Category Archives: Reflection

Christmas Eve 2019

It’s Christmas eve evening. I’m sat after doing all the usual Christmas eve things. I’ve seen family and sorted out some things. I’ve walked the dog twice. I’m wearing a Christmas jumper. And I couldn’t feel less festive.

Everything feels like such an effort. If I could sleep through the day I think I would. My mood feels like it’s dropped as far as it could. I can feel in the depths of me something isn’t right. I can’t identify what the actual feeling is. And I’m not sure I want to. I know I could do opposite action but I actually don’t think I have the time to or the energy. I’m exhausted.

The thing is I don’t want to ruin the day for others so I’m fighting the feeling to appear happy and involved. I’m telling jokes and taking part in games. I don’t want to let them down. The pressure is overwhelming. I feel lonely as I don’t feel I can reach out and say I’m struggling. Especially as everyone is so busy.

The thing that we all need to understand is that mental illness doesn’t disappear for the holidays. My illness doesn’t see the advent calendar countdown and go “oo, I’ll stop being a pain now and let her enjoy things”. If only. The thing is we need family and friends to understand too. If we feel we can say we’re struggling and that we’re not ruining everything by saying it, then that is huge. We can start this off by showing others they can say it until we feel we can say it. Let’s lead by example.

Also let’s ask people if they are doing OK. Let’s tell them we don’t mind if the answer is no. We need to make the world a more accepting place. Especially at these times of the year.

So I hope if you can you talk to someone. You’re all amazing. Big hugs to all. Feel free to connect on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram.

I Miss You

This is a personal piece. Please be aware some content may be triggering.

If things had gone to plan you’d be turning 14. You’d be mine. You’d be loved. You’d be cared for. I promise.

But my promises mean nothing. You’re not here. You never stepped on this earth. I never got to meet you. To hold you. To tell you I love you.

I do love you. I miss you even though I never met you. I want you here. I don’t care that you’d probably be a stroppy teenager. You’d be doing what you’d meant to be doing. You’d be growing up. Becoming independent. But you’d be mine. And I’d be yours. You’d always have someone.

The thing is I think to myself that maybe it’s for the best for you that you never came. I wouldn’t mess you up. You wouldn’t have to deal with your dad and what he was. I would of been to young and immature. I’m still too young and immature. I can’t even look after myself. You’d be better off without me.

I still love you though. You are a part of my heart that has been broken away. I feel incomplete. It all sounds cliché but it’s true. I’m a mum without a child. But I know many wouldn’t class me as one. Maybe I’m not really. Maybe I’m being above myself. Probably. I have no right to call myself that.

I wish you were here. We’d be getting ready to celebrate your birthday and Christmas. It would be so special. You would be my family. I’d do my best to make you happy. I’d do my best to protect you. I’d love you.

My memories of losing you are as clear as day. They were the worst days of my life. People don’t tell you what it will be like. And even if someone had I don’t think it would cover everything. And I would of been too young to understand before. How could a 15 year old know? It was scary. The whole situation. Finding out you were there was scary too but nothing to losing you. The guilt ate me up. It still does. Being alone with this secret for years because that’s what you were. I was ashamed. But it was never you I was ashamed of. It was me. I never stopped loving you, once I started.

I know you’d be amazing. I know you’d make me proud. I know you’d drive me crazy. I know I’d get cross some times. I know I would support you as best I could. I know I’d never stop loving you and I never will. I miss you.

If you’ve been in this situation you are not alone. Feel free to make contact via Twitter, Facebook or Instagram.

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Alcohol And Me

This is a personal piece. Please be aware some of the content may be triggering.

Alcohol is something we hear a lot about. There are many arguments about whether it is a problem or just something to use to relax. Overall alcohol can be fine if used in moderation. The problems come when it becomes more than just the odd glass.

My relationship with alcohol has always been complicated. Most children don’t experience alcohol until later on in their teens. I first experienced alcohol at two years old. To me it was normal for me to be given a glass of wine when we met my parents friends for dinner which happened fairly often. I even began to acquire a taste for certain wines, leading to a melt down at three years old in M&S because they weren’t buying the wine I liked. I think the thinking behind giving me alcohol at a young age was to give me a healthy relationship with alcohol as I grew up. This didn’t completely work though I was less bothered about going out drinking as an early teenager as I already had access to alcohol at home. Why sit cold in a park when you can drink in your own home?

