Moments

I often get so wound up and sad when my head starts screwing up and my stomach ties in knots and the blanket of solitude descends on my soul, like a dementor in Harry potter (J.K.Rowling,You Legend)

I have taught myself a little trick that helps me keep going. I remember all the things I am lucky to have. Here's a little exercise you can try...Dont forget the good things.

For instance, I have a home, I have a comfortable bed, I have 2 lovely kittens, i have hot water at the tap, I have a really snuggly dressing gown.

Now you do it...

On my darkest days, when I lose hope, when I give up, When the pain wells up in the pit of my stomach and I can't control it anymore. I take a moment to remember how lucky I am. When it feels like life is slipping away from me,  body aches too much too move, head is too loud to open my eyes and I can't think of anything that will make it go away. When Im lonely because the friends i used to have are at uni, or travelling, Or working or have fallen in love, as life goes on, and mine has come to a temporary holt that is lasting much longer than I ever anticipated and Im scared i will be stuck here forever, I rememer Im a lucky girl, really.

Did you know that if you have a home to sleep in tonight and have eaten today, you are one of the most fortunatest 10% of the population in the planet.

There are hundreds of thousands of hungry people, children dying from diseases that could be cured, People homeless, right up the street from you.
There are lots of people hurting and crying and feeling alone.

It makes me really sad. Like Ouch in my chest sad.
I wish I could do something about it, if I ever knew how. If I could get on with real life and make a difference. Live a life of purpose, not just remain detatched and feel that my life is slipping away from me.

Maybe I will put my idea to The Government. Though Ive forgotton what the idea was now.

but the point of this exercise was not to make you think about all the sad things, because that will just make you sadder. But realise all the good things you have in your life.

And I dont mean relish in the knowing that you have a massive 538" plasma Tv with sky plus and your neighbour only has an average tv with freeview.

Jst be thankful. And make a mental note to bring this joy to someone else one day.

whatever you are facing in this moment, however desperate you feel, however lost and sad and hopeless, ill or old or achey, broken..just remember that this moment will pass.

They always do. And each of these moments will build your soul stronger. And if one person reads this and breathes a sigh of relief that they are not alone, then i will be satisfied that the time I have just spent waffling will not be entirely unnoticed.

In short, My pearl of wisdom for today: Be thankful
I've found it helps to keep you positive :)

Recovery

Type type type. A visual narration of voice in my head, that chatters away. This voice. Saying in my head exactly what you are reading. Currently, the narration of every move I make and thought in my head. LOUD. My body and my mouth and my Me-ness don't always act in unision with this noise in my head.This is reeeeally annoying...

To give you a relatively basic example, I may catch myself doing stange things, such as trying to smoke my coffee and drink my cigarette, having lit it back to front, and wondering why i have a cup of coffee when I went to the fridge for a nice cold drink.

As you can see, this can make day-to-day living sometimes tricky. Things just take sooooo bloody long!! I am finding it very hard to make decisions. I make a decision and then do the oppposite.

Right now though, in this moment, i am cool as a cucumber. This is a rare moment. This is a Nice Happy Moment (During which, by the way, you should always stop, breathe, take a moment to notice, and smile inside.)... Im ok and I can type and I've got my Kitty Witty Wittens.

I have achieved something. I have begun to dig myself out of the depths of despair, the bit where the balance tilts over and a bit of your mind goes missing. I have finally put together a blog, which I am doing for me and me alone, to make me feel better, because I have always liked to write, it is an outlet for my tortured soul and pain, and my inner hilariousness which would otherwise just remain in my head, as I am definitely too shy to stand on stage as a comedy act. Though I'd probably just have to stand there and everyone would laugh.

Writing makes it easier to have conversations between myselves, as I can keep track of my boggled brain. I dont care if people read it or dont want to read it, its MY blog and I'll put what I like. If you dont like what I put, or its too depressing or annoying or insulting to anyone, quite frankly, i dont care. My suggestion would be to just stop reading. I'll carry on writing. Just find typing and a spell-checker easier than handwriting, and is a good way to keep things in order, instead of the million scraps of paper I have laying around with bits of waffly writing on.

This blog is a positive good thing. Apparantly blogging is the new journalism, and journalists are cool.i forgot how to write but now I can do it again, Writing is the thing that used to be my 'thing' before life took its toll and the world came crashing down and I crossed the border from a happy-go-lucky person to a person who is not functioning so well. joined the Nut Clan. members of which, by the way, have been some of the most strongest, bravest, sweetest, positive, creative people I've ever met.

