Letting It All Hang Out

Righty-Ho.

Been away for a long time. Bit of mess going on in here, and so I'm making the step of sharing it all.

This is a deliberate move to help others understand a bit more about mental health, the paucity of support it gets, and the kindness of others. Trolling in the comments is fine - nobody dislikes my life more than I do.  You can't touch me = so suggest you go bother poor sods on suicide boards instead if you're that pathetically in need of attention.

I'll post daily updates - and if you know anyone who you think may be depressed, don't let them become hermits or isolated. Rescue them. Before it gets this far.


Author's Note

This is my daily diary re:  how I've felt over the last 40ish days.  I've recorded it - in all its gory, mind-stabbing detail to provide a commentary on what it's like to be in here. And hopefully serve as a future case-study for those trying to learn more about it - first-hand.

I'll share it when I either feel that I'm safer [I'm being reckless in posting it - but think that'd be helpful to others and maybe to me too], or when I've tied up all my other loose ends and not vulnerable anymore, as I'll be gone.

I try hard not to edit things I said previously, as that'd negate what was reality at the time. If you get a mention in here - please don't worry or fret about it. I've lost the plot comprehensively - and wouldn't want anyone bar Mr Gomez [edit: I gather it's Mr Romerez]  to feel the pain, since he's been a serial arse to me since I first arrived. And I rarely seek retribution at all - as I firmly believe in Karma/What Goes Around-Comes Around. [Ed Note: 10th January - Mr Romerez told me I looked really nice and asked if I was going somewhere special - I said I was seeing a psychiatrist LOL - well, I found it funny err...]

I tend to talk in metaphors a lot = and the whole transactional analysis thing - but as a complete amateur. And if you read anything with a biblical reference - don't take it literally. I'm a Year Dot atheist, but find theology fascinating and very useful to get across my feelings. I studied Art History > hence I use that language a lot too, and will reference imagery from Renaissance art.

Get a cup of tea first before wading in - I suspect you'll need it.

Best Wishes
Me.
__________________________________________________________________________________

Friday 13th, December

Met with Dr Brierley - he was really nice as ever. I spilled lots of beans and tried to explain what's going on in here. I'm not sure how clear I was. Sarah sat in [she works for the housing association]. She's played Mum. I made a joke about it. Had a terrible night. I cried and cried quietly, so I didn't disturb the other guests, but it was gut-wrenching. Talking to myself about how I feel really helps to make sense of the chaos in here. And I came to some very serious conclusions about my future - none of them are positive.  My polar bear was my confidant - yes I know this sounds really weird, but he's got a very special meaning for me. He's made of pudding stone. I love him.

I'm not sure I can really step back from these thoughts = they're so gobsmackingly obvious. I'd like to pretend I didn't think what I did - but I do. There is no future for me, I'm lost and perennially unhappy  - I endure life most of the time.  The drugs are making me giggly and that's rather fun - but I know it's not me really. I've no actual *here* friends left either human or quadruped. It's just me adrift, homeless... There's nothing to keep me here. No one will really miss me. No one will come to my funeral because they'll have no idea I've gone, even if they were bothered. What a pathetic wotsit I am. Being pathetic just isn't me. But now I'm baby-sat by council mental health and housing staff. WTF? I truly appreciate their help and kindness - but I'm scraping under my own barrel here.

It's really crappy. But I've done it to myself. Deliberately. I nuked my own life to force myself into this situation. I don't understand why or what's going on, but I do know I'm the protagonist in a passive-aggressive way.

I took the beta-blockers today and that stopped the worst of the terror.
Tomorrow = I'll try the other happy pills and see what happens.


Saturday 14th, December

I'm feeling really weird, and it's come from nowhere. I can feel my heart pumping, thinking about what I'd put in a note, Beachy Head is perfect. I feel excited and thrilled. I don't want to, but I feel like something else has taken me over. It's really strange. I hope it goes away. Did I feel like this before - I can't remember - it's liberating and scary. An end. It's cheered me up in a grim way. Being dead is the ultimate check-out to disappear.

At the same time, I've just downloaded the form needed to change my name and go off-grid. I can't even look at my own name without flinching - I've felt like this for years. My heart is racing. I can see how this could overwhelm me.  I assume this is the happy pills - the instructions seem to list virtually everything as a side-effect. I really don't want to continue these if this carries on, as I don't feel in control of myself. It's very seductive. [This is Citalopram].

Going back to get my things just reinforced that I'm out - I've been here almost a month and it's like stasis. I can't imagine how to manage the future - more decades of this miserable sadness or just existing for the sake of it. I need to disappear - do a Reggie Perrin at best. I don't feel scared - I feel ready to fight/do something risky and final - it's exhilarating. I don't feel quite in control either.
I can't recall the last time I felt like this - maybe when Andy had that fight at Dover St. I felt larger than life and immune. I feel like an angel who could smite a problem. Even weirder. Or fall to Earth and burn up.