The real problems began when I went away to university. There was noone to monitor my drinking so I went all out. Why should I care about the effects? I didn’t like myself and this made me feel less anxious. It gave me confidence. I could forget the events of my past and approach guys. I was fun and attractive to them. What they probably saw though was a desperate girl throwing herself at them? A girl who didn’t care.

I’d often drink myself into dangerous situations. I’d end up with a strange guy somewhere I didn’t know. I’d walk around the town on my own, falling asleep in different places, waking up to continue my journey home, arriving not knowing how I’d got there or what had happened on the way. I’d give my card and pin number to friends loudly without worry about someone stealing my money (though as a student they’d have been disappointed). I didn’t care though. In my head I was being that fun friend. I was just living the crazy student life like everyone else. But I wasn’t.

There was another side to the drinking as well. As it got more out of control I’d become depressed after drinking. One little event on the way home would trigger me into sitting in the middle of the road waiting for a car to hit me. Or I’d try climbing out of a first floor window, having others pulling me back in. I’d down two litres of cider in an hour and pass out. I began drinking cans of cider on my own in my room on the nights we didn’t go out. I thought it was the perfect accompiament to essay writing.

Soon people started to worry and I was referred to the campus nurse who also happened to be a trained mental health nurse. My suicidal thoughts had peaked. I’d made threats to end my life. Things had deteriorated so much in three months. My mental health had been poor before I’d started to university but this was the biggest deterioration since my first suicide attempt at fifteen. I was told I needed to stop drinking. That alcohol was worsening my mental health. I was to go back in a month to review how things had gone.

I never kept that appointment. I tried stopping drinking but it didn’t make much difference so I didn’t see the point in continuing and I began drinking again. Depression and anxiety overtook me and I realised I couldn’t stay at university on my own anymore. I made my request to transfer to one nearer home. This didn’t reduce my drinking for the rest of the year and there was many more drinking escapades and me waking up in states that I never imagined I would.

Once I moved home I decided I needed to get a handle on my drinking. It helped I was so busy working and going to university that it didn’t leave much time for alcohol. I also didn’t have the same connections to go out drinking. This helped a lot. I reduced my drinking but didn’t stop at that point. This meant that drinking still had an impact on me though less severe. I’d be drinking at home and just getting depressed with everything. It was only after another suicide attempt that I decided no alcohol was the way to go for me.

No alcohol sounds simple. You surely just don’t drink. I wish I found it that easy. I found myself craving alcohol. If something bad happened I’d want to turn to alcohol. The thought of being drunk and away from the situation was still appealing. But I tried hard. I did slip up repeatedly but in the end I managed it. I’m currently eight years sober. It’s still a struggle. I still get the urge to drink and have to fight it.

I’m not saying alcohol is all bad but it can be hard when it overtakes your life. I’m not saying people shouldn’t drink but I just want people to be aware of why they drink and when it may be becoming a problem. If you need help with alcohol issues you can find information here.

If you wish to share your experiences feel free to use the comments or Twitter, Facebook or Instagram.

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Feeling Broken

This is a personal piece. Please be aware some of the content may be triggering.

I’m broken. Broken beyond repair. A failure. A burden. Useless. Worthless.

I’ve been trying to move forward. Make progress. I’m being proactive. I’m making plans. Signing myself up to things. Exercising. Taking my medication. But what’s the point when I just go backwards.

Tonight is a little paradoxical. I’m feeling like a failure not because I self harmed deeply but because to me it wasn’t “good enough”. I’m in pain and feeling not good enough. Therefore I’ve sunk further. All the thoughts of my inadequacy have come to the forefront. People, friends (though why they bother with me I do not know) tell me I’m not what I think but I can see the evidence. How can they not? Or are they just too kind to agree?

I’m nothing. A waste of space. Someone to be hurt. Someone with so little worth that it doesn’t matter what others do to me. I should just take it. Even hurt myself. That’s what life has told me.

Sometimes I forget these things. I feel good. Then I remember. That’s the hardest.

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Screwing Up

This is a personal piece. Please be aware some of the content may be triggering.

