I hung up on her. It was so cruel of me. I wasn’t thinking straight. I was done. I’d tested the cord, until my head thumped, and then i released.
I frantically tried to call her back, got through on the stepped up care number, to be told you need to ring reception!! I couldn’t get through. 10 minutes later and two individuals with official lanyards appeared at my door.
The guy shared a name with my son. I can’t help but feel that, that was deliberate. They talked at me, went for a walk with me, and promised me I’d get more help.
I have an urgent psych appointment tomorrow. I don’t know how they can help me.
I’m dreading seeing my CPN. I wonder will she dump me now? I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I never intended to cause her any stress, but I think I did.
Today, I phoned for my blood test results. I had a full work up. The voice on the line said; “yes they’re all normal”
I don’t understand. I don’t believe her. I want to see the numbers and rhe the eeferenxe ranges. I don’t know how this is possible. I was sure they’d indicate some physcal deficiency. I’d hoped for it. Something we could “treat” to make me feel better.
Most people would be thrilled to get the all clear. I’m devastated.
I don’t understand…….
Is it all in my head?
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.
Last night at the gym, I hit play on my “insane” playlist. These were the tunes that I had listened to daily whilst confined to a psych ward.
As I pumped hard on the cross trainer my mind travelled back to that place and honestly I longed to be there again. Just for a night or two, just to get a break from reality and life. Just to be surrounded with amazing support staff and nurses who care and listen, and nurture.
There are some I’d love to chat with again, some I need to tell me off, and others I just want back in my life.
I can see why people, go in and out. I can understand the desires to self harm sufficiently to be ‘re-incarcerated.” I can understand why in lieu of a proper suicide attempt, it could be tempting. It could be one more try at finding the help you need.
Just a few nights to escape, to force me to give up sleeping pills, to ban me from self harming and comfort me while I do.
Not going to happen though
She didn’t say so, but I could see it in her face. This evening I had a chat with my CPN. I’m doing nothing to help myself, so how on earth can they help me.
I’m starting to feel like, they think I’m an attention seeker. I think they’re fed up with me. I think I should just cut all ties and go it alone.
I can’t answer the “what is it that’s making you sad questions, nor can I answer the what is happy loopy like questions.
The only thing I know, is that life does not feel worth living. Life is too hard.
I need to find the courage to end it now, and do it right this time.
I was on the brink. I was alone and I was vulnerable so I called my CPN. By the time she called me back, I had calmed a little. I’m glad I phoned her though. I’m warming to her quickly and I’m getting more comfortable talking to her
But when I make these calls, they often ask; “what would make you feel better, or make things easier?”
Honestly I don’t know! There is no one thing that can be fixed to miracoulously cure me. It is, I guess a culmination of lots of little thongs. My hatred for my albinism, my struggles with my fear of gaining weight, my family isolation, my inability to drive,my emotionally absent, or rather equally drained partner, my stressful job, my mum guilt and my worries for little man, my feelings of worthlessness and incompetence, my head fuzz, forgetfulness and confusion (probably drug induced) and my inability to sleep.
There are 3 things right now that are probably slowly killing me. My dependence on zopiclone, my persistent self burning, and my regular binge/purge cycles.
Not one of these has yet come up in therapy, since losing K. This new therapist, although kind, is not the right fit for me.
How do I tell her?
The only thing good about today, was the weather. I trecked into town for my Occi Health appointment at 11.30. I arrived only to be told it was at 10.30!! I never ever ever miss appointments. If I had political power I would charge people for missing NHS appointments without good reason. I’m so angry at myself. The Dr has very kndly agreed to see me at 9.00 tomorrow before work.
I had a CPN visit this afternoon. It was our first 1 to 1 appointment. I like her, and I’m relieved that I do.
Today for the first time, I confessed to my addiction. I’ve mentioned problems with zopiclone to L and B (other nurses) , but I’ve never said out loud that I’m addicted. Today I was honest albeit details are foggy. I’m crippled with anxiety in the evenings and I suspected it may be due to my taste for sleeping pills. I never take less than 15 mg now, sometimes taking 22.5. This can’t go on. My liver can’t withstand this abuse on top off the prescribed cocktail I’m taking daily. I need help, and today I kind off asked for it. She asked me if I’m ready to give them up, In truth I’m not, but my brain is telling me I need to.
Why do I continue to self destruct?