Past vs. Future

When I saw L on tuesday she asked me to write about what being 'better'/well means to me, and what I would want from life if I didn't have mental health problems etc, ie how I would want my life to be if I recovered from this (she didn't say if - she said when, but to me it is a big if). I am finding it very difficult, I think largely because I find it so completely impossible to imagine. My adult life so far has been completely taken over by my mental health problems, and even before I was diagnosed as having Depression, and given medication etc, things were not right for quite a few years before that. I am not sure if they were ever right, I have a bad memory.

I do remember that even when I was very young, ie primary school age, I didn't fit in, and I was more comfortable in the company of adults than I was with other children. I had one best friend, who lived down the road from me but went to a different school, and I wasn't massively interested in having other friends. I was very jealous when she was spending time with her other friends from school etc - I didn't want to share her, I just wanted her to be my friend. I suppose I did have friends at school, and I did have friends round to play and went to theirs etc, but they weren't really close friends that I can remember. I was teased a lot at school, which turned into bullying when I was older, although only verbal - nothing physical. I am kind of side tracking here, but I suppose what I am trying to say is that there was always an element of not fitting in and of being different, and quite isolated, and then quite a lot happened around the time I was 10/11/12 - nothing really traumatic, but things that were big to me as a child. Within a couple of years my brother moved out, which I remember being very upset by, although I am not quite sure why as he must have been about 23 at the time, and I don't remember spending a lot of time with him prior to that or anything. My granddad died, who I was very close to. And my parents split up. I think it was also around that time that my relationship with my sister started going wrong. She had absolutely doted on me when I was little - she was almost like another mother, and she used to take me out a lot and buy me all sorts of things. Then suddenly (it seemed to me) she just kind of turned on me and started saying how spoilt I was, and just not being very nice to me. I probably was spoilt, but it was her who had been doing the spoiling - my parents didn't spoil me. Even the things I did hobby wise, like dancing, had been on her insistence - she had been desperate for me to do ballet when I was little, so I did. But at some point she seemed to start resenting me a lot - I think partly because of the opportunities I had that she never had, and partly because I obviously had most of my Mum's time etc - she is 17 years older than me. Our relationship has never really been right since then. Sometimes she is fine with me, and seems to want me to spend time with her, but she can be really quite nasty sometimes, particularly when there are other people around, and she isn't at all supportive of my mental health problems. She is quite a difficult person generally - everyone is really careful of what they say around her as she is liable to explode over tiny things - comments she takes the wrong way, or something she perceives as criticism, or really anything at all. So people tiptoe around her. I suppose if I am honest I can see similarities between us behaviourally, but I tend to bottle things up far more than she does I think, and I think I probably direct more of my anger inwards, whereas she gets very angry with other people. Although having said that, I do too sometimes - I can completely explode, generally at my parents, and be really aggressive. I don't know. Maybe we are more similar than I would like to admit. Anyway, this is all digression.

So my pre-teen years were quite difficult. I was particularly affected by my parents splitting up. My dad used to come and see me, and I would be completely distraught when he left, really hysterically crying and screaming and trying to chase the car as he drove away, and laying down in the middle of the road outside the house after he had gone. Then sometimes I would refuse to see or speak to him for months at a time. Then it would be back to him coming over as though nothing had happened. I think I was very confused and upset - my parents had always been the couple that would never split up, and I had no idea he was leaving until the day he left. I was a mess, and my mum was a mess, and so I would try to be ok for her, because I didn't want to make things worse for her. She went for counselling for a while, but I never talked to anybody. We didn't tell anybody he had left. We just pretended he was still living there. Nobody at school knew they had split up. Most of my friends didn't know. This went on for years really. Just keeping up a facade of happy families. He would always come and stay over Christmas, and come on holiday with us. I was always devastated when he left again. For some periods of time he would spend every weekend with us. Then either my mum or I would decide we didn't want to see him, and he would disappear for months, until we let him back. It was all pretty confusing really. I didn't have any friends at school, and over the years I started to grow away from my best friend. I wasn't happy. I used to skip school quite a lot. I did get ill quite a lot as a child, and when I wasn't actually ill I would pretend to be to get time off school. The only time I was happy was when I was rehearsing shows or performing. I felt accepted there. I felt like people liked me. I could pretend to be someone else. I think that was when I first started having a happy face that I would put on, however I felt inside. I was 12, and I had just auditioned for my first big production outside of school (Annie), and then between the auditions and rehearsals starting my dad had left, and I was confused and upset and all over the place, and those rehearsals were a safe place for me. I had the lead part and I didn't feel useless - people thought I was good and all of the cast were nice to me, and it was my escape. It was also around that time that I first remember getting attached to people. Not to the same extent that I did when I was older, but it was definitely there. I idolised the woman playing Grace. My teen years were basically spent avoiding school whenever possible, and going from one show to the next, because rehearsals were the only place that made me happy, and where I felt good about myself. And where the various people I got attached to over the years were. So although I was 17 before I ever spoke to anybody about how I felt - I had really never ever talked about emotions and feelings at all before then with anybody, not even in a general way - and was referred to the CMHT etc, right through my childhood and adolescence things weren't right. I wasn't happy. I wouldn't say I was depressed as I did still enjoy things, or performing anyway, but I wasn't happy either. And I think that is partly why I find it so difficult to think about the future, and what I want, and being happy and living a normal life. Because I don't really have much experience of that - certainly not as an adult, but not really even as a teenager or child. But I did have a clear idea of what I wanted when I was a teenager, and so I will try and write about that. Occasionally I will have moments when I remember why I cared, and why I wanted things, and I try to hold onto those, but they don't last long. I think one of the reasons I am finding this play so frustrating is because I am just not enjoying it at all - I have spent all of the rehearsals wishing I wasn't there, and when performing was my only outlet, and the only thing that I enjoyed for so many years, it is really hard to know that even that doesn't make me happy now. It makes me feel more hopeless.

I compare myself a lot to other people. People I went to school or college with. Who now have virtually all moved away from home and been to university, and are now working. A few didn't go to university but have been working. Nobody else seems to have done absolutely nothing. One girl from my class at school is a Doctor now. Another is doing a Masters degree. One guy is in a band that have had Mercury Prize nominated album and toured all over the world. I feel completely humiliated when I see people I haven't seen for a long time and they ask what I am doing, because I am not doing anything, and I haven't done anything since A levels. And it frustrates me because I know that I was as clever as everyone I was at school with. I don’t mean to sound arrogant when I say that, but I was. Even though my attendance at school was relatively poor, and I didn’t work terribly hard, I always still did well. Not as well as I could have done, but better than most people. I got the best GCSE results in my year, and I didn’t do any revision. Admittedly my year group wasn’t the brightest (both girls I have mentioned had moved schools before GCSEs), but even so, I should have done something. I feel like I have been left behind. Not just academically either. In life generally. Some people I was at school or college with are engaged or married. I even feel useless when I compare myself to friends I have who also have mental health problems. Even compared to them I seem to have achieved less. Some of them have also been to university and got degrees. Some haven't managed to get their degrees, but at least managed to do a year or 2 before leaving. Some have worked. Some have travelled. Nearly everyone I know apart from me seems to have a driving license. There is just an endless list of things that I haven't done that other people I know have. And that makes me feel really useless.

To me, being well would mean;
- Feeling ok about my life. Not wanting to kill myself. Not happy all of the time, because I know that isn't realistic, and that people aren't happy all of the time, but happy some of the time. And ok most of the time. Everyone has bad days, but every day shouldn't be a bad day.
- Feeling well enough to do things, like the summer course in America for example.
- Enjoying things. Having things that make me happy. I am completely lacking this at the moment, and it is probably one of the hardest things to deal with.
- Being able to go into busy places, like bars or something, without getting such overwhelming anxiety that I have to leave.
- Having friends, and wanting to spend time with them and go out with them. I don't really have many friends who don't have mental health problems themselves, and whilst I do have some really good friends, I would like to be able to have friends who aren't caught up in the whole mental health world. I know why I tend to stick to people who have MH problems - it is because they understand when I am having a bad day and just can't stop crying, or when I can't cope with leaving the house, or I can't have a proper conversation because all I can think about is suicide. And because I have been hurt by other friends I have had who haven't been able to deal with that, because they just don't understand. Or because they get bored of me never wanting to go out with them. Or because they have been scared off by seeing me or talking to me when I have been bad. But it has all lead to me feeling abandoned, and so now I am scared of making friends with 'normal' people. If I was well that wouldn't happen. I would want to go out and see them, because I wouldn't be anxious about being around people, or feel like I had to put on a happy mask all of the time, or be too pre-occupied with suicide to hold a normal conversation.
- Having relationships. Wanting to see someone. Falling in love. Not feeling like I don't deserve it, or like I shouldn't be with someone because it wouldn't be fair on them to have to put up with me.
- Accepting my body and weight. Not neccessarily being happy with it all of the time, because again that isn't realistic, but just having the type of relationship with my body and food that other people do. Not desperately wanting to purge when I eat 'bad' foods. Being able to eat healthily without going into restriction mode, and being able to eat some junk food without beating myself up about it, and then letting myself just eat as much crap as I want because I have ruined the day anyway. Finding a balance between eating whatever I like (mostly rubbish) and restricting. Not letting the scales determine whether it will be a good or a bad day. Not constantly thinking about calories and weight whenever I eat.
- Having my own place. Not supported accommodation, but actually my own flat, or flatshare. Just like other people do.
- Being able to go to drama school. This is probably the biggest thing, as it would mean being able to do most of the above, plus be in college 40 - 60 hours a week, as well as all the work outside of college - vocal work, body conditioning, learning songs and scripts, writing essays etc etc
- Not being reliant on benefits for money. Working like everyone else - ideally in acting, but doing the typical out of work actor jobs like temping and telesales when there is no acting work.
- Being out of the mental health system. Not needing therapy or medication, or support in that way. Just dealing with bad days however other people do.
- Not wanting to turn to some form of self neglect or self harm all of the time, and not seeing suicide as the way out when things get overwhelming.
- Being able to think in a more balanced way, rather than just in black and white.
- Wanting to live. Seeing life as a positive thing, rather than something that I want to be over as soon as possible.