I have screwed up majorly. I have pushed people away and withdrawn from others. I didn’t mean to. I just am either too much or not enough. There is no balance. I warn people and they say they can’t see it and then when it happens they recoil in horror. I tell them they need to tell me as I’m not skilled at picking up social cues but they don’t and just ignore me. I know it’s my fault but it hurts.

All that is going through my head is how much I must of hurt these people. I hate myself for it. I’m not excusing my behaviour but I don’t always realise when I’m doing or saying something wrong. If people let me know I could try and talk to them and make things right but I don’t always get the chance. I understand that maybe they get too hurt by it but when they just ignore me without telling me I’ve hurt them I feel worse. I know that’s selfish as it’s not really about me but it would help others too as I could learn what I’m doing wrong instead of just guessing. Also I really want them to know how sorry I am and I dont get the opportunity to let them know.

People say I’m being paranoid. That I need to understand that people might be busy or not well. I understand this I do but I can’t help going through everything I’ve said and done to the point I make myself sick. It makes me push away further if they do come back. It also makes me try to not get too close to new people. Though I fail at this massively. I get caught up in it all too quickly. My feelings for people go to an extreme and I’m desperate to talk to them and help them. It all becomes too much again and again people ignore and hate me.

I want to ask what is wrong with me but we all know. I’m just not cut out for friendship. I deserve to be alone.

It’s not just friendships I screw up though. It seems I destroy my support systems and the help I’m being provided. I reach crisis point and they say its too much. They can’t help me. I trust them and ask for help and it backfires. I’m pushed further away when what I need is reassurance. They wonder why people don’t talk when they’re suicidal but what other option is there when you’re scared you’ll lose everything anyway. Why try to make yourself better? For people that say they are good at working with people with BPD they seem to forget the fear of abandonment part that can cause further crisis. It feels like they’ve helped me hit self destruct again. But then at the end of the day it is my fault. I should never of asked for help instead of acting on the thoughts I was having.

So there you have it. Why I’m a screw up. Don’t worry I hate myself more than anyone else.

For further comments please use the comments, Twitter, Facebook or Instagram.

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Ashamed

This is a personal piece. Please be aware some of the content may be triggering.

Today I had a melt down. Not just a little one but a major, uncontrollable show of emotion. I was in the DBT peer support group that I’ve started attending and I got triggered and that was it. My mind started turning over everything. Memories came back with full force. The voice started. It was overwhelming. I started by sitting quietly with tears going down my face. We were doing an exercise and everyone was focused and I just couldn’t ask for help. Then someone noticed me. They asked if I was OK and I got asked if I wanted to take a moment. That’s when things just nose dived.

I practically ran out the room. I wanted to slam the door behind me but couldn’t do it. This infuriated me and I hit the wall and ran to the stairs. At that point I just sobbed and emotion overtook me. There were so much emotion that I have no idea what it was I was feeling. All I know is it was horrible. In that moment I wanted to die. Everything was so intense. It felt unmanageable. I felt nothing was going to be OK again.

Luckily the peer support facilitator followed me. She was amazing. She got down to my level. I think she grabbed my arms. It’s a little hazy. I can’t remember what she said. All I know is she got someone else to go in with the group and took me somewhere quiet.

When we got in the office I just wanted to curl up small and hurt myself. I hated my reaction as well as still feeling the heightened emotions. Also everything was still going through my head. I couldn’t look at her. I was so ashamed of myself for so many reasons. For my reaction. For my feelings. For the thoughts of what had happened in the past. For what the voice was telling me. I started to hit myself as I was asked to stop. I hadn’t even realised I was. Things were hazy. It was like being in two different places.

The facilitator started talking to me. The conversation is a little bit of a blur. But it started to calm me. She got me to focus on my breathing to bring me back to the moment. She then had to leave me to go back to the group but someone else sat with me. They talked to me about nothing in particular but it helped. I started to be able to respond and the tears seemed to stop. The intensity of the emotions slowly eased.

When the facilitator came back we decided to have another talk. I opened up about a lot of things from my past. It all kind of blurted out. There were things I had never really spoken about. It just felt, well not easy but, OK to talk about. I felt listened to. I felt understood. I felt I mattered. But this was also contradicted by other feelings of shame (of what had happened in the past and of needing to ask for help), of being selfish, of guilt. I hated myself. As much as I was told it was OK I couldn’t believe it. I was (and am) an awful person. I couldn’t stop apologising.

