Things are Getting Ridiculous

(Or: At Home – Day Sixty)

I can’t get through a day without somehow bickering with my partner, and I don’t know why. It feels like every conversation somehow ends in misunderstandings, or miscommunications, or general temper snapping, or sulking. The temper snapping is mine, the sulking is hers, but good sweet lord I am fed up of arguing about stupid shit.

There’s a sense of inevitability, in some ways. Humans are not supposed to spend this much time in constant, 24/7 company. We do well, under the circumstances, but the circumstances are shit.

I am really unwell. I self-harmed the other day using a folded up milk top, and if that doesn’t speak of desperation, nothing does. I am so fucking done with everything in the mental health services, while what remains of my sanity continues to drip further and further down the drain.

Don’t know what to do.

NHS Incompetence Strikes Again

(Or: At Home – Day Fifty-Four)

After a day of my partner calling up various parts of the psychiatric services, and MIND charity, and a few other places, we discovered that the situation I’m in should definitely not exist and I’ve been fucked about. It’s nice to hear, as I was beginning to doubt myself. My partner called the team leader of the care co-ordinators, and long story short we know what’s going on:

The psychiatrist makes the call regarding funding, and that is the current issue. Apparently while I was in acute care, the psych in charge of my care deemed me a good candidate for inpatient care and funding. The next one I saw, after discharge, decided otherwise. So, I have to convince her that I’m a good candidate and it would help me. That ought to be fun.

I’m also going to ask to return to aripiprazole, and come off carbamazepine. Aripiprazole helped with the depression in addition to the mood stabilisation, and carbamazepine appears to be doing fuck all. I also intend to remain on quetiapine. I don’t think I’m in a stable enough place to risk fucking about with my primary mood stabiliser.

I am feeling truly, hilariously shit at the moment. The whole situation has left me feeling completely disillusioned and fucking miserable. I am, in person, very verbose and with a fabulous cut-glass British accent that makes most people (seem) to think I’m a whinging upper-middle-class white girl with very little wrong with me. On paper I look a fairly obvious candidate for help, but the moment I talk people listen to how I talk rather than what I’m actually fucking saying.

So fucking fed up it’s unreal.

My partner needs to go back to work, we can’t afford her being a 24/7 carer. I managed to self-harm with her in the same room as me. So when she eventually has to go, I’m going to be on my own, and I don’t know what I’m going to do.

As it is, my partner has a training course starting in September at the opposite side of London. This has many problems. One aspect is that, for travel purposes (and affordability, and safety) we are going to be staying with my parents. I have a very difficult relationship with my family, especially my mother, and this is so not a good thing. I also have group support sessions three times a week at my side of London, and I can’t really travel or be alone at the moment, and my mother has already said she’s not prepared to commute. I have no clue how to work around any of this. Other than fall on the perpetual mercy of friends, which makes me feel like a constant burden and general imposition on other people’s lives.

I’ve already noticed people pulling away from me. They don’t do it on purpose, but nobody wants to talk about their problems or their lives with me, because they don’t want to put any stress on me when I’m vulnerable/struggling. But to be honest, I just wish people would talk to me. About their problems, about their jobs, about how shit their lives are. Anything. Absolutely anything. I am so lonely, and feel constantly betrayed by the people I’m supposed to be able to trust professionally.

I fucking hate the mental health services in this country.

I’m Running Out Of Willpower…

(Or: At Home – Day Twenty-Two)

Because I have bpd as well as bipolar, my mood more or less does its own thing and runs around in circles while I try very hard to coax it out of the rain and maybe, you know, sit quietly for a bit and do crosswords.

Today’s fun: manic energy, plus a lot of really depressing shit happening. So I’m really energetically depressed. I’ve had to wave goodbye to the last semblances of my career, watch my partner continue hers, and generally admit to the world that hello, yes, I’ve lost my marbles and I can’t piss on my own without supervision at the moment so please give me money for failing to be competent at human-ing.

I hate this. I hate myself most acutely, of course, and that’s a hatred that’s reaching dizzying proportions in a very short space of time. I want to run away. Legitimately, just get on the first bus, train, tube and go where nobody can find me and nobody is watching me. I can’t tell you how hard it is to keep myself tethered to this life when there’s very little to recommend it. What I have now is not, in any sense, living. I am existing. I try to be more than that for my partner, who I love and who loves me, but the force of one person is not enough to keep you securely locked into a world you can’t abide. There’s no let-up and there’s no alternative. I have this for an indefinite period of time, so I have to learn to cope with it, somehow. Not run away – physically or metaphorically – but stay.