I am writing all of this but it feels like something that is a complete impossibility. I can’t imagine any of it ever happening. I find thinking about the future so overwhelming, because the things I always wanted seem too far out of reach, and I don’t even know if they are what I want, because I don’t want anything at the moment, except to die. Thinking about the future goes against every instinct I have – I find it difficult to even think a day ahead, let alone years into the future, and I find it very anxiety provoking and just scary I suppose. Because I can’t imagine any of this ever happening. Because all I can see is years of feeling like this stretching out in front of me, and I can’t cope with that.

Catch up

I haven't written for a few days. I have been very tired and just not really felt like I have had anything to write about. Things are not getting any easier. Having said that, I think there has been change over the last few weeks, but I couldn't say whether it was good or bad. A few weeks ago I was completely exhausted, to the point where it was difficult to do things like move my head. My thinking was really slowed down, and I knew I felt really terrible, but I think I was too tired to actually do anything about it. Now I am still exhausted, but not in quite the same way. I don't really know if I could explain the difference, but it is different. And my brain is definitely different. It is filled with thoughts. Racing thoughts. Constant thinking and planning and plotting. I think I seem better to other people - certainly L has commented that visibly I don't seem as bad as I did a few weeks ago. I think that is largely because I have recovered the ability to talk in full sentences, which is of course a good thing. But I actually feel far more at risk now than I did then. I am much more on edge. I am having to take a lot more Diazepam to try and calm me down and slow my thoughts a bit. I feel like I am actually a much greater risk to myself now than I was a few weeks ago, even if I appear better to others.

It is the play this week. I am not looking forward to it. This is all wrong. I used to love performing. Being on stage gave me such a buzz. When I was growing up I was only happy when I was at rehearsals, or performing. That was the only part of life that interested me. Now I don't even have that. I said I couldn't make the rehearsal friday because I was ill. That was a lie - I just couldn't face it. I had to go sunday as I didn't feel like I could let people down by missing yet another rehearsal, but it was crap. I wasn't in the mood at all - I was completely lost in my thoughts. I just phoned it in. I also got very faint in the middle of the rehearsal and had to sit down for a few minutes. I am not sure what that was about. I got like it again at ballet today. I have quite a heavy period at the moment so I am wondering if it is related to that. Either that or I am ill. The weird thing is, that much as I hate this play, in a way it is keeping me going. I have been having such strong suicidal thoughts over the last few days, particularly friday and saturday, but I am acutely aware that I would be letting down the rest of the cast, and I can't do that. I have the tech rehearsal tomorrow night, and then the dress on wednesday, and then performances thursday, friday and saturday. And then it will be over. Thank goodness. I feel like it is taking too much of my energy, and I don't have enough as it is. Plus of course the feeling obliged to stay alive thing just makes me really resent the whole thing.

My mum picked up my Zopiclone on saturday. Unfortunately she is following the little note that my GP scribbled all over it and giving me one tablet every other night. Which basically does fuck all. Considering I have been taking 30mg a go lately when I have dipped into my stash, and not even been knocked out by that, I think it is fairly obvious why 7.5mg isn't doing a lot. Or anything at all really. This is pretty unfortunate. I am now thinking that since they don't work I may as well not take them and just add them to the stash so that I can either take a few at a time when I really want to sleep, or use them to overdose on. Sleep is still a problem. I am having trouble getting to sleep, which isn't anything new, but I am waking up a ridiculous ammount, and I just still feel so tired when I wake up. And I look tired too. I have black circles under my eyes, and bags. People keep commenting on how tired I look. I am never quite sure what the aim is when people say that. I am usually aware that I look like crap, and someone reminding me doesn't really help. And how are you meant to respond?

The weekend was really hard. Friday night I came very close to overdosing. Much closer than I have for a long time. Actually probably the closest I have got since I last did overdose. Then I got into a complete state on Saturday - I was convinced that L was going to stop seeing me, and the thought of that just sent me into complete turmoil. I know I will have to deal with it at some point, but right now I just can’t think about me. It just really fuelled my fears of abandonment enormously and I just got so worked up and I just couldn’t calm myself down for hours – I was just sobbing completely uncontrollably for ages and ended up with a splitting headache as a result of it. It also made the suicidal thoughts even stronger, because the thought of trying to cope on my own just feels so completely impossible. It is hard enough to keep going at the moment as it is, and without support I just couldn’t do it. And then I was also thinking that I should kill myself because I feel like I am such a nuisance and if I was dead then she wouldn’t have to see me, nobody would. But then I got really scared about what would happen if I tried to kill myself and it didn’t work, and would I end up with no support then. And round and round in circles my brain went. It does worry me how I can get so dependent on somebody. I get so that I really rely on people, and then if/when I lose them I find it incredibly hard to deal with. I think it is partly because I find it so difficult to trust people – I could count on one hand the number of people I have ever completely trusted, and whose judgement I would always believe. Actually, I would probably only need 2 fingers for the people I have trusted absolutely, and then a couple more fingers for people I have trusted, but not to quite that extent. I wonder if that is ‘normal’ or not.

I have semi made a decision on America. Primarily due to pressure from my parents. Well I don't think they intended it as such. My dad asked me if I had made up my mind, and I said no, and he asked why not and didn't I need to decide. It seems that grabbing my teddy bear, bursting into tears and repeatedly saying 'I can't talk about that now, please close the door' made him think it wasn't a good idea for me to go to America for a month. My parents basically said that if I was in that much doubt about whether or not to go, then it probably wasn't a good idea, as I would just end up getting more and more worked up about it. They have a point. But I now feel like a failure. Naturally. I tried to persuade my mum last night how much better off she would be without me. I asked if she wished she had never had me. She said parents don't think about that. I said that I was now making her think about that, and did she wish she hadn't had me. Apparently she doesn't wish that. Neither does she wish I would disappear, which I have felt was a good idea ever since watching a documentary last week about a man who tried to disappear for a month to see if it was possible. I thought I could pretend to disappear, and nobody would be worried about me because I would be disappeared, and I could then kill myself, and nobody would know, and therefore nobody would be upset. I didn't share the killing myself part of the plan with my mum - just the rest of it, but she didn't like it. I suppose she has to say that really though. She can't really say to me that it was a massive mistake having me, and of course she wishes she hadn't, because that would sound a bit mean. Although I did say that I wish she hadn't had me, which is possibly also a bit mean, but true. That is what I want more than anything else. To just not exist.

Passionate Blogger Award

A Glass Half Shattered has very kindly awarded me the Passionate Blogger Award. I am very excited as it is the first award anyone has ever given me for my blog, so thank you very much for that.

I now choose 5 bloggers to pass the award onto. This is hard, as I love all the blogs on my blogroll, but I am making a point of choosing people who haven't already received it (to my knowledge), which eliminates some people, including some of my favourite bloggers. It was really difficult to just choose 5 people.

So in no particular order, my choices are...

Kris at Borderline Families - I only found this blog a couple of days ago, but have read back through all of her entries, and she seems incredibly dedicated and passionate. I am finding it interesting reading a blog from the point of view of someone who cares for someone with a mental health problem, rather than someone with a mental health problem like most of my blogroll are.

Cassie at Behind the Facade - Cassie has been on my blogroll for quite a long time now and I always like reading what is going on with her. She is clearly very passionate about mental health issues generally, as well as blogging.

Em at Eccedentesiast - I love Em. She is an inspiration. A fantastic blogger and a lovely person.

Margery Daw at round the mulberry bush - Margery Daw is a nearly qualified Mental Health Nurse. I like MH professionals/professionals-to-be that blog. I think it shows a passion and dedication to their job that lots of other staff could really learn from. And I like that she refers to her children as the three little pigs.

Annie at It's Time To Get Over How Fragile You Are - I like the way she blogs. I included her because I think she is quite original. I like the pictures and bullet point format that her updates often consist of, as I find them easy to read when I am struggling to concentrate.

As I said, it was really hard to just pick five people, as I do love all the blogs I read. Those of you who I have awarded this to can now put it in your side bar and pass on the award to 5 other bloggers. Or just completely ignore it - your decision!

Struggling

I am really struggling quite a lot. Yesterday afternoon was hard - I didn't really do anything except write my blog post from yesterday, and that took me from about half 12 until about half 8, and there is not 8 hours worth of writing there, so I am thinking I must have done a fair bit of dissociating. The night wasn't so bad - I had the election coverage on and was talking to a few people on MSN and I think I stayed fairly with it. I got to sleep about half 4, slept terribly, woke up at some point during the morning and went online for about half an hour, then when back to sleep until about half 1. I still woke up feeling exhausted, because even when on paper the ammount of sleep I have had looks ok it is so interrupted and disturbed that it just doesn't seem to refresh me at all. My mum still hasn't picked up my bloody prescription.

Today has been really bad. Even when I was waking up in the night I felt really crap, and then when I woke up properly I just felt really dreadful. I feel very tense and anxious, I think mostly about the things I wrote about yesterday. I don't know what to do about the America thing, and whatever decision I make feels wrong. I also just feel so hopeless, because I really don't see things changing and that is so hard. The last few weeks have been so unbelievably hard and I have felt so terrible, and I have kept going and I haven't tried to kill myself because I thought things would have to get easier soon, and they haven't, they have got harder and I feel worse and more suicidal, and I really just don't know what I supposed to do now. I can't just keep on going. I feel so lost. I desperately want to kill myself. I don't know what to do with myself. I don't know how to pass the time because I just can't concentrate or think properly. I feel like I want to cry all of the time, but it is like I am empty, there is nothing there. I just can't carry on. I feel so bad that it really hurts. I really think I have reached breaking point.

Thoughts about the future

L arrived bright and early this morning. She was bright anyway. And it was early. I was tired and still in my PJs, but I was out of bed so she was very impressed. I asked if she had been planning to come and drag me out of bed if I wasn't up and she said not to put it past her. I think she would actually. Anyway, she took me to see the supported housing and someone gave us a tour of the place.

