Help me think I’m somebody else

So I’m still alive.  Just really, really tired.

 

After spending almost a continuous week together I suddenly was away for 5 days and it left me and my new found lover guy separated.  It wasn’t the best timing as I’m apparently the only thing helping him keep things together.

 

He was sent for immediate counselling as soon as he registered with his new Drs and whoever the counsellor was basically ripped open all the wounds he was trying to keep shut so he can function for the time being.  He needs to find a new job and get his life established up here so he hasn’t got the luxury of being able to fall apart for a bit like I did.

 

We ended up on the phone at one point because he had got himself into a state in the way that I do.  In some ways it’s a blessing and a curse that he’s effectively the male version of me.  For a short time I was scared he was going to end things and the idea of the one light I have at the moment disappearing…. it was like I could feel my soul tightening up.

 

The whole (short) time we have been together has made me realise that I’m not used to being loved.  I’m not used to having someone want to do things for me and treat me.  I’m not used to having a guy want to shower me in affection.  I’m trying to get better at accepting it and it’s hard.

 

While I’m sat in my mental headspace with my depression voice telling me ‘he’s going to leave, he doesn’t love you, he’s taking you for a fool’ he’s also sat a couple of miles away with exactly the same thing.

 

We’ve got thrown together so fast but it feels like I’ve known him forever and the logical part of my brain is having a meltdown over it.

 

All I know is that when I’ve seen him I’m not thinking of driving into the crash barrier at 100mph on the way to work anymore.

 

It would be so much easier to be dead.  But then I was watching this amazing band on the weekend after spending the day laughing with friends and I realised that I was nearly not there for this.  Even this moment right now when I’m typing… if I’d actually done what I wanted to do in June then I wouldn’t be here.

 

I’m not saying that things have outweighed that because they haven’t…  I’m still tired, I still hate myself but I suppose the actual continual suicidal thoughts have lessened off.

 

I was stood watching the band, trying to visualise what the time would have been like if I wasn’t there.  Short of the practicality side of me not being there to give a lift to some of my friends, would they actually have noticed the fact I wasn’t there?  Would it have made an impact on their experience…?  I find it hard to believe…

 

I made friends with a lady while I was there that was just starting off into a new relationship too and she was just as scared as I was.  She couldn’t see why he would find anything redeeming or attractive about her just like I can’t see it in relation to me.  I think part of me feels like he’s just after the security I can give him because there’s no other reason he’d possibly like me.

 

I’ve seen photos of myself at the weekend and I just… I can’t describe how much I hate myself.  I spent the whole time trying to hide from the camera and throw things in front of my face.  It reminds me of the time that a group of my friends were doing ‘fugly’ selfies as a joke and they got angry with me because I wouldn’t do it.  I wouldn’t do it because I always feel like that, I don’t need any extra help.

 

The job that I went for have asked me to tell them when I’m free so I can do a teleconference thing but I just wonder if they’re going to turn into another shambles like this job is.  At least it would be a shamble closer to home I suppose.  It would also have the corporate safety blanket involved.

 

I’m so tired I feel like falling asleep at my desk.  I want to sleep but I promised myself I’d start going back to dance class and have told everyone I’m going tonight.  It’s only an hour and hopefully they’ll be easy on me because I’ve said what I’m like.

 

On the weekend some nobs invaded our site and were joking about this D list celebrity who had killed himself and I had to walk away.  People are fucking idiots.  I just wanted to tell them that it’s not funny.  People being pushed to the brink isn’t funny.  Deciding that the best option for the whole planet is for you to be removed from it isn’t hilarious…  I didn’t because I felt disassociated with it because of wanting to shoot myself.  I’m not great at tying knots so hanging didn’t really have that resonance with me… that and a lack of accessible places to try and hang from to do it properly.  Haven’t got the right stair rails…

 

But then if I had… I would never have met Him… I wouldn’t have had 7 orgasms last night and I wouldn’t know that I was capable of experiencing the relationship I’m in right now.

 

My head is such a mess… I feel so fucking lost.  I just want to hide with him.

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Helping/not helping

So less than a week ago I woke up screaming because I’d had some kind of night terror.  I didn’t remember the dream, just the fear and then had that lingering ache all day.  Last night… no I remember the dream and I got woken up screaming again.

 

I know that this is my brain’s way of trying to process a lifetime’s worth of shit but I could do without twice in one week.

 

I know why it’s happening… I’m trying to make sense of my behaviour now by looking at what happened in the past.  So my brain is trying to be helpful and say ‘here you go, we’ll work on it all night for extra credit!  YAY!’ and then I’m having a dream about my ex, the person I thought I was a friend and trying to confront them in a pub full of a mixture of friends and colleagues.

