Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘performing’

So I am still a week and a half behind with what has been going on. Oops.

That Saturday night I was having really strong suicidal thoughts; they seemed to be getting stronger and stronger each day, and I seriously considered acting on them – I had planned what I wanted to write in my note, I had planned what I wanted to happen to what money I have etc etc. But since I had agreed to seeing the crisis team the next morning, as I didn’t want to go to A&E again, I found I was in a difficult position, as although remote, there was a chance they may have offered some more help or something, and as I have said before, I feel like if there is an option other than suicide, then that needs exploring first. I don’t mean distant, long-term things that are months away, but things that are immediate possibilities. So I forced myself to get through Saturday night, and saw the crisis team on Sunday morning. They were predictably useless. I was feeling absolutely horrific, and they just did the usual of telling me to try to distract myself, and said that they would speak to L the next morning. It was entirely pointless, which I had been virtually sure it would be, and I was desperately wishing I had just acted on the thoughts the night before.

That afternoon I had to go to a rehearsal. I desperately didn’t want to go, and was really looking for any excuse whatsoever – I had hoped the crisis team visit would coincide with it, but unfortunately it didn’t, and my mum said to me that if I was going to go ahead with the show, which essentially I had to do as it was only two weeks until the performance week, and to me dropping out at that point was not a valid option unless I was dead. The rehearsal was one of the hardest things I have ever done I think. I know that sounds melodramatic, but it was just horrible. I was there for over four hours, and I was just feeling like complete shit – I was exhausted, I couldn’t concentrate, I was very anxious, there were too many people, it was too much noise – it was just everything I couldn’t cope with. I also clearly looked like absolute crap as so many people asked if I was ok – I used the headache and tiredness excuse, both of which were actually true, as I had a really bad stress headache, and was obviously exhausted. Several times I just found the main rehearsal room too much and had to go off into another room and ended up bursting into tears, despite the Diazepam. I was also very stressed as I didn’t know my lines, because of my complete lack of concentration, and the director was insistent that everyone knew them for the rehearsal the next day when we were running Act 1, so when I got home from the rehearsal I had to try to learn lines, which was just the last thing I felt up to doing. I was wishing more and more that I had acted on my thoughts weeks before, as I was utterly convinced that was the right thing to do.

Monday was fairly uneventful, but there had been a very slight shift in my mood. Although I was still feeling terrible, I didn’t have quite the same level of desperation as I had in the days before. I skipped ballet yet again that day, and went to rehearsal – again looking and feeling like shit, but I got through it. Diazepam really is a wonderful drug! Tuesday I saw L. There was obviously quite a lot to talk about, as I hadn’t seen her for two weeks, although I had spoken to her the previous week, and of course a lot had been going on. She was really supportive, as she had been on the phone the previous week. She told me some things which explained why she had been more distant lately, and apologised for not giving me as much support as I needed. The previous week I had spoken to the manager one day, as he had been the duty worker when I phoned in, and he said that they would look into allocating someone else to see me on the alternate weeks that L couldn’t, as it seemed that fortnightly contact wasn’t enough, and that there was a new social worker starting in a few weeks and that she would be a possibility. When I saw L though, she said that she had decided that she was going back to seeing me weekly whenever possible. Although she has cut down her hours, most weeks she is there at least part of the time, and some weeks all of the time, so she said she would see me weekly unless things changed and she had to have more time off, in which case she would ask someone else, probably the new social worker, to become involved and see me when she couldn’t. So I am now back to seeing her weekly, although there are conditions involved – she said we need to make sure we are working to some specific goals and targets, rather than just talking about things generally, although obviously we will be doing that as well. I appreciate that she has gone back to seeing me weekly, as I think it was a little bit of controversy over it with her manager from what she said, as most people she is only seeing monthly, and some fortnightly. She also said that I could see Dr E the next day, but rather than seeing her at the CMHT where I usually see her, it would mean going up to the hospital, as she was the psychiatrist on duty for MHA assessments that day, and when they do that they have to be based at the hospital, but she could apparently see me first thing. I said that would be fine, and so L said she would pick me up at 8:30am. Ouch.