Hmm what was I saying..yes. This blog is good for me. This is going to make me well. This is the first step in becoming someone I always could have been.
I can get up tomorrow and have something to do, to focus on. To remind me I am here, on this planet, now.

Thats the plan anyway..
for all I know I might not be able to get up tomorrow. This good moment will pass, and another one will come. It might be a bad one or it might still be good. Just hoping.....:)

Normal?

In my head, maybe But my body is slowed right down. My head whizzes with this mind and a few others. My body and my actions are too slow.

Maybe I am just someone who has spent too much time in her head. Self ebsorbed maybe? Except i care about other people, I really care. I like people to be happy. I like to help.

maybe i am not well.

Maybe there's Nothing wrong with me.

Maybe its only our perception of what we can and cannot cope with that affects our ability to cope.
Maybe everyone has an inner pain threshold, and once the lines been crossed, you lose a bit of your brain and your soul and you're never quite the same.
Maybe, if everyone just accepted that everyone is different, its ok to be you, and embraced individualiity, the world would be a more understanding, caring, safer place to live...

Who gets to say whats 'normal' anyway?
Surely you can only compare normal, to the thing that you're most used to. And everyone has different ideas as to what is normal and what is not?
For example...
I think its normal to put pjs on by 5pm and get ready for a lie down. My friend thinks its normal to get ready to go out at 11pm, just as my bed is calling me.
Some people think it is normal to eat from their lap on the sofa, others consider this animalistic behaviour to be abnormal, and insist that food should be eaten at the dinner table.

Some people like things to end in a 5 or a 0 and others wont even understand what I mean.
.
Some people think its normal to treat people in a way that humiliates them and makes them feel worthless, and I don't think that's normal at all, or will ever be 'normal'!
Some people are Right handed. Some people are left handed. some people are straight. some people are gay. some people arent fussy. Some people are black Some people are white, or somewhere in between. Some people believe in God Some people believe in lots of Gods Some people dont believe in God Some believe in karma, or fate, or that life is totally random and you get lucky or you dont
I wish people would see that it is all O.K. Why is their so much conflict, war and hate, when we are all so different, which means we are all just the same. All just people. Not right or wrong or good or bad. Not normal or not normal. Just here, breathing, and we all bleed the same. I believe, this is the key to peace. Acceptance. I'm starting with self-acceptance. Have decided Im pretty average, when you consider the normalness scale, which is pretty much just a dot, rather than a line, by the way. I'm sort of in the middlle, right next to you

So Why am I the Patient?

How loud is the average TV?

Sitting on my beanbag in the middle of my floor wiht keyboard on lap. X-factor on telly. Dermot O'Leary if you ever read this, marry me :)

Tv is making me panicky. Too loud with it on. Too quiet wih it off,,wheres the zzapper gone..Volume, 20. Is that normal, as loudness goes? It's hard to tell when you're on your own. I think it's ok. Sometimes I have it on volume 70, and i think maybe thatis too loud, for general background noise use. Except I'm trying to hear it in the background but I can't because MY HEAD IS TOO LOUD.

Not right now. 20 is good for now and not even for background noise, am actually watching in. Just sayin, thats how its like sometimes.

I also like the volume to be a multiple of 5... 1, 6, 7 and 9, cause me great inner turmoil. 2 and 3, I would say mild discomfort.

Soooo cold. Brrrr. Despite wearing 2 tshirts, a hoody and a dressing gown. Cuppa tea I think.

Keep seeing cats moving, little shadows in corner of my eye, or blindspot. 2 cats are fast asleep infront of me. Bert and Ernie are all cute and curled up next to me...
aww I've really grown to love them <3

Beans on Toast without the Toast

Remembered I should eat something (your body and brain needs fuel so if I want to stay awake and get into this Writing thing I have to eat properly!)

Cooked a tin of beans, decided I am having beans on toast. Wholesome.
Find Eggs in the fridge and decide to add an egg as well, for protien and eggy goodness. (Eggs are weird, arent they?)
I then remembered that I had melted my toaster during Sunday's bacon sandwhich episode, so had beans and egg for tea. I awarded myself a mental goldstar for being good to myself and giving my body nutritious goodness.

Yay me.

