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.

I’m scared

So last night/this morning I woke myself up because I was having a full on night terror involving me screaming and thrashing around in the bed.  The working theory is that this is good.  The unworking theory is that this is me almost being possessed by evil spirits so we’ll see how it goes tonight -_-

 

I’ve spent the whole day walking round feeling like I’ve been kicked in the solar plexus all night.  I don’t know what that’s about either.
What I do know is that I’m hiding from my job and everything to do with it.  I’m trying to make myself hold out until the other side of some days off I have booked but we’ll see -_-  I just want to go to the Drs and get signed off…

 

WHICH REMINDS ME!

 

The good old NHS is definitely trying to finish me off!  See series of events:

June – Initial going to Dr, Dr suggests doing referral to therapy

June.2 – Do three referrals, each wanting me to go into exquisite detail about how I wanted to kill myself, what my plans were etc.  Their response: KTHNX we will contact you in a month for your phone assessment

July – A month on.  Asked to go through everything on the phone AGAIN, in detail AGAIN.  Left in a state, told to phone Samaritans because it will take 3 weeks for me to be seen

July.2 – Letter sent with everything I had said (including most of the horrible detail) sent out in the post to my house.  Again confirming it will take 3 weeks to be seen by anyone

2017-07-28 15.43.36-1.jpg

 

Gee thanks NHS.  This is really what I needed to read, unexpectedly on the way out the door while I’m trying to get on with my fucking life that you seem determined to remind me that I want to fucking end.

 

As is the theme of recent days… I GOT FUCKING PISSED OFF ABOUT IT

 

 

Especially because someone I know’s friend killed herself.  She was trying to get help.  The help never came.  Are we surprised?  I get so fucking angry.  It’s like.. if you just want us all to die and decrease the burden on the population then at least do what the Roman state did and give us the means to go out with dignity.  Otherwise, if you want people to live then HELP THEM.

 

Ranting aside…

 

Guy problems.  Because I am 100% a 16 year old girl and not someone who should be married with 5 kids already.

 

I apparently literally cannot handle being complimented.  My brain freezes up.  So I’m currently stuck in this world of ‘WTF do I do?!’ and ‘he is totally lying.  He is manipulating you’.  I get the impression he’s been like me… stuck with a lot of affection to give someone and not having an outlet for it.  The issue is that to me, my inner voice is processing it as being insincere and overwhelming.

 

I think what is most terrifying me is because I feel a genuine connection to this person.  We technically spent the weekend amongst friends and chatting and socialising etc so even though we’re going on a Date it’s still not like the internet where we’ve not met at all before.  I’m scared that this connection I feel is just my intense loneliness coming at me from another angle.  I feel like I’m trying to trick myself out of feeling miserable.  I just don’t want to end up in another shitty relationship but then the only way you find that out is to give it a go.

 

Oh and there is the usual of me being too fat and ugly to qualify being worthy of love… which I keep being told is untrue but I don’t feel that on the inside.

 

 

 

Twirling, twirling towards freedom

So I’ve ended up using ‘leave out all the rest’ like a sound bath and just kept listening to the damn thing over and over to try and get it out of my head… and it hasn’t worked.  I’ve just been crying a lot.

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 if you’re asking me
I want you to know

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed
Don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest
Leave out all the rest

Forgetting all the hurt inside
You’ve learned to hide so well
Pretending someone else can come
And save me from myself
I can’t be who you are

My mind is flying around all over the place.  I’ve spent most of the day crying.  Most of driving home crying.  I feel like if one piece of things could be going well then maybe it might help me crawl away from the abyss.

 

Counsellor suggested going on meds when I went on Friday but I’m terrified.  I don’t want another problem and I’m scared of getting addicted to tablets.  I’m scared of feeling better, even just for a minute and then that all melting away and I’m in the same situation as before.  Counselor says that maybe I need the space to try and help out the part of me that is trying to be productive and unbroken.. I don’t know.

