest I was a 32B, so that isn't a big issue. My waist is 2 inches bigger than it was when I was at my smallest, but I don't have too much of an issue with my top half really, or at least as small an issue as I can have with any part of my body (except my feet - I like my feet!). I need to lose 3 inches off my hips, and 2 inches off each thigh though. When I lose weight it always comes off my waist first, thighs last. Which is unfortunate as my thighs are my most hated body part. I am thinking quite seriously about getting liposuction on them.

I have said I will go to London to meet up with a friend tomorrow. I haven't seen her for about a year, so it will be lovely to see her, but I am quite anxious about it. I haven't been to London for quite a few months - I used to go all the time, and then I started getting more and more anxious about it, and I also started having real issues with planning things in advance, so both this time and the last time I went to London I just arranged it the day before. I had a little freak out about it tonight, but apparently I do that every time I go to London according to my mum. She says that I spend the whole car journey to the station saying how anxious I am and asking if I will be ok, which I didn't know I did, but apparently so. So she has told me I will be fine. Which I will. And it will be really good to see G because I love G. She is really good fun. Pretty crazy, but not in a mental health way - she is one of relatively few friends I have who don't have any MH problems, but she is fairly eccentric in a lot of ways. So we are going to meet up, and try and get tickets for the matinee of Sweet Charity, and then go out for a meal after. A meal is obviously something of an issue at the moment, but meals are good opportunities to sit and chat, and I couldn't really spend the whole day in London without eating. I am kind of hoping I get the opportunity to purge it - I wish I wasn't thinking like that, and I really need to try not to, because I have a singing lesson Thursday and an audition Sunday, and purging always hurts my throat, which is sore anyway from being ill, but I am scared about how much weight I will gain if I don't. Food is so damn scary. I shouldn't plan to go out for a meal and purge it - that is not what people do. People go out for meals and enjoy them. How hard I find it will probably depend quite a lot on what my weight is like in the morning. If I have gained then I will find it really hard to eat without purging, as gaining 2 days running would be awful, but if I have lost then I might be ok. I am trying to focus on the positives of seeing my friend, and going to the theatre, and not thinking about the negatives of scary eating and food and weight and getting the train to London and all that sort of thing. I will be ok. Diazepam is my friend....

Not a great afternoon

Not had a great afternoon. I got irritated earlier, because my mum knew I had an appointment with L in the morning, and said she would be around to take me there as I have no other way of getting there, and then I found out earlier that she had forgotten all about it and said she would go to my brother's, and apparently couldn't change that. She said couldn't I just not see L this week, and that really pissed me off quite a lot - I find it really hard when I have to miss appointments because she is away or has to deal with an emergency or something - I am not going to bloody cancel just because my mum has said she will go to my brother's. So she has asked my sister if she can pick me up, and then I will just have to hang around in town until my mum gets home.

I also ended up purging. I really wanted to get back to restricting (bad idea I know, but I am so desperate to lose weight) so I hadn't eaten anything, and then late afternoon I ended up having some crisps, and then felt guilty about it so decided to purge, and thought that if I was going to purge I may as well eat a bit more first, so also had a biscuit and some chocolate. And then I had dinner tonight. Am dreading weighing myself tomorrow - I am terrified the numbers will have gone up. My friend had put up some pictures on Facebook from when she was over, and I just look so enormous in all of them, and my face looks so fat, and it just made me feel even worse than I already did. I really wish I didn't care so much about my weight. I wish the numbers on a scale didn't have so much power over me. I wish I could just be one of those people who eats what they fancy (within reason) and doesn't worry too much about their weight. I wish I didn't feel the need to weigh myself multiple times a day. I wish I could look in a mirror without feeling physically sick. I just want to be thin so much. I know I will never love my body, but I just want to feel vaguely comfortable in it, rather than repulsed by it.