I like Art Therapy

Got Art Therapy tomorrow. Scared. Scared of going as haven't stepped out of my four walls on my own for a while. Scared that another Me will come out, Like it does when I try to be me in real life. Scared that i will be a blithering idiot when I get there. Worried that my voice will come out wrong, that I will have one thing in my head but will say something different.

I like Art Therapy. Lesley the art therapist is very nice. She makes me a coffee, I chat to her a bit, sometimes we have a laugh, sometimes not. Theres lots of yummy, colourful things to play with. Paints and Pastels and inks and these special pencils that turn into watercolours. I like art. And therapy this way is definitely easier than talking.

My favouritest thing to do at Art Therapy is to rearrange all the pastels in the box into the best colour cordinated order, from dark to light red orange yellow green blue indigo violet and all the ones in between and making them all look nice. That is very satisfying. And then I hate the awkward moment when I take out a pastel from the nicely arranged box and it messes up the whole routine. But once I get into the swing of it I can just about bear it. Dont think Im supposed to spend these sessions putting pastels and pencils and paints in rainbow order. Sometimes I like use the colours too and make layers of brainwaves on the page.

But last week when I went I was too shaky and my head was too loud and I couldnt explain why.
It often happens, with lots of things, and I cant explain why.

I've got to go to Art Therapy tomorrow, and hold it together. Maybe I won't say much, just draw, to avoid any confusion. Although maybe this will only create confusion. The thing is I'm so confussed, I don't know what happens to me sometimes. Its like my mind and my body and my awarenes of myself are all seperate.

Willie

This is just a quick message to say that my blog is under construction, by my own home D.I.Y Which doesnt stretch very far in the computer department. I am, however, quite handy when it cmes to home D.I.Y. Having been living alone for a year and a half now, I've really got the hang of flat packed furniture, putting things up at a quirky angle, making holes in the wall then painting over them, and banging things until they fit. I have my very own 'man draw'...batteries and a spanner and elastic bands, tape measure.

Dad sometimes likes to come and help me by swooshing the tape measure around and flicking me with it. Get the job done quicker on my own so dont ask anymore.

Anyway, I am going off on a tangent, and this isnt really a quick note anymore.

Basically, I have 2 blogs. One which I started a couple of years back when I was quite unwell, and this one. I am trying to combine both i'nto one blog, and changing the layout to fit. This blog will be In Laura`s Locket. Named so because I wear a Locket, sometimes I get called Laura Locket, and also because I think of a locket as a heart, maybe with a key, and this writing thing is sort of like in my heart, and Im just typing it out and sort of putting the key together.

Anyway, I dont expect this temporary work being undertaken will bother anyone very much, if anyone at all. I can't really imagine why anyone would want to waste their time reading it.

But I do have one reader, Willie. A fellow cat lover, Willie left me a few comments. I just wanted to say Thanks Willie, for stopping by and noting my existance. I would comment back but I haven't worked out how to do that yet.

And Willie, I wanted to ask you...are you really 100 and a half years old? If you have indeed endured life on this planet for a century, seeing in your photos that you still have a big smile, sort of fills me with hope.

Also, do you find it embarassing having a name like 'Willie'? It sounds a bit rude doesnt it!? Just wondering.

Basically, this is a short message to say, Willie, my one and only reader and person who might be bothered, dunno if the blog will be working its under maintanence until Ive finished faffing round with it.

Tuesday Morning

Woke up to the razor sharp bite of Bert lovingly chewing my toes.
Have messages on my phone.
Gina my support lady is coming round shortly. panicking. should i get dressed? do i need to tidy up? what am I going to say?

See, here`s the thing. i am totally fine when its just me and the boys, at home, door locked, a bit of this and that. Minus the M.E, which i`ll tallk about another time when i can be bothered, i can function pretty well with a relatively sunny outlook on things.

It`s only when i have to go out, talk to people, make conversation, be seen in public, have to communicate, that i really really struggle.

The frustrating thing is, i could just chill out and accept that i am an agoraphobic, highly paranoid, slightly barmy cat lady. i could quite happily sit under my blanket, drink tea, do some knitting and have afternoon naps. Why do we need to be in touch with reality if we`re happier in our own little worlds? and who gets to say what is normal and what is not? am content feeling safe in my home.