 

I’m feeling so bad again.  I shouldn’t be thinking about how fast and efficient the train is and how it would be pretty instant if I did throw myself under it when I’m coming back the day after my birthday.  I shouldn’t be fantasizing about driving into the crash barrier on the motorway at 90mph.  The reason I haven’t done these things is because I’d want as few people to be dragged into my leaving the world as possible.  I don’t want the guy who has to hose me off the front of the train to have this pain and crap that I feel.  I know that once I’m dead I’ll be devoid of any kind of feeling at all, good and bad… but at the moment that fucking nothingness looks like heaven.  As much as I believe in an after life a nice black void of oblivion would be ace thanks very much.

 

Part of what I’ve discussed with her is my rampant need for perfectionism and to be doing better than everyone else… even though I’m not.  She asked me where I thought it comes from and I really don’t know.  My mom is pushy, I know that much.  I can remember being sad that I got a low grade in DT at secondary school and her badgering me into going to the teacher and asking what I could do to improve because that’s what she did.  I did and I wanted the ground to swallow me up.  Never again.

 

Part of my issues is this job driving me slowly up the wall (the crumbling, badly painted wall that has damp…).  She has suggested considering leaving and downgrading to a job that pays less and immediately my perfectionist sensibilities flare up in horror.  No.  I have to be doing better than my friends.  I have to not be dependent on anyone.  I have to be doing better.  It’s so stupid but it’s how I feel.

 

I keep saying that I want to find a guy who earns more than me, mainly because of the fact my ex was a financial drain… however when anyone buys anything for me I can’t cope with it.  When I did date a guy who earnt a shitload more than me I didn’t know how to react.  Suddenly I was definitely inferior, now I was the one who might be seen as the leech.  Grin feels suddenly horrendously uncomfortable.

 

Then suddenly… random guy I kissed on Saturday asks me out.  This does not happen to me.  This makes me suspicious.  This makes the voice in my head that tells me all the negative shit how he is obviously just after my resources and doesn’t like me as a person. I am too fat to be in a relationship.  I am too needy.  I will destroy this and blow it out of proportion.  I will end up in a shitty relationship again.

 

And then as soon as I’m done thinking that I’m crying because I feel so fucking alone.

 

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

 

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.

 

 

Leave out all the rest

I can’t cope with the fact that not only is Chester Bennington dead but that he killed himself because of depression.

 

I first came across Linkin Park in my first few years of secondary school when Hybrid Theory came out.  I fell in love with him and his blonde hair and flame tattoos.  When I was about 17 they played at the arena near where I used to live and I got to meet him as part of the fan club.  I shook his hand and he actually looked up at me and smiled.  Obviously this set my teenage heart aflame but I was in such a shitty place back then.  Part of me wonders whether he saw that in me.

 

I had no idea he struggled with depression but I’d heard about his issues with drugs in the past.  All I can think is about how much he has obviously been suffering and it tears me apart.  I wish I could reach out to him and tell him how sorry I am and how I know how that feels.

 

My mom jokes about numb being my ‘teenage anthem’ and it was.  I was probably the most worst I’ve ever been psychologically when that song came out.  I can remember experiencing a few episodes of cognitive dissonance around that time.  That song spoke to me not because of teenage mood swings but because my mind had started to shut down.  I stopped feeling because it was easier than the pain. I cut my dad out of my soul because that was the only way I could survive even though it made me (and still makes me) feel like a terrible human being…

 

Dear chester… I can’t look at pictures of you now without it making my soul ache.  Even 17 or so years after I first came across you I still recognise the beautiful beautiful person that you were.  I’m so sorry that you felt so terrible and felt so much.  I know that people will blame themselves and probably blame you too.  I don’t.  I’m sorry you didn’t get the help you needed to carry on but at the same time I know how exhausting and fucking awful it is to limp along the road.  I send you only love and appreciation for what you brought to the world and hope that you have found the peace you needed.  Love forever x

Blackbirds

When in my white room at the Charité
I woke towards morning
And heard the blackbird, I understood
Better. Already for some time
I had lost all fear of death. For nothing
Can be wrong with me if I myself
Am nothing. Now
I managed to enjoy
The song of every blackbird after me too.
– Bertolt Brecht

 

So I was randomly driving back from an appointment listening to Radio 4 and that poem pops out of the radio at me because of a program about blackbirds (yes, I know, it’s Radio 4 come on).  That one part stuck in my head and then I was on a mission to try and find out what it was and who had written it.

