Or I just can’t live full stop…….
We’ve been home now for a couple of days. When I say home, I actually mean with OH’s parents in their house. This is where we’re moving to, in a matter of weeks, in an attempt to get more support, ease the pressure on us, and ultimately to create a better life for us all.
Here’s the problem though, I HATE IT… I don’t know how I’m going to live here. I don’t know how to feel at home, or just feel at ease.
I HATE IT. I’m desparate to get back to our own little house, where I can hide away and not have to interact with people. I’m desperate to be alone.
I’m struggling with little man, and I’m angry that OH appears to be exhausted and tired all the time. I thought his role as a prison officer was to blame, but nope it’s Little man.
Neither of us are any good at this. I’m unable to sleep again. I’m craving pills and I’m fat as all hell.
Something psychologically very strange has happened. My world has run out off new faces and it’s freaking me out.
I noticed something very odd whilst on the critical care ward following my latest overdose. The ward was staffed with old friends and colleagues. The voices and faces were identical to ones I’d met before.
The truth off course is that this was not the case, but my mind played some odd trick on me and it has not yet resolved itself.
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.
Yesterday my psychologist told me; “we can’t proceed with therapy at this time, you are too distressed”
This is not the first time I’ve asked for help and have been turned away because I’m too messed up. It was a devastating blow. Is it me? Why do people keep fobbing me off to other services.
Why am I impossible to work with? How on earth do I move forward when service after service keep knocking me back.
My thoughts race constantly, flipping from chores, to work duties, to self hatred,to my endless list of failings and suicide plans. Can someone please turn off my head?
I need them, (to see me through the Christmas period) but now I find myself with too many pills. I’m googling OD effects, LD50’s and suicide successes. I’m thinking, now’s the time to consume them all!!!!
My thoughts are swaying to and fro; life or death. A shit life, or decades of decay in cold moist soil. A shit life, or broken families and a damaged child.
But then I’m damaging him. If I stay I’ll break him. If I go I’ll break him.
Can someone please fix me.
I’m standing dangerously close to the edge, and it would take no more than a little gust to blow me over. My heads a mess. Two voices are jostling for position, and honestly, I’m exhausted.
I wrote some notes today; the kind of notes, that no one wants to find. A home vist and a gym boost have given me some strength. I will go to psychology tomorrow, and otherwise try to fill my day with activities that distract me.
I’m not sure I can do this much longer though.
A black fog has descended and brought with it dark thoughts. Everything seems bleak. I don’t want to leave my house, don’t want to interact with others and don’t want to talk anymore.
I am still going out (got little man a haircut today), I am interacting (lots of appountments) I guess and as for talking; I’ll try, I really will.
The term “high functioning” was used in psychology today. Is that what you call someone who’s outwardly “living” but inwardly “dying”?