But i can`t just let myself be like this. I know deep down, that for me, this isnt normaal. this is not what i wanted out of life. Because i know that i never used to be like this. when i am well, i love life, exploring, going out, socialising.I wnt to live. I want to len and try things. I don want to sit at home and stare at the wall.

So i need to remember how to be me again.. it would be so easy to just lay down and accept that life is easier this way, hiden. but i dont want to get to the end of my life and realise i hve just wasted it, doing nothing. being nobody.

i want to be somebody!

so i`m going to get up, get dressed, go out today, like a normal, functioning, 20 year old young lady.

Maybe after Gina`s come though. she`ll be here in 10 minutes and we all know it takes me about an hour to actually move and dress myself.

Bert has just demolished a mini fluffy pink pom pom for the second day in a row. was part of my extra soft fleecy dressing gown that says `cheeky monkey` on it. Didnt really like those pom pom bits anyway. Not much of a fluffy pink firl to be honest. Strands of pink fluff everywhere though. could get the hoover out now, but think I`ll just wait til he`s demolished my slippers as well and then vaccuum; kill two birds with one stone, as they say. its a silly saying really, as I`ve never killed a bird. or thrown a stone at a bird, let alone two. i dont think of this as a very nice thing to do.
i used to be vegetarian, for about 5 years. but now i eat chicken, and bacon and sometimes sausages and ham. i dont know why this is relevant, apart from to say that i don`t generally agree with the uneccessary killing of animals, unless they are a ginormous spider which deserve to die a horrible death. but on the whole, i would describe myself as an aminal lover. sometimes i still pretened i am vegetarian, just because i think it makes me sound a bit cooler. But between you and me, you cant beat a bacon sandwhich with a bit of ketchup on a Sunday morning.

Today is Tuesday morning. I am going to stop typing now and sort my life out.

The Radio is talking to me.

What is this crap?...'Ace Radio'. Not so Ace Radio if you ask me. Hmmm itunes....I'll try a bit of Chris Moyles. Mildly humorous.
Fudging hell radios doing my head in. Brain too loud. Finding it hard to concentrate.
Wish I had a magic pen that just wrote out my thoughts. see otherwise they are just scribbled and dotted randomly round my head. this makes me very random. I find it slightly embarassing going out at the moment, incase i start twitching or shouting things that are not socially acceptable.
Imagine what it would be like to be invisible, and therefore able to shout anything at all very loudly.
Ernie has just got himself jammed in a tiny cupboard. Bert keeps sitting on the keyboard when I am trying to write.

just looked at clock. cant believe its 7pm already. Wonder what the majority of 'normal' people have done today...whatever that is. Stepped out of their houses, been to work, engaged in conversation, done something useful and productive.

I, however, have written in my blog and stroked my kitty witties and washed up some cups and smoked a few fags. This is why I think i might be a mad cat lady. I am only 20 years old, for god sake!

Believe it or not, i wasnt always this sad and slow. I used to be full of beans. People said i had 'a lot of potential'. Had lots of friends, loved life, worked my butt off at GCSE's then planned to go to sixth form, then university. Then travel the world, make a difference. Meet people, experience things, learn, earn, live, explore.

Then, Bam, psychosis kicks in and I wake up on my 18th birthday on a nut ward. Had a bit of a nervy B, lost the plot a bit.

And so here I am now. 20 years old, no social life, practically agoraphobic, on my own, in a council flat with 2 cats. And I'm writing this blog because I am determined to overcome this and be the me who I could have been. Luckily, I am well enough to write now and find it therepeutic to simply type out my thoughts. Lucky for me that is, maybe not so much for you, if you happen to be reading. But thanks for doing so anyway.

You'd think I dont have much to write about, for someone who doesnt have a whole lot on in a day. But My brain is fit to burst, I sometimes think it might actually explode. I have like a whole other world inside my head. Sometimes i dont know which one is the real one. Images, voices, ideas, thoughts talking loudly, conversations with myself, worries, questions. Its all a bit confusing.

And not to be a party-pooper on anything, but, honestly, mental illness sucks. At times I have felt utterly desperate, hopeless, worthless, no meaning in life at all. Mental illness has put a hold on my future, with absolutely nothing I can do to make it go away. It is disabling. I have adapted my life as best i can, however, and am still determined to beat this and achieve something good.
But enough with the sob story. I like to keep an air of humour with me. Even on the most shittiest day it sometimes helps to giggle. Thats what ive found anyway. For instance I chuckled to myself this afternoon when I saw a talking meerkat on the telly.
Ive also found that im actually pretty funny, when my brains working properly. 'Witty', as they say. So, this blog is for my recovery and to keep me smiling, but I would also love it if it made others smile too.