Weekend

So it is Sunday today. Well Monday technically since it is now 3am, but it is still Sunday in my head. I was really tired again yesterday. Friday seemed to totally wipe me out. Friday night I slept for 11 hours, rather than the anticipated 12, but was still really tired all day. My sister was here with my nephews. I found that I was very irritable with my older nephew (he is 5) - I just have to be in the right mood or I find him way too much. Too much energy. Too loud. Too everything. I feel mean saying that because he is a sweetie and I love him to pieces really, but nearly every time I see him I just find myself getting more and more tense and irritated. I am just not very good with children. He was only here for an hour before my sister took him off to the birthday party he was going to, but it felt like hours. The little one was easier - he is 10 months now and crawling everywhere, and apart from when he started getting grumpy because he was tired he was ok. When my sister got back from dropping elder nephew at the party she wanted to take the baby for a walk so that he would go to sleep and wanted me to go with her, so I had to do that. By that time I was really quite tired and just came upstairs then and after a while they left. Having said the other day that I don't nap any more, I fell asleep for 45 minutes during the evening - I just couldn't keep my eyes open.

Today T came over at about 4 to run through our lines for The Tempest, and then at half 6 there was a concert that my mum and I were going to that he was coming to with us. So we did a bit of rehearsing/bit of chatting/bit of me teaching him how to improve some awful choreography he has been given for a show he is rehearsing, then went to the concert, then ate when we got home and did a bit more Shakespeare etc. He didn't end up leaving until after 1, so that was today gone. I am getting more sure of my lines. I am relatively confident with most of them now - I have two scenes where I have a lot of lines, and then two more where I only have a few in each scene. I more or less have both the big scenes sorted now - all of my big chunks are fine, but there are some shorter lines that I keep forgetting. I find it easier to learn chunks than I do dialogue, because at least with monologues you only have to worry about yourself - with dialogue you have to think about all the cue lines etc too. So there are a few lines I am not sure about, but they will come over the next few days. I haven't really looked at the other two scenes yet, but learning them should just be a 10 minute job. I find that if I read lines over a couple of times (ideally last thing before going to sleep) then I know them reasonably well the next time I go over them. I haven't spent a great deal of time learning the lines really - I think the problem has been far more with my motivation, or lack of, than my memory. Some of the time I just haven't had the concentration or energy to learn them, but those times I have just left it and waited until my concentration has been a bit better rather than spending ages trying to learn them and not getting anywhere.

I have rehearsals every night this week apart from Tuesday, which I am not looking forward to, as despite being more secure with the lines now, I just can't be bothered with it. I get annoyed with myself for feeling like that, because I am meant to be enjoying it, but I just want to be at home on my own - not at rehearsals with lots of people. We are meant to be running through the whole play tomorrow night, so I suppose I will try and do it off book, as I have to at some point. First rehearsal off book is always a bit frustrating, because you end up needing far more prompts than you think you will, but I prefer to get off book as soon as I think I know my lines well enough to give it a go, as I find it a better way of getting the remaining lines into my head. I suspect most of the rest of the cast will be in the same position - there are maybe 3 who have been off book for a couple of weeks now, and I think Prospero will still be very much on book unfortunately, but I should think most people will be off book but needing prompts. I would have liked to be in this position a couple of weeks ago really, but it will be fine - I am not concerned about not knowing my lines in time, particularly since we still have 6 rehearsals to go. I have done some musicals in the past where the entire thing has had to be learnt, blocked, choreographed, rehearsed etc in 2 weeks, so whenever I am concerned about performances approaching fast I always think about those shows.