My appointment with Dr E was ok. When we were in the car park, L had her window wound down as she had to put her ticket in to get into the car park, and as L was parking someone got out of a car near us and dropped quite a lot of stuff. I said ‘oopsy!’ and L asked what had happened, and I said ‘they dropped stuff everywhere’ followed by ‘oh crap, I forgot your window was open’. Then the person turned around, and of course it was Dr E. Naturally. Her and L and gone to talk alone so that L could bring her up to speed whilst I stayed in the waiting room, and when she came to get me she apologised for running late and said she was having one of those mornings, as she thought I had seen in the car park. Ah. Yes. She did hear me then. The actual appointment was fine. Dr E isn’t the terribly sympathetic kind – she is nice but she is very matter of fact and straight talking. She didn’t really ask much about how I was feeling – it was mostly about symptoms etc. She asked about the anti depressants the GP had prescribed, and why I hadn’t taken them, which I told her, and she said that was fair enough and she wasn’t that keen on Seroxat anyway – that she found that for most people it didn’t have a massive impact in terms of benefit, and was then a nightmare to come off. She asked why I thought anti depressants might help now when they didn’t seem to have helped in the past, and I said that this had been the worst patch I had ever experienced, and that it was over a year since I had been on anti depressants, and I thought it was worth a try. She said that was fine, and that she was happy to prescribe something, but that she didn’t want to get into a pattern of one medication not working and trying another and another and another etc – that she would prescribe one, or perhaps two, but that was it – if they didn’t help then we stopped looking down the medication route. I am not entirely sure about this, as I know quite a few people who have needed to try lots of different medications, and combinations of medications, before they have found one that helps them, but I agreed to that. She asked if there was anything I didn’t want to take, and I said Mirtazapine or anything else that would make me gain weight. She said she would prescribe Sertraline, which is a medication I have been on before, but that was six years ago. She said that recent studies have shown it to be the most effective, or one of the most effective, of the SSRIs, and that it has few side effects. So she prescribed 50mg for one week, then 100mg for the next 5 weeks, then she would see me again to see how it was going, and probably increase it further then. So that was that. Actually, she did spend quite a long time with me – probably far longer than what I have written here would imply, and was quite thorough in going over everything that had happened, and what was going on, and then discussing medications – it was actually fairly long for a psychiatrist appointment. But then that was the first time I had seen her since June.

This is another stupidly long post, so I will stop now, and write Part 4, which will bring me up to date (finally!) either tonight, or sometime tomorrow.

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

After going to A&E, nothing much happened. We had been told at the hospital that someone from the CMHT would see me the next day – possibly L, as that was the one day that week that she was in work, or if not her then the duty worker. However, nobody did see me. My mum phoned and spoke to L in the morning but I can’t remember why, except to say what had happened and how the crisis team had claimed to be acting under direction from the CMHT, which L denied. At this point I was really quite upset with her – my last two appointments with her hadn’t gone well, I was feeling very unsupported, and I was holding her responsible to a large extent for the fiasco at the hospital, and did actually believe she had somehow been replaced or brainwashed as she had seemed to change so  much. In the afternoon she rung and talked to me, and asked how I was and what was going on etc, and was really caring and supportive, and that made a difference, because I went from thinking she was against me to feeling like she did care again – talking to her that time was like talking to a version of her I hadn’t really spoken to or seen for months. It did help to feel like I had someone back on my side, but as that was the only day that she was in that week I obviously couldn’t see her or anything, and so I was still left with no support, except the option of ringing and speaking to the duty worker at the CMHT or the out of hours number.

On Wednesday and Thursday evenings I had to go to rehearsal. I can’t even describe how difficult that was. I was feeling so terrible, and I looked dreadful. I think virtually the whole cast said I looked ill and was I alright. I was completely run down and exhausted. I never have problems with my skin really, and suddenly I had 8 red spots covering my face – I never even got that many spots when I was going through adolescence! I felt hideous, and I was really anxious about having to be around people and out of my house and with all the noise etc. Diazepam is a life saver. Wednesday’s rehearsal was spent finishing the choreography of a big full cast dance number, so at least I didn’t have to think too much or say anything – I just had to learn the choreography, but it completely drained and exhausted me mentally, and I was feeling really on edge the whole time. Thursday was worse, as it was just the male lead and I working with the director, which sounds like it should have been easier as there was less people and noise, both of which are issues for me at the moment, but it was horrible. We were working on dialogue, and I just felt completely useless. I find the director quite difficult to work with anyway, as I find she gives quite contradictory directions, but if you query anything she looks at you as though you are incredibly stupid – she is not a very collaborative director. And she kept saying she wanted to see my character be more cheerful and happy, which was obviously incredibly difficult because of how I was feeling, but actually didn’t really even make sense in some of the scenes – she is quite a feisty character with lots of yelling at people etc, and in those scenes it is obviously difficult to be soft and happy. I left the rehearsal feeling really awful, and unfortunately my mood slipped even further that evening. I hadn’t thought that was even possible, as things had already been the worst they had ever been, but by Thursday night I was just feeling indescribably awful. The pressure of the show was making me feel worse, but I didn’t see dropping out with less than 3 weeks to go as an option, as I don’t have an understudy, and it would be a nightmare for someone else to have to take the part over with that little rehearsal time. So although dropping out would have served a purpose in that it would have alleviated pressure short term, the guilt would have been enormous, and I know that word would get around that I was unreliable, and no company in this area would ever cast me in anything again. If I was going to be dead that would be a different matter – it wouldn’t matter that nobody would cast me, because I wouldn’t be around to be cast, but to me the options were either doing the show, or dying, and it absolutely had to be death – a failed attempt would be a disaster.

