We don’t sleep together much, OH and I. It’s a combination of his low libido and my new found depression induced self hatred and lack of confidence.
I bring it up occasionally, and last Thursday night during pillow talk, I suggested that tonight (saturday) we’d have some scheduled sexy time. The only caveat was that he must make the moves. He agreed.
Tonight we’ve gone to bed a little early. He’s climbed in, turned his back to me and is now spark out. It’s an all too familiar story. It’s one that crushes me every time.
Am I so ugly and undesirable? Am I really that repulsive???
I shall just knock myself out instead.
It has been quite a while now since I’ve held hot irons against my arm, but I could hold it off no longer, and tonight the little sounds created by melting flesh, where my reward. The pain, too, brings a sort of comfort that I still don’t fully understand.
My current meds regimen is as follows;
Venlafaxine am 75mg, quietiapine pm 300mg, mirtazapine pm 30mg, zopiclone (self medicating) pm 7.5mg, orlistat (self medicating) with meals 120mg. I should also be taking propranolol 20 mg twice a day, but I’m not. I’m stock piling, I guess it’s a kind of back up plan. Enough off that and my heart will stop!!!
I need to talk to someone, but there’s no one to listen.
I’d forgotten, but months ago I’d set a reminder on my phone. It was a message that said; “contact L for coffee”. It would possibly have been inappropriate, but I’d have tried anyway, had I still lived in England.
Regular followers will know that L was my CPN during my first hospital admission and subsequent discharge. She was someone who excelled at her job, and someone who I truely relied on. She was awesome! Her move to a new job, hit me a little hard and took some time to adjust to. In all honesty she pops into my head from time to time, and I catch myself asking; “what would L say?”
I’d set this reminder in the hope that by the time it popped up, I’d be aceing life, I’d have found the right balance between work and family and be happily able to regail her with tails of how I’d turned my life around (whether she was actually interested or not).
Indeed I’ve made huge life changes, though their fruitfullness is yet to be realised. I’m not aceing life, and once again I’m hiding things from OH.
It’s day 3 of orlistat usage, and yesterday I discussed addiction help with my latest CPN, due to my current reliance on zopiclone. I’m also not happy with my new CMHT. Discussions are rushed, the nurse doesn’t take any notes and I keep having to repeat myself. They don’t ring when they say they will, and I’m left chasing support, with no sign of it ever coming. They honestly don’t seem to care.
I’d give anything to have L back right now. I want to message her on Facebook, but I’ll resist.
Don’t be creepy loopy…..
My new CMHT seemed great initially, but it was a facade. I feel abandoned in the wilderness. I saw my nurse last Monday, an appointment that seemed rushed and we’ve not organised the next. I really miss C, and L for that matter. Both of them took the time to listen, offer guidance and just soothe me somehow, but this new team don’t appear to care.
I’m back on sleeping pills, which I can already see is a problem and today I purchased laxatives.
I spent hours talking about and advising a friend of mine on the negatives of laxatives and the harm they do. Today in the chemist however, flashing images of my fat gut and ugly shape, convinced to me purchase.
They’re currently sat next to the hidden zopiclone in my drawer. I’ve not taken any yet, but I really want to.
Come on Loopy, you know better. Don’t do it.
I can’t stop crying…
Today we emptied our house and shipped all our stuff home before we follow on Thursday.
Right now I can’t stop crying. I’m crying because I’m still depressed. I’m crying because I’m having really strong suicidal urges and I’m crying because it doesn’t matter where we move to… my head will follow us.
I feel absolutely hopeless.
you didn’t get it, to be honest.” These were the words that fell from my mother’s lips, as I told her I didn’t get the job. This was her first response. Surely on some level she knows that missing out would be disappointing. Surely she can recognise that on some level, I MUST have wanted it; why else would I apply?
How has she not yet learned to tread more carefully? How is it, that she can’t just be supportive.
I quickly changed the topic. We bought a car, which will be delivered next week. I told my mum the colour….. her reply;
“oh I can’t stand white!”
Today we discussed my liberation from this place. I’ll be discharged on Monday provided weekend leave goes well.
I’m not quite as terrified as the last time I was released from a hospital, but the jitters have hit a little. All off a sudden life has coming hurtling towards me once again. I’ve had a couple of really effective psychology sessions in here though. I’ll miss him.
For the first time ever, someone has properly unpicked me and more importantly enabled to to gain an understanding of why I think and behave the way I do. Since my last overdose we’ve been reintroducing all my meds. Today I told them to halt at the lower doses. I think I feel better at these levels.
Loopy you are enough!!! YOU ARE ENOUGH!!
These were the words that I heard today, when talking to a doc on the ward.
She was spot on. Why do I keep seeking support and approval from people who are incapable off it.
I must look elsewhere, and accept that some people simply lack the capacity to fulfill my emotional needs.
Do you have a plan to end your life?
I’ve lost it, completely lost it. My capacity to function with some sense of normality, has gone. I felt sorry for my CPN today. I was her last appointment, and it wasn’t a “yes everything is great, you can go home early kind of chat” Did I mention that I’ve lost it?
I could see her rapidly calculating risk, going through the “toolkit” of mental health evaluations. Do we need to call 999, or will she last until tomorrow?
And then I was asked, that question that always seems so bizarre to me. Answer wrong and I’d be shipped off to somewhere “safe”.
Off course I’ve thought about it. Imagined my red long sleeve t-shirt, knotted tight! around my neck. I’ve played it over and over and over, in my mind. I’ve pictured the scene that would await, police, or paramedics, or worse OH and my beautiful little boy. I’ve thought about, the logistics, off flying me home. The anger over delays, and paperwork, that would draw out an already difficult time.
Right now I’m staring at my clothes iron. Hair straighteners aren’t working anymore. I can’t get any relief. Would a larger more intense burn help?
I answered the question correctly. She left, which is partly what I wanted her to do. The other part, wanted a hug. A tight, body stabilising, “you’ve got this! hug.
I can no longer cope. I’m reduced to tears at the slightest thing. My anxiety is intolerable and today we’ve been dealt another blow. Our landlord is selling our house. A house on a prime location, on a friendly street, a stone’s throw from the beach and little man’s nursery. I’m more than devastated. I’ve gone ten rounds with life, and it’s left me battered, bruised and done!!
Today in sheer desperation, before our house news, I reached out for help. I did what I am always told to do. I rang my CPN. She was unavailable but the voice on the line promised me someone, either C, or the “duty” would call me back.
No one did……………