Ho diddly Ho, i should have something to eat...keep forgetting to eat.

My Boys!

Can't believe I am someone who actually posts pictures of their cats on the internet. Before, I may have looked down on such behaviour as being a bit silly and weird, however it seems I  have a new-found affinity with the muttering, cat-obsessed, smelling of wee, ankle-swinger wearing lonely cat lover.

Seriously, not cool.

Anyway, say hello to Bert (the black one) and Ernie (the white one). They say Meow back.

Just to confirm, I don't yet smell of wee, and I don't wear ankle swingers, unless they are my pyjamas, which i mostly wear all the time.

Sane but Overwhelmed

Finally got a few hours sleep. Woke up at 9, tried to move. Had to get up for yoga. Body aches in the morning, heavy like a ton of bricks. Try to wiggle my toes and fingers. Try to sit up. Think about the easiest way to get out of bed. Slide, twist, or roll? Have a cuddle with Bert and Ernie.

Gina called. Yoga is cancelled. Relief.

Should get up. Mind over matter. Here I go. Stretch body. Deep breaths. Slide. Feet on floor. Push up with arms. I’m up. Dizzy.

Sit down again.

Got Jayne coming round later.

Get up again.

Right, up. I need coffee.

Kitchen. Kettle. Boil kettle. Realise kettle is empty. Refill kettle and boil again.

Need a mug. Pile of washing up to do. No clean mugs. Fill sink with water and magic fairy liquid. Hold hand under hot tap. Focus.

Rinse one cup. Put a tea bag in and get the cheese out the fridge. Put the cheese back in the fridge, take out the milk, swap the teabag for a spoon of coffee. Boil kettle. Realise this is the third time I have boiled the kettle. Tap the melody of my head on side of mug with teaspoon. Pour coffee. Stir 15 times. Tap spoon 3 times. Stir another 5 times.

Feed kittens.

Fag.

Shower. Wash hair. Mentally remind myself how to wash properly. Can’t look down. Don’t want to look at that body attached to my head. Flannel, yummy smelly coconut scrub, wash . Did miss anything? I don’t feel clean.

Get out shower.

Realise have not washed shampoo out of hair. Get back into shower. Rinse hair. Wash underarms again, just to make sure.

Get out shower. Sit on bed.

Get paranoid that someone is spying on me through the window, even though I have net curtains, am on the third floor and my window overlooks a wall and a bit of grass. But I can hear a lawn mower at the distance and if the lawner mower man happens to be at the exact right angle, looking up with a pair of binoculars, it is very likely that I could be seen.

Close curtains.

Bert climbs up curtain and swings on it like Tarzan, and entire curtail pole falls down.

Try to put it back up, cant reach. Too tired.

Get dressed. Joggers and a tshirt fresh from my screwed up clean washing pile. Ohhh I ache! Look at self in mirror. Give myself evils.

Put dressing gown on over clothes. Consider brushing teeth but decide this is too much effort. Stroke bert and ernie with my hairbrush, seeing as I don’t use it.

Too hard to write. Eyes cant stay open. Need some upbeat music, cant be too loud. Must concentrate and write. Must keep going. Told myself I would do this. Have to achieve something.

Coffee and a cigarette and alanis morisette, One hand in my pocket. My ‘snap out of it, stop worrying and pick me up’ song.

I'm broke, but I'm happy.
I'm poor, but I'm kind.
I'm short but I'm healthy, yeah.
I'm high but I'm grounded.
I'm sane, but I'm overwhelmed…
I'm lost but I'm hopeful, baby.

What it all comes down to,
Is that everything's gonna be fine fine fine
'cause I've got one hand in my pocket,
And the other one is giving a high five.
I feel drunk but I'm sober.
I'm young, and I'm underpaid.
I'm tired but I'm working, yeah.
I care but I'm restless,
I'm here but I'm really gone,
I'm wrong, and I'm sorry, baby.

What it all comes down to,
Is that everything, it’s gonna be quite alright…
'cause I've got one hand in my pocket,
And the other one is flicking a cigarette.
And, what it all comes down to,
Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet.
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign.
I'm free but I'm focused,
I'm green but I'm wise.
I'm hard, but I'm friendly baby.
I'm sad, but I'm laughing.
I'm brave but I'm chicken shit!
I'm sick… but I'm pretty baby.