On Friday morning my mum phoned the CMHT and asked to speak to the duty worker, and said how bad things were. He said he could have a quick chat with me, but my mum said that wasn’t enough and so he said he would see me that afternoon. He wasn’t terribly helpful – he talked in cliches for a while, and said he would do a referral to the crisis team. Friday night the crisis team phoned me, and when I finished speaking to them, I was genuinely wondering whether they intentionally hire stupid people. She asked what I usually did to distract myself, and I explained the usual things – that I usually read, or watch TV, or listen to music, or talk to friends online etc, but that none of those things were options, as I had no concentration, and was really sensitive to noise, and it made me feel worse rather than better. She then suggested I read. I repeated that I just couldn’t concentrate to read – it didn’t work, and she said that she got the impression that anything she suggested I would dismiss, which I thought was somewhat unfair, as she had only suggested one thing, and I had already told her it wasn’t an option. I could look at a page of a really quite simple book (we’re talking James Patterson here, not War and Peace!) and ‘read’ it, but at the end of a page I wouldn’t actually even be able to say vaguely what had happened. I suppose it would be like giving a book without pictures to a child who hadn’t yet learnt to read in terms of how useful it would be. She had quite clearly been given instructions not to discuss what had happened Monday, as she suggested I go to A&E if I felt safe, and I mentioned that I had tried that on Monday, and she immediately cut in saying she couldn’t comment on what happened on Monday as she wasn’t involved, but that would be her advice if I felt unsafe. She said that they would call again the next evening, and I asked if it would be possible for someone to see me instead as I found that more helpful, so she said that somebody would ring in the morning. During the night I was feeling really desperate and very unsafe, and so I rung the out of hours number. I talked to a really nice nurse who was very supportive, and said I clearly wasn’t getting the help I needed and that they were obviously getting things wrong for me to be feeling this bad, and to be left at home feeling this desperate with only fortnightly appointments. He talked to me for a long time – I think it was about an hour and a quarter, and let me talk about how I was feeling, and the nightmare situation with the crisis team. He was pretty unimpressed by the lack of support I had from the crisis team, and said that it was frustrating that they were the only ones with the power to admit now. He said he was going to phone and speak to the crisis team and tell them how bad things were, and see what they suggested, although I told him there was no way I was going back to A&E, which he accepted. He rung back after a little while and said he had spoken to them and that he had actually had more luck than he was expecting to (which I think says a lot about the opinion the ward staff have of the crisis team to be honest) and that they would ring in the morning as arranged, but would talk to me properly and try and come up with some kind of plan. I have to say that apart from a couple of times I have always spoken to really supportive staff when I have rung the out of hours number – it is just a shame they work for the ward and therefore have absolutely no power to do anything, as they seem to be the only ones who actually listen and take me seriously.

Saturday morning someone did phone, and it was actually amazing – it was the first person in the crisis team I have ever seen or spoken to who a) was willing to just let me talk and listen, without constantly just telling me to use distraction techniques and get me off the phone as soon as possible, and b) actually seemed to give a shit. She spent a long time talking to me and wasn’t dismissive, and was sympathetic about the experience at A&E on the Monday, and made it very clear she wanted to help. I feel like most members of the crisis team have a couple of set things they suggest – distraction, which is usually in the form of having a bath, going for a walk, watching TV, reading, or listening to music; or going to A&E. She didn’t try to tell me to do any of those things. She asked what I felt like I might be able to do that day, and did I think I could maybe try to have a shower and something small to eat? Since I had said that things generally got worse during the day, she said that she would phone back later to see how I was getting on, and to try to do those things in the meantime, and attempt to find some way of passing the time. I did have a slice of bread, and managed to shower at some point. Apart from that I watched the athletics on television, but mostly muted, as I found the  noise too much, but when it was just the picture I could cope with it and it was a reasonably good way of passing time, as it wasn’t something that required any concentration, and I didn’t have to have sound to see what was going on. When I spoke to her later she was really pleased with what I had done, and was really encouraging, but by that time I was really feeling very suicidal. She said it really did sound like I should be in hospital at the moment, and that despite what had happened on Monday that I could go to A&E, and since it was the weekend then the crisis team would have to see me, or the alternative would be for someone from the crisis team to come out and assess me the next morning. I was quite honest with her and said that it really didn’t matter what happened, because she was the only member of the crisis team to have ever taken me seriously or cared at all about what happened to me, and since I wouldn’t see her whether I went to A&E or was assessed at home (her shift was about to finish and she wasn’t working the next day) then nothing would happen either way, as everyone else was too obsessed with sticking to my care plan, which says to avoid admission if possible. She pointed out that sometimes it isn’t possible, which is exactly what the ward nurse who had assessed me in A&E had said when I told him the same thing, but there seem to be very few people working in the NHS who don’t view the care plan as some type of sacred document that must be followed to the letter. Except when it suits them, as my care plan is from Autumn 09, and there are a lot of things listed on there that no longer apply, like seeing my old support worker N weekly, who left a year ago. So either way I wasn’t holding out any hope of anything happening, but I agreed to being seen at home the next morning – I was absolutely not going to go through the fiasco of sitting in A&E for hours just to be sent home.