 

At the moment I feel like I’m in and around that poem.  While I’m currently feeling decidedly less suicidal and generally ‘average’ (usual utter self loathing is standard) I’m living with this fear that this will disappear and I’m going to go back down into that abyss again.  I feel like a child going through one of those indoor hamster style play areas and I’m going to make a turn at the next corner and go down a slide I wasn’t expecting.

 

I’ve managed a few appointments and thanks to being face to face it’s extra draining on my batteries.  Doesn’t help that I’m an introvert. Literally all weekend I was alternating between Netflix with crochet or gaming.  I made myself go out to the shop.  I did see some friends and was my usual jokey self.

 

I wonder how much of my joking/grinning/high functioning is to do what my counsellor said and it’s to try and look after people so they feel good and don’t be hurt by the fact I’m feeling so awful.

 

Every time I come out of counselling my mom wants an update on how it’s gone.  I’ve started to say that I can’t talk to her about it, mainly because a lot of it does involve her whether she likes it or not.  That and I’m still trying to understand how I feel about what we talked about.

 

I really, really wanted to try and get to the gym so I could stop beating myself up about not going to the gym.  Where the hell is the version of me that used to run 10k and walked everywhere and could stick to her low calorie days?

 

I tried telling myself that if I’d nearly died because I’d been hit by a car or had some physical thing wrong with me then I’d be giving myself time to just exist but this isn’t good enough for my inner monologue.  The fact I’m tired isn’t good enough, it’s an excuse.  The fact that I did nearly die (if I’d had the means I know for a fact I wouldn’t be here, I still don’t understand how everyone in America doesn’t just shoot themselves with all the guns everywhere) but due to emotional reasons doesn’t hold any weight here.

 

I just want someone to look after me.  I spent my entire teenage years and childhood having to try and look after my mom and survive my dad where best I could.  My ex tried… he wasn’t all bad despite the fact he’s now remembered by his last impressions.  But he couldn’t.  He earned less than me and then eventually didn’t earn anything at all.  I remember feeling paralyzed when I found out that I was now the breadwinner of our household at 23/24.  All I could think was that it was history repeating itself.  Despite my best attempts at promising myself that I would find a partner who had a boring, stable job I had ended up with a version of my dad.

 

So I had that pressure again of being the one to look after everything.  Know when his family’s birthdays were, buy presents for them for every occasion.  Being responsible for everything apart from the internet (which frequently got cut off when he didn’t pay the bill).

 

And that turned into him resenting me, hating me for it.

 

 

Don’t date

Or at least not while you’re suffering from depression.

 

If you do then you’ll find yourself driving to Asda at 1am to buy pizza because you didn’t have time to eat between your first counselling session and a date that went badly.  The fact it went badly will feel like it has confirmed all the terrible things you say about yourself.  You will drive fast and play David Bowie obscenely loudly and scare the guy driving an Audi in front of you.

 

This is of course after crying for two hours.  I’m glad I bought a gel eye mask recently so I don’t look like I’ve had an allergic reaction tomorrow.

 

The kicker to this is that I have this theory where I feel like I shouldn’t give up trying until I’m ‘fixed’.  But after tonight…  I thought it was going well, apparently it wasn’t.

 

I spent two hours screaming at the universe and asking why I was alive.  Would the void kindly like to explain why I was alive when I was more than happy to be dead.  If some sort of body/energy/life force swap was available then surely it would be fair for some poor terminally ill kid to have my life energy and I could die for them.  Surely there is some parent somewhere wishing for this.  Why can’t I donate my life energy like I could do with a kidney?  Or maybe that’s the most selfless way to commit suicide.  I could sign up to every spare organ donation thing going (bone marrow, kidney… lung?) and hope it goes wrong for me so they get my organ, I die… everyone is happy.

 

So I did all of my screaming, crying and full on tantruming about the fact I’m too much of a pussy to kill myself and the forces of the universe won’t just wipe me off the face of the earth.

 

Got up off the floor, started laughing manically and now I’ve just eaten a pizza at 2am.  I’m going to try and stay up till the sun comes up.

 

If there really is a reason why I’m alive I’d really like to know.  Till then I guess there is 1am pizza.