 

Oh and picking the day that I have a job interview so I’ve had no sleep and I’m currently ill.  Extra points for that…

 

In a way I knew what I was in for in the dream.  I was the one who chose to be confrontational rather than sticking to what I’ve been doing in real life and avoiding the pair of them like the plague… not an easy feat when we have so many mutual friends its ridiculous.  I’ve managed though, it’s been nearly a year since I’ve had to see them.

 

In the dream I felt so confident and defiant and then it all just crumbled away when I got faced with an utter lack of remorse and amusement at me even thinking that’s what I’d get.  It finished with what I guess was a death blow in terms of emotional feelings… I should have just glassed the fucker.  We were in a pub in the dream.

 

In reality I know they’re a pair of cowards.  Unfortunately they’re cowards that can’t cope with not being the victim.  The only thing I have with him is that I was such a supportive and caring doormat he didn’t really have much ammo against me or at least that’s what I’ve been told by our millions of mutual friends… back when I asked.

 

My counselor says that I’m allowed to not be 100% ‘over it’ even though mutual friends have told me I should be by now.  Well maybe if I’d been told the truth from the off I’d have been able to process it rather than getting it in installments from people when they’d get pissed at parties and decide to tell me how much they knew was going on.

 

I’m tired and I don’t want to be ill and in a bad mood.  I am going to watch cartoons.

I survived **sticker**

Don’t be afraid
I’ve taken my beating
I’ve shared what I’ve made
I’m strong on the surface
Not all the way through
I’ve never been perfect
But neither have you

 

 

So I cried at midnight on my landmark birthday… which, when you consider trying to explain why to someone from an Amazonian tribe just is the most ridiculous thing.

‘You see these numbers… they mean I am now a year older according to a timescale we invented and I am now a number that means I should have achieved a number of things that I haven’t.  This makes me sad’

 

I hid in my room.

 

After sleeping I woke up to open my cards to find out that 30 is obviously the age when you no longer qualify for a birthday card as a niece.  Courtesy of my birthday being on a Wednesday I also hadn’t seen the majority of my friends.

 

I spent the day trying to be civil but failing.  On the journey home I literally lost the power to speak.  I was tired and socialised out.

 

Friday was… shit.

 

I cancelled the Drs appointment which was basically for him to check that I was still alive.  I had about 8 things to juggle (including going away for the weekend) and couldn’t be bothered with it.

 

As a penance I decided to go through my phone assessment for my ‘self-referral’ for CBT.  This is a month after my original ‘incident’.  The phone assessment was the same thing that I have now grown used to… namely me being asked my a stranger to describe my risk of suicide, how I was planning on doing it etc etc etc.  I was then told that I qualified for CBT and I would be contacted in a month for my first session.

 

So this is the situation… to get CBT I will be approximately about 2 months away from me actually putting my head over the parapet to ask for help.  In order to get the help I have probably spoken to at least four strangers, in detail, about wanting to die, not coping and how I would exit this world.  The only thing I have actually been offered by the NHS straight away was diazepan.  I was not told that this is valium.  I have not accepted their offer.

 

With all of this and still feeling the absolute hurt of the hell of Chester Bennington killing himself (I can’t even look at pictures of him, it’s like my heart has been ripped out) I made a new record of bursting into tears as soon as I got into my counselor’s office.  I don’t think I even made it to the sofa.

 

I said I was trying to find a new job, trying to do the best that I can but it’s a constant fight.  I feel like half of me is trying to keep motivated and keep pushing at me while the rest of me just wants to lie on the floor.  Part of me wants to stay on that floor.  It wants to say ‘I can’t fucking do this anymore, you pick up this mess now’  I know it’s stupid and it’s immature and it’s not productive.  Burning up the life I’ve tried to build just to get back at my parents but it’s so fucking tempting.

 

During my unhappy and discontent childhood my mom leant on me heavily as a result of my dad driving away most people she knew with his mental health issues.  She told me a lot of her problems that I shouldn’t have known ranging from money troubles to the fact she wanted to throw in her job.  I know the theory and the fact that this was because she literally had no one else… the issue is that it’s all reminding me of how I used to feel.  Like she was leaching the strength out of my body.

 

My counselor suggested I went back to the Drs and took the drugs.

 

Instead I went camping for the weekend, drank a shitload of rum… kissed a guy I didn’t know and ended up doing a thing (not with him) that I feel like I’m going to regret in the future.

 

Drunken Grin is the herald of chaos.  Definitely a maenad.

 

Looking down the barrel of a week at work and all I want to do is hide in someone’s arms.  I just want to bury my face into a chest that is rock solid, breathe in that guy scent, feel some strong arms round me and then grabbing my wrists.  That is what I want.  That is what feels like is best in life at the moment.