Again, this is more than long enough already, so I will continue tomorrow – should be able to bring things up to date then!

Read Full Post »

I am not sure where to start really. It has been so long since I wrote a proper update, and so many things seem to have happened in that time that it is hard to know where to begin. I suppose I will carry on from where I left off, which was the weekend following Karita’s visit, but I will try and keep things as brief as possible.

I had made the decision not to take the Seroxat that the GP had prescribed for multiple reasons; firstly, I was feeling so low that it seemed completely pointless, as I didn’t see myself still being alive in a few days, let alone the weeks it would take for it to kick in. Secondly, if I was alive, I had been told that L was trying to get an appointment for me to see Dr E for as soon as possible, and I decided I would prefer to wait to see what she would prescribe, rather than do what I have done in the past, and taken something prescribed by a GP, to then be told by a psychiatrist that they would have prescribed something else, but now that I was on X I may as well stay on it. And thirdly, I was worried about starting it. There is always a risk with anti depressants that they will make things worse in some way before they start to help (if they do help), and I was already feeling incredibly unsafe, and it really was primarily my complete lack of energy that was stopping me from acting on my thoughts, and I was concerned that starting a new medication when I was feeling that bad, not due to see anyone for a week and a half, and my CPN was on leave was just not a good idea. So I didn’t take it.

Over the weekend I was a complete mess. I was feeling desperately suicidal, completely exhausted, couldn’t stop crying, etc. By Saturday night it had reached a point where my mum felt she really had to do something, as I was having to sleep in her bed to stay safe etc, so on Sunday morning she spoke to the out of hours Dr, and arranged for me to be seen. I was supposed to be at a rehearsal that afternoon, but I didn’t go, and instead went off to see the GP. She said she would phone the crisis team and that they would come out and see me, and to wait in the waiting room whilst she spoke to them, and then she would see me again to let me know what was going on. Seemingly they refused to see me, which was no great surprise, but said they would speak to me on the phone, and would call later. They did call, and I can’t really remember much of what was discussed, except the usual telling me to try to distract myself. My mum also spoke to them and told them she really felt I should be in hospital, as this was the worst I had ever been, but they predictably refused to even see me to assess me, but said that if my mum was concerned about my safety then to take me to A&E where I would be assessed. Their final words to me that night were that it was my decision whether or not to kill myself. By the night-time I was feeling desperately suicidal, and phoned and spoke to the out of hours number. I spoke to a man who was very understanding, and said it sounded like I wasn’t getting enough help, and that I should probably be in hospital, and I explained about the difficulty with the crisis team, who were refusing to even see me. He said that he would recommend I go to A&E during the daytime, in ‘office hours’, as I would then be assessed by the duty psychiatrist and one of the nurses from the ward rather than the crisis team. So Sunday night I slept in my mum’s bed again, and then Monday we went to A&E.

We arrived there around 1:30pm – it would have been earlier but my mum had phoned the CMHT first, and had spoken to the manager and received the same advice about going to A&E if she felt I was unsafe. The saga of A&E is actually worthy of its own post, but it isn’t going to get one. Basically we waited a few hours, during which time I saw the triage nurse, and then an A&E Dr, who called the duty Psychiatrist to come and assess me. They turned up – the psychiatrist was in a big rush, so didn’t talk to me for that long, but did do an assessment, and made the decision that admission was appropriate, firstly to keep me safe and give me some support, and secondly to get me started on some medication in an environment where I could be monitored closely. I agreed to this, as although I didn’t want help or to be kept safe for myself, I didn’t want to hurt people. She said that she would get the crisis team down to assess me. It turns out that even a psychiatrist can’t admit someone anymore; every admission has to go through the crisis team. I immediately knew that nothing would come of it, and explained some of the problems I had been having with them over the previous couple of weeks. The psychiatrist dashed off about this point, but the nurse from the ward who had also assessed me stayed and talked to me for a while longer, and I said that there was no way the crisis team would take me seriously or do anything, and he said that he thought that things would be different this time given their assessment, and that he would go and phone the crisis team and ask them to come to A&E to assess me, and that he would probably see me later. So then it was back to A&E to wait for the crisis team.

