I’m not the only one in this house who suffers from depression. This past few years, I’ve probably made things all about me. I’ve been the one in and out of hospital. I’ve been the one who cries, complains off stress, anxiety and unstable moods. I’ve been the one under the care of a community team (well I used to be.. I couldn’t call it “care” over here).
The reality, one that I’ve known for some time is that it’s not just me who suffers. OH has struggled too since the arrival of little man. OH is always tired, distant and short tempered. His mood affects mine, and more worryingly our moods affect little man. OH snaps and swears and withdraws. He exhibits most off my symptoms.
It’s not fair on him, it’s not fair on me and it’s not fair on little man.
I’ve been selfish, but if we’re to survive as a family, it’s time we addressed the elephant in the room.
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!!
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 tried, but i fell short. This evening I locked my bathroom door, tied pj bottoms around the shower curtain rail, and threw some knots around my neck. I’d almost got it perfect.
But then the cavalry arrived.
I though I’d have more time. Checks here are scarse at best. Now my clothes have been removed and cupboards cleared. I’ll try again, I’m sure of it.
I’ve come to the very sad realisation that it’s not OH and little man who’d be better off without me. It’s me, it’s me, it’s me who needs to go. I can’t continue any longer pretending to be smashing life when in fact it’s crushing me….
That little voice in my head, “run fatty run, puke fatty puke, burn ugly burn, your a failure, your a waste of space, you difficult and selfish and horrid. Die damn it, do us all a favour and die!!!
“You dont want to be losing that nice figure now, when you do have it”
“You don’t want to be piling that weight back on”
Seriously!!!! Why the hell do I answer my phone…
I’ve already thrown up lunch today. It was too starchy (baked potato). I’m feeling dehydrated and I’m tired.
On the bright side, I’ve finally seen a psychologist. It’s a start I guess.
I need to run, I need to run, I NEED TO RUN!!!
I’m a ball of nervous tension. I’m going stir crazy. I need to run!!!
Our little yard is the size of a frigging matchbox.. I can’t sprint there. We have a ball, but the walls are more glass than brick. I’m desperate to kick it HARD!!! What is it we me and football’s in hospital??
I sneaked in a little burn earlier, but it didn’t work. The waters not hot enough, and they’ve sequestered my straighteners so no joy there.
How on earth do I vent all this???
I’ve caused so much stress and fear and worry. I had no idea, I still had followers from my previous location.
At about 5am thus morning, OH rolled me over and whispered softly; “loopy there’s a police man here to talk to you” My instant thought was oh crap, I’m being arrested for possession!!
But no, he was here to check on my wellbeing.. He was here because someone identified a risk, and they acted on it. He was here because someone cares.
You know who you are. (I wish I did too, so that I could call or email you, thank you, and reassure you that I’m ok.). I wish you were still involved with my care.
I’m not really ok, but this whole episode has prompted OH into action, it has prompted me to be more aware of the impacts of my actions. I spoke last night to teary parents, and a cousin that the police had traced in efforts to find me. I awoke to a phone inundated with missed calls and messages.
I’m going to demand more help. I’m going to check out private care. I’m going to somehow get through the next few days.
Whoever you are, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU.
It bugs me that they’ve literally just printed off a booklet from another health trust, and they’ve not even attempted to adapt it, or personalise it. I get that it might be a useful tool, but it feels like an after thought, something printed randomly from the web. Plagiarised!!!!!!
Putting that aside, I will complete it. I will attempt to log my feelings, eating habits and use of not so good weight control measures. I will try.
It’s all so blah!!!!! But at least I guess, it’s a start at helping me.
Those 3 little words bellowed continuously through the bathroom door. The handle squeeked and juddered as tiny hands kept twisting it. Toddlers are relentless!!!! Actually is he even classed as a toddler anymore? He’s 3, and a sturdy build at that.
I’d already locked it.
“Just go away, please please just go away.”
Fingers sticky with strands of stretchy saliva, eyes reds and puffy, and my stomach contracting, as hard as I could muster. It’s getting harder to throw up now. My gag reflex has almost gone completely, but I’ve not been to the gym today, and I can’t afford to absorb the calories and fat from those delicious hot dogs (OH lovingly prepared), that I ravenously consumed earlier.
I’m sorry little man. I’m sorry I can’t do better. I’m sorry for ignoring you and for wishing you’d go away. I’m sorry I’m such a crap mum.
It’s gone and I’m devastated. I rang voicemail this evening in the hope of hearing C. Those of you following will know that C, was my 2nd CPN. I had 2, when I lived away from home; L and C.
They were quite different in approach, but equally excellent. Some days days I miss L and some days I miss C
Today, I would give anything to hear; “hey loopy, it’s C.” She started every voicemail in the same manner, and tone. It was a clearly practiced and unwavering greeting, and when I heard it on my voicemail, I knew the cavalry had arrived. I knew someone had my back.
She was logical and caring, and honest. If C said she was going to do something, then she would do it.
I can’t believe her voicemail has been deleted. I should have saved it. I’m gutted.
It possibly sounds a little creepy, but I’m sure we can all recognise our brains ability to associate emotions with memories, experiences and sounds. C’s voice brings control, calm, support, empathy snd humour. God I wish I’d saved the voicemail!!!!
I’m absolutely falling apart. My whole journey home today was filled with thoughts of jumping in front of a car, hanging myself over the back of my office door, swallowing mounds of zopiclone….. Anything, Anything to make it stop!! I just need a moment, I need it all to just stops!!!..
I’m sick of the broken promises over here. “We’ll get you help for your eating disorder”.. “We’ve referred you to addiction services” ,”I’ll ring you back””
It’s all bullshit!! I’ve been “home” since last July. The disparity in care is shocking. We have probably the highest suicide rates in the UK, and I’m not surprised. There is no help here. There is no route to recovery, and I can’t wait any longer.
I need to talk to C……I need help. Someone, anyone, please help me