 

 

Something’s gotta give

Harlow's Monkey

 

So only two or so days ago I wasn’t feeling too bad.  Tuesday I even went to the gym.  I thought… ‘oh I don’t know what the hell I’m going to even talk about at my counselling appointment’…

 

Oh my sweet summer child.

 

Wednesday… I was just uncomfortable in my skin all day.  I was stuck in the office and people kept coming in to talk to me about my upcoming birthday because they worked out it’s a milestone one… which is, I guess, one of my triggers at the moment.  It’s one of those milestones where I look at my best friends’ family life… married, 3 kids, husband and wife who adore each other.  It makes me want to rip my heart out and disintegrate it so I don’t have to feel the fact that I so so so don’t have that.  I feel fucking lightyears away from it.  Not that I want kids, THANK GOD I don’t have the biological clock thing going on in my head as well…

 

I remember when I turned 21.. it was less about feeling more that I had things ‘sorted’ and more that I was going to mature.  Like I’d turn 21 and then all of a sudden like wine and have a mortgage… and sure enough looking back on that I do drink wine and have a mortgage.  I wasn’t even with my ex then though I’d met him… this is the guy I was with for around 7 years, the one that I thought I would end up with forever.

 

It’s the dumb stuff that you miss.  The sex.. I mean yeah sex is awesome and it’s not like I’ve been a nun since things finished with him but it’s not what I miss the most.  I miss snuggling, I miss the dumb intimate jokes that you have with a partner, I miss treating them to stuff I know they’ll like… I miss planning things with someone else.  I miss the dumb, thoughtless touching.  The constant touching… or at least that’s how it seems in hindsight.

 

A very fluffy robe, wrapped tightly around can feel 5% like a hug when there are no hugs.

 

I did my degree in Psych (oh the blessed irony…) and I remember a study about baby monkeys and comfort.  There was a ‘mom’ made out of wire and one made out of fake fur and even when the fake fur one didn’t provide food or anything else they still clung to it… because of the touch.

 

Humans are animals, humans need touch as much as anything else does… and yet we don’t.  The last time anyone hugged me for more than the 5 second courtesy hug you get from a vague friend was my mom… and I think that was about a month ago.  This isn’t right.

 

Where are the hugging hookers?  That’s what I want to know.

 

So I’m rambling now… but fuck it.  In any event, Wednesday left me feeling shitty and I just came home from work and slumped in front of the TV and then went and shot people in the head on the computer.

 

Today…  I think it’s just been a big neon sign about needing a new job.  There are a number of issues with this that are all bound up in the fact I don’t like admitting defeat and that I HAVE to try and exceed/meet my insanely high standards for myself.  My current job was supposed to be the path to the promised land… it was getting me out of what seemed like a dead end job.  It was going to be the Great Change that would cause me to lose the weight I’d put on, change me psychologically, help me move forward.

 

It did the exact opposite.

 

You hear a lot of one sided shit from employers about how they hired employees off the basis of an interview and the candidate turned out to be rubbish or all mouth and no trousers.  Guess what, it works both ways!  I was sold a job that wasn’t capable of working.  The business is too small for my targets so no matter how much I flog myself to death I feel like I’m not getting anywhere.

 

After getting up at 6.30 and fighting my way through shitty, frustrating traffic I got to work late.  Sat down at my desk in the office I’m currently alone in as everyone is on holiday.  I felt paralysed.  Every phone call I was trying to make was like a war in my mind over the futility of it vs me trying to justify my existence.  Every minute of it felt like it was draining my life energy out of my body.

 

I don’t want to ring up my mentor and confess to the fact that I think I need to go because in my mind I know that he will blame me.  This will be my fault for not following The Process.

 

I came home and ate a load of shitty food and drank a load of cola that I’m supposed to be avoiding.

 

I’m so fucking lonely.  I just want to be held.

Week 1 complete

I successfully adulted today.  A full week of work.  3 days of those were working from home but to be honest if I was still in the corporate world I think I’d have needed a ‘phased return’ anyway.  I was thinking today how horrendous it would have been if I was still in my mega corporate job with an office full of people who loved sticking their heads in other people’s business.  To get the time off for counselling I probably would have had to do a public announcement.  I certainly couldn’t have got away with only telling my boss and my mentor.

 

On reflection I think one of the (many) reasons that my boss was funny with me is because I do too good a job of plastering a fake smile and making other people laugh as a means of distracting them.  It’s like… don’t look too closely at my expression, you’re laughing now and it’s fun so let’s change the subject.  It works very well.  The other boss who is on his way out of the company (who I haven’t told but let’s not go there) said ‘what was it a virus?  It’s not depression or stress or something?!  You don’t seem the type!’  So I dutifully went ‘ha ha no it was some virus, I feel a bit tired but I’m getting better’.

 

At counselling today I unwittingly did this to her but she used her jedi counsellor abilities and gave me ‘the look’.