The Director of A&E was really lovely, and came in a couple of times to check I was ok, and said that the crisis team would be coming to assess me and he understood I was going to be admitted and was I feeling ok about that etc. After a couple of hours of waiting in a tiny A&E area he came and said he was sorry that the crisis team were taking so long, and that if we went to the Emergency Assessment Unit area they had a lounge with sofas etc and that we could wait there instead, and that I could also talk to the crisis team there, so we went off there. However, when we got to the EAU we got put on a couple of chairs in a cubicle of the main ward, and it was really loud. After we had been there for about 45 mins the A&E Director came up and said he was really sorry we had ended up waiting there, and that he had intended us to wait in the lounge, but it turned out there were men in there and apparently there is some new NHS rule that meant that because they were in there then I couldn’t be, but that they should be there to assess me soon.

Finally someone turned up, but it wasn’t the crisis team – it was the next duty psychiatrist. And he wasn’t there to assess me – he was there to tell me that the crisis team were not going to come and see me; that they had been spoken to on the phone and that they had decided, without seeing or speaking to me, to ignore the assessment carried out by the psychiatrist and psychiatric nurse, and to send me home with no support, knowing that my CPN was on leave all week. In fact, worse than that, they apparently said they hadn’t been given the impression that admission had been recommended, which was a complete lie. My mum was absolutely furious, and I just ended up getting really emotional and sat there sobbing. We had been waiting four hours for the crisis team to turn up after I had been assessed, I was exhausted as I had only had three hours sleep the night before, and now we were being told that the assessment in the afternoon had been seen as irrelevant by the crisis team, without them even seeing me, and that I was being left with no support at all. My mum threatened to go home and leave me there and said they would just have to find somewhere for me to go because she couldn’t cope with me at home, at which the (young looking, and therefore probably fairly inexperienced) psychiatrist looked fairly panicked and said that he would go and ring the crisis team again. He came back and said that the crisis team had agreed they would see me if the CMHT referred me, but not otherwise, and that he would phone the CMHT first thing in the morning and ask someone to see me. But of course nobody did. By the time we left the hospital we had been there for seven hours, and had achieved absolutely nothing. I have to say that I am quite amazed by how much power the crisis team have – I am aware they gate keep the beds, but I was surprised that they could overrule an assessment carried out by a psychiatrist and psychiatric nurse without even seeing or speaking to me. Considering they are based on the same site, I can’t think it would have taken that much effort to send someone to assess me – even if they had disagreed with the view of the earlier assessment they would at least have seen me. Needless to say it went down like a lead balloon, particularly with my mum, who I think was probably as desperate as I was. She immediately said she was going to be writing a formal letter of complaint, which she told to the psychiatrist who spoke to us in the evening, who agreed we had grounds to do so.

When we got home she rung the hospital to try and speak to the Director of A&E, as he had been very supportive, and had also been told that I was going to be admitted, and she didn’t want the crisis team to be able to turn around and say they had been told it wasn’t recommended when both my mum and I had – she wanted the backing of a professional. They said he usually only worked office hours, but he had been there when we had left at 8:30pm, and was in fact still there when she phoned soon after 9pm – he said immediately that he knew why she was ringing and was absolutely horrified by the way that we had been treated, and that he had already been making complaints to the people high up in the hospital about what had happened. He also said he was happy for my mum to say on the letter that he had been told by the psychiatric nurse who assessed me, who was also the person who contacted the crisis team, that I was going to be admitted, so that they couldn’t deny it. The really ridiculous thing about the whole saga was that it was the crisis team who said to go to A&E in the first place, and then when we went there they didn’t even see me. It was a very long, stressful, horrible day, and I wish they had just said before we went that there was no point as they would block any attempts at getting me help, which they clearly intended to do from the start, as we then wouldn’t have gone. Needless to say I didn’t make rehearsal that night either…..

Since I have so much to catch up on, I will continue tomorrow, as I think this is long enough already. I clearly failed at keeping things brief, sorry!

