I wonder if anyone will read this. I wonder if anyone remembers I exist. I wonder if anyone will care. I have been led to wonder a lot of things over the past few months. Life makes me confused. Events that I can't begin to understand have occurred and left me feeling bereft, frightened and alone.
I have deliberately, methodically and completely intentionally removed some people from my life. They were doing me no good, in fact I think one of them in particular was doing me harm. So, no more contact. Which is strange and yet freeing at the same time. I have allowed myself to be used as a personal bank, agony aunt, sounding board, psychologist.....and if I need someone I look around and find myself alone. No more. I had to set myself free, I had to get a second mobile phone because I was feeling unable to cope with having my main number available to all and sundry 24/7 but was scared to switch it off. Ridiculous.
So, the past few months. Arguments between my medical team about treatment options for my brain tumour. A death in the family which has rocked things to the core. Mental health has been surprisingly stable given that I've been taken off all medication and quite a lot of shit has happened. Been dumped by a couple of people I thought were friends but have survived and realised that I can't change who I am just to suit others.
Why then. Why. Why am I finding it so hard? Deep inside I am screaming out in pain and anguish because things hurt so much. I accept that I'm not the best of people, I make mistakes, I'm not perfect...I accept that, essentially, I am nothing. I am worthless. I give zero, do zero, achieve zero. I let people down. I'm flawed. I'm unpopular, I'm intrinsically wasteful. I offer nothing. I fear commitment. I relish opportunity yet waste it when it's given.
I love. I feel. I care. I think. I listen.
I look around and I have no-one. It's my own doing because I am me. But I can't change my core, only the outward appearance. But I can't change that because I can't bring myself to live a lie.
What is it that I am afraid of. I can answer that in one word.
Life.
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Showing posts with label mental illness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mental illness. Show all posts
Sunday, 8 May 2011
Tuesday, 15 March 2011
So Long Since Then
I desperately need to write an update and not only to let out the stuff that I've been burying over the past months since I last wrote. I'll try and do that soon.
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Friday, 23 July 2010
The End?
I'm not depressed, the combination of drugs sees to that. On Sunday, 25th July, it will be 3yrs since my best friend killed herself. I knew she had that plan in mind, she never told me which date it was going to be or anything but she made it very clear that she knew what she was going to do.
She had a very long standing mental illness, she self-harmed in horrific ways and as a result had to get a number of skin grafts to fix 3rd degree burns.
After being prescribed antidepressants she began to feel that her ability to function was being impaired and it frustrated her immensely. Eventually she got put on repeat prescriptions and could just order more as and when. That was the beginning of the end.
She weaned herself off the drugs but kept ordering prescriptions on the right dates so no suspicion was raised. When doing that she was stockpiling the tablets which were an old and toxic tricyclic antidepressant known to be fatal in overdose.
I begged her to go and try to get help from the CMHT and the day before she died she consented and went to see them. For some reason they didn't recognise the level of her distress so they sent her home telling her that they'd arrange an appointment with her psychiatrist and she'd be sent a letter.
That night she was active online, she left various messages but none that even hinted at what she was going to do. It turned out that the very last one she sent was to me. Of course with hindsight I can see clearly that it was goodbye but at the time it never read like that.
Events get hazy after this but at some point on the 25th July she made herself comfortable on the sofa, covered herself with a blanket and necked all of the pills. They estimated that she had taken approximately 5mths worth in one go. Enough to kill her quite a few times over. The PM report said she could not have ingested any less than 17g of the drug.
That figure even scared me a little bit.
I'm jealous of her, she's got peace and freedom. Her torments ended that day and her soul soared to Heaven. I miss her, wish I could have her back. But, deep down I know and accept that her life was always going to end in that way and if it hadn't been then it would have been another day.
I love you, I hope you know that. Sing with the angels.
Read more!
She had a very long standing mental illness, she self-harmed in horrific ways and as a result had to get a number of skin grafts to fix 3rd degree burns.
After being prescribed antidepressants she began to feel that her ability to function was being impaired and it frustrated her immensely. Eventually she got put on repeat prescriptions and could just order more as and when. That was the beginning of the end.
She weaned herself off the drugs but kept ordering prescriptions on the right dates so no suspicion was raised. When doing that she was stockpiling the tablets which were an old and toxic tricyclic antidepressant known to be fatal in overdose.
I begged her to go and try to get help from the CMHT and the day before she died she consented and went to see them. For some reason they didn't recognise the level of her distress so they sent her home telling her that they'd arrange an appointment with her psychiatrist and she'd be sent a letter.
That night she was active online, she left various messages but none that even hinted at what she was going to do. It turned out that the very last one she sent was to me. Of course with hindsight I can see clearly that it was goodbye but at the time it never read like that.
Events get hazy after this but at some point on the 25th July she made herself comfortable on the sofa, covered herself with a blanket and necked all of the pills. They estimated that she had taken approximately 5mths worth in one go. Enough to kill her quite a few times over. The PM report said she could not have ingested any less than 17g of the drug.
That figure even scared me a little bit.
I'm jealous of her, she's got peace and freedom. Her torments ended that day and her soul soared to Heaven. I miss her, wish I could have her back. But, deep down I know and accept that her life was always going to end in that way and if it hadn't been then it would have been another day.
I love you, I hope you know that. Sing with the angels.
Read more!
Sunday, 18 July 2010
Stumble & Fall
Things are slowly but surely getting worse. They can't be that bad yet though because I can see it happening. I am a great advocate of keeping an eye on my signs/symptoms and making sure I at least try to get something done before things go totally wrong. This is only true of my mental health, I'm not so quick about physical health. I admit to being somewhat bored of all the medical things going on in my life, I really hate getting this much attention focused on me, sometimes I wish that I could just be left alone. But, if I am seen to be 'refusing treatment' then I know very well that I would be risking getting put under a CTO...definitely don't want that.
What irks me slightly about treatment refusal is that I am under the impression that if I didn't have any mental illness I would probably be allowed to put my foot down and tell my medical squad not to do anymore.
The difference between physical and mental health for me is all about other people. I wouldn't be in any danger of potentially hurting another person or acting in an inappropriate way if I said that I don't want any more interventions. However, if I turned around and refused all of my mental med's there *could* be a risk of my behaving in a dangerous or inappropriate manner. I wouldn't want to cause hurt or pain (emotional or physical) to anybody other than myself.
It can be a tricky balance of doing what's right for everyone else and doing what's right for me. At the moment doing right by others is the important thing.
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What irks me slightly about treatment refusal is that I am under the impression that if I didn't have any mental illness I would probably be allowed to put my foot down and tell my medical squad not to do anymore.
The difference between physical and mental health for me is all about other people. I wouldn't be in any danger of potentially hurting another person or acting in an inappropriate way if I said that I don't want any more interventions. However, if I turned around and refused all of my mental med's there *could* be a risk of my behaving in a dangerous or inappropriate manner. I wouldn't want to cause hurt or pain (emotional or physical) to anybody other than myself.
It can be a tricky balance of doing what's right for everyone else and doing what's right for me. At the moment doing right by others is the important thing.
Read more!
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