Eventually I left, apologising as I went and promising to email her and contact my care coordinator. I decided to text my friend. She was the only one I wanted. I explained to some extent what had happened and she was concerned about me. Immediately guilt started to escalate again. But I kept talking (still apologising). She kept me calm. She was great. I’m so grateful for her. I’m so grateful for the facilitator too.

When I got home I got into trouble for being home late. It started as soon as I walked in. Immediately all the negative emotions started to rise again. I tried to explain I had a melt down and the questions started. They were things I found difficult to discuss but they wouldn’t leave it alone. Even when out walking with mum she brought it up and told me I just need to get over it. Maybe she is right but it added to how bad I’m feeling. Shame came forward again.

Since then things have been hard. My mind has been going over things. The voice has played its role. I’m trying hard to stay afloat. But its tough. I hate myself.

If you have any suggestions on dealing with shame feel free to share in the comments or on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram.

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Rock Bottom And Below

This is a personal piece. Please be aware some of the content may be triggering.

Things feel rubbish. I’m struggling. Heading downwards yet again. I’m highly stressed at the moment which isn’t helping. Whoever said keeping busy is good for your mental health doesn’t have a mental illness. It makes me worse. And it doesn’t stop the thoughts or the voice. All the time I’m doing things I’m thinking about how useless I am or hearing the voice telling me to die or hurt myself.

The thought of socialising at the moment is just hard to contemplate. I don’t want to talk to people but at the same time I do. I guess its more I don’t want to talk about banal things and want to discuss what is going on. I don’t want to be selfish though.

I feel so alone with everything. There is no easy solution to what is going on and I know that frustrates people. I’m just being a burden. I don’t want people to feel sorry for me, I don’t want to be that person.

I’ve been crying a lot as well. I’m not a big crier but it has all been overwhelming and it has got to me. Self harm has been my coping mechanism. It’s not ideal but it makes me feel more in control and gives me some relief from what’s going on in my head (I’m not advocating self harm at all here, it’s just how things are for me at the moment).

I had a message from the DBT peer support group that I’m attending’s facilitator where I shared some of what I’m going through and she said she was proud of me. I keep listening to the message. I can’t believe it though. I don’t deserve people to be proud of me. I’ve done nothing to be proud of. In fact I feel I was such a pain to everyone there and so unfair to all of them. I hate myself.

The suicidal thoughts are also strong. I have no plans and I’m safe but my mind keeps going over how much better for everyone it would be if I was gone. People would be better off. I’m just a useless waste of space. Noone needs or wants me. What is the point of my existence? There isn’t one.

I’m really sorry for this negative post. This is my reality. It’s also the reality for many people battling mental illness. Rock bottom is a scary place to be.

You can follow me on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram.

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Shut Up

This is my response to some comments I’ve had and seen other people have. It is my personal opinion. Please be aware some content may be triggering.

“Shut up!” are the words I wanted to say. Someone tried to tell me what I could do even when I expressed how difficult it would be. They totally invalidated my feelings. They totally disregarded my illness. It was like they thought I had a choice over how I felt.

The thing is this is common for people with mental illnesses (and I’m aware it’s the same for those with chronic physical illnesses, especially if they’re invisible, but I don’t really have much experience of this so would not like to comment further on this). People seem to think you are just being difficult. They seem to think it’s a choice. They can’t see how much of a battle these so called “simple” things are to do.

Mental illness can create barriers to doing certain tasks. Getting through these barriers takes a lot of work. Just because you put it in simple terms does not make it any easier. It does not take away the mental, and sometimes physical, blocks. It does not change my feelings. It does not take away my anxiety (or depression, BPD, bipolar, schizophrenia, etc). All it does is frustrate me as I feel misunderstood.

What can be worse is when it is someone who has experienced their own mental illness. You kind of expect some understanding (and most are) but instead you are met with their own standards of what you “should” be able to do with a mental illness. This is so wrong. Everyone with a mental illness is different. It effects people in different ways. What might be an easy task for me, might be the hardest thing for someone else and vice versa. Please don’t hold us all to the same standards.