Read Full Post »

>Collapsed brain

>I am really determined to get an earlier night tonight. It was 7am again last night/this morning, and I just find that so hideous. I hate being awake still when I hear my parents getting up. If I lived on my own I don’t think I would care, but I just hate hearing other people getting up when I haven’t been to sleep yet. So I am really hoping for an earlier night tonight.

I got through rehearsal ok. I had to go at 6:30 to work on my songs for an hour with the Musical Director. That was ok. He seemed happy enough, although he is very precise about what he wants, so is quite hard to please. And seems to think that I have lungs of steel and can hold a note for far longer than I actually can. But he seemed pleased. Although it was slightly embarrassing, as I have a tendency to not warm up very thoroughly before rehearsals – on Mondays I literally don’t get a chance to as I go straight from ballet, and on Wednesdays I tend to do maybe 5 or 10 minutes, which is totally inadequate. Tonight I had probably warmed up for about 20 minutes, which is still fairly pathetic, but an improvement on usual, and he asked if I had just come from a singing lesson or had been warming up properly as it sounded much better than usual. Note to self: warm up properly – people can tell the difference unfortunately. I have got very lazy vocally – I haven’t had a proper singing lesson since the summer, and I don’t sing every day, which I really should be doing, and then I expect to be able to go into a rehearsal, without warming up properly, and sing four solos, a duet, and solo lines in a couple of other songs, plus ensemble singing. Doesn’t work. It isn’t fair on my voice. After that I spent an hour and a quarter getting increasingly fed up and desperate to get home, as I was just sitting around, as they were working on a number I am not in. Then finally they started work on the number we were scheduled to rehearse tonight, which is a big ensemble number, lead by me and three others, which has a big tap break in the middle. The tap is very fast – not difficult steps, but very fast, and with some tricky rhythms, which makes it difficult. Unfortunately I have already forgotten one section, which is indicative of my current inability to concentrate and retain information, as usually I just have to do a dance a couple of times and it is ingrained in my head, but I just can’t remember some of it at all. I now have no rehearsals for a week and a half, which is the most enormous relief. It is half term next week, and as the MD is a music teacher, and the Director/Choreographer is a dance teacher, they both have the week off work, and so are going away (they are a couple), which means no rehearsals until Sunday 27th. I also don’t have ballet next week for the same reason, so I basically have no commitments at all for the next week and a half, and that just feels so good. Although at the same time, it does make me feel more unsafe. When I have commitments, like rehearsals that I know I can’t miss as it would mess things up for the rest of the cast, it makes me feel obliged to keep going however shit I feel, whereas now I am free from that, which makes the suicidal thoughts even stronger. Of course I realise it would be difficult for them after that week and a half if I were dead, but I can’t think that far ahead, and all I can think at the moment is that I have no commitments at the moment, my mum’s birthday is out of the way, and so there is nothing to stop me acting on my thoughts. To be honest I am feeling quite unsafe.

I tried to phone my GP earlier. I didn’t have a clue what I would say to her. Saying ‘I don’t trust you because you have been taken over by them and now you have taken over my mum, but I need help’ seemed somewhat inappropriate, but is the truth. I don’t trust her any more – I don’t trust anyone. But I am desperate, particularly as I knew I have been feeling increasingly unsafe. So I didn’t really know what to do. In the end I did ring, at about 12:30, and the receptionist said they would get her to call me back as she was with a patient. She didn’t ring all afternoon, and I know that she has afternoon surgery from 4 – 6, so I knew that if she did call me back it would be after that. I had left my mobile number as usual, but I had to leave for rehearsal at 6, and was rehearsing alone with the MD until nearly 7:30, so couldn’t have taken any calls in that time even if she had rung. My GP tends to phone at strange times – I have had a call from her at 8:15pm before, so I kept my phone on vibrate in my pocket, so that I could answer it if she did ring, but I didn’t hear anything. When I got home my dad said she had rung at 7:30 – I don’t know why she had called the landline rather than my mobile, but obviously it meant I couldn’t speak to her. That doesn’t really feel like a bad thing – I didn’t know what I could say anyway. I just feel like I need help from somewhere, and I would prefer to speak to her than whoever happened to be on duty at the CMHT. L is in work tomorrow, so I have sent an email asking if she could phone me. Again, I feel very unsure about what I can say, as I am still feeling really mistrustful of all professionals, and I know she can’t change how I feel or what I am planning to do, but I just really need to talk to someone I know, and whom I have trusted in the past, even if I don’t at the moment. It probably won’t help or make any difference, but at least I will have tried. I really have absolutely no idea what I can say to her. I don’t even know what I am scared of. I just don’t trust anyone at the moment. I do wonder whether there is any point trying to get help. I have done that, it didn’t work. Maybe I should just learn from that and not try and get help – just get on with it. But when I feel very suicidal and unsafe I just get this frustrating part of me that nags me to talk to someone, even if I know it will make no difference. I suppose knowing it will make no difference is why it feels safe to do so. I know nobody can stop me from acting on my thoughts if that is what I choose to do, or at least L wouldn’t anyway, so despite feeling like she has been taken over and is against me, I know she wouldn’t make me do something I wasn’t happy with, like insisting I go to A&E, or having me assessed or anything like that, and my mum already knows so it isn’t like she can threaten to speak to her. That’s one of the reasons I couldn’t call the CMHT whilst she was away – there was the possibility of fuckwit ex-care coordinator being on duty, and if he knew I was feeling like this then he would insist I went to A&E, or have me assessed under the MHA, and I am not having either of those things happen. But I still trust L not to do that, and I don’t believe my trust in that respect is misplaced, because I know hospital is the last thing she wants for me. I feel confused. I don’t know what to say to her if she calls. I don’t know what I can tell her. I don’t trust her because I know she is on their side, but she is also my only option. And she can’t stop me. Suicide feels so appealing. It is like it is beckoning to me. I just feel like such a mess at the moment. I am beyond confused. My brain just feels like it has collapsed.