And what it all boils down to,
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet.
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket,
And the other one is playing the piano.
And what it all comes down to, my friends,
Is that everything is just fine, fine, fine.
’Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is hailing a taxi cab

Call Nanny and wish her Happy Birthday. Feel guilty that have not been to see her in so long. Wash up washing up in sink, even though water is now cold and fairy bubbles have debubbled. Jayne called, she is not coming now.  Wonder if I am the only patient who she often cancels on and if it is personal to me, or if there are lots of people who were expecting a visitor today and now wont get one. But I will cope, I’m doing ok and have calmed myself down after the embarrassing spaz attack psycho incident last Friday. Mostly thanks to Diazepam. But still am going mad.

Remember I should eat something. Can’t be bothered to cook, I’m too faffy at the moment. Grab a bag of crisps. Chewing makes my jaw ache. Too tired to eat.

Ernie keeps drinking my diet coke. Diet Coke and Coffee, my staple diet.

Vaguely watching Loose Women. Consider whether I would make a good Loose Woman. Think I would if I wasn’t so nervous, sensitive, manic, over emothional, unreliable, oblivious to whats going on around me, over analytical, scruffy, easily confused and sometimes unable to stay awake. Think I’d make a good Loose Woman actually.

Done some typing at the computer. Yay me. Drinking diet coke whilst typing exactly what I am doing, in order to distract me from what I actually might be thinking about. Just gotta keep busy. Type type type.

Ernie keeps drinking my diet coke. This is probably not good for him but, being his mummy, I don’t like to deprive him of something he enjoys. 

Oh my god

Just got a completely random call. Always a shock when my phone rings. Who'd want to talk to me?!. Got a friend coming round, with the boyfriend and the tag-along. Why did I say yes>?!!! I cant cope with that. I should have said just her. She said something about a number plate. Got a really bad feeling somethings going on. Have they crashed? Are they hurt? Have I done something wrong? Scared of them coming and seeing me. I am acting weird. What if something bads happened and the police turn up? What if she is cross with me for not being in touch for so long? What if they want to stay and I cant say no. I will have to say no. im just too panicky. They will make a mess. I will have to talk to them. I will have to offer them a cup of tea, and they will see what a fumbling, shaky mess I am. Its gone 9pm at night…is it a bit rude to call at this time and announce that you are coming over with your boyfriend and tag-along, having not spoken in months? Or is that acceptable when it comes to your friends? Am I being unreasonable or just a grumpy mad cat lady? I think I am thinking too much. She is atleast. Shouting inside my head. Leave me alone!!

I love my friends really.

They've gone. I survived. Decided it was nice of them to pop in. nothing urgent had happened. I answered the door in my pyjamas, looking like crap I expect, nackered. They came in, took over the lounge, started humping eachother and hitting each other. They are so mature. Entertaining though, cheered me up a bit. Got a bit offended when chris started sticking his finger up Ernies bum, told him to stop. He is like a 6 year old. constantly pulls moonies and wants to wave his willy around. Squeakers is much the same, although 35 years old. But Meg is my friend, and i love her a lot, so I have to accept her senior boy friend who isnt the sharpest tool in the box. And they do make a sweet couple. And chris, the tag a long. Who is actually quite sweet, some might say he is a little bit ‘special’. But, these are my mates, and they make me giggle, so I cant complain. They are sweet, if a little bit clueless to some of the real despair and struggles of life.

I said sorry for not having been in touch. Said I’ve not been feeling well, not coping too well either. Meg said ‘aww’. I like it that she doesn’t ask questions. Chris asked if I am a psycho, I said a little bit he said that’s ok he understands because he had a ‘funny 5 minutes’ earlier too... A funny bunch. I fit right in. Outstayed their welcome a bit, but did bring a refreshing, carefree, child like mood with them. Sort of wish I could be like that. But unfortunately I over think and watch the news and tie myself in knots.....God i really panicked when they were coming! No harm done though. And can breathe now they are gone.

Meg, I love u by the way!

Cats are all cat-nipped up

Nutters. Great for comedy value. Not that I laugh. Or move. I just type.

Just reboiled the kettle for the third time. Oh yeah, gonna cig anda cup of tea. Keeping track of my thoughts on here really does help with remembering what I was doing! Bringing me back to reality.

There are fat people on the telly. Not just a bit fat, I mean really morbidly obese. It makes me feel so angry inside. Not that they are fat, they just like food, they cant help it. But angry at the injustice. There are starving hungry people in the world. Its just so unfair. Guess it just depends which card you’re delt. Like life is just one big experiment. But fair play to them, theyre on here trying to lose the weight. Sweating their huge little butts off, bless them. more than im bloody doing.

Berties asleep on my lap, purring like a trooper. Naaawwww.

Who is ‘you’ any way? I think its me, outside, here. Hello, me!

I digress. A lot, by the way, so you’ll have to get used to it. Who is ‘you’ any way? I think its me, outside, here. Hello, me!

X-factors on. Yay. Maybe I can sing a long and practice my voice, out loud, in real life.

Not quite holding things together

Dad came round for breakfast. I was making him a bacon sandwich. I lit the wrong hob and melted my toaster, as apposed to cooking the bacon. Dad made himself a bacon sandwich, and one for me, and complained that he could have had a bacon sandwich at home if he was going to make it himself. Didn’t eat much of my bacon sandwich. Feel sick.

My brain has slowed right down. I’m pretty sure I've had a nervous breakdown. I am so tired. Exhausted. But I want to stay awake. I want to get better. I just thought I saw a black shadow in the window. Washing machine is doing my head in. I need quiet. At least I’ve finally put the washing on though stormy outside. How can I feel so scared when I have 2 locks on my door, a lock on the front door? I need to close and lock all the windows. I don’t even like to walk around my home incase I cause a disturbance or got noticed. I want a cup of tea. Keep forgetting how to make one. Will have to boil the kettle and stand next to it.

Made a cup of tea.

Just spilt it down my freshly laundered, fluffy, clean dressing gown. What is the point in washing? We’re only going to get dirty again.

Have Bert and Ernie for company. Its nice how they seem to love me so much. They get me. Wonder how friends are getting on camping. Still gutted I couldn’t go. Not because I wish I was there, because I don’t, but just to prove myself and everyone wrong. Not that they need proving wrong, or that I should even give a shit as much as I do. I can function normally.
Except I can’t. I’m trying, but I cant. And I want to be able to.
But the truth is, I am glad im not with them, I am happier in my flat. Tucked away, hidden.

Tucked away, hidden.

 Warm. Safe. Dressing gown and slippers at 4pm. Cup of tea. Trying to keep my eyes open and type without so many spelling mistakes (this wouldn’t make much sense at all without spell check by the way, not that it probably does much anyway). 

Need computer by bed. Body aches. Need to lie down. Want to stay awake otherwise how am I ever going to write this blog! Must set up computer by bed. Annoying virtual words in my head. The voice of my keyboard. Can’t get it out.

Going for a lie down.

Got up again. Body exhausted. My brain and her brain just numb, but the torment between the two of us restless, agonizing. Both trapped inside me. My voice is too small. My body is too big. It doesn’t interact with my head. Or hers. My words scroll down like the credits at the end of a film. I watch them. I hear them. I believe them. where am I in all of this?

Screaming

She bites her lip and takes a deep breath, the ache of an empty pain traveling up her chest, she closes her eyes wincing to herself, then looks up at the sky, silent tears sliding down her cheeks.

She knows her problem, and she knows what she needs to do, but she doesn’t want to, she wants to believe, and she wants to show them she can keep going, but she cant.

She looks down at her body and curses, why the fuck would god make her like that? She was ugly, she didn’t know why he bothered, and she would always be hurt, no matter what he did, she would never forgive herself for the crap she had done. And she would never believe anyone when they said they loved her. It was bullshit and she knew it.

She kicked a piece of ice, feeling the pain grip her heart and squeeze, the pain became rage it felt ready to burst out. The rage took control of her body, her guts were being shredded, her arms were electric, and her whole body trembled with anguish and pain.

She knows bno-one could love her and it rips her apart, she knew it all along. in the beginning she knew they didn’t mean it, and yet she couldn’t give it up, the idea that someone could love her, it was refreshing, amazing, and most defiantly enchanting. But now that the feelings had her for so long, she couldn’t, and she wouldn’t be blind anymore.

The tears came back, flooding her face and blurring her vision, the tears stung her eyes, and rage was bursting from every unblocked poor. She kicked the curb, breaking three toes, but she didn’t notice. she stormed down an old ally filled with graffiti and broken glass, she took off her boots and flung them up onto a rickety fire escape and walked barefooted over the broken glass, stomping and dragging her feet till they were a bloody mess. she felt the heat rise through her as the warm red blood pooled around her feet. She went to a broken window and hit her head against the sharp spikes of glass still there, and then her head was silent. There was no more craving for pain, there were no more perverted thoughts, but only a tired body and cold feet, and she collapsed. She woke up later, went home and cleared herself up, and carried on as if nothing had happened.

Help me

I never thought it would get this bad, the depression that is… I never thought that I could cry this much, and I’ve spent the last week crying, so that’s saying something. There’s a big raw gaping hole where my heart should be.

Self-Harm

It's hard to remember how I feel before I cut. I think it starts with a feeling of being unsettled and unable to sit still. I wander aimlessly; everything seems out of focus. Everything passes over me and im trapped inside my head and everything outside is unreal. I don’t want to be trapped in here, my mind plays over images like a broken record player, my head swims with lies and humiliation and self hatred. I feel claustrophobic and it makes me panic because I cant escape.

Once im there inside my head I cant get far enough out to interact with anyone else. I hurt inside. I run out of patience - the idea of talking about what’s wrong is absurd. I feel a burning need to alleviate the pressure before something out of my control happens. I cannot let myself be out of control.
When I cut it’s a relief. A release of pressure like when you let go of a balloon to stop it bursting. Only the pressure is the pain in my head, driving me over the edge. I have to cut all the pain away so I can escape what’s inside of me.
If I cut or burn or bruise or starve myself, it’s not because I want to die, it’s just a survival method to get me through the day. Its not to die, its to stay alive.
I wish there was an off button for these feelings of depression. It must be hard for anyone who has never experienced it to understand, but it doesn’t matter how hard I try, Sometimes, I JUST CAN’T SHAKE IT OFF.

Gave up a bit...

My feelings change like the wind, and mostly I cant even tell them apart.
Hit an all time low last week. Didn’t go to college, didn’t get out of bed for 3 days, didn’t eat. Stole some alcohol from the cupboard and drank that instead.
When I got up, I took loads of tablets out the cupboard, and have stashed them in my room – just in case I need them. I took the dog for a walk and thought of standing in the road, waiting for a car to come around the corner. Some even worse thoughts came into my head... I don’t know where they came from... I can’t even bare to write them.
I felt so low, and I felt so frightened. I’m not me anymore. I don’t even recognise myself. I wonder if I will ever be normal, or ever be sure of what I’m actually feeling. I am still waiting for the day where I wake up and don’t feel that there is the whole world clogging up my head. I want to be free, but I think I am LOST.

brain

My head is doing my head in!

My thoughts go so fast so quick, just chaos and memories and images and voices and sounds and thoughts and hurts and doubts and happiness and hope and anxieties and fears and the past and the present and the here and now. I'm thinking so fast but I'm not thinking straight at all.

And then it all slows down and all I feel is suicidal and it's crippling. when i feel like this there is nothing else i can focus on but wishing i did not exist. a wish so strong its in the pit of my stomach and gets bigger and bigger until there is nothing i can do but to bury my head and fantasise about it, give up on life. Often plan it. Occassionally try it. (its never worked...much to my disappointment. A months worth of serious meds, 2 packs of paracetomol, washed down with alcohol on an empty stomach...and waking up in hospital 2 days later and paranoid as fuck....i was not pleased)...

i cycle between crippling anxiety, a little bit of hope and excitement again, then feeling suicidal. it can happen really quickly. or i can be depressed for months. the worst part is that there's never a relief. even in the happy moments, im afraid of when it will end. I can wake up the next day and feel as if my world is crumbling again.

I've been acting really stupidly, doing things i later regret...and I feel I cant tell anyone about these things because I know that I was stupid for doing them, and to them I would just be going round and round in circles.

you know - i really want to be somebody. i want to make something of myself. But I feel like I cant complete anything. My college work is failing, and I don't even know if the course is what I want to be doing anyway. I get these bursts of motivation, or bursts of being too excited about something else to care. Or everything deflates and i just stop caring at all, about anything.

sometimes i want to peel open my head and scrub clean every little squiggle of my stupid brain. Its really such a mess sometimes.