I don’t know how long I can do that any more. I’m running out of willpower. I’m slowly losing my ability to care about the consequences.

Mania and self-loathing…

(Or: At Home – Day Seventeen)

Alrighty then, just over two weeks out of a secure ward and I can feel my mood creeping higher and higher. I’ve gone through hypomania/mixed bits for the last week or so; just before being sectioned I had a fullblown breakdown and something in my head has gone snap, so now I’m not allowed to work and I’m Resting and Getting Well and all the rest of it.

I can’t think, though. This is the downside of mania: when your brain gets so fast you can’t actually think any more, can barely string a sentence together. I’m barely able to concentrate on writing any more. I want to run marathons. I want to work, I want very badly to go back to work, but I’m not allowed to. I have to claim benefits, which I’m waiting on, and I have to be Patient and all the rest which I can’t do. I can’t do it.

My partner is extraordinary, and is Patient and all the rest when I can’t be. She is the one telling me to go play on video games (which keeps my brain immersed in one thing at a time) or write, or try and play my goddamn cello. But I can’t, because I’m shit at it, and the more I fail at it the more I loathe everything I’ve become.

I feel worthless. I can’t do even basic human things. I don’t want to go and wash and sleep and eat because it’s so bloody boring. I hate myself so passionately it takes my breath away. The more I hate myself the more I want to tear myself apart, and of course, that’s why all dangerous items are locked in a safe that I can’t access. I would merrily slice myself apart right now if it gave me one singular thing to think or concentrate on, one focal point that releases some elements of the constant pain and anger and loathing that is currently living under my skin.

I don’t have the option. And it keeps building. And I’m really frightened of what happens when it completely overwhelms me.

Complete Overload (for me, anyway)

(Or: At Home – Day Thirteen)

Today has not been my best day, I have to admit.

I cannot cope with large amounts of input right now, and today was a very obvious indication of that. Currently, I have a huge level of anxiety and stress about the following:

  1. Money (as I am unable to work).
  2. Claiming benefits (this is also because I have a huge amount of associated shame about claiming benefits. This is not to say I judge those on benefits in any way; simply, that I had hoped to never be in a position of dependence, on the state or otherwise).
  3. Getting the correct medication (after all, it took me THREE WEEKS to see a psychiatrist for an URGENT medication alteration!).
  4. Going outside.  (I don’t know why. It really stresses me out at the moment. There’s just so much going on, constantly, it’s an assault on the senses).
  5. Timings and organisation. (I am always a stickler for timings. I need to know how long it takes to travel to different places, when they close, when they open, will I be able to get there, etc etc etc).
  6. Watching my partner continue her acting career, while I fester in non-working boredom and mounting upset. (It’s not her fault. I’d never, ever ask her to stop. It breaks my heart every single moment, however.)
  7. The fact that I am under constant watch (because it’s very intrusive, despite being necessary. I love my partner with all my heart and soul, but I also kind of want to throw things at her after a certain point).
  8. Not having heard from the treatment programme I’m desperately hoping to get accepted onto.

Every single one of the above was pushed to the brink today. It’s been a very difficult day. Part of this was my lack of communication with my partner; I find it hard to admit weakness, and I’ve been really trying to seem ‘normal’. Ever since my tube-station-breakdown (which is exactly what it sounds like – I basically had a full scale nervous breakdown outside a tube station! I was admitted to acute inpatient a day or so later) something has snapped in my brain. I used to be able to cope, or at least seem like I was coping – now, I’m completely raw.

I ended up scratching myself again. I’m not proud of it. Hurts like a bitch and I haven’t told my partner yet, so she’ll be very unhappy. The only twenty seconds I had when she wasn’t eyeballs on me, and I ripped my leg to shreds. First time in a couple of weeks. Just as the previous ones were healing over…

Trying to force attention onto the positives – I’ve been out of the house every single day this week, I’ve got a huge amount done, and this has been an important lesson regarding my ability to cope and how this plays into my overall recovery.

Anyway. Tomorrow is going to have some difficulties as I have somebody coming over, and it’s not somebody I know very well, and it’s another actress – so that’ll be challenging for me. I am nevertheless determined to stay upbeat about it, and enjoy the time with her.

One step at a time.