Read Full Post »

>Just stop

>It is 5:15am and I am not remotely sleepy, and am feeling very tense, despite taking 10mg Diazepam. The suicidal thoughts are really in full swing, and although I am not intending to act on them tonight, it doesn’t make them any weaker or easier to cope with. I think I might have to have another Diazepam, as when I feel like this my thoughts just go into overdrive and I have absolutely no chance of sleeping.

I am feeling so alone. I know I have support online, and I am truly grateful for that, but in real life I have absolutely nothing, and it is hard. Actually it is much worse than hard. I desperately feel like I need some support, but there is nowhere to turn. My GP works Wednesdays, but there is no point contacting her, as I have grasped exactly what she thinks from my mum speaking to her last week, and she has certainly been turned against me. I could phone and speak to whoever is on duty at the CMHT, but a) I don’t trust that it won’t be a fuckwit on duty, as there are several of them, b) they will all be against me too, and c) they will either suggest going for a walk, having a bath, or listening to music, and none of those are remotely helpful suggestions at the moment. I always find walking very anxiety provoking – I am always paranoid that someone is following me, and it really does scare me. I find baths the opposite of relaxing. I hate just lying there with my thoughts. I don’t see how that is supposed to be relaxing or helpful. And I usually love music, but as I have explained on here before, I find it really difficult to listen to at the moment unless there is a particular song I need to hear – otherwise it just sounds like irritating noise that is drilling through my head, even if it is a CD I usually love. The TV is similar – I get a headache within about 5 minutes of turning it on as it just overwhelms me. And I can’t concentrate to read. So essentially, anything they might suggest I do is useless, and therefore I am fucked.

I miss L. I know that sounds weird, given that she has been turned against me, and hasn’t done anything to help me lately, but I do. I guess that is why attachment issues are such a bitch. Even when you know someone isn’t helping, you can’t get over them. I was thinking about it, and actually I don’t think things have ever been quite the same with her since that time in November when I felt very let down by her. Things did get back on track and feel ok after that, but I suppose I never had quite the same level of trust in her following that, and now I feel like she doesn’t care about me at all and doesn’t care what happens to me, as she just left me with an appointment for a fortnight’s time when she knew how awful I was feeling. And yet I still miss her. That is wrong, and it pisses me off. I am angry with myself for wanting to talk to her. I don’t want to miss her. I want to be angry with her. But every time I am feeling desperate I just get this overwhelming desire to talk to her. And yet last Thursday and Friday when she was in work, and I could have rung her, I didn’t because I was just too upset. I feel really confused about the whole thing. I suppose it is a bit like the situation with my mum. I still feel like she has been turned against me where my mental health is concerned, but I still love her despite that. I feel let down by her, and I feel like she either doesn’t believe me, or doesn’t care about me any more, in much the same way I feel about L, but she is still my mum, and I still love her. I just have to accept that I can’t rely on her for support. And I suppose it would be the same with L, except our whole relationship is based on support, as that is why she is there, which makes it much more awkward, But of the CMHT she is still the only person I want to talk to. I feel lost and alone and desperate, and like the people I have relied on and trusted the most are no longer there for me. I really feel like I can’t cope.

