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.
6 weeks on a psych ward and pretty much zero improvement. I’m out on leave until Tuesday and then I’ll be discharged.
Basically we all recognised that the stay was off no benefit, and without being allowed to burn, my use of ligatures just escalated.
So I’m back home, on a ridiculous regimen of meds, and little hope going forward. How do I get help here? How do I get better? How on earth will I cope when little man comes home from granny’s on Sunday.
I am happy to be back in my own bed though, with no restrictions and OH’s arms wrapped tightly around me.
I’ll be flung out tomorrow
I suspect. All the nurses hate me I’m difficult and I keep trying to ligature to stop my thoughts and to end it all.
In their eyes I’m putting us all at risk off corona virus.
The staff find me, Rip the ligature off and the bolt. I’m not even asked if I’m ok, but I have now had 3 bollockings for it.
I can’t help it. All I want is to die and allow my boys to.continue their happy lives without me.
I don’t want to be albino and visually umosired anymore. I don’t want to fail at work. I don’t want to get fat. I don’t want to look at myself in the mirror and continue to hate the image staring back.
I’m a horrible, selfish person, which this world
could do without.
No one can help me and apparently “your not trying hard wbough”
I am though but I’m done