The vibe of it was very like a hostel or something. Very young - everyone I saw looked under 30. Very bright and colourful etc. There was a games room with a pool table and TV with various game things, and a computer with internet and a karaoke machine (!!). Then there was a TV room next door, which apparently has Sky. There was a garden and smoking area etc, but I don't smoke, and an art room, and a little gym with a treadmill and cross trainer and weights machine things etc. A laundry room with a couple of washing machines and a tumble dryer. There was a really massive kitchen/dining thing. It was like 2 kitchens really - the room was really long and there was a kitchen at each end, and then 2 big tables with chairs in the middle. Apparently everyone has a cupboard that locks to keep their stuff in, and then fridge space etc - there seemed like plenty of room. The bedroom I saw was quite nice. Apparently it was one of the smaller ones, but it was a reasonable size, and all of the rooms have ensuite shower rooms. They have furniture - bed, desk and chair, wardrobe and chest of drawers, but they said you can keep as much or little of that as you want. There are 12 rooms. It seemed fairly male dominated - there are currently only 3 girls. It seems like you get a lot of support. They come up with a plan of what you will be doing on a daily basis and what things you need help with, for example if you need help with cooking then that goes on there, or if you need help with your medication or shopping or whatever then they support you with it. There is always a member of staff available through the night etc.

I am not really sure how I feel about it at the moment. My biggest concern would be sharing a kitchen. I am not sure if I could cope with that. I wouldn't want to use anything that other people used. I also wouldn't go in there if I thought it might be dirty etc, and that could be problematic. I am a bit neurotic about cleanliness outside of my house, and even at home I am paranoid about what things have been used for etc. So I suppose the kitchen situation would be what I would find most difficult to deal with. I think I would also find it hard being around people so much more than I am now, but I suppose that is something that I should get used to really, as I know I probably spend too much time on my own at the moment. I think I also have difficulty seeing myself as needing supported accommodation like that. It just seems like something for people who are really ill, and I can't think of myself like that. On the other hand, I know that I would need quite a lot of support if I wasn't living at home. I think the time scale kind of freaks me out too. They said people stay there up to 2 years, and then there are 6 move on flats, so people either move into those, or they support them in finding somewhere in the community. I can't cope with the concept of being ill, or having problems that need support for another 2 years. It freaks me out. I feel like I need to be better now, or really soon, or I just can't cope. There is no point in having a life unless I am better now. Or really soon.

I really really hate thinking about the future. I am feeling really stressed and tense about everything. I am stressing about the summer course in America. I absolutely have to make a decision about it and I just can't. I don't remember the last time I had a month when I felt fairly stable the whole time. So why do I think I could have a stable month in another country, where I have absolutely no support, and would be working hard. Plus things like cooking and just looking after myself generally. There would be nobody to help me, either practically or emotionally. Unless I felt a hundred times better than I am at the moment then there is just no way at all that I could cope. There is also the added problem that I really don't know how my voice would cope - I haven't sung properly for over a year because of the problems with my voice, so singing a lot is probably a pretty bad idea. There is also the issue of cost. I have been lucky and been allocated some funding for the course, so it is a lot cheaper than it would have been otherwise, but it is still a lot of money, and by the time I have added on other costs such as flights and travel and food over there, and a couple of nights accommodation first to get rid of jet lag that is already a lot of money. And then I was intending to spend some time in New York after with a friend, as I have always wanted to go to New York, and so it would seem silly to not spend some time there when I would be flying home from there anyway. So basically the whole thing would cost me in excess of £2000. I do have that money, because I am a hoarder with money, and have saved my whole life, but I absolutely cannot afford to waste it. Which puts quite a lot of pressure on this decision. If I pay for the course and flights then that is immediately £1500, and if I was too ill to go then that would just be money down the drain. Thinking about it like this, the logical thing really seems to not go, and to reapply for next year if things are better by then. But if it gets to the summer and I would have been well enough to go then I will be really upset and frustrated with myself, and even if I know logically that I wouldn't have been well enough to go, I will still beat myself up over it because that is what I do. It will be added to my list of failures. And people keep telling me what a fantastic opportunity it is, and what a great experience it would be, and that just makes me feel even more pressure. I really wish I hadn't applied. I hate myself for always doing this. I always think too big, and end up getting stressed and frustrated and upset. I either back out of things and end up angry with myself for it, and thinking I am useless and pathetic, or I try and do it and end up getting ill. There are 2 occasions I have really tried to do something big and gone through with it - once was going to university, which landed me in hospital twice, and once trying to move part time to London to do a part time course, which resulted in me trying to kill myself. So I don't have a great track record. Admittedly these things were different, in that they weren't just for a month, but when I tried to do the course in London I spent 3 days crying, came home for the weekend, and tried to kill myself. So although it would have been more long term, I was only actually there for 3 days. God, I am so confused. I feel really stressed and overwhelmed.

I have spent hours writing this. Over 5 hours. I can't concentrate. I am really struggling. I just feel like everything is getting on top of me. I am really feeling like I can't cope. I suppose my dreadful sleep isn't helping. And my mum still hasn't picked up my Zopiclone. I am just having really strong suicidal thoughts. And it is really hard to think about the future when I don't even want to be here by tomorrow. I want to overdose. I really don't think I can cope. I don't want to be here. I feel really exhausted.

I feel like things are never going to get better. I feel like my brain is all broken into lots and lots of little pieces, and nothing can put it back together. Like Humpty Dumpty. It is about 6 and a half years ago now that I was first given anti depressants and referred to the CMHT. I am only 23. That is a big percentage of my life. Over a quarter of my life. And I have had lots of different medications, but none seem to have helped much, and so they seem to have been given up on. And I have seen so many different people – Psychiatrists and Psychologists and CPNs and OTs and Social Workers and Support Workers. And none of it has helped. I feel as bad now as I have ever done. Maybe worse. And I just don’t see how things are going to get better. It feels impossible. I feel like I am too broken; my brain is too confused and scrambled up to ever sort out. I can’t believe that I am nearly 24 and I have achieved nothing with my life. There is so much I thought I would have done by now, and now if I manage to shower and get dressed then that day has to be seen as an achievement. What is wrong with me? Why can't I just cope like other people do? Things should have got better by now. If I was ever going to get better then I feel like I would have started to by now. Where do I go from here? Am I supposed to just accept that this is my life? Because I can't do that. And I can't see things changing. Which brings me back to the option of killing myself. Whichever way I look at things, it seems to be the best option. In fact, at the moment I don't see any other options.

Hmph

Since I have taken quite a few Zopiclone lately I decided I needed more to replenish my supplies, and so that I would have some to take to help me sleep. I rung my GP surgery yesterday. Dr O doesn't work on a tuesday, which I thought was probably a good thing as she was unlikely to give me any. I asked to speak to a different GP, who I have known for years, but don't ever see because I used to know him outside of the GP/patient relationship, and so feel a bit awkward talking to him about my mental health problems, plus I am more comfortable talking to women. Anyway, I thought I would be able to get him to prescribe some Zopiclone. When I rung they said he was out on home visits and they would ask him to call me before afternoon surgery. He didn't ring back, I didn't know why. I got a call from Dr O earlier today saying that the Dr hadn't got the message to call me yesterday, so she was calling. I asked her about the Zopiclone, and somewhat suprisingly she agreed. She said she would give me 14 tablets, and to take one every other night so they would last a month. Since I need at least 2 to get any effect I thought they would probably last about a week, if that, but I decided not to push my luck and ask for more. But she then said she would want my mum to pick them up and dispense them because she didn't trust me with them. I said that would be difficult because it would be hard for my mum to get to the pharmacy to pick them up, and I could pick them up that afternoon when I was with N. She asked me to promise that I wouldn't overdose on them and said she was giving them to me to help on and not so that I could overdose on them, and that she would be really upset if I did that. I said I wouldn't and that I just wanted to get some sleep. I justified this in my head by thinking that I wouldn't use *these* Zopiclone to OD on, I would use the old ones, and I would just use these ones to get some sleep. Probably.

This afternoon I had my last ever appointment with N. I was seeing her at 2 and she hadn't booked in anyone else for the afternoon so that we had a few hours. We went to a different town and wandered around the shops and that sat in Cafe Nero for a little while. On the way home I decided to pick up my prescription. I went into the pharmacy and asked for it, and the pharmacist stood looking at the script for a minute and then came over, looking a little awkward, and showed me a note that the GP had written on the script saying that it was only to be dispensed to my mum. He said he wasn't really sure what to do as he wasn't used to getting notes like that on prescriptions and would my mum be able to pick it up. I was fuming inside, and felt like a complete tit, but just said that my mum wouldn't be able to get it today but that hopefully she would be able to get it tomorrow. It was a very awkward situation. I was embarrassed - I am 23 years old and I wasn't allowed to pick up my own prescription, and he seemed embarrassed that it said not to give it to me. I underestimated my GP. I thought I had managed to persuade her that it was all fine, and I clearly hadn't - she obviously wasn't fooled. Dr O - 1, Bip - 0. I then had to go back to the car and tell N that I hadn't been able to get my prescription. Tried to fob her off by saying it was a long story, but she asked why not so I then had to explain that my GP had written a note saying that my mum should pick them up. She seemed slightly confused and asked if my GP thought I was that at risk or if this was a regular thing, and I just said I didn't know.

I am annoyed. Now I don't get my Zopiclone how I want them. Unless I can persuade my mum to give them to me. Which I doubt will work. I get pissed off when my plans don't work out right.

N dropped me off and I said goodbye to her, and gave her a card I had bought for her. I do feel a bit sad that I won't be seeing her anymore, but I have had other endings that have been much more difficult and emotional. I suppose I know I still have L, and it is her that I really rely on, and who is my main support, and yes, who I am attached to. I am seeing her tomorrow. She is taking me to have a look at the housing that I talked about before. I guess at least then I will know what it is like, and be in a better position to judge if it is something I am at all interested in or not. She said she would pick me up just before 10. I said she was cruel and that I will still be unconscious. She said she was looking forward to seeing me bright eyed and bushy tailed. No chance! I am going to attempt not to mention the Zopiclone fiasco to her - I am not sure that she would be pleased I have managed to get more, as she knows that I have some and that I have been taking it fairly liberally.