I have rehearsal again tonight. It is going to be a long one, as I have to get there an hour early to work on my solos with the musical director, and then I have the normal rehearsal, so I will be there from 6:30 until at least 10, possibly 10:30. It’s all too much. I want to scream and shout and cry but I don’t think that would be appreciated by my parents or my neighbours given that it is 5:30am. I just can’t cope. I want out. I want to make everything stop. Just stop. Why isn’t it getting any easier? Surely it should be getting easier. And it isn’t. It just gets harder and harder. I don’t believe that these thoughts and feelings are going to go away without me acting on them. It is too intense. And it feels like the right thing to do. I don’t want to wait for them to pass. I just want to make it all stop.

Read Full Post »

>Useless

>I am spectacularly useless. I fucked up making buttercream. How can you fuck up mixing butter and icing sugar?? I have no idea, but I did. It has curdled. I have made buttercream enough bloody times with no problems. I think maybe the buttercream sensed my negative energy and got upset. Is that possible? Horses can tell when you are tense, maybe buttercream can too.

My mum’s boss died this morning. That’s sad. He was due to retire in the summer too. He wasn’t even very old. Whenever I hear about someone dying I wish I could swap places with them so that they could keep living. It seems unfair that they should die when they want to live. I don’t think my mum will have had a very good birthday.

I got a message today from the person doing publicity for the show saying she needed to talk to me and the male lead tonight at rehearsal, and take some photos, as she has to get a press release out by Wednesday. This is a not good thing. For a start it scares me because it makes it all seem too real. Secondly, I don’t want my bloody picture taken tonight. I have to go straight from ballet to rehearsal on a Monday, and so invariably look a complete bloody mess. And yes, I am vain enough that I am bothered by that. I don’t remember the last time I had the energy to put on make up or do my hair, and now I kind of have to or there will be pictures of me in the paper looking like complete shit with black rings under my eyes and little piggy eyes from tiredness and just hideous. Not that make up can redeem that, but it is good at improving things slightly. I just want to stay home and hide.

Read Full Post »

>Broken

>I don’t know what to say. I feel broken. Everything feels wrong. The suicidal thoughts are incessant. My concentration is non existent, as is my motivation to do anything. I am constantly exhausted and yet still can’t sleep properly. I don’t seem to have much appetite at all, which my eating disorder is of course not minding, but it feels a bit wrong. If I have the TV or music on, even quietly, it feels like it is drilling through my head, unless I have a Diazepam first, which helps slightly. When you can’t read, watch TV, listen to music, or do anything involving brain power (sometimes I do puzzle books when I can’t concentrate to read, but they take more brain power than I have at the moment) I find there really aren’t any distraction techniques. I come online but most of the time I seem to just stare at the screen in a daze. And then it gets too much and gives me a headache and I have to log off. I am completely alone as everyone in real life is against me. I am not entirely sure about my dad yet – he may not be, but I am not convinced. My mum is definitely completely on their side, 100%. In fact it is worse than that because she comes up with theories on everything, including me, and then presents them as though they are fact. Apparently it is like being a drug addict who needs more and more drugs, except for me it is support. Which is bollocks. When I was doing better and had weekly appointments with L I didn’t have a problem with my level of support. However, when I am feeling how I am now, I do feel I need more support because it is too much to try and deal with alone. Today has been a very difficult day. Very emotional. I suppose this evening/tonight really. The suicidal thoughts have been incredibly strong and I have spent a lot of time either staring at the wall feeling completely numb, or getting upset and finding myself rocking and crying. There has been screaming at my mum for continuing to justify the shitness of mental health services and screaming at my mum because I am just in so much pain. Lots more crying. Desperate. Even now the thoughts of killing myself are incredibly strong. My eyes are stinging from all the crying. I have been very attached to my teddy bear the last two days. This is something that happened once before in a particularly bad patch. I wouldn’t leave the house without him. At the moment he is being carried wherever I go, and my arm is around him as I am typing, which isn’t convenient, but I suppose he is my security. I have had him since my first Christmas, and he has been virtually everywhere with me – his home has always been on my bed, and he has been on holiday with me, he went to university with me, he went into hospital with me – he has been nearly everywhere I have been. And throughout my life when I have been upset I have come to my room and cried on my bed with him. I am getting increasingly scared of leaving the house. I was trying to remember when I last went anywhere but thinking gives me a headache. I shouldn’t have tried. All the days and nights have merged and I am thoroughly confused. On Monday I have to go to ballet and rehearsal and I am already feeling incredibly anxious about it. Not going isn’t an option unless I am dead, but the thought of having to go out and be around people and be sociable fills me with dread, and ridiculous as it sounds, I don’t want to be without my teddy. It is my mum’s birthday on Monday. That means I need to pretend to be ok so I don’t ruin the day for her, and I don’t think I can do that at the moment. I feel like a shit daughter and that she would be better off without me. Everything feels much too much. I feel like I am going to snap really soon.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »