Poem for the past

Just been surfing the net and checking all my mentalist websites when I found this on Madnotbad.  I think it sums me up in 2003/04 when life was far, far worse than it is now, when I hit rock bottom and started to get professional help.  Unfortunately, the professional help was not adequate hence a reoccurance and many more years of therapy (I dooo try). Anyway, I think she sums up my state of mind and actions at the time way better than I could ever say (I tend to draw).

Without You

Just a little cautionary note: This poem may be TRIGGERY for some. Keep yourself safe and please don't read it if you think it'll badly affect you. If you need help or support, please see the resources section or contact The Samaritans.
Take Care, xxx R

I am without. Without you, an outsider, a spectator upon what life could have been for me, and what it could never have been. There is much that is beyond the realm of possibility. A love that is anything other than destructive and unrequited. A sense of belonging.

I can blame no one but myself. For who would desire my stifling, claustrophobic adoration? The type of love that has four walls, growing ever closer. Suffocating.

I cannot help but remember the time when you did. Did you? How could you have loved me? You did. You were mine, and I was yours. Yet at the same time, memory and fantasy become blurred, reality and falsehood indistinct from one another.

Truth eludes me.

I wanted to hold you in my arms. Wanted to gather up every piece of you and hold you and protect you. To destroy the world that was not us. Of course I did not.

Some things never change.

You were gone in a second. Was I yours? Your only source of comfort? Did you love me as I loved you? You were mine. You trusted me.

The world was spinning. Retching painfully, my eyes burning with…tears? How
could this be? I was crying … I cried. I don’t cry. I cried for you, but mostly for myself. Selfish as ever. Every tear that fell driving me further into my frenzy of self-loathing.

Loathsome. Unlovable. Unworthy.

I’ve been living to see you for so long. Too long you have been the only passion in my life. Destructive love. I cried then…I cannot cry any more.

I hate you so much for leaving me … I love you endlessly. I wish I could hurt you like you hurt me, but more than anything I want this numbness to end. I want to see if I still feel.

A knife. A blade. So sharp … so beautiful.

A clenched fist, a shiver. Tensed. A flash of silver, and a hiss of breath. Release.

A pain I can feel. Real. An emotion I can understand. Control. A pause, then a trickling red stream. This is not enough. I need more. I tear at my own flesh, begging it to bleed, begging it to pour.

I always needed more. This is the only way. Will you even know? Will anyone? I want you to know I love you.

Cutting … This is not good enough … Slashing ... You were never good enough … deeper and deeper … No one wants you. No one will want you now … A crimson torrent … Carved … No one will love you like this … Frantic … No-one will miss you. You won’t even care … Don’t stop … More … don’t fail at this too … you always were a failure … just don’t stop …

Far away, I hear someone is screaming. Someone is sobbing. Do you cry for me? Do you love me too? Do you even care?

I never did know when to stop. All I wanted was for you never to stop loving me. All I wanted was for the pain to stop.

Stop.

by Seva

It's a new dawn, a new day and I'm feeling bad.

Am down to 225mg of Effexor as my meds are being reduced and the shock to my system is finally kicking in.  I am having "brain shivers" and in the afternoon I felt my old way of wanting to just disappear (and by this I mean get on a train or bus or drive to anywhere without telling anyone) which I haven't felt for a very long time.  I think there are maybe three reasons why I don't feel so great:
1) Reduced meds side effects (Dr B told me to observe any changes).
2) I was asked yesterday by one of the psychologists whether I liked Christmas. Felt sad about the effort I used to make to have some form of "special" Christmas but i don't bother now.  There seems no point because no-one around me wants to make an effort and so I never get memories of good ones to replace the bad. So I only have the last few in the UK to think about and that makes me sad because they were with my ex and were the best.
3) In my appointment the other day, Dr H refered to whether I carried out risky behaviour.  I said it was all relative and wasn't really sure what he meant, but it hit me today (not sure if this is along the right lines) that:
I slept around after a split from the love of my life
I drank to mask the urge to do wild things, so I could blame the wild things on alcohol (dancing on bars, flirting etc.)
I have been in risky situations and not given a damn e.g. walking alone in a big city at night, ending up at a total strangers party.
I have tried to steal stupid things from pubs like ash trays and other random acts of vandalism without giving a damn.
I kissed another man when my head was mixed up and I lost the love of my life.  I still to this day do not know why I did it but I know it made me feel anything but invisible. Like I was worth something.
I nearly lost two friends because (again when drunk) I managed to upset them/their friend etc.
I do active stuff like Canyon swing, Rock climbing, aggressive ski-ing, paragliding alone without ever having had a parachute on my back before.  In all these, I haven't felt the adrenalin rush i would have had a few years ago, I just do it and don't think of the dangers.


All the above have at times made me feel absolutely mortified afterwards, particularly losing friends and most of all my ex.  What is worse is that I can't forgive myself. Even worse than that, I feel like going out tonight and "causing some shit" like a whirlwind through the village and feel that if I can't that I need to hurt myself in some way instead.  I have hidden my penknife (the scars haven't disappeared from last time), I am typing this sitting right next to my man but just can't articulate what I should be telling him and feel so dangerous at the moment that I desperately want to go to a place where I can be watched and given shit loads of drugs to make me sleep for the next 2 days.
I feel so lonely.  Not like just being on my own, which I like (I am a "loner" anyway), just the hollow feeling inside.
I am scaring myself right now.
I wish this would all go away. But I am trapped by this fucking illness and have fucked up my life over and over and over again.  I can't believe I haven't made these connections before and so now I feel dreadful and stupid and worthless because I couldn't even get that right.
I hope this is just because of the reduction in meds, otherwise I am fucked.

Something for the weekend

Had my Psych appointment yesterday and had to go through the whole embarassment and guilt of last weekend. Got some temporary meds for weekend and now lots of thinking time as I finished work today. J not happy at all, he is not into drugs or doctors. Anyhow, we talked a bit more after my appointment.

I think my Psychiatrist is really busy at the moment, he seems a bit stressed, or maybe he is sick of the sight of me and my whinging. Wouldn't blame him if he was - I'm sick of myself.

So I am allowing myself tomorrow to mooch about and do housework then spend some time with J. From Monday I will have a plan in place so that I stick with some routine.

That's the plan, will report back on the reality.

It continues...

So now I am in the long sleeves to hide the self inflicted scratches on my arm and am mortified, embarassed at myself. Thank goodness the weather has turned cold so I have an excuse to be in jumpers.

The reality of Saturday has crept in. It has not been talked about between him and me, it's hanging over me like the sword of Damacles. Found out today that not only was he in the festival tent until about 9.30 latest (so 3 and a half hours after I left, SMS's etc) but then went to the local nightclub for half an hour. Walked one of my friends round the corner to home.

I am raging - if you are thinking that I think he's been with my friend that's not it at all, she is in lust with someone else and I trust J completely. It's the total lack of support which he said I need to tell him when I am ill. Next time I will remember to shout it across the tent.

I must be such an embarassment to him. I am embarassed about myself. I am still crying three days later (and am at work right now), I can't breathe and can't even take a Rivotril to calm me down because I took them all on Saturday night. (I have checked and I can get hold of one more bottle). I feel so alone.

How can I feel so sorry for myself when I no longer have a self to feel sorry for?

Another crazy week but slightly better

Plans, plans, plans. I never seem to get round to actioning them anymore. For example, I have s fitness goal, a monetary goal and three health goals. I plan out a week to include working towards these. So what happens - I just don't do them.

I don't know whether it is because I don't care (because it is all meaningless) or because of years of pushing myself and achieving a lot has caught up with me that I no longer have the energy or drive. If someone were to ask me what would "make" me happy (nothing except for some sort of positive relationship with my ex, but his actions show he's not interested so I will have to keep crying about that one) I would list all the above goals I have for myself. (Of course, nothing can "make" you happy, only encourage you).

It's like I don't know who I am anymore. I did until seven years ago when everything fell apart although the positive thing is that I finally convinces a doctor that I wasn't right in the head and started getting (wrong) treatment for depression.

But at least I haven't wanted to slash my wrists this week! Although I did my usual last Wednesday and got drunk until I dropped. Suffered until yesterday, my boyfriend saying good because it might put me off next time. I said that the only thing that will stop me is to not go out. No-one here just wants to do anything without alcohol being involved.

I think my cat is as mad as me

I've started writing quite a lot recently - stories, experiences, diaries - anything really. I'm obsessed. Maybe it's my own therapy, I don't know, but it's the only thing keeping me from thinking about my past and love lost. I can't function properly. My skin is really bad at the moment and I am getting lots of spots on my chin, I've been eating loads and just can't stop, so my body is not at the top of my list of favourite things, usually I am not that bothered and relatively happy with what I look like.