In short before you voice that someone can do something (and not in a “you’ve got this” way but in a “you will do this as you are capable” forceful way) think. Why are they saying they can’t do it? What can you do that is a practical way to help? Are they ready to tackle this right now? Maybe ask them these questions. Please don’t invalidate what they are feeling.

If you’ve got any thoughts on this feel free to share in the comments or on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram.

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Shutting Out The World

This is a personal piece. Please be aware some of the content may be triggering.

Things at the moment aren’t great. I’m not in the best place. My head is a mess and I’m not tolerating the world very well. Therefore I’ve been shutting it out.

I know this is not the best course of action but at the moment it’s what I can cope with. The world feels overwhelming. People feel overwhelming. Life feels overwhelming.

I don’t know what has caused this decline. I have theories. It could just be a depressive episode. It could be the disjointed care. It could be turning 30. It could be a number of individual things or all of them combined. I don’t know. And I guess it doesn’t really matter.

Shutting out the world means avoiding Facebook interaction. It means not messaging friends. It means not asking for help. Instead I have replaced it with self harm and thinking of suicide. I have spent my time dwelling on the fact that everyone would be better if I was no longer here and have been on a mission to prove it to everyone.

I’ve also been experiencing physical symptoms. My body aches. My head is thumping. And I feel sick. I either sleep too little or too much. I either have no appetite or binge on food. It adds to the mental difficulties.

I hate myself for the way I’m coping. I hate myself for doing what I logically know is the wrong thing. I see it as protecting myself but realistically I need people and I need help. What help they can offer I don’t know. I guess I won’t if I don’t ask. The thing is I’m put off asking at the moment by the fact I have no stable care. I feel a burden to everyone, including those paid to care for me. I know I’m just another caseload that they could do without.

So what would my advice be for anyone else feeling this way? I guess it would be to do what feels like the hardest thing, ask for help. You deserve it. You are worth it. Now I just have to try and believe it for myself.

If you are struggling the Samaritans are available 24/7 in the UK. If you are outside the UK then please check out the crisis help page which can be accessed via the menu. To follow my experiences you can do so on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram.

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Turning 30

This is a personal piece. Please be aware some of the content may be triggering.

I turn 30 on 1st June 2019 and I don’t want to. I know a lot of people struggle with turning a certain age and I’m not alone in this feeling but I felt I needed to write out my concerns and see if I could address them in any way as actually I probably can’t stop myself turning 30.

The thought of turning 30 is actually creating a high level of anxiety in me. I feel sick most of the time at the moment with the worry. It feels like such a big leap from being in my twenties to being in my thirties. It feels like the weight of expectation really kicks up a notch. Everyone seems to expect marriage and children and high flying careers. The thing is I’m nowhere near this at all. Most of my twenties has been given over to my mental illness. I’ve not felt able to date or work so I’m left with very little to show for the last decade. This wasn’t my expectation when I turned twenty.

I also, in the last few years, never expected to reach thirty. Even over the last few weeks things have been sufficiently difficult that I still didn’t know if I would make it. Suicide attempts have played a major role in my life. I have not wanted to live. Honestly I still don’t. And part of me feels like maybe I still might not get there. It’s not far off but it still feels surreal that I might make that milestone.

Another reason turning thirty fills me with worry is that I don’t feel old enough. I still feel like a child. I do not feel grown up enough. I feel stuck in my teenage years at most. I don’t feel like an adult. Maybe this is because I don’t have any of the things I was talking about before. But also I think it’s because I got ill so young. I feel trapped at that age.

For my thirtieth birthday I’m having a small party and this is adding to the anxiety. It was my choice and I did feel I should, for once, mark the milestone as my eighteenth was a washout (noone turned up) and I didn’t bother with my twenty first. I think part of me is worried it will be a repeat of my eighteenth with noone bothering but I’m also worried about being the centre of attention. The thought of everyone singing happy birthday to me makes me feel ill. I hate that I feel this way. I should be so grateful that people care and want to celebrate me (and I am) but it terrifies me.

So those are my concerns about my birthday. I have written before some tips about dealing with birthdays that you can view here. I may have to take some of these on board myself. If you have any thoughts or suggestions please feel free to share in the comments or on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram.

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