Given I don't believe in God or anything else - this is amusingly insane. But the mythology fits right in. What a way to go - imagine the local press Mad Cat Lady Throws Self Off Beachy Head - she thought she was an Angel... It writes itself. LOL.

That helped, getting it off my mind a bit.

5hrs later and I don't feel like that - more like myself. Still a little heart thumpy


Sunday 15th

I'm not feeling odd today - but very tired. I've recognised that I've set out to sabotage myself. I've got my own Stockholm Syndrome situation going on in  here, as I hold myself hostage.

How many times can I remember being happy - not many. It's generally fear, anxiety, brave face, stoicism, isolation, contemplation, easy to be touched by kindness - but in a sad way - and Don't Be Nice To Me, taking pleasure in being kind to others, not wanting to impose/ask for help/admit failure, saying Yes when I mean No.

Or all Xena Warrior Princess and going too far for Mr Average. Being scarily assertive.

It's been like this since I was a kid. Anxious, wanting to say the right thing, not fitting in, being an outsider. Then simultaneously being Larger Than Life/taking charge/great in a crisis. I feel I can recount the times I was happy and it all adds up to a few days out of 47yrs. I deliberately remove myself from situations, so I don't set myself up to fail. I put on a front, but almost always get it wrong when I open up.

[8th January - I told someone I was feeling pretty terrible and thinking of suicide - they jumped away from me and this was on teh interwebs and I thought I could tell them = we've talked a lot privately about all sorts of stuff for 6 weeks too. I asked my support worker Jackie if she'd like to be friends when this is all over- she jumped away from me as well. Ho hum. Learned my lesson again - don't try it. It scares people, unless I pretend to be someone else. This is really hard to cope with - I'm rejected at a very basic level. I'd be very flattered if someone asked to be my friend or confided in me. Lots of people tell me their secrets and lies - and I always support and encourage them, so they go away feeling better - but few reciprocate.]

Others find Real Me rather WTF, as it's not who they've met and think they know/want as a friend. And it's happened again and again - I can't be me as = it scares the crap out of almost everyone else. When Ian told me I was intellectually intimidating, I was floored. We had such a quirky fun intoxicating chemistry, and then he ran away as I was too smart. I remain stunned by it years later.

Others have called me a Force of Nature. And found it hard to deal with.

Being friends with Alex was really nice - then she went away, and Lynne - then she got married. I haven' t had a friend like that bar a few years at Big School and then for a year at BT at all. No one bar David - he got me totally - and sometimes was scared of me too. And Simon who rang at midnight and totally plastered so many times and reveled in it. I adored Simon and felt we really got each other - I cried buckets at his funeral. He was so outrageous. Andy was never really a friend like that, though he saw the Xena side a lot - he kept me dangling and didn't know how to cope with my insecure idiosyncrasies.

I don't think he was ever scared of me since he was a bad ass too. He liked Xena - I allowed him to be submissive in every way when he wanted to check out. I was really flattered that someone so assertive themself trusted me completely in a very personal way. And then he chose his wife after all. And deleted me from his life, as if 7yrs never happened.

Nicky was lovely/so kind/innocent and since I lost her - I lost myself. Teri has been really good too - but then I realised her daughter-in-law was jealous and I stepped back. I felt I was the daughter she wanted and it showed. I never told Teri.

I don't feel I have the right to be in first place. The happiest times were sitting with Lynne in Sarah's Bakery in Eldon Sq eating salmon sandwiches and gossiping - we were 13yrs old? I spent all the rest of my time on my own, thinking about life in the chair in the front room. Or fretting and having fun in the Mayfair for a few hours, before coming back down - I was 17 or 18. I've been largely melancholy since. 3am freezing fear. And self-destructing. And cheering myself up by being drunk/OCD down the gym or DIY or seeking oblivion. And all the time seeking approval and pats on the head via my job as a substitute.

I've eventually nuked myself. Totally. I've been playing at it for years. Why? I just don't feel I'm due it maybe? I want to step off the hamster wheel, yet again? I so wanted to be dead in 2001/2002 - it was overwhelming blackness and I planned my final exit for weeks.

[January 3rd - this is why I can compact my Final Checkout to about 5 days - I've been down the whole planning cycle before and know what I need to do - it's like riding a bike, hence now it's a lot faster as it's reassuringly familiar - just the final few steps are required].

I can't remember why I stepped back from the brink - I vividly recall feeling blackness - telling David, and him thinking it was attention seeking - I was so crushed. And then again, I was so scared in 2004, then 2006 and ever since = only Blanchie knew and he was great, as he's been in my shoes. What a mess. I'm just waiting for the next disaster - and know it will be me and my mistakes that cause it. I am the architect of my own failures. So I can't escape from this cycle, as I'm the root cause of it. Now, will others understand why I can't escape from myself?