Mood wise I am not doing too great. I have a definite problem with lack of energy at the moment - I just feel so exhausted all of the time, even more so than usual. But that is something I have experienced quite a few times before. Once when we were on holiday it was particularly bad - I was sleeping for a ridiculous number of hours a night, and was still absolutely exhausted, to the point where I couldn't walk for more than about 5 or 10 minutes without needing to rest - my legs were all wobbly like jelly. But it got gradually better after a few weeks. At the moment it isn't as bad as that, but I just feel so drained all of the time. Eating is happening far too much for my liking. Am disgusted and repulsed by my body. Seriously considering getting liposuction on my thighs - I hate them so much, they really do make me feel sick. I hate myself for letting myself stay this big for this long. It is completely unacceptable. But I don't know how to lose weight. It just isn't working. I need to find the will power to go back to restricting, but it just isn't there. Still purging. Not lots, but maybe a couple of times a week. Not too happy that I have gone back to that the last few months after so long of rarely/never doing it. If I can get back to restricting I will be able to stop purging, but I just don't know how. I wish I didn't care so much about how I looked. I wish I could be happy with my body like some people are. Or if not happy, accepting. Accepting would be good. But I could never accept my body at this size - it is too repulsive. I would settle for losing a stone. If I could just maintain my weight a stone less than I am at the moment - I could cope with that. It isn't as thin as I would like to be, but it would put my weight back at a level that I see as acceptable in that I can cope with it - when I weigh that I don't start beating myself up if I see myself in a mirror, and I don't want to kill myself because of how disgusting I look. I still wouldn't be happy with my body, I doubt I would whatever I weighed, but I could live with it. I just don't know how to lose the weight. I need control, and I have none.

Anniversary

I first tried to kill myself 5 years ago today, 26th June 2005. It was a Sunday. It was pretty impulsive. The suicidal thoughts had been around a lot, but I hadn't planned when I was going to overdose or anything, although I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be able to keep myself safe over the weekend, and had said so to the psychologist I was seeing at the time. My dad was away at Glastonbury. It was Sunday afternoon, and my mum was out, and I just couldn't cope any more, and I took an overdose. Just paracetamol. I didn't know any better at the time. I had written a note, which I had left next to my bed, and I think it was about 10PM when my mum came up and found me. I had been sleeping, but I was fully conscious etc. When the ambulance crew came they were absolutely convinced I had taken something else too because my pupils were so dilated, but I hadn't. I just have big pupils. I was taken to hospital, and they did blood tests, and then put me on a drip. I assume it was too many hours after I had taken it for charcoal. I was on the drip for 2 or 3 days, and by that time my bloods were back to normal. On the thursday I was assessed by the psychiatrist on duty. I remember him not speaking very good English, and asking a lot of stupid questions, like 'If I let you go home are you going to kill yourself again?' which I remember finding quite amusing. I was given the choice of being admitted to the psychiatric ward or going home. I naturally chose to go home. My birthday was 2 days later.

When I look back at that, 5 years ago, it upsets me. 5 years later and I am no better. In fact, I am worse than I was back then. I was still living a normal life back then - I just felt very bad, and my bulimia was quite bad. But I was still going to college, although I remember having to leave some lessons because I was too much of a mess. Ok, I took an overdose, and I did feel like I wanted to die, but the thoughts were nothing compared to how much stronger they got in later years. I wish that it had worked, or that I had managed to kill myself at some other point since then. I have achieved absolutely nothing in the last 5 years. My life has mainly consisted of staying in my room. I have very rarely felt happy or contented. I have just been surviving. And I don't see the point of just surviving - I may as well not be here at all. If I had known 5 years ago that I was going to be in this position now, I could not have coped. I would have kept trying to kill myself until it had worked. But back then I still had hope some of the time. Now I don't. 7 years of Depression has eradicated that. I am convinced that at some point I will end up killing myself - trying not to is just delaying the inevitable. I just wish it had happened years ago, and I hadn't had to go through all of this.

Tough day

Today was a really hard day. I am not sure why really - I can't put my finger on what was wrong. My appointment was quite difficult. I had a bit of a panic attack not long into it. There seemed to be lots of noises coming in from outside, like there was a dog barking, and a child crying, and someone banging something or cutting something down or something, and all the noises seemed to be getting louder and louder and really overwhelming and I couldn't hear what L was saying because the noises were too much. And it was getting more and more overwhelming and distressing and my heart was getting faster and faster, and I could feel myself drifting away and I ended up in a ball on my chair crying and hyperventilating a bit, which made me dizzy. It didn't last long I don't think, maybe just a few minutes and then I managed to start to slow my breathing down, but I felt really tense for the rest of the appointment and hyper aware of all the noises, and I kept feeling that I was starting to dissociate and have to try and pull myself back. I don't often have panic attacks. I have problems with anxiety, but usually it comes on more slowly, and so I can either try and calm myself down before it develops into a panic attack, or I take some Diazepam which stops it from going any further, and it just stays at little heart palpitations and feeling tense, rather than shaking and hyperventilating etc. It just came on so quickly and suddenly, and there was nothing to even cause it, which is weird - I generally know my triggers for anxiety/panic attacks, and so avoid them whenever possible, which is one of the reasons I don't have more panic attacks. But I just felt so weird, and everything felt really threatening and scary, even though they were just perfectly ordinary sounds that weren't even coming from the room or building. I really don't know what that was all about. L did say that I am very sensitive, and do seem to feel things more intensely than other people might, and so if I was already feeling bad then quite ordinary things could affect me. I see what she meant by that. I do seem to feel things very deeply, and sometimes that is good, and other times it can be bad.

I suppose the actual appointment itself was alright. It just didn't feel quite right. I don't know why. She asked if I had managed to think of any goals, as talked about at the CPA Review, which was the last time I had seen her. I said that I hadn't been able to think of anything, and she said again how important it was that we had some objective goals to work towards, so that there was proof that seeing her was helping etc. But it is difficult. It isn't practical things that I see as the major problems that need changing. I don't see how sorting out my sleep pattern, for example, is going to change anything - I will still feel the same, just asleep at different times. That seems pointless, until there is something to change my sleep pattern for. I need to change how I think and feel, but that isn't an objective goal and therefore won't do for the NHS, or it has to be achieved through making goals that are objective. She asked if I really wanted to change anything. That is a hard one. I don't want to carry on like this. I can't carry on like this. But I can't imagine things ever changing, and I don't know how making goals about my sleep patterns or eating regularly, or whatever else they have in mind, will change anything. And at the moment I don't know if I can cope with going through the struggle of changing things like that when I don't think it will actually change anything meaningful for me. So I don't know. I don't know if I want to change things. And if I don't know that, then I don't know if there is any point in seeing L, and being under Mental Health services. I feel like I am wasting her time because I can't think of any goals, and I can't make myself want anything enough. I just want to not be here, and I can't see past that. I did sit there today wondering if there was any point in keeping going, or if I am just wasting her time.

Something did bother me about my appointment with L today, but I feel a bit weird saying it. Those of you who regularly read my blog will probably have noticed that I am pretty attached to L and think she is fantastic and can do no wrong, because when I get attached to someone they are then perfect in my eyes. But if I am completely honest I felt a little invalidated at one point today, which I never usually do with L - she is very understanding and supportive. It was towards the end of the appointment, and I said something about my belief that it is my fault that my Granddad died, and I felt like she was really quite dismissive of it. She said something about it not being a realistic philosophy at all, and that she thought that talking about it would be giving it more credence than it deserved, or something along those lines, and that I am intelligent enough to know that it isn't a viable theory. I know it might sound stupid to other people, but it feels real to me, and it is something that I have been thinking about a lot, and that has upset me a lot the last few days, and I did feel like it was just completely brushed over, which just left me feeling really quite invalidated. Saying this makes me feel quite guilty and disloyal or something - L has always been fantastically supportive of me, and never made me feel like this before. But I did today, and I think I needed to acknowledge that, if just to myself.

I really feel like things have slipped a lot over the last 3 or 4 weeks. I am still purging - not every day, but probably 4 or 5 times a week, which is quite a big increase from nothing. And then there has been the self harm; I haven't done that since last week, but I did do it several times, which again isn't great when I hadn't done it for 9 months. And then just the suicidal thoughts generally have been so strong, and I have been feeling so overwhelmed by everything - normal noises causing a panic attack today were an example of that. Everything feels so big and loud and dangerous and scary. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to stop things spiralling any further, if that is possible, and I don't know how to cope with the suicidal thoughts, or the feelings of guilt, or anything else that I am experiencing at the moment. It is just all too much.

Long day!

It has been the longest day ever. Well, maybe not ever, but it has felt very long. I had an appointment with my GP at 9:20 this morning. That is far too early. I should not be out of bed at that time of day, let alone dressed. Anyway, that was ok. It is quite funny really, because she tries to be helpful, for example she asked if I had ever had CBT. I said yes, and that I think it is patronising wank to be honest. We discussed this for a little while. She then asked if there are any types of therapy apart from CBT. Now I know she is a GP and doesn't work in mental health, but really - do people honestly think that CBT is the only therapy that exists? Really?? That is slightly concerning really.

Then I had an appointment with the voice clinic people at the hospital, following on from my ENT appointment of a couple of weeks back. Today it was with an ENT Surgeon, and 2 Speech Therapists. They put these little pad things on my neck that were apparently microphones, and then pulled out my tongue and stuck this camera thing into my mouth and to the back of my throat. The Dr told me to concentrate on breathing deeply in and out through my mouth to try and stop me gagging, and then basically videoed my vocal cords whilst I had to make various noises. I started gagging after not too long, so he took it out, and then did it again, and I lasted longer before gagging that time. Gagging appears to be a normal reaction to that. It was called a Laryngoscopy It didn't hurt - I preferred it to the camera down the nose thing. It just made me gag. But then when it had finished I got to watch a video of my vocal cords when I speak/sing which was quite cool really. Apparently it all looks healthy, and the speech therapist was confident that she would be able to sort it all out with speech therapy etc, so I am back on the waiting list for that.

Spent the afternoon in a pretty shitty mood. I was tired, as I hadn't had nearly enough sleep, and I was grumpy and snappy. Ended up purging a couple of times. I had the drama festival tonight - the play that I was in a few weeks ago was entered. It was a 1 Act Play Festival, held over a few nights, and tonight was the last night. I really didn't want to go. I was absolutely not in the mood, I couldn't be bothered with it, I hadn't touched my script since I last performed it, and I was desperately trying to think of excuses to get me out of it, but there basically weren't any, as if I hadn't gone they would have had to pull the play.

It actually went ok. I think it was probably the best we have performed it, or it seemed it to me anyway. We (the cast) did know that although we weren't keen on the play, it might go down quite well at a drama festival, as adjudicators tend to like things that are a bit political and weird, and this certainly was. The other play that was on tonight was a bit crap I thought. They had a great set but the acting was just pretty weak, and I didn't like the actual play. The adjudicator was very complimentary about our play - he gave a few things he thought could have worked better etc, but a couple of those I had actually said about in rehearsals, so I agreed with what he said. The criticisms were pretty much all staging related, apart from him saying he would have liked the pace to be slightly faster generally, so that when we wanted to pull bits back there was more contrast, which was apparently a comment he gave about several plays. He was very complimentary about the play itself, which was nice for the guy who had written it (it was written by a local writer, and his wife directed it), and also about the acting. The guy who was playing the lead was told his diction wasn't always clear enough, and that he needed to find more variety in the part, which was fair enough (he wasn't actually who the part was intended for, but due to lots of clashes, none of the original choice men were available, and so this guy ended up playing it, and he is pretty inexperienced - he did well given how little he has done in the past, but I think it could have been much stronger with one of the guys who was originally up for the role), but the adjudicator didn't have anything negative to say about any of the rest of us (there were 5 in the cast in total), and said we were a very talented cast, so that was nice. Awards wise, a group who had performed earlier in the week pretty much swept the board - I didn't see them, but apparently they were brilliant, but we had a lot of nominations (there are 3 nominations for each award). Our Director was nominated for Best Director, and one of the women was up for Best Actress (although she had also been in another of the plays, and the nomination was actually for both parts rather than just this play), and I was nominated for Best Cameo. Then one of the guys won Best Actor, and overall we came 2nd, and the adjudicator has put forward the play itself (ie the script rather than the production) for a national competition for Best New Play. So overall it was pretty good really.