Election day tomorrow! Come on the Greens! Really hoping the Tories don't get a majority. I think it is unlikely, but I am slightly concerned...

Gone, but not forgotten

Just over a year ago, on 2nd May 2009, my incredible GP died. I haven't written about her much here, just mentioned her a few times. She meant a lot to me. I first started seeing her when I came home from uni. Well I say from uni, but actually it was from hospital. I was discharged from the hospital a few days before Christmas, and saw my GP for the first time the day after I got home. I wrote in my diary 'I have registered with a GP here who is so lovely, really sympathetic and supportive. I feel like she genuinely wants to help', and that was true of the whole time I saw her. It took several weeks for the CMHT to start seeing me, and in that time she saw me at least once a week, and talked to me between if I needed it. After I had been seeing her for about a month, she went off sick. She was off for quite a few months. Then she came back, then was off again, then came back, then was off again (this was over a period of about 3 years). She had Cancer. She was only 43 when she died, and had 2 young children.

Whenever she was there she was incredibly supportive of me. She saw me weekly for the majority of that time, although it did move to fortnightly when I was more stable, and I think even monthly occasionally. She always gave me lots of time - it wasn't at all unusual for me to be with her for 45 minutes or so. She was always positive. She always said how she knew that I would get better, and that my thoughts were because I was ill, and that one day I would be happy. She was always very concerned about my safety. On quite a few occasions she tried to persuade me to go into hospital, and when I refused (as I always did) she would always try and arrange for more support for me. She didn't always succeed, but that was down the failings of the CMHT I was under at the time rather than her. She was very into complimentary type therapies (alongside psychiatric medication, not as a replacement for), particularly EFT, which I do think has some mileage - when she did it with me I did find it helped with anxiety, just not with depression/suicidal thoughts.

She was the first professional that I ever felt genuinely cared about me, and not just because it was her job to. She was always very involved in my care - far more than lots of GPs are. She dealt with all my medication, because I refused to see the Psychiatrist I was under. She frequently talked to the CMHT about me. She came to my CPA review. Even when she wasn't at work she was involved in my care. The GP I saw at the surgery when she was off sick was her husband, and he would often check things with her. In short, she was an amazing person. She was a fantastic GP, but also a really lovely, caring woman, with a wonderful sense of humour. I was very attached to her, and I still miss her enormously. I don't believe that I would still be alive if it wasn't for her, and I will never forget how much she did for me. She is still one of the most incredible people I have ever met, and I feel privileged to have known her. RIP.

The weekend

It's been a hard weekend. Friday night was the worst. The Zopiclone saturday night made that night slightly easier to cope with. Last night was hard. I really wanted to OD. The lovely Em was enormously supportive and spent the night chatting with me on MSN until about half 4 this morning. She was fantastic, and I honestly don't know if I would have got through last night without her. I am really hoping tonight will be slightly easier. The nights I find worst are the ones when I know I would have a long time before anyone would find me, because those are the ones an OD would be most likely to work. I am seeing L tomorrow morning, and my mum has tuesday mornings off work, so a monday night would be an unlikely night for me to take an OD, as there would be less chance of it working than if I did it a different night. And if I know I can't do it, then hopefully I can think about it less too. That is the theory anyway. It works to some extent.

Today was a bit stressful. Lots of family over, and I find that hard. Just too much noise and too many people, and I ended up with a headache all afternoon/evening. I don't like having people over really. It's ok for about half an hour and then I want them to go.

Anyway, yes, I am seeing L tomorrow. I also have a stupid rehearsal in the evening. I am seeing N on wednesday. That will be my last appointment with her as this is her last week. Then I have a ballet class wednesday night. Thursday I am seeing L again. Thinking about the next few days stresses me. It would be very difficult to find any night that I see as a potential OD night, and that makes me feel trapped. I am still just having such strong suicidal thoughts. They are getting stronger if anything, and I just don't know what to do except give in to them. I have tried fighting them, and things aren't getting any easier at all. So maybe now it is time to give in to them.

Tonight

Have had some sleeping tablets tonight. Needed to avoid another night last night. So took a few Zopiclone before I got too upset so that I will hopefully be able to sleep tonight. I had to have a few Diazepam last night, but that was ok because there were only a couple left in the packet so I didn't feel like I would get out of control and overdose on them. The Zopiclone are a slightly tricky issue in that I am not actually prescribed them. I haven't been for about 6 months now. Maybe more actually. And when I was prescribed it that was at the time when my mum was in charge of all my meds and just gave me 1 days worth of meds at a time. So what I did with the Zopiclone was hide them most nights instead of taking them, making a little stockpile of them to add to an overdose. I don't have that many left unfortunately, only about 20 (7.5s) as I have taken 4 at a time several times over the last couple of weeks to try and get some proper sleep. As I have already taken them and Zopiclone have the same effect on me as alcohol would I doubt I will remember writing this. So anyway. That is why I can't give anyone my sleeping tablets to have them given to me. I am not meant to have them at all. Naughty Bip.

Since last night was so bad, and I was still really struggling today I decided to try and talk to someone. So I called the out of hours number. This goes through to my local psych ward. Sometimes when I have called them (I have called several times, but not for 6 months or more now) I have spoken to people who have been really helpful and supportive and who have talked to me for a long time and it has been helpful etc. Unfortunately today wasn't one of those times. She sounded nice enough, but just asked what was going on, and I said that I had been really struggling for a couple of weeks and was feeling very suicidal and that last night had been really bad, and she asked if I was under the crisis team and I said no, and she said she would call and speak to them and then either her or them would call me back. She called back and said she had left an answerphone message for the crisis team, but that she had looked at my care plan and that said I should go to A&E if I was feeling suicidal. I pointed out that this is unhelpful, and she said that was what my care plan said. This is unfortunately true. I am going to try and get that changed, as L admits that it is a pretty pointless venture, and so I would rather it wasn't on there. I think it is perhaps a fairly standard thing they do for arse covering though, so that may not work, as her manager or someone might say it needs to be on there. Anyway, I was then expecting to hear from the crisis team (who are generally incompetant, but you get the occasional helpful person), but the nurse from the ward rung back again a few minutes later saying she had spoken to the crisis team and that they had agreed that I should go to A&E if I was feeling suicidal. So I didn't get to talk to anyone. I obviously wasn't going to A&E. A&E is pointless. Particularly because it is the weekend, which means I would be assessed by the crisis team. In office hours you seem to be assessed by a psychiatrist and psych nurse (in my experience anyway) but out of hours it is the crisis team. And what they do is turn up after 4 hours, patronisingly suggest you distract yourself and send you home. If you see the psych and psych nurse they do at least actually assess you properly, ie ask some questions. So anyway. I was clearly not going to A&E. Silly idea.

Still feel shit. I am planning to kill myself. Not tonight though. I need to sleep tonight. That is what you do at night. I have a rehearsal tomorrow. I don't want to go. But I must. I said I would. Well I didn't really have a choice. So I have rehearsal tomorrow. Tonight I need to sleep. Maybe now actually. I think I am tired. Night night.

Bad night

I am really struggling. I don't know what to say. I thought if I kept going things would have started getting a bit better by now. They haven't at all. If anything it is harder, because I am not feeling any better, and feeling this low for weeks is just really dragging me down. I tried to get an early night but I couldn't sleep. Sleep is still a problem. I can't put into words how I am feeling. Desperation is the overriding feeling I suppose. The suicidal thoughts are just so strong. I want to act on them. So much. I want to make everything stop. I need to. I need it to stop. I don't know what else to do. This just feels completely unbearable. I don't know what to do. I feel like things are getting even worse and I didn't even think that was possible. I want to take a few Zopiclone to try and help me sleep, but if I start taking tablets there is no way I will be able to stop. I can't do this. I can't keep going feeling like this and it isn't going away.

Selfish?

A friend just said to me that she worries about me every day and is relieved when she sees me online because it means I am still alive. That makes me feel really guilty. For making her worry, and because I still plan to kill myself, and therefore one day her fears will be realised. It is times like this that I want to isolate myself from everyone. The less I speak to people the less they will be hurt. I love my friends, but I feel like I am being selfish by continuing my relationships with them as I will just end up hurting them.

My dad asked me earlier if I had given up on trying to do something about my weight. My mum said to him that I wasn't fat. He didn't reply. That made me feel really good about myself.

My week so far: Part 2

I saw L. She said she had spoken to her manager as she felt I needed to see her more than once a week at the moment, and that he had given that the okay, so I am going to be seeing her twice a week for a while from next week. She said probably for 4 - 6 weeks and then we would review it. Nobody has ever seen me more than once a week before. Apart from when I have been in hospital, or under the crisis team, and that is a bit different. I have quite often had more than one appointment a week, for eg I usually see both L and N once a week, and in the past I saw my old GP, my CCO and a support worker all once a week. But not the same person more than once a week. I think it is a good thing. I am still really struggling a lot, and I would far far rather see L more often than be referred to the crisis team or something. Not that that was suggested, but I know some CCOs would do that rather than seeing someone more frequently themselves.

L also wants to take me to see some supported accomodation. I am not sure how I feel about that at the moment. Partly because of my complete inability to imagine the future I suppose. But also because I have always lived here. Apart from when I went away to uni, which didn't last for long. Sometimes I am desperate to move out and get my own place, but I rely on my Mum for a lot. She does a lot for me. She is the person who will try and get me out of bed, and who will encourage me to shower and dress, and who persuades me to go to dance classes etc, and who gets most of my meals, and who looks after my medication when it is judged that I can't be trusted with it etc etc. I am very reliant on her. Probably a lot more than I should be.

If my mum is away for any reason I end up self neglecting even more than I usually do. I don't bother eating properly - I might grab something very quick like some crisps or a slice of bread or a bowl of cereal, but that is it. I think that is partly because of my eating problems - if my mum isn't around it is a lot easier to restrict, so I often do, and partly because even if I am not restricting, I just don't have the motivation to cook meals for myself. I suppose it is laziness really. I don't know. It just seems pointless using up all that energy and effort on cooking a meal that I don't even really want. But I am 23. I should be cooking my own meals. But I know I wouldn't. I also don't leave my bed without nagging. Again, I don't see the point. The wall in my bedroom is just as good to stare at as the walls downstairs, and I have the added bonus of being cozy and comfortable in my bed. And not having to see anyone. But apparently this is not a good thing. L says I need to spend more time around people. It is apparently not good to be on my own, in my bedroom for 23+ hours a day. But I find it hard being around people. I feel like I have to put on a happy mask all the time, and I find that exhausting. It is easier to just be on my own. Then I can stare at the wall in peace.

My mum also keeps me safe to a large extent, although I doubt she even knows it. A lot of the time I don't attempt suicide because I don't want to think of her finding me, like she has on other occasions. Finding someone after a suicide attempt must be hard. It would be particularly hard if it was a successful attempt, but even with an unsuccessful attempt I think it would be harder to be the one who found the person than it would to be told that the person was in hospital following an attempt. I don't want to put my mum through that again. I never have wanted to, but sometimes things have got too overwhelming and I haven't seen another option.

So my mum does a lot for me. And I love her very much. But we also have a difficult relationship. The worse I am feeling the worse we get on, probably because I retreat more and more into myself and my room, and get very irritable and aggressive, and she gets frustrated. So we end up arguing. And shouting. And I get upset. And then I get more suicidal, because I think that the main person I am trying to live for would be better off without me. So that is difficult. And I often want to move out. I am 23. I feel like I should have my own place now, not still be living with my parents. Not relying on my parents to do everything for me. I often get frustrated living at home.

L first mentioned supported housing a month or 2 ago. She said she thought it would be good for me to live somewhere where I would be less isolated. I live in the middle of nowhere and don't drive, and my parents are out at work every day, so as well as the time I choose to spend on my own, there is also a lot of enforced isolation. She said there was somewhere in the town, quite near the CMHT, where there were supported housing flats for people with MH problems, and maybe we could go and see them one day. She is now talking about different housing though. In a different town. She thinks I need more support than the first ones would offer. At the second place there is someone there all the time, they are staffed overnight etc, not just in the daytime, and they offer higher levels of support. They also do various groups (I think social rather than therapy) that they encourage people to get involved with, whereas the first one just has support workers visiting. She said they tend to refer to the first place when people are in need of accomodation, or young people who want or need to move out of home etc, rather than because of their mental health needs as such. Obviously it is for people with mental health problems, but they aren't referred there primarily for the support. The second place is for people who are more unwell, who need more support to live on their own.

I am not sure how I feel about that. I have trouble accepting that I am unwell sometimes. I feel like I should just pull myself together and be 'normal', or I wonder if I am making it all up and there is nothing wrong with me at all and I am just pretending. I know I am not pretending really. I know how bad I feel. But I feel like I must be misleading people in some way for them to think I am ill. I find it quite difficult to get my head around at times. I think of supported housing as for people who are really ill. People who have proper mental health problems. People who have reasons for being ill. I don't. I have no reason to feel the way I do. So maybe I don't actually have mental health problems. Maybe I am just pathetic and don't cope with life well.

Part of me wants her to change her mind again and think I am well enough for the first place. Because there is nothing wrong with me. But I am not sure how I would cope. Without my mum, living somewhere without that much support I would probably completely self neglect. And I would probably end up even more isolated than I am here, which would kind of defeat the purpose. I am not sure if I would bother with food or showering or getting out of bed or anything. I don't bother much as it is - I only get dressed if I have to leave the house, and that usually isn't very often. So from that point of view maybe the second place would be better. But I don't want to be ill. She said people stay there up to 2 years, and then they help you find less supported accomodation, or just a normal rental. Does that mean I am going to be like this for another 2 years or more? I can't cope with that. I am meant to be better by now. Definitely better within the next 6 months. Totally fine by this time next year. I can't feel like this for another 2 years. I have already wasted over 6 years of my life on this. If I am going to have a life, ie not kill myself, I can't afford to spend another 2 years like this. I don't have time. I need to get on with things. Maybe I should just get a job and move to London. Stop all this illness stuff.

I just want to kill myself. I don't want to be here. Everything feels too hard. I don't want the play or dance classes or summer courses or housing or anything else. I just want to die. I can't cope. It wasn't meant to be like this.

My week so far: Part 1

Hmm, update on the week. It has ended up so long that I have split it into 2 posts. The week so far is in this post, and today's appointment with L is in the second post.

I suppose the good news is it is passing. The week that is. The even better news is that tomorrow is thursday, and after thursday there are 2 whole days where I don't have to leave the house. That probably shouldn't please me as much as it does. I am used to leaving the house maybe 3 times a week. I am having to do a lot more than that at the moment, and I think it is maybe one of the reasons why I am so exhausted all the time. Along with the terrible sleeping of course. And the constant mind whirring. And the stress of having to make a decision about something 3 months in the future.

Anyway, so far it has all happened according to plan, even if I have felt like utter shit the entire time. Monday I made us late enough that we only had time to drop in to see my niece for 20 minutes before I had to go to my ballet class. Yeah, I am a shit aunt for not wanting to spend more time with my niece, but I was exhausted and I didn't want to leave the house. I said to my mum that I wasn't going to go to my ballet class, but she said I had to go with her to see my niece even if I didn't go to the class, so I figured I may as well go, as at least if I was in a dance class I wouldn't have to be making small talk and pretending to be happy. Took a few Zopiclone monday night in the hope of getting a decent sleep. I feel like 30mg really should knock me out, especially when I haven't taken Zopiclone for 6 months (apart from the week before when I also took about that much one night). Unfortunately it doesn't. It just puts me in that drunk like state where I do things and then don't remember doing them. Like emailing L I discovered in my appointment today. Luckily I didn't say anything too ridiculous in it. But it was a bit weird when she brought it up and I had absolutely no recollection of it whatsoever - I had no idea what she was talking about.

Anyway, onto tuesday. That was yesterday. That was the rehearsal. Felt terrible. Feel like I am shit in the play. Don't even like the play. Feel way way too uncomfortable with my body to be happy with taking my top off in the play. Normally it wouldn't actually bother me too much, as although I hate my body I figure everyone wears bikinis on the beach etc, and so being in a bra with a clothed bottom half shouldn't be a big deal. That was my thinking when I agreed to do the part. That, and that I would lose a considerable ammount of weight. The losing weight hasn't happened. I am the heaviest I have been for several years. And in 2 weeks I am going to be taking my top off on stage. Fucking fantastic. Oh, and did I mention it is also entered in a drama festival so I will have to do it all again a few weeks later? Good good. Plus I can't learn my fucking lines. I don't have the concentration to look at a magazine, let alone learn lines. And this frustrates me a lot, because I have always had a brilliant memory for learning lines - I used to just be able to read a script through a couple of times and I would know it. I learnt my (large) role in a full length musical overnight once. And it never used to take me more than a week to learn a part, even if I was the lead. Now I can't learn what is basically 1 scene of dialogue. I am useless. Got to go and have the photos done tomorrow night for the newspapers. At least it won't take long.

Today went slightly wrong. L was supposed to be coming and seeing me here at half 10, then taking me into the town to see N at 12, who would then bring me back home after an hour or 2. Had a phone call from L at 10 saying that she needed to do an assessment at 11, and so could I see them the other way around instead, and that N would pick me up at half 11, and then drop me to see L at half 12, who would then drop me back home. I said that was fine. It was giving me less time with N than I usually get, but I didn't particularly care. N turned up 25 minutes late, meaning there was only 35 minutes until I was due to see L. I don't know why she is always late but she is. She had been there with L when L had changed the arrangement, so it isn't like she didn't know. But anyway. She asked if I wanted to go to Costa. I said there wasn't really time as by the time we were at the town I was due to see L in 15 minutes. So we just sat in the car for quarter of an hour.

Too much

I have too much over the next few days that I have to do. There isn't too much I can get out of either. Basically I have ballet lessons on mondays and wednesdays every week, which I sometimes skip, but I generally try and make myself go to however bad I feel. I have the advantage of knowing the syllabus so well that I can pretty much do the class on auto pilot, but because it is pretty much the only time I leave the house apart from for appointments I try to go. Plus if I don't go I get a lecture from my mum about how good it is for me to go etc, and that ends up being more hard work than going. I am also rehearsing this stupid play, as I have mentioned before. I didn't go to the rehearsal for that on friday - I emailed the director saying that I was ill. Imagine my delight when I got an answerphone message yesterday saying that they had decided to schedule an extra rehearsal for today (sunday). I called and said I was still ill. However, I really can't get out of any more. So far my week is looking like this. Everything is in the evenings unless I say otherwise, so I do at least have all day to flounder in bed, but I find it such an effort to leave the house because it involves putting on such a big act continuously, and that is draining, which isn't good when I am already exhausted.

Monday - Ballet class. However, it is also my niece's birthday, and she lives in the same town where I dance, so my mum wants us to go and see her for an hour before my class. Considering I wasn't even planning to go to the class, this is far from ideal.
Tuesday - Rehearsal. Regretting getting involved with this play more and more.
Wednesday - Appointment with L at 10:30, followed by N at 12. Then ballet class in the evening. Not terribly happy that all my support for the week is happening within 3 hours, as that leaves me the rest of the week with nothing. I usually see L on a tuesday, but she couldn't do tuesday this week.
Thursday - Photo session for the newspaper for the play. Will at least be short, but will involve putting effort into my appearance which takes too much effort.

I also have to decide this week for sure about this course in America, as the deadline for the (non refundable) deposit is this week. I am really not in the best frame of mind to be making decisions about my future, when at the moment I don't want one. The obvious choice would be to back out of that, which I could easily do. Particularly as when accepted I told myself I would only go if I had lost some weight by the time I had to pay. Which I haven't. But if I am alive in August, and doing a bit better and could have coped with it then I will be furious with myself. And even if I'm not it will become yet another thing added to my list of things to beat myself up about. Another time when I have intended to do something and then not been able to do it. Another failure.

I am feeling so overwhelmed. I am still having really strong suicidal thoughts and images etc - they aren't getting any weaker. I still can't concentrate on anything at all to distract myself. My sleep is awful and I am constantly exhausted. I had a shower and washed my hair this afternoon, as I was getting pretty disgusting to be honest, and I felt like I had run the marathon afterwards. So how am I supposed to get through the activities of the next few days? I feel pathetic. I know it looks like nothing to people who go out to work every day, or are in education, or just have really busy schedules, but it as about as full as my schedule tends to get, and it couldn't be a worse time for it. I will possibly scream if anyone suggests that the distraction will be good for me. If I was doing a bit better then that would possibly be true. But when I feel like this I just find it incredibly stressful, and I don't get distracted, I just get desperate. I want to scream anyway actually. And cry. But I am numb still. I just can't cope.

Ramblings

I am exhausted. Still. I got to sleep about half 4 in the morning I think but I kept waking up all night/morning. At about 11 I came online for a few minutes but I was too tired to keep my eyes open so I went back to sleep, but again, I just kept waking up. I think it was about 2 when I eventually gave up on sleep, so that should have been a good length night, but it was shit sleep and consequently I feel absolutely shattered. Mind you, even when I have had better nights I have still been waking up exhausted lately.

Friday I just couldn't stop crying. I didn't even know why I was crying, but I just couldn't stop. Today and yesterday I have been back to my more usual state of being quite numb, and feeling really terrible but not even being able to cry. It is weird the way some days I just can't stop crying and other days I don't cry at all, even if I am feeling the same both days.

Don't know what to do with myself yet again. That is why I am writing, but I can't even think of anything to write about. This just feels like hell. Tempted to try and go back to sleep. I am still so tired and at least I wouldn't have to cope with being awake then. Seeing L on wednesday. That feels like an eternity away.

Desperate

I feel really terrible. I don't know what to write. I don't know why I feel so bad. I just can't cope. I can't think. I feel like my brain is broken. I keep crying for absolutely no reason. There is nothing at all I can do to distract myself. I really can't do this. Everything just feels too hard right now. And like I wrote the other day, even when things aren't so bad and I am doing ok by my standards, I still never want to be alive. So I just don't see the point. I don't see the point of trying, when really nothing changes. I can't imagine ever being happy to be alive. I wish I could stop crying. I don't even know why I am crying. I feel so desperate. I don't know what to do. What am I supposed to do with myself? I can't concentrate on anything. I feel so bad it physically hurts. It feels like I have never felt this bad before, like I have never been this desperate, but I know I have thought that before so I don't know if it is true or not. But this just feels completely unbearable.

Cancelled

Have just had a message from L saying she won't be able to make it as she has been called out on an emergency. Hate myself for being so needy that it made me cry.

Nothing new

Another long day. Actually it hasn't been a long day at all, as I have been asleep for most of it, but it feels like it has. I just don't know what to do with myself. Last night was hard. I really wanted to OD. In the end I took a few Zopiclone. I haven't been prescribed Zopiclone for quite a long time now, but I have some saved in my stash, and so I decided to take a few because I didn't think I could get through the night otherwise. Since I haven't taken them for so long I thought they should have regained their effectiveness and knocked me out, but it didn't really work. I took 5, but they didn't knock me out like I had hoped. I did manage to get to sleep in the end, but still slept badly and woke up lots. Felt like crap today, felt sick, I think from that nasty taste Zopiclone leaves, and like I had a hangover. Have slept on and off all day. I don't know what to do with myself when I am awake. I am writing this now because I just don't know what else to do, rather than because I have anything to say.

L rung earlier. I already can't remember what we talked about. She is coming round to see me tomorrow. Unfortunately I also have a shitty dentist appointment I have to go to tomorrow, which is just about the last thing I feel like doing when I am feeling like this. And I also have an appointment to see my GP, just my normal monthly appointment. I would cancel, because I don't want to sit through another person telling me to distract myself, but I want more Diazepam and seeing the GP is the way to get them, so I will have to. So tomorrow is going to be a busy day. Dentist at 12, L at half 2, Dr O at half 5. What an exciting day.

I don't know what to do. I do really appreciate that L is being so supportive, and making contact every day etc, but the trouble is that it is in the middle of the night that I am most at risk of acting on the thoughts, and at that point it doesn't make much difference to me if I have had a phone call that afternoon or not. To be honest, at this point things are feeling so bad that I think the only way I could not overdose is if I was in hospital, and that isn't happening. I do feel guilty, because I know I will upset people, but I just can't cope.

Appointments today

So I had 2 appointments today. First with N, and then one with Dr E and L. When N arrived we stayed here for a little while and then went to the town. We were planning to go into Costa but I didn't want to be around people so we just sat in the car.

Then I had my appointment with Dr E and L. Again, I can only remember bits of it - I was kind of drifting in and out. They asked what the hardest thing was at the moment, and I said the suicidal thoughts and how I couldn't get a break from them because of not having the concentration to do anything, and so I couldn't distract myself. Dr E asked some questions that I can't really remember, I just know I couldn't answer. Things about seeing L, and what was helping and what I was learning etc. She also asked why things are so bad at the moment, and what was causing it. I said I didn't know. She asked if it was because N is leaving. I said no. L mentioned that a while back I jokingly said that I was cursed because everyone that I see ends up going off sick long term, or leaving. Dr E really latched onto this and said I was feeling like this because of N leaving. I said I really didn't think it was. She said it was and that I was feeling rejected and abandoned. I didn't have the energy to argue so I just didn't say anything more about it. For the record I really do not think it has anything to do with N leaving. If L was leaving then absolutely, I would be a mess, but although I like N I do not feel attached to her, and whilst it is a shame she is leaving I am not upset about it.

They asked what would be helpful. L asked if it would help if she called me every day. I was very honest and said that I was feeling so suicidal that I really couldn't imagine not killing myself and that I couldn't even make myself think about tomorrow or next week as in my mind they don't exist. L said she would ring tomorrow. Dr E told me I needed to distract myself, which made me wonder if she had heard anything I had said earlier on in the appointment. She told me to go for a walk, which made me laugh hysterically for no real reason, which turned into crying. She kept saying that they understood how hard it was, and that they were there to support me, which whilst well meaning, came across as rather patronising given that I haven't seen her since January, and therefore she isn't really a source of support for me. L saying that would be fine, as she actually does support me, but it just seemed a bit trite coming from someone I haven't seen for 3 months. She also gave me the usual speech about what a talented, intelligent girl I am, and what a shame it was to see me like this. I never find that a helpful comment, and it baffles me when people who have never seen me perform say that I am talented. I said that I was completely exhausted and I just need to make everything stop.

There was no mention of medication, so I am assuming that L had already spoken to Dr E about that before I saw them and that Dr E had vetoed that idea. So overall it was much as I had expected really. I was particularly useless and bad at speaking, and whilst what I have written here is the jist of what I said, it was rather more confused and muttered with the odd staring into space and having to be brought back to earth to continue what I was saying etc. But at least I have been completely honest about my suicidal intent, so nobody can say I should have told someone how I was feeling or anything, as I clearly have done so.

Dead inside

I am so exhausted. I can barely keep my eyes open. This probably won't be very long. I saw L this morning, and I spoke to her on the phone yesterday. Today was hard. I can't think. My brain is broken. It is full of fuzz and I can't think properly. The appointment is a bit hazy. I do remember odd bits, but a lot of it I don't. I think I spent most of the time just staring at my shoes. Even forming words feels like an enormous effort. And my head feels too heavy. I remember saying at one point that I thought it was going to fall off because it was too heavy, and L asked me if I was ok to carry on. I have an appointment with Dr E tomorrow, the rearranged one from when she was off sick last time. L is going to be there too. I am supposed to think about anti depressants tonight. About whether I want to go back on them, and if so have any helped more than others. L said I seem really quite depressed and that interferes with your cognitive functioning and makes therapy almost impossible, and that going back on medication might help lift my mood enough to let me think again. I am still planning to try and kill myself so it doesn't really make a lot of difference to me whether Dr E gives me anti depressants or not. She said I looked like I needed to go home and sleep. I said my mum would be angry with my if I did that, but I think I am going to anyway. She will be out at work for the next few hours and what she knows won't hurt her. I don't know what to do with myself when I am awake.

Same old...

Thank you for all the support over the last few days. I am still feeling much the same. I am still planning to kill myself. I am having difficulty deciding when though. Like I said the other day, part of me feels like I should speak to someone first, but the only person I feel comfortable talking to would be L, so if I do that I can't do anything until after monday, but waiting until monday means waiting until thursday for various reasons, and that feels like an impossibly long time. So I don't know.

My relationship with my mum is not good at the moment. Whenever I am not doing well we seem to get on worse. She keeps telling me I am grumpy and lazy and selfish and boring and moody and how difficult I am to live with. Which is probably true, and I am probably more irritable when I am feeling really bad, and I definitely isolate myself more, but hearing that is like validation of everything I already feel about myself. And it just makes me think how much better off she would be without me.

No better

Things aren't getting any easier. I really wish I had killed myself when my mum was away. Even just writing this is taking a massive ammount of effort. I can't seem to do much apart from lay in bed staring at the wall. I can't think properly or concentrate. I feel really isolated. Whenever things get really bad and I retreat like this my mum tells me I am being selfish and only thinking about myself, and that if I stopped thinking about myself and thought about other people then everything would be better. She doesn't understand how I am feeling. How much I am fighting. If I wasn't thinking about other people then I would have killed myself years ago. I am not living for me. My grandad is staying at the moment. Which makes it even worse because it means him and my mum are here all the time, and I get nagged about being rude and anti social and spending all my time in my room. I can't cope. I am so fucking sick of being told how well I am doing and how strong I am. I need a break at least, I can't keep doing this. I wanted to write to get everything out of my head, but my brain feels like mush. I can't think properly. I just know I can't do this.