 

I had a crazy letter off my crazy dad because my birthday is coming up.  Even though I am speaking into the anonymous void of the internet I’m not even going to go into what he sent because it’s so ridiculous.  Unfortunately when I say ‘crazy’ I mean ‘serious mental health issues’ rather than zany.  I mentioned this to her and then quickly followed it with

Me: “but it will give you a laugh, good for last thing on a Friday”

Her: **Jedi counselor skills initiated** You’re trying to make me laugh to look after me.  You don’t need to look after me.

Me: …… [Fuck I’ve been rumbled]

Her: I think you spend a lot of time trying to look after other people

Me: [Don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry]

 

I cried a lot.  A lot.  That kind of shitty crying that you don’t see in Hollywood where you’re basically kind of inhaling and sobbing.  So yeah, struck a nerve there.

 

Due to my crazy dad being crazy for most of my life my mom leant on me more and more and more.  It’s like I hit teenage years and she suddenly decided that I was now her emotional leaning post, counselor and sounding board.  She would tell me about financial issues, about her being stressed at work, about stuff with my dad etc etc etc.  I can remember that by this time I was already working on emotionally detaching myself from my dad and then it was like she was trying to leech the life force energy out of me.

 

I always joked that I internally felt 45 and then I look back on things as I talk about them through counseling and I look at the expression on her face and it validates things more.  Like… fuck, I shouldn’t have had to have dealt with this shit.

 

I have never spoken about these things with anyone.  Ever.  My mom obviously knows the stuff from when she was there but I think she turned a blind eye to a hell of a lot because she was up to her neck in her own stuff.  Obviously I can’t talk to her about the things that involve her because 1) she will get upset and 2) she has the ‘dealing with emotional hurt’ level of a toddler.  Seriously, you accidentally tread on her toe and it’s like you shot her.

 

In any event.  Counselling is helping.  It isn’t going to be a quick fix but every time I go I feel like it’s letting some pressure out.  Unfortunately the gauge is still on red.

 

So when I’m not at work or crying in front of a woman I’ve met three times I’ve been sinking time into games and Netflix.

 

Make the time fly.  Make me fixed.  How will I feel when there’s no raging pressure inside the boiler that is my head?  Will it be better or will I just feel empty of the crap that’s been fueling me for 30 odd years?  A steam engine without the steam doesn’t work right?

 

 

How is this in my head?

I am so so so so so tired.  Like I feel like I can’t even lift my arms up.

 

I worked from home today so got a lie in compared to normal.  I had a 3ish hour meeting and then drove back home.

 

All I can visualise in my head is the blood test results showing there is naff all that is physically wrong with me.  Therefore this is my brain doing this to me and I don’t understand how.  How can it be making me feel this tired on its own?  I feel like I’m in some sort of virtual reality headset where my body is sat there wanting to go the gym, ready to run and then my mind is just hiding that from me.

 

The lying about why I was off continues.  It still links back to the fact I don’t want people to think I can’t cope.  But I can’t cope I guess which is why I’m where I am.

 

I don’t think it’s possible for anyone in the world to hate me as much as I hate myself. Or at least I hope not.  There isn’t a single thing in the world that I don’t beat myself up for.

 

My counsellor told me on my first appointment is that depression is just anger turned inwards and I think it makes a lot of sense.  There are a lot of things that have happened to me in my life that I think I’ve never got to be angry about… either because I didn’t know what was going on until it was too late (ex cheating with someone I considered a friend etc) or I wasn’t allowed to express it (daddy issues).  I suppose some of it is that you get too fucking tired to be angry.  The idea of being angry feels exhausting.

 

I keep getting asked by medical people if my sleep is alright and I’ve been thinking about that because they keep saying it’s quality over quantity.  I went to sleep at 12 last night and woke up at 7/8.  That’s not bad timewise and if I wasn’t working I would have kept going but still… here I am.

 

I can’t imagine that if I’d taken the medication they wanted to give me that I’d feel any less energetic.  I suppose I’d be more.. numb but I don’t see how that would help with my energy.  Again, brain chemistry.

 

My desparate urge is to go and grab caffiene but diet cola is the devil and I’m trying to stay away from it.  Trying to eat more healthy things… emphasis being trying.  I can hear it’s sweet song of promises from the shop down the road so it’s a good job I’m so tired.
When I last went to see my counsellor she asked me when I felt like this all started… I feel like when I was 10..  This means that for about 1/3 of my life I’ve not been plagued by mental health issues (as far as I can remember)… this 1/3 being inclusive of time when I was a baby.  Part of me worries that I won’t recognise myself if I do get sorted.  Part of me feels like feeling like utter shit, feeling in a black abyss is part of who I am.  Does that even make sense?