Afterwards several of the cast members were going on to a pub, and one of the guys offered to give me a lift home after if I wanted to go with them. I had already had a couple of drinks, and was slightly hyper, so I thought I would go, but then when I got there I got very stressed because it was too loud and I was anxious. I tried to ring my mum to ask her to pick me up, but I couldn't get through to her, so I had a Diazepam, and another drink, and after that I started to relax a bit. I had a couple more drinks too, and we all shared some packets of crisps, and I had some Maltesers, although I did then go to the toilets and purge, making it 3 times today, which isn't so good. But 5 Archers and a Diazepam seemed to do a pretty good job of relaxing me, and it was actually ok. I never go out, so it was quite good that I managed it, even if I did need alcohol and Diazepam to do so. My mind did wander a lot during the evening - I was having lots of suicidal planning type thoughts, and there must have been some dissociating going on, because there are definitely chunks of the evening I just can't remember, and it isn't down to the alcohol, because I don't feel drunk or anything. I can still type perfectly well, therefore I am not drunk.

I got home about quarter past 1, and I am very tired now so I am hoping I will be able to sleep well. It has been a very long day.

CPA Review

I don't really know what to write. My head feels in a bit of a spin really, but I don't know why.

I had my CPA review this afternoon. L came out and said that Dr E was running a bit late so she would have a chat with me first. She asked how I had been the last couple of days, and I told her that I was struggling, and had been purging daily, and that I had self harmed again last night etc. We talked briefly about the self harm, and what was behind it etc, and why did I think I was doing it at the moment, when it is so rare for me to do etc. She asked if I had thought of anything in particular I wanted to talk about in the review, and it was about then that Dr E came in. Things went pretty much as expected really. L gave a little summary of how she saw things over the last 6 months, and Dr E asked how I had seen things etc. L brought up medication, and said how I felt that I have been lower overall since I have been off it. Then there was lots of talk about needing to set goals, so that there was something objective to look at in terms of improvement etc. I switched off slightly - it was all a bit much for me to try and think about. I think this went on for a while - them talking about trying to set little goals, and get me into a better routine etc, and me saying the odd word but nothing too much, as it is hard to think about. Dr E didn't seem to want to prescribe any medication - she didn't mention it again after L and I had talked about it. Basically the outcome was that the next 6 months would be spent trying to set (and achieve) some goals, like sorting out my sleeping and that sort of thing. I am not going to be seeing Dr E regularly any more, since I am only on Diazepam at the moment - if I need to see her for something then L will get me an appointment with her, but I won't have any regular appointments with her. And that was about it. Pretty much as I thought really.

After that Dr E left, and I talked to L for a while. She asked how I was feeling. I said that I didn't know why, but I felt like bursting into tears. I told her that I had found it really difficult talking about goals etc, as I was feeling so suicidal that I just didn't see myself being here, and that was all I could think about. That the whole time they were talking all I could think was that there was no point trying to set goals because I wouldn't be here. And that that is all has been going round and round in my head the last few days. It has been so frustrating the last few weeks, knowing that things have been going downhill, and yet not knowing how to stop it. I said that when I saw her on tuesday and she said she was on leave next week, that the first thing I thought was that in that case I wouldn't be seeing her again, and that I hoped she wouldn't think I had killed myself because she wasn't there. I was finding it really hard to talk, because I was on the verge of tears. When I left I went into the toilets and cried for a while - I just felt so awful, and completely hopeless.

Since then I have been feeling pretty numb and flat, just drained really. I just don't want to be here, and the thoughts are so strong that I don't know how to get rid of them or stop myself acting on them. But I know I have said things like that before. And I know that really there's not much anyone can do about it. It just feels very isolating and overwhelming and suicide really does feel like the only option - I can't see a future and I don't want a future. I couldn't honestly say what will happen over the next few days or week. I might be fine, or I might not - I really don't know at the moment. I know how I feel at the moment, but what I think will happen doesn't always.