Still depressed

I seem to be struggling to write much at the moment, despite my head being full the whole time. I think maybe it is too full and so I am having difficulty distinguishing thoughts from one another. It is a few days into the New Year, and naturally nothing has changed. I still want to kill myself at the first suitable opportunity. My mum is off work this week - she doesn't go back until Monday, so realistically nothing can happen before then at the earliest, which means I have at least another week of fucking hell. I tried buying things online yesterday to see if that made me feel any better, even if just briefly, but it didn't. I ordered a couple of DVDs, and a couple of computer games that I will probably never play. I still haven't watched the Lost Season 6 DVD that I bought last time I felt crap and thought that buying something would help, and every other season of Lost I have watched within a few days of it arriving, and I have had that for about 6 months now. Same with books I haven't read, other DVDs I haven't watched, CDs I haven't listened to, clothes I didn't like but didn't get round to returning. One day I might learn that buying things when I feel crap doesn't actually make me feel any better, it just costs money and leaves me with a pile of stuff I don't need or want. But probably not. It's like self harm - it used to help, and so I still try it sometimes, but it doesn't have the same effect anymore.

My mum made me go shopping today. Hideous. I am such a shit girl. I hate shopping. I almost view it as a form of torture. I deliberately avoid the sales racks, because they are just far too confusing and stressful to even look at, which makes shopping at this time slightly awkward because half the shop is sales racks. I have absolutely no idea how anyone can get excited about sales shopping. All the shops open stupidly early on Boxing Day, and people actually queue for hours to get into the stupid shops, and hunt through loads of rails of clothes, most of which will be a) hideous, b) the wrong size, or c) both. Why would you do that? I would actually rather just pay full price for something than face the sales.

We had to go shopping because my mum managed to buy me quite a few things this year that were no good. She is actually usually really good at present buying, but she just seemed to get it all a bit wrong this year. My favourite present this year was a pair of really warm, fleecy pyjamas from my mum, but she wasn't very impressed that they were my best present. They are so warm though, and I am always cold. I wasn't too bothered about not getting many things I wanted - material things aren't really meaning anything to me at the moment, I suppose primarily because I am not planning to be here much longer, plus I do genuinely prefer giving presents to receiving them, unless it is something I particularly want. My mum took back the things that she had bought for me that weren't any good, but I really couldn't be bothered to look around the shops properly, so I didn't buy anything as a replacement. That's ok. I don't need anything. Actually I do. I have no clothes. But I spend a good 90% of my life in my pyjamas, so I don't need too many clothes really. Although I could do with some to save the panic attack I get every time I get dressed and feel hideous in absolutely everything that I put on. It took me so long to get dressed today, and I was getting more and more worked up, because I just felt so awful in everything that I put on, and nothing was suitable, and I was just getting more and more stressed, and my mum was getting more and more angry because she had wanted to leave and I was still changing clothes. I just get into such a state, and she gets irritated with me and continually tells me how silly I am being, which I probably am, but I just can't help it.

I do find my mum quite invalidating a lot of the time. She is always saying that I allow myself to be like this, or that my life is good and so I should be happy and stop letting myself be depressed or that I am a drama queen or that I am just saying things other people have said, like she did about New Year, and things like that, and if I ever mention that I find what she says hurtful or invalidating she says that I have picked up saying things like that from the internet or books or associating with people with mental health problems, or whatever her current theory is. It really frustrates me when I say I am stressed or upset about something and she replies with 'You're not really'. I know she doesn't mean to, but she really upsets me sometimes. I wish that she would just listen to what I am saying rather than just dismissing everything. And then she gets annoyed with me for not talking to her more often and not telling her how I feel. But is it really any wonder I don't talk to her more when virtually every time I try to I get dismissed as being a drama queen, or exaggerating, or letting myself get worked up?

I am really struggling to write. I feel really distracted by my head and the thoughts/images/films of suicide it is having. I know there was something in particular I wanted to write about, but I can't remember what. I am feeling really shit. Not in an only able to stare at walls type way like I was last time I was having a really difficult time. Just in a I've had enough and I don't want to be alive regardless of what happens kind of way. I'm not sure which is worse. Both feel shit.