Spending all my time in bed apart from when I have to go out to appointments, or to get food etc is pretty normal for me. I do it most of the time. But I am usually at least doing things. Reading, or watching TV, or doing something on the computer. But at the moment I can't seem to do anything except laying in bed, just staring. Even typing this is exhausting me. I get really frustrated with myself if I try to read because I just can't concentrate and it doesn't make sense to me. I watched an entire film on TV yesterday and I haven't got a fucking clue what it was about. I couldn't tell you anything about it, except that Morgan Freeman was in it. Plot? No idea. Can't concentrate enough to read lots of the blogs I read, unless they are short updates written very simply. So doing nothing seems the obvious thing to do. But I can't do that either because my mind is so completely taken over by all the suicidal thoughts. It is like my brain has been programmed to think about nothing but suicide. I just can't cope with all the thoughts in my head. I feel like I am going to explode. I can't do it, I can't cope. I am going to kill myself, and if it doesn’t work then I will just keep trying until it does. Just need to find the right time.

Tiring day

N arrived to see me about 1, as planned. We went to the local town, about 15 mins away, that we usually go to. I needed to pick up a prescription, but got there 2 minutes after the pharmacy part of Boots had closed for lunch, so we needed to kill an hour. Went into Costa. Had a drink, and a cupcake which I threw up in the toilets. Talked a little bit about how I was feeling, but not that much. It more or less consisted of yes, I am still feeling really shit. Yes, my sleep is still dreadful. Yes, I am having suicidal thoughts. She didn't ask me anything about the suicidal thoughts, ie whether I had a plan or was likely to act on them or anything, so I didn't say. Saved the whole A&E debacle that I am sure would have been inevitable if I had talked about that. Got prescription, she dropped me home. I was really tired from not enough sleep last night, and was planning to go back to bed for a nap.

Got home. Was locked out of the house. I don't carry a key around because I lose keys. We live in the middle of nowhere and pretty much never lock our back door. My dad had locked it this morning. That shouldn't have been a problem though, as we always keep a key in a hidden place, for cases such as this. The key wasn't there. Phoned my mum, apparently she had lost it a couple of weeks ago. Phoned my dad. He said he wouldn't be able to get home until about half 5 at the earliest. This was at about 2:45. My next door neighbour was out so I couldn't even go around there. I was already feeling shit and wishing I hadn't got out of bed before I even got home, so not being able to get into the house was the last straw. I sat on the front step and sobbed. Tried to call my sister (who lives in the town I had just been in with N) as I thought she might have a key. Couldn't get hold of her. After about half an hour she called back. She didn't have a key, but was out with my next door neighbour and was only about 5 minutes away, and could take me back to her house until my dad got back from work. Another half hour later she turned up and took me back to hers. So I had had a lovely hour sitting on the front step. Typically I didn't even have my ipod or a book in my bag, so the vast majority of that time was spent crying and thinking about killing myself. I was cold and tired and pissed off.

My sister picked me up and took me back to hers. As well as her 2 boys, she has my niece staying with her, so there were 3 children under the age of 5 in the house, so it was rather chaotic, which I could have done without. At about 5:30 I remembered that I had to be back in this town at 7:30 for a rehearsal for the play that I have already mentioned not wanting to be in. I called my dad and said it obviously wasn't worth him picking me up at 6, for us to have less than an hour at home before needing to leave for the rehearsal so I would stay at my sisters. After attempting, and failing, to feed my 6 month old nephew his dinner I decided I had really had enough and said I was going to go and have a lie down. Had a nap for about half an hour. Then had to go off to the rehearsal.

Can anyone please come up with a reason, any reason at all, why I would have agreed to play a part that involves taking my top off on stage in an attempt to give another character an erection?! No, nor can I. I can't even look at myself in a mirror because I find my body so repulsive. So this play was a real stroke of genius on my part.

Finally got home at about 10, having been out for 9 hours. I feel like shit. I have really strong urges to hurt myself. No, not hurt myself, kill myself. Keep thinking that my mum won't be home until mid afternoon tomorrow, so if I took an overdose now, I would have 14 hours or so before anyone found me. Trying to tell myself that the same would apply most days - although my mum would usually be here, there would be no reason for her to come in my room, so I would have a clear 12 hours or so any night. I just want to do it now though. I am so exhausted. I really can't keep going like this. I was talking online to a friend earlier, and she was saying about fighting the thoughts etc, and I just thought about how long I have been doing that for (or trying to - there have been a few attempts along the way). I have felt like this for so long. I have wanted to die for years now, with no real breaks in that feeling. Ok, there have been times that have been better than others, and times when it has been easier to cope with, but I doubt very much if there has been any point in say the last 5 years, when given the choice between living and dying (without hurting people), I would have chosen living. I realise that the not hurting people caveat is not something I can control, and is the sole reason why I haven't just continuously acted on these thoughts until it has worked. But I just feel like I have been having to deal with these thoughts for so long, and I just can't fucking do it. Actually, that isn't true. I could. But I don't want to.

Not sure quite what to do now. I really want to just give in to the thoughts. But part of me feels like I owe it to the people that care about me to tell someone, ie a professional, not a friend, just how bad things are before I act on it. I suppose ask for help one last time. But if they can't suggest anything helpful, and just tell me to try and distract myself and tell me how well I am doing, then fine, I can do whatever the fuck I want. I can act on the thoughts without feeling guilty about it, because I will have done everything I can. Oh, but I refuse to go to A&E, because I have done that many a time, and I can think of better things to do with 5 hours than sit around there and then be patronised by the crisis team. Does that sound fair?

Interesting fact for the day - I was looking over my blog statistics. My absolute favourite google search that has lead someone to my blog is 'BPD crazed rant'.

I have already changed my mind about the being honest thing. There is nobody I trust enough to be that honest with apart from L, and she isn't back until next week. I can't tell some random person at the CMHT. I have had too many shit experiences in the past, of being made to go to A&E, and having the police sent round etc. I can't do it.

What to do

I don't know what to do with myself. I can't concentrate on anything, I can't distract myself. L is off this week. I don't trust anyone else. I am due to see N tomorrow, but I know that if I am honest with her about how I am feeling I will end up being sent to A&E to be assessed. She is just a support worker so would have to speak to one of the other CPNs or SWs and I know what the result of that would be.

I had a weird dream last night. It was today and N was coming, and my mum had gone away (as she has) and N arrived but I was still asleep, and I looked out the window and saw her car, so I tried to go down to the door but I got lost and there was loads of stuff blocking my way, and I couldn't find the door, and then I saw her driving off. I kept trying to get hold of her but I couldn't. The night before last I dreamt I was in hospital, and for some reason I was supposed to be on a meal plan, but I thought it was too much food, so I wanted to speak to the dietican, but then they just kept forgetting to give me any food at all, so I just kept quiet. I don't know why I am having these random dreams. I am not sleeping too well. Lots of dreams about suicide with all different endings. Sometimes I die, and sometimes I end up in a psych ward, and sometimes medical ward. In reality I don't know what will happen.

Suicidal thoughts

I haven't written anything for a while. I have been feeling really low, and there didn't seem much point in writing about how I am planning to kill myself etc. I have had some patches that have been easier that have generally lasted an hour or 2. But even in those times I have been planning, and I think in a weird way it has been the thought of not being here that has made it easier to cope with, because I can see an end. That might not make any sense. But I know that even when I have been feeling a bit better I have been thinking a lot about suicide. I am not really sure what to say. I am still here and I still don't want to be.

It's no good

I am struggling too much. I feel really terrible. I have been like a zombie this afternoon and evening. Everything suddenly just feels too much to deal with and I feel desperately suicidal. Planning planning planning. I didn't go to the rehearsal tonight. I was really dizzy all afternoon/evening, to the point where it was difficult to stand/walk. I don't know what caused it. I felt fine apart from that, so I don't think it is illness. I did purge earlier, which I suppose could be related, but that usually just makes me a bit dizzy for a few minutes, not like this. So I said I wasn't well. I was relieved to have a get out. I didn't want to go. Have eaten like a pig today. For some reason I was just really hungry and had no self control. I did purge, but even if you take out that food I still ate too much. I suppose it won't matter what I weigh when I am dead anyway. I really can't keep going. I feel too exhausted and too desperate and I just can't cope with life anymore. I have felt like this for too long and I just can't do it anymore.

Exhausted

Finding today quite difficult. As a result of the chocolate I ate yesterday my weight was up 0.4lbs, which I know isn't much, but I have had more chocolate again today, so it will be up again tomorrow, and probably for a few days as there is lots of chocolate around. It is really difficult for me to cope with my weight going up again. I just had a piece of baked cheesecake that my sister had made earlier, and now I feel so sick, and really desperately want to purge, but I can't because my parents are here and I would get caught. I feel horrible.

I feel totally exhausted. I think both physically and emotionally. Physically because I have been sleeping so badly lately - I never wake up not still feeling really worn out, and emotionally because my head just never stops - it is on overdrive all the time at the moment and I am finding it really difficult.

I have a rehearsal tomorrow. I am rehearsing a 1 act play. It is the first production I have done for a long time. I have only had 1 rehearsal so far. I already wish I wasn't doing it. I am already thinking of excuses for missing rehearsals, and how many I can realistically get away with not going to. I have no bloody concentration whatsoever, so I have no clue how I thought I would learn my lines, and I just don't actually give a shit about it. I should never have got involved, but it was one of those things that seemed like a good idea at the time. 2 weeks later and I think it was a crap idea. 5 years ago I would have been enthusiastic, but now I just don't care about anything. I try and make myself do thing like this play, and dance classes, but I don't enjoy them. I do them because I feel like I should enjoy them. Because I know that if I was well I would. But I'm not and I don't. I just don't fucking want to be here. I want to die.

Seeing L tomorrow.

Future

I haven't posted anything for a couple of days because I haven't really felt like I have had that much to say. Basically things have been more of the same. I am still struggling a lot with low mood/eating/suicidal thoughts.

One thing I have noticed that really brings on the suicidal thoughts hard is thinking about the future. I find it so utterly overwhelming and impossible to think about, and end up feeling really desperate, which leads to me wanting to kill myself. I am not quite sure how to resolve this, and it is difficult as it ends up really affecting my life, as I won't commit to doing things even a week or 2 in advance often, let alone months, as I just find it too hard to think ahead like that, and so then I end up not doing things and missing out on things I have wanted to do. Sometimes it is little things, and it doesn't matter that I miss out on them, or I can do them at short notice etc, but it also applies to bigger things, like going on holiday or to visit friends, or courses etc, and sometimes I do regret not doing these things. I suppose I am partly thinking about all of this so much, because I recently (ish) did a video audition for a musical theatre summer course in the USA, which I was accepted onto, and so my mind is now going into overdrive about it. Do I go or do I not go? It is a great opportunity, and I will be really annoyed with myself if I miss it, but can I cope with being away from home for a month? Can I cope with no support for a month? I was in a similar situation last year, in that I was offered a place on a summer MT course in the USA (although not as good, and in the long run I don't regret not going) and was really divided about what to do about it. I decided not to go, and it was the right decision, partly because I don't think the course would have been as good as I had hoped, but also because I really struggled a lot both depression and eating wise last summer - I was severely restricting my food intake, and basically spent the whole summer feeling terrible, very low mood, very suicidal etc. I don't know what would have happened if I had gone away, and felt like that there.

It also sets off my insecurities about myself as a performer. Am I good enough? Am I wasting my time/money on things like this? Should I just forget the whole thing? As I have discussed before, performing is really the only thing that has ever meant anything to me, and I already have a lot of (reasonable) concerns about my chances of becoming professional, but that is all I have wanted for as long as I can remember, and I don't know what I would do if I dismissed that as an option. My age is starting to become an issue - not really for acting, but certainly for musical theatre, which has always been my first love. Then talent wise, I am nothing special really. Acting is my strongest - I have always considered myself an actress that sings and dances, and I suppose I am a reasonably good actress, but I really don't know if I am good enough. I am definitely only a mediocre dancer - I have always considered that my weakest discipline. Singing... singing is a problem. I used to be a fairly strong singer - not outstanding, but I was ok. But for the last couple of years I have had problems with my voice, and so for the last year I really haven't sung at all, because I don't want to make it worse. The next paragraph is probably boring, so if you want to skip it then do.

I saw ENT, and was referred for speech therapy to correct a problem with my vocal cords not meeting properly. When I finally got to the top of the waiting list they said they didn't treat singers. After that was when I switched GP, and so I was re-referred for speech therapy last year, to somewhere that will treat singers. Still hadn't heard anything 9 months after the referral went off, so asked my GP to chase it. Have since had a letter from them saying that as it is over a year since I saw ENT I have to go back to them before they will see me. So I now have an ENT appointment for the end of May. Goodness knows when I will actually get to see someone who can help me. So this is something of a problem, both long term career wise, but also short term. Am I stupid even considering doing an intensive musical theatre summer course when I have a problem with my voice?! Probably. But when I applied I was hoping I would have seen the speech therapist and I would be on the way to having my voice back at full health. Doesn't look like that is going to happen now.

So do I go for the course or not? I just don't know. I have been very enthusiastic about it to my parents etc, said I will definitely be doing it, no qualms etc etc. It does look amazing, and I have heard nothing but very positive comments from people who have done it in the past. But can I cope emotionally with it, and will my voice be up to it? I don't know. I don't want this to be yet another thing that I have intended to do and not gone through with. There are so bloody many of them. So many jobs and courses that I have intended to do and then turned down. Or things I have started and then failed almost immediately.

And what about longer term future? Ignoring talent and the small matter of getting accepted for a moment, am I ever going to be well enough to move away and go to drama school? To do 50+ hours training a week? And if so when? When will I be well enough? When it is too late and I am too old? And realistically, will I ever be good enough? Am I talented enough? I really don't know. But I do know it is the only thing that has ever meant anything to me, and made me happy. And it sounds ridiculous, but if that is not going to happen then that is another big thing in favour of not being here. I don't know. I just feel like there are so many negatives to living, and so few positives. In fact, there are no positives for me - there is just me living for other people. And I am so fucking sick of that. I just don't see the point. And even if someone said that in 5 years time I would be living in London on my own, with an acting job, maybe in a relationship, I don't know if that would be enough to make me want to live. It still wouldn't be enough to make living like this at the moment worthwhile. And if everything I have ever wanted isn't enough to make me want to be alive then what on earth am I doing?

Difficult day

Today has been quite difficult. One of those days where I just really haven't known what to do with myself. I just feel a bit lost and have kind of been drifting all day. My concentration is generally pretty poor, but I can usually keep myself occupied by flitting from one thing to another, so I go on a few different websites, and then read for a bit, and then do emails/blogging for a while, watch some TV, play a computer game, and then just kind of repeat the cycle until the day is gone. But sometimes when I am struggling that just doesn't seem to work for me, and today is one of those days. I try to do the things I usually do, but the websites don't interest me, and I can't concentrate on the book - I either find myself reading the same page over and over trying to get it into my head, or I just read the way I usually would but then realise I haven't got a bloody clue what is going on and who half the characters are. TV and music are irritating me. So then it turns into a staring into space day where I just spend time laying about staring at walls. I keep trying to do things, but I just can't focus properly on any of it.

I have also been feeling very stressed by tiny things. Weighing myself when I first got up was the first thing to stress me, and since then it just seems like everything has. Food has been difficult. I am finding it really difficult to trust any food after yesterday - it all feels really scary and unsafe. Actually, everything feels like that at the moment - not just food. It is the whole world. It feels scary and too much to deal with. Every decision feels momentous, even if it is a really tiny thing. I am so exhausted. I wish there was a way I could escape from life for a while. Get away from the constant fighting with myself.

Weight

I feel crap. My weight was only down 0.2lbs today. That is nothing. I don't know why I bother trying. Ok, the cereal was a lot more calories than I realised, but I have been having that every day. Even with the cereal I must have only had about 700 calories yesterday. I had a slice of bread and peanut butter, some lettuce, cucumber, carrot and pepper, and the cereal. Surely I should have lost some weight? It isn't fair, my body is so fucked. I know the whole starvation mode crap, but what am I supposed to do? If I eat more than about 1000kcals I gain weight. Maintain on about 800 - 1000. So to lose weight I have to go under that. Which I am doing. And it isn't working. I feel so shit about myself, I don't know what to do now. I know logically exercise would be the sensible thing to do, but when I exercise it makes me hungry so I eat more, and so any calories I burn off are replaced by calories I eat because of how hungry it makes me, so that is totally counter productive. I just don't know what to do. I should cut out the peanut butter, but it is the only protein I get. I could replace it with cheese, but that is no better. I feel totally overwhelmed by everything. Everything has too many fucking calories. I am never going to lose weight.

Easter

My weight was down by 0.4lb today. I was disappointed. I shouldn't have been disappointed - at least it was down. But I wanted more. Weight loss gets you like that. It is never enough. And the 2 days before this it has been significantly more - 1lb the first day, 1.6lbs the second day. So it seems unfair that today was so much less, when I didn't eat any more. But that's the way it goes I guess. It is still 3lbs in 3 days, which is good going. I just wanted it to be more. I am getting more and more stressed about Easter. I really can't cope with my weight going up, it has to keep going down, I really really need it to. And it won't. And I don't know how I will cope with that. Tomorrow is Good Friday. That means my mum will buy Hot Cross Buns (we're not a religious family, but we do follow traditions). And there is no way I will get away with not eating one. And that one bun will have about half the calories of my daily intake in. That scares me. Where can I cut out the calories from so I don't gain weight? And then Easter Sunday. Chocolate day. Easter Egg day. How many Easter Eggs will I get? I know my mum has got me one. Probably the same one as I have got her, as I got it because it was half price and looked really good (£4.50 instead of £9 - bargain!). And she will have seen that as well, so it wouldn't suprise me if she got the same one for me. We bought each other the same Easter Egg last year too. Then I expect my dad will get me one. He tends to buy posh ones. I don't know why. That will probably not be too big as it will probably be posh and therefore expensive. This is a good thing, as if it is smaller it will have less calories. I don't know if my sister will have got me one or not. I am torn between my greed hoping she has, and my desperation to lose weight hoping she hasn't. And then I kind of bought a spare one. As did my mum. I got it because I was getting my dad one and they were buy one get one free. So I thought my mum and I could share the free one, because I was having a greedy moment. My mum did the same thing. So we are overrun with fucking Easter Eggs. Thousands and thousands of calories of chocolate will be around. What am I supposed to do? Ordinarily I don't worry about it too much, as although it is a lot of chocolate I don't gorge on it - I just have some Easter Egg chocolate when I fancy chocolate, instead of having normal chocolate. But I am not having chocolate at the moment. So it can't be a replacement, it will be an extra. And I can't deal with extra. I should have just said I didn't want any Easter Eggs this year, but I am too greedy for that. Now I am terrified by the whole thing.

EDIT Oh my goodness. I am completely traumatised. I just went to get some dry cereal as a snack. I do this most evenings. I reckon on it being about 200kcals, which is quite a lot, but it fills me up reasonably well. Per serving (with milk) they say it is 255kcal. So I thought without the milk I was having about 200kcals. Today for some reason I had decided I would weigh it, because I wanted to know for sure I was about right. I poured out a bowl and weighed it. Then reweighed it, because I was sure it couldn't be as heavy as that. It was. It was over 100g. I took some out. I made it exactly 100g. It didn't look a terribly big bowl of cereal. Just your kind of average bowl. I looked at the nutritional information. Without milk, therefore how I have it as a snack, 100g has 416kcals. It is a fucking bowl of cereal! I could have half a pizza for that! I could have 2 chocolate bars! I could have 3 slices of bread! I had absolutely NO idea I was eating that many calories. Sure, I knew how many calories the cereal had per 100g, but I had no idea I was having anything like 100g - I assumed what they call a portion in the nutritional info would be a normal bowlful, and it clearly isn't. Cereal is now very much off the safe foods list, I am never bloody having it again. I am so bloody upset by this stupid fucking cereal. FUCK. I hate myself for being so bloody stupid. Why did I not ever think to weigh it before? I am going to weigh everything I eat from now on. My so called snack has more calories in it than the rest of my day.