My cat is chasing round the apartment at the moment, leaping about the walls and running up and down the corridor - I wanna do that! I want to scream and rage and leap and punch and scratch and bang my head against the wall to stop these thoughts forever. I'm tired tired tired of it, no-one will ever truly want me because of this horrible illness - who wants to put up with that. I always knew I would be better on my own, but my life experiences have made me so untrusting and insecure in myself, I need the security of some kind of love to stop me from harming myself. The difference is that my current boyfriend is a pretty good listener and the first one i have told about my self harm. The others before (even "the One") didn't know in the 5.5 years we were together or the 6 months after we split although the harm came out in other ways (drinking to unconsciousness and allowing myself to be "used" for sex promiscuously, but this can wait for another time).

Sometimes I am so tired of this life and I don't kow what to do.

Typical, am feeling atypically depressed today

So I had an appointment with my Psychiatrist yesterday. I wasn't really in the mood for talking anyway, so the appointment could have been over and done with in five minutes, but I woffled away for half an hour in the end about nothing in particular. He did well to listen - if he was as bored shitless as I felt talking crap then he didn't let it show.

Then today the weather turns shitty and rainy and foggy but I braved the outside to go to one of my many part time jobs - lifeguard at the open air pool in the village. Well it was shut because of the weather and I only get paid for the hours I work, so crappy weather = no money = more bills. Luckily over here most companies are pretty patient if you can't pay immediately - it is normal for purchases to be accompanied by an invoice, perfect for the addicted to internet shopping like myself (having set aside the addiction to smoking and drinking for the moment) as I can click away and soon have lots of lovely, exciting parcels sent my way. You can then phone them up and say, "look, I'm just a bit skint at the moment - could you wait until next month/next year/next century?"and theytell you "yes". Great, except for my shopping addiction which has caused debt again (why why why don't I learn from past mistakes?) and now have the embarassment of going to the social services to say, "look, I know I am a foreigner in your country and I do pay taxes here but I am a crap person and order stuff off the internet I don't need (except for CSI:Miami box sets which are a necessity) and now I can't pay my electric/phone/mobile/health insurance etc. My boyfriend has helped me as much as I can and it is getting embarassing now as I have to ask him to lend me money to buy a train ticket for my sodding appointments in another town and keep nicking his cigarettes which is a punishable offence for a nicotine addict himself. I don't think they can send me home at the moment though - my passport has run out and I can't afford the couple of hundred francs to get it renewed.

I ended up checking out the webpage of one of my exes "flames" who I noticed is 23 years younger than him!! He could be her father!! What a sicko! And the stuff she says she likes on her webpage is exactly like me. Of course, he doesn't know that I know who he sees/shags/dumps etc. but I have my contacts. I am now in the cycle of "why did he dump me, what's wrong with me, I want my old life back" etc. etc. and getting out the photo albums and start blaming myself for being such a crap girlfriend that no wonder he dumped me. Obviously can't tell my current boyfriend about it because I don't think that would go down very well after 4 years This has made me upset and have fleeting thoughts of a) taking a bucket load of every drug I can lay my hands on and go to sleep peacefully and not have to stress myself out with this crap anymore (plus J won't be there) or b) taking apart a razor blade and bloody well make some blood. I have persuaded myself at the moment that neither are a good idea because a) I have to work at the swimming pool tomorrow and I worked bloody hard for my lifeguard certificate IN SWISS so I'll be pissed off if they pump my stomach as I will feel guilty for missing work and upsetting my cat and b) it's summer, bikini time and scars will ruin my tan.

Bloody men. Fuck up your lives for years, even when you haven't seen or spoken to them cos they are in a different country and despite telling you that you remain friends forever, you find out that in fact, they really are lying bastards.

Anyhoo, this stress and anxiety has made me want a drink. So round we go again, bring on the red wine and get pissed, spend money that I don't have in the first place (thank god for bar tabs) and when I recover with the worlds worst hangover the bills are still there.

And there I was yesterday saying that my meds were fine and I feel great. Mind you, given all the stuff in the media and internet it serves me right for giving in to the evil that is the big Pharma and popping those pills like M&M's. (But it feels so gooooood and surely its better than snorting cocaine or something? - not that I have ever done that, I pass out and throw up even after a spliff. Plus I can't take another addiction, it's getting boring now.

Well, I think I will try the "distraction technique" which will not involve red pens or elastic bands (what a load of bollocks that is) and go and watch Holby City and play guess the illness.