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

Messed up

I have completely and utterly messed everything up. I emailed L at 5:45am asking for my appointment this afternoon to be cancelled and to be discharged. I didn't give any explanation. I figured if she wanted to know or gave a shit she would phone and ask why, and if I had started trying to explain everything in the email I would have been writing it forever. I also then did something that probably wasn't the best idea, but was better than the alternative. I was feeling so suicidal and my head was screaming at me to kill myself, so I had to harm myself in some way, and I am so shit at cutting that it never gives me enough of a release, plus it leaves something visible, and I didn't want anything anyone could see. So I took some tablets. Not many at all. It was certainly not a suicide attempt, and not even something I would consider an overdose, although obviously technically it was. But it was very few, and nothing that could do any real damage. I just needed to do something to feel like I was hurting myself. It didn't help much.

I slept really badly. I think I got about 3 hours, but I woke up loads of times, and so it was really interrupted. I checked my email and had a reply from her saying that she would cancel my appointment for this afternoon, and that if I wanted to be discharged she would arrange a CPA as soon as possible. I then had another email saying she had booked me in for my usual time on Tuesday and she thought we should talk about it then. I then felt really shit, and wished I hadn't cancelled, and also felt kind of hurt that she hadn't called to ask why I wanted to cancel or anything. I spoke to my friend A, who persuaded me to reply and ask if I could uncancel my appointment, so I did that, but she had already given away my appointment. Which I suppose was to be expected really, but it just made me totally lose it. I asked if she could call me but she said she was really busy and would try but didn't know if she would get time, but that I could call the duty worker. I was so upset by that time that I did call and speak to someone. She was nice enough but basically just said the usual stuff about trying to distract myself, suggested having a bath or something to eat or going for a walk. She said she would speak to L when she got back and that one of them would call me back later. It turned out to be someone else again who called, who again gave me the distraction talk and said it wasn't long until Tuesday when I could see L.

I am furious with myself for cancelling. I was being such a bloody moron. It was a crap idea. I was just so hurt and upset, and I suppose I was trying to play mind games and see how she reacted, which was a shit idea because they never work - you never get what you want. So I have been left feeling even more like she doesn't give a shit about me, and even more alone. I suppose I was hoping she would call and ask why I wanted to cancel and then I would have spoken to her etc. It wasn't a conscious thought, but when I got her reply today and realised how hurt I was that she had just accepted me cancelling like that. Tuesday may not seem long away to then but it feels like an eternity to me, particuarly since I should have bloody seen her this afternoon, and it is already a week and a half since I saw her. Given what I have just said about wishing I hadn't cancelled today this will sound ridiculous, but I don't know if I want to see her Tuesday. Every single thing that has happened this past week has made me feel less and less like I can rely on her and that makes me want to just give up on her, as I feel like she has given up on me, but I feel so completely alone without her. The trouble is, what I miss is the relationship I had with her prior to the last couple of weeks, and when I think about seeing her that is what I want. Not how I feel about it all now. I feel upset and hurt by her, and angry and upset with myself. I know I have been childish and acted stupidly today, and if I could redo things I would. But I feel like I must have some something wrong last week for her to not contact me at all, and I have no idea what. I am so confused and I don't know where to turn.

Alone

I feel really alone. And desperate. I just self harmed - I hoped that hurting myself might make me feel a bit better, but it didn't. It's only superficial. I very rarely self harm - I can't actually remember the last time I did it. I think possibly early this year. So a long time ago. Sometimes I have got relief from it, but that seems to be when I am in an agitated type depression, not this desperately low, flat, suicidal type of depression. It is only ever superficial, but hurting myself just seems to help sometimes, and I think when I am agitated it helps to ground me. Nothing today though. Even my more self destructive coping mechanisms like self harming, and focusing on my weight etc aren't helping. In fact, I am more or less ignoring my weight. I have very little appetite at the moment, so do seem to have lost a little bit, but it doesn't make me feel good. Nothing does. I got told tonight that I had got the lead in one of the shows I auditioned for last week. Obviously not the Sunday audition. The other ones. I actually couldn't have cared less, despite it being a brilliant part. And my parents were really pleased for me and asking if I was excited, and so I tried to smile and be pleased but it just meant nothing to me. I suppose partly because I have zero intention of being alive then. And then partly just because I can't seem to feel excitement or happiness or pleasure or anything at all really from anything at the moment. I feel so lost. And out of options. I am getting more and more desperate. I have been trying so hard the last few days. I really have. I feel like I have done absolutely everything I possibly could. But none of it has got me anywhere. I am so exhausted.

Performing and weight

I am not feeling that great. Not desperately suicidal or anything. Just not good. I suppose that is a bit of a daft thing to say really as I never feel good. I don't know how to explain it really. I suppose it is partly just the post show blues making me feel flat - I think that is something everyone experiences after performing. It fills so much of your life, particularly during the actual performance period, and the week or two leading up to that, and so it is bound to leave something of a void when it finishes. It is strange how slowly the last few weeks have gone - it is less than 3 weeks ago that my friend was here, and it feels like so much longer. Back then, just 2 weeks ago, I didn't even want to go to rehearsals, and I wished I wasn't doing the show at all. Then it took over for a couple of weeks, and whilst I would say I was happy to be going off out every night, and I didn't always feel like it, I got on with it, and it was fine, and sometimes it was fun. And now I suppose I just have a gap. It has been quite a few years since I have done a big musical, which may be contributing to it I suppose - I didn't perform at all, apart from some concerts and festivals, between 2006 and this year, so that was a 4 year gap, which is really quite a long time. I was still dancing, and I did some teaching in that time, and some directing and choreographing etc, but I didn't actually perform myself, and the last musical I did before Carousel was Les Miserables back in 2005. I actually hadn't realised quite how big a gap there had been - I knew I hadn't been performing for a while, but it is only now I have opened up my CV and am actually looking at dates that I have realised just how long. Then in 2006 I did open air Shakespeare, and a very small part in a play, and then absolutely nothing bar concerts/festivals, and extra work in one film in 2007 (which I don't count as acting as you just stand about and move when you are told to) until the one act play I did earlier this year, then The Tempest, and then Carousel. It is strange - between 1998 and 2003 I did 2 musicals every year, and sometimes a play or pantomime too, and then usually a couple of concerts as part of a choir as well, and various other things, and after that I started doing less and less, until I stopped completely in 2006. I know that is no coinidence - 2005 is when I first tried to kill myself, and also when I moved away to university and was hospitalised etc, and although I did a couple of things in 2006 when I was back home, I know things had changed. They had started to change before that actually - I did my first summer course at a big Drama School in 2002, when I was 16, and I came home pissed off that I was starting A levels rather than a performing course, and unhappy with the quality of the productions I had been doing, and just wanting more. I also had my first audition for a West End production that year, which despite being dreadful, made me want to perform even more, and therefore made me even more frustrated with college etc. Then 2003 was when everything seemed to go wrong and I was first diagnosed with Depression, and given anti depressants, and an Eating Disorder, and referred to the CMHT. And I suppose I just started performing less and less as I just didn't have the motivation or energy, and I found being around people too difficult. I kept up with dance classes virtually the whole time, and I carried on with singing lessons until about 18 months ago, when a) my singing teacher moved away, and b) I was having severe problems with my voice, and I did some acting classes for a while, and some summer courses etc, but there were absolutely no productions after the summer of 2006, until the spring of this year.

Then this year I decided to force myself to do things, even if I didn't feel like it. I knew that performing was still the only thing I ever cared about, despite not caring the majority of the time. So I got involved in the 1 act play. I can honestly say I regretted that about 99% of the time. There wasn't a single rehearsal or performance I wanted to go to, I couldn't be bothered with it, I didn't care about it, I didn't enjoy myself. Then it was on to the Shakespeare. That was better. I still didn't want to be doing it most of the time, but there were some points that I was enjoying it. Shakespeare wrote so beautifully that it is hard not to get into it - when something is that well written you have to put everything you can into it (as of course you should with everything, but some thing just demand it). So although I never felt like going to the rehearsals or learning my lines, there were times when I was pleased to be doing it. And then Carousel. That has been a bit of a mixed one. I would be lying if I said I haven't enjoyed it some of the time. I still felt a real lack of motivation towards going to rehearsals, but they generally improved when I got there, although not always. I liked working with a good choreographer. I liked doing the pas de deux (bar the somewhat scary Saturday performances, and of course hurting my back!). It was a little difficult only being in the second half of Act 2, as that meant I didn't go to many rehearsals, and so really didn't get to know the cast very well at all, apart from those I was in scenes with, until the couple of weeks before the show week, but when I did get to know them they were a really lovely bunch. I got to know the other principal females particularly well during the week of the show when we were sharing a dressing room, and that was great - they were good fun. So there were lots of positives. On the other hand, there were also days when the thought of going out to a rehearsal had me in tears, as it just felt too much, and a couple of rehearsals that I didn't go to because it was just more than I could face. 3 weeks ago I would have said I would be massively relieved when it was over. But it really did improve a lot during the week before the show, and the week of the show itself. I wasn't happy, and I wasn't hyper and excitable like I used to be during shows, and like other people were. I felt quite flat and numb. I didn't get at all nervous, which actually isn't a good sign, as you need a bit of adrenaline to give a good performance I find. But it was the most positive performing experience I have had this year. Maybe because it was a musical, and really that is what I am most passionate about, or maybe because of having such a great cast, particularly in my dressing room. I don't know. I still didn't have the spark I want, but I didn't spend my whole time wishing I was at home, and that has to be a good thing right? Goodness, this was such a tangent. I can't even remember what my point was....

Right, yes. So when you are doing a show, it kind of takes over you life, and when it finished you are just left with this hole. I suppose it is particularly strong because I haven't been doing anything else this week either - normally I would have been to ballet twice, but it has been half term so that hasn't been on. So yes, I suppose I am partly just feeling a bit empty because of the show being over. Then I am struggling with my weight and food as usual. I ate far more today than I should have, and so feel terrible, and am really scared of what the scales will say tomorrow, but not weighing is not an option. Then there is normal depression stuff. I am doing better than I was a few weeks ago I think - I have read a few books over the last couple of weeks, which is usually at least a vague indicator for me, as when things are really dreadful I can't read. But I just feel kind of on edge. I am still having lots of suicidal thoughts, but I am not in that numb, unable to move type depression. I feel a bit impulsive I suppose, which kind of scares me, because in some ways it feels more unsafe, but I don't think I am at risk of acting on the suicidal thoughts at the moment, even in an impulsive mood. I have been getting a lot of urges to self harm though. They are often strong when I am really frustrated with my weight and body. I wish I could just cut big slices of fat off. Off my thighs. I keep getting these pictures flashing into my head of just carving massive chunks of fat off my legs. I won't attempt it - that isn't my style, but I would like to. I really need to find a way of getting in control of my weight and what I am eating, because at the moment it is just making me feel terrible about myself. I need to lose weight. I can't even express how important that feels at the moment, and yet how impossible.

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.

Stop the World - I Want to Get Off

Not a good day. Again. Well I suppose to be fair the actual day wasn't bad. Nothing bad happened. It was fine. I went to the Shakespeare rehearsal. Well, it was more of a read through really. Then I had to go to my sister's house for 3 hours, because my parents were both out all day, so I couldn't get home until my mum picked me up at 7. I was quite tired by the time I got home because I had been out 6 hours, and even though that doesn't sound like long, it feels like a long time to me. I do find it difficult being out of the house. A friend asked me earlier if being busy and having lots on made me feel better, but it really doesn't - the more I have on the more stressed and overwhelmed I get by it all, and the more I just want to curl up in my bed and block out the world. It apparently isn't meant to work like that - distraction is meant to be good, but it doesn't work for me. I don't get distracted. I just feel shit whilst I am doing whatever it is I am doing.

Next paragraph may trigger.

Tonight hasn't been good. I got ready for bed, cleaned my teeth etc, then got the munchies. I tried to get rid of them with sugar free sweets, because I allow myself them after I have cleaned my teeth, but then I decided I needed crisps (chips to any Americans) and a chocolate truffle. So I ate them, felt like shit, and went downstairs and purged. Purging when both parents are in the house is unheard of for me, but since both parents were asleep and I knew I could do it without making any noise I did it anyway. And then I came back up to bed and self harmed. Deeper than the other night, or there was more blood anyway. But still not deep. I seem to be getting into the purging every day thing again, and then there is the self harm thing. I still believe the self harm itself isn't a problem, but the fact that I feel like I need to do it is a problem. Same applies to the purging really, although I suppose that could be seen as more of a problem in that it isn't too good for you. I am also taking the laxatives every day, but just the amount you are supposed to so that isn't a problem, but I guess it isn't ideal I have started using them when I never have before. Things feel bad. I suppose things are bad. I am going to overdose. Not this week. I need to stick to my committment of the play on Friday - I don't want to let people down. But I am planning to do it after that. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be alive. I do really genuinely feel like this is the right decision. There is no way it could be described as a spur of the moment decision, as I have thought about suicide every day for years. And I am not in an unable to move, constant crying, unable to talk Depression. Therefore it is a perfectly rational decision which I am entitled to make. I know people won't agree with this, but I really do believe it. I have had enough.

To be or not to be?

I purged again today. And I am really wanting to self harm again. Actually I am really, really wanting to overdose. I don't think I will, but the urges are really strong. The reason I don't think I will is because I would be letting people down, as the play that I was in a few weeks ago is entered in a drama festival next week, and if I kill myself, or even try to, then that would  be really unfair on the rest of the cast. But I don't know if that is enough to stop me really. I just don't want to be here. But I will try. I suppose if I have lasted this long I can carry on another week. Right? I don't know what to do.

Confused

I feel confused. I don't really know what is going on. I don't know if I am doing better or worse. Because I am now capable of reading children's books and forming complete sentences, as opposed to the staring at the walls and grunting of a few weeks ago, I assumed that must mean I am doing better. But I don't know if I am. The self harming feels like a bit of a set back. Not because it was bad self harm or anything, but because for the last few days I have wanted to do it so much, and most of the time I don't think about it much, and it is certainly rare that I actually do it, even if I am thinking about it. I have no problem with self harm itself - I don't do it badly enough for it to be damaging, and I have always thought that if stops me doing something more dangerous then that is fine. And I still think that. But I am just a bit concerned that I am feeling bad enough to feel like I need to do that. And last night it did feel like I was self harming to stop myself overdosing. I knew I couldn't overdose, and that that wasn't an option, but I needed to hurt myself. I do feel like I am getting increasingly closer to a suicide attempt. Even though my mood isn't as low as it was a few weeks ago (or I can at least manage some basic things now), I kind of feel more at risk now than I did then. I think I was too exhausted then to do anything. Now I feel like I am teetering on the brink rather, and I am not sure what to do about it. I know the warning signs from previous times, and it seems like they are all there. It might be for the best though. If I have felt like this for so many years, then maybe it really does mean it is the right decision. I can see that it will never be a socially acceptable one, but that doesn't mean it is wrong. Does it?

I bought laxatives today. I don't know why. I never take laxatives. Like I have had them maybe twice in my life, and for completely genuine reasons both times. I know they won't make me lose weight. And yet I feel like I need them. I am getting increasingly obsessed with my weight again. Well, my weight is an ongoing obsession, but sometimes it takes over more than others. The reasoning behind buying the laxatives is that if I go to the toilet more often then I will weigh less. And if I weigh less I will feel better. I am not intending to take lots at a time or anything. Just enough to get me going to the toilet regularly, say every morning before I weigh myself, rather than every few days. But I know what I am like. I know how easily I get hooked on things. Buying them wasn't sensible. But right now I don't care. I just want to lose weight, and even though I know they won't make me lose fat or anything, they might help the number on the scales go down, and that is what I care about. I am a bit obsessed with weighing myself at the moment. I weigh every day when I get up. I do it 3 times in a row, as sometimes it varies by 0.2 of a lb, and so I do it 3 times, and then whichever weight comes up most often is the one that gets written down for that day. But then if I have got up early that day, I then have to weigh again later, at the time I would usually weigh. Since I usually wake up around 1pm or a bit later, my usual weighing time is usually around 2. So if like today, I had to be up early (as I was seeing L), I had to make sure I didn't eat anything until I got home, which wasn't until half 3, so that I could weigh myself then. I also sometimes weigh in the night. Not every night, but if I have to go downstairs for any reason in the night then I weigh myself - it is like a pre-warning of what will come when I weigh the next day. Sadly my weight isn't really going down. I am trying really hard, but it is only going down very slowly, and if I have one day when I eat more than I should have (like yesterday) then my weight immediately jumps up by about a pound. Which then tends to take several days to lose. It feels like a case of 1 step forward, 2 steps back.

I need to sleep. I have been up for 16 hours, and I only had about 4 hours sleep last night. My sleep is dreadful at the moment. Really awful. My mum is taking my grandad back to his house tomorrow. She has spoken to social services, and it is all sorted for the carers to start going in to see him 3 times a day from tomorrow. Hopefully the magic people will have gone when he gets back to his house tomorrow....

Found!

I found my blades. I decided to have another search tonight and I found them. Turns out they were just pretty buried. Really wish I had found them the other day when I wanted them so much. Although it was possibly better that I didn't, as I pretty worked up then. I did self harm tonight. For the first time in about 9 months. Not deep. Just superficial. But I kept going over it over and over again. I am shit at self harming. I always want to cut deeper than I am able to. However many times I go over it and however hard I am pushing it just makes a superficial cut. I want it to be deep. I don't know if it is because my blades aren't sharp enough or what. I think I will buy some new ones. It is amazing what you can find when you search for scalpel on ebay. They look much better than my blades. I can't order for a few days though, because my mum is at home, and so she will see the post, and ask me what it was. Usually the post comes when she is out at work, therefore if I order at the end of this week then it will be ok.

I don't know why I am wanting to self harm so much at the moment. Well I do know. It is because I want to kill myself. I want to overdose so much. But I am trying not to do that because of how much it will upset people. Which is stupid really, because it will happen at some point, so why not now? I would like to do it right now. I would like to get every single tablet I have and take them all. But I can't. For a start it wouldn't be practical - I have an appointment with L in 9 hours, and my mum will expect me to be up in 8 hours. So not good timing. But also I couldn't do that to her - she has more than enough to deal with at the moment with my grandad staying. I haven't had any more stories about magic people today, but he did say earlier that when he had carers before it was useful because when bread was being rationed they had been able to get it for him, even though other people couldn't get it because of the people who make the bread being on strike. Rather baffled as to what that was all about.

I just feel so much that I don't want to be alive. There is no reason for me to be feeling like this at the moment. I am not struggling in the way that I was a few weeks back. I don't have the same desperation - I feel like I am thinking more rationally. But I still want to die. Maybe even more so. Maybe that is proof that I am supposed to kill myself - even when things should be ok I still don't want to live. I just don't know what to do. I don't know what people expect me to do. Everyone always says to carry on, but what is the point? What is it for? I really don't know. If I could see the point of it then it would be easier to keep going. If I could see things getting better then it would be easier. But as it is I just don't understand how or why I am supposed to keep going. It makes no sense. Suicide makes sense.

My Friends

I didn't self harm yesterday. Unfortunately it wasn't because I decided against it, but because my blades appear to have disappeared off the face of the planet. Well either that or my mum came across them at some point and took them without saying anything. That is possibly more likely than them disappearing by themselves. But it pissed me off. I searched for them really thoroughly, but they really aren't anywhere. I was pissed off and tried briefly to cut with something else, but I only like my blades - nothing else cuts it (excuse the pun!). They were special blades, for craft or something - they looked like double edged mens razor blades (except without the funny cut out bit in the middle), but with only one side, which made it easier, as I know I would end up slicing my fingers if I attempted to use double edged blades. They were perfect. I am very sad they have disappeared. I know I rarely used them, but I need them to be there when I do want them, and now I know that they aren't I desperately feel a need to replace them. The problem is the place I got them from no longer seems to have them, and I am not sure where I can get a good replacement. I am scouring Amazon.

I went to the theatre earlier, to see a play about BPD. It was interesting. Some bits were quite difficult to watch because it felt a bit close to home, but some bits I wasn't sure about - it sometimes seemed like it was more about a psychotic illness, and although I know that some people with BPD may hear voices or see things, it isn't really a typical feature. It was interesting to watch though. I went with my friend who I have mentioned before, who is under the same CMHT as me, and it was quite funny because the majority of the CMHT were also in the audience (including L), which was just a bit weird. It is strange seeing people out of context like that, although I did know that some of them would be there, as L had already told me that she was going. There was a Q&A session afterwards, with the cast, a psychologist who had been involved in it, and the playwright/director. Some people asked some quite interesting questions. Overall it was quite an interesting evening. I may write more about it tomorrow when I have had more time to process it all.

I have my ENT appointment tomorrow for my voice. I really am dreading it! I am just such a wuss, and so squeamish, and I don't want a stupid bloody tube stuck down my nose. I know I won't be able to sleep properly for stressing about it. I just need to keep thinking that this is something I have to do to get my voice sorted out, so I can sing properly again. Gahhh!

Oh, and in good news, my weight is down a bit. Not much, I have only lost a few lbs, but I have now managed to get past last saturday - my weight is now 0.2lbs lower than it was last saturday, which means it has taken 4 days to lose 1.2lbs, which is pretty slow going, but I am trying to look on the positive side. And really hope it keeps going down. Even thought it frustrates me when it goes down so slowly, it still makes me feel like I am achieving something when I am losing weight, and I need that feeling of achievement at the moment.

Oh, and for anyone wondering how on earth the title relates to the rest of my post, in Sweeney Todd, but the genius Stephen Sondheim, Sweeney sings a song called My Friends to his razors. It is a beautiful song, I recommend you listen to it. But not the Johnny Depp version. Johnny Depp is gorgeous and sexy, but he can't sing Sondheim like George Hearn can!

Cancelled again

I should be seeing L at the moment, but 5 minutes after she was due to arrive the receptionist rung and said she had been called out on an emergency assessment and wouldn't be able to see me today. I feel really shit. I shouldn't be this upset. I know sometimes things like this happen, and it isn't her fault. And I did see her on monday in the end. But I just do feel really upset. And actually quite pissed off. Which is completely unreasonable because it isn't her fault. I think maybe it was partly because she didn't tell me herself - usually if she can't make an appointment she rings me herself, or texts me. The receptionist does not usually ring and tell me. Even if she can't make it because she is off sick she usually texts me herself. I think being called by the receptionist and told she can't see me today and that she will see me next tuesday as planned just made me feel even more crap and unimportant. Plus I know she won't be in the rest of this week, so I know there is no chance of seeing her some other time to make up for it or anything. I don't know. I know I am being unreasonable and overreacting but I just feel really awful. My initial instinct was to self harm. I don't know why. I very rarely self harm. It must be 9 months or so since I last did. So why do I want to so much now? And that I want to pisses me off because it is such a bloody textbook borderline reaction - feel abandoned? Self harm. I don't know why I am being so bloody irrational today. I know they have emergencies. I know she couldn't help it. And yet I am taking it really personally.

Rollercoaster day

This is ridiculous. My moods are so all over the place. Earlier on today I was really hyper - I was bouncing around and giggling, and generally being a pain in the arse and irritating my parents. Tonight I have been crying hysterically. I think my weird hyper mood started last night. I woke my dad up in the middle of the night because I was laughing my head off. He was fairly unimpressed. And then when I woke up today I was still in a weird mood. That probably lasted until early evening, and then my mood started to dip. I think it was largely because my mum had a friend over, which was fine in itself, but because of that dinner was weird - there was just all kind of nibbly foods all over the table when I went downstairs, like slices of pizza, and french bread, and lots of stuff I ignored because I don't like it, and lettuce, and cheese etc. Food being unstructured like that bothers me. I had some food, and then we took the dogs out for a walk (she had brought her dog over), and then when we got back there were little chocolate eclairs for dessert, and then later in the evening my mum got out cheese and crackers and crisps. By that time I thought fuck it, I have already ruined the day, so proceeded to have another slice of pizza, and a cracker with some cheese, and tonnes of crisps. And then I felt full and sick, and desperately wanted to purge, but couldn't. And then I just snapped. I burst into tears and lay on the floor crying totally hysterically, and just got more and more upset and told my mum that I hated myself and I was greedy and disgusting and I wanted to die. Way to spoil the evening for everyone. That was about an hour and a half ago now, and I have been crying most of the time since. I feel like absolute shit and I desperately want to hurt myself. I want to kill myself really, but if I am not going to do that I feel like I need to punish myself in some way for being such a disgusting pig. My dad kept telling me I was supposed to be on a diet, but I still kept eating. And now I will have gained a tonne of weight tomorrow and I can't fucking cope with that. My parents tried to tell me that everyone has days where they eat too much, and they just eat less the next day, but all I could think is that I have spent all bloody week desperately trying to lose weight, and now I have fucked up the whole thing by being so bloody weak and pathetic today. I just hate myself so much. I really want to cut, but my mum will be angry with me if she notices, and she is sure to notice at some point. I just feel so broken. I hate that food can have such control over me - that eating too much is enough to make me want to die. But it is. I just feel so terrible now. I hate myself so much. Everything feels so hard at the moment. It is like I am walking along a tightrope, and it is scarily easy to lose my balance and go plummeting down.

Skin games

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