He’s been sniffing around today I can’t explain it, but my body feels tense and on edge. My mind feels useless and scatty. My future looks hopeless and worthless.
I hate when I feel like this. I want to buy pills, I’m toying with self harm. I’ve thrown up. I’m slipping somewhat and it scares me.
Just go to bed loopy. No buying pills, no self harm, no undoing the progress you’ve made lately.
Just go to bed!!
On days like this, I want to stay in bed. I want to avoid the world and be alone. I blog on bad days.
Here’s the thing though. I’ve had more good days lately, than bad. I should be writing about those.
This past week I’ve been reducing my zopiclone and diazepam usage. I’ve been playing with and loving little man. I’ve been productive work wise, and have even 99% landed an external examiner post. I’ve been on my bike, I’ve been cuddling with OH. I’ve been having argument free chats with dearest sister. I’ve been puking less and no self harm. I’ve been doing well.
The reality here is that, to some extent COVID lockdown is giving me breathing space, a chance to bond, a chance to reset.
Today was a bad day, but the week has been good.
Focus on the good!!!
I’ve chomped my nails, down to the stumps, I’ve binged and purged. I’ve burned and tonight for the first time since discharge, I want to knock myself out with zopiclone and diazepam, both of which I have in my possession (not loads)
I can’t explain it but a huge wave of sadness, hopelessness, self doubts and self destructive urges have hit me hard this evening…
And so the cycle begins again……………
I’ve been out on leave for the past 4 days, but today I was officially discharged. It’s weird, but this always comes with a little sadness on my part. I think you get so used to being wrapped in a 24/7 blanket of care, that leaving it makes you feel vulnerable and a little alone.
The staff were generally great. They wouldn’t usually tolerate patients who behaved as I did. Any self harm over here gets you shipped immediately to a PICU, but covid stopped that, and they managed me as best they could. They even took my wardrobe, the actual furniture away.
I now have a clearer picture on what my priorities must be.
1. Get help for my PND.
2. Get help for my eating issues and drug use, although since leave I have reduced my zopiclone down to 7.5mg only.
3. Seek support or at least clarification regarding my BPD traits.
4 Learn to like myself again and accept my emotions in a more positive way.
You can only tackle these one at a time Loopy, but you can do it!!
we made it………
I had little man all day, whilst Daddy went to work. Our first real time together since I’ve come out off hospital.
It was a difficult day, but also one I’m proud off. I shed some tears, almost called the ward for help, almost called granny to say I couldn’t cope, but then the emotional wave passed and I perserveered.
My conclusion though is that my main issue is 100% untreated postnatal depression and recovery from that needs to be my main focus.
The meds will not solve anything and the self esteem issues and self hatred will hopefully ease if I can just get the right help.
I hope little man had no idea. I hope I’m not damaging him. I hope he knows that i do Iove him and i hope I can beat this.
I’m out on leave from the hospital, and our plan was to see how it goes for a few days before bringing little man home from granny’s
I’ve been low all day. I’ve been a little weepy and lost for things to do. I’ve contemplated downing drugs and other means.
What surprised me though, is that my heart ached for little man. I practically begged OH to trust me, and bring him home.
At granny’s my little hero leaped out the front door, sprinted shoeless across pebbles and tarmac, and flung his arms around me. We squeezed each other tightly and both faught back little tears.
Our relationship is a little complicated, and I need help with that but……
Little man is home where he belongs! and I must must MUST not let him down or abandon him again.
I’ve been in hospital.now for just over 5 weeks, and I feel no better now than the day I came in.
I’ve made no progress, learned nothing new about myself and I have no hope that I will ever live content.
COVID 19 hasn’t helped. No visitors, no occupational therapy, no on ward activities..nothing…
The ward sister has called me ridiculous very loudly and with venum in her tone on the few occasions that I’ve ligatured, and not once has she asked if I’m ok.
The nurses generally are nice, but limited in what they can do.
I do occasionally play with an old battered wilson (see pic), but the yard is tiny and the nurses don’t endure the noise for very long.
This stay isn’t like the others The levels of empathy and encourgment are much lower than my last two stays.
I’m lost, and I need out.