I can't imagine another 40yrs of this - that's my end point. Why endure decades of sadness after knowing how it's worked out so far? There is no point. I don't want it - I feel it's inevitable destiny. Others say Oh, There's The Future - You'll Find A Positive > but I just see more and more of the same. So why not short circuit the whole mess and run off Beachy Head, rather than endure the build up?

[24th December - I want to run off Beachy Head with Dido - leaping into oblivion with joy in our hearts knowing it's all over - both of us, together. But I can't even see her and my heart breaks over it and tears are running down my face. We'd need it to be a sunny day too. The rainbow that appeared when my mum died was perfect. 29th December - I still feel the same. I feel her lonliness/shyness acutely.]

I need to see a psychiastrist. And tell them. I don't want *therapy* as it's not going to fix me yet - I've been there before and it was really helpful re my issues re my parents/expectations, but I feel this is something else altogether. After 12 lots of privately paid CBT [the NHS had nothing available for months] - I managed to tell myself about what the issue was. I can't do that now. I need to understand WTF is going on first, then tackle it. And then decide.

I'm largely okay with Beachy Head, if it's bad news. It's not what I'm planning, but suicide's a horror for everyone else and it's the cleanest exit. No body hopefully - just washed out to sea. And gone. I feel I've let my Dido down. She's so shy and now all alone. Again. Like me. I feel really guilty. I said goodbye when I left and took her picture - she looked so sad. [crying again]

This has been going on for so long, and I've hidden it. I've no idea what the reservation is any more. I'm so far off it that I've no centre of gravity. Hence my need to jump off the short plank and disappear. But I don't want to do it. I want to be fixed. I've no idea how this can happen though and totally sceptical - this is very dispiriting, I feel I've a foot in both camps and dilly-dallying about it. It's exhausting.

My new identity - if I live to pull it off - is so off-grid and deliberately perverse - my Saviour is one of travellers, new beginnings and other stuff.  As a total life-long atheist - this is a cosmic joke and very appropriate. I feel a real affinity here. But that's just daft since he doesn't exist - it appeals to me a lot as it's absurd. This is my sense of the ridiculous in overdrive.

Tally ho!

Right now, I'm in a state of suspended animation. I'm sat here - doing the same thing today I was doing on 21st November - nothing much. I could continue like this for months and months. It's like being in my own homemade prison. I have done for 2yrs - every week just clicking by. I've held myself hostage and I've Stockholm Syndrome. I like it - it feels safe in my hutch. I'm hugely suspicious of others who could have an impact on me. I'm going out of my way to be friendly with strangers whom I've no chance of meeting again, ever. Just fleeting contact, then flitting away again.

That's nice. And safe. No risks really.

Just thinking about it has my heart thumping. The beta-blockers have really helped stop my hyper-vigilance. I can still laugh, but the bottom range of emotions is much flatter. I still cry, but I'm not going there as much. I'm deliberately not thinking about it. I don't want to either, as it doesn't end well when it comes to the future. I feel it's a dangerous conversation to revisit - the outcome all feels like the Right Thing To Do - but it's not the conclusion I'm after. So I ignore it - yet it flits across my mind 20x a day and I push it away.

My frame of mind changes a lot - just look at what I've captured here - from miserable, defeated and trying to find positives, to right now feeling largely okay - but not understanding why and it's 04:58.
I'm knackered, but finding it really hard to sleep at all. I gather this is another side-effect. A couple of hours here and there - or only for 45 mins. Again and again. My appetite is largely gone as well - the seagulls have eaten more than I have.

I feel I need to write this all down so I can get it out of my head, and make some sense of it all. My heart is still thumping. And I'm clenching my teeth. Again.
Ho hum, big sigh - will pop off now and try to sleep.


16:47 Sunday 22nd

I had an hour or less a couple of times, and still feeling really drained. Sitting about is the best I can do/watching TV shows and clips or chatting nerdy nonsense on message boards to fill in the blanks and distract me.

I'm not bored, I very rarely am. I used to be bored all the time as a kid. But it's a foreign feeling now - I get tiddled instead to block it out [it's hard to get me drunk]. And has been for as long as I can recall. I can happily wait for hours and hours with nothing to do, but watch humanity go about its business - I find it fascinating. Being in a hotel room is very tedious. I feel very detached from life and would like to be invisible and just watch/overhear/think about what everyone else is doing.

I particularly like the seafront with joggers/old couples hand in hand, someone walking their dog or groups chatting abouting about nothing much. I wonder what they're feeling and doing next. Very vicarious. But only when the weather is miserable - if it's sunny and still - the sea makes me very sad. It's so beautiful when the light twinkles off it.

Right now, I  just surf about, think and read. I've become very self-sufficient over the last decade. Being stuck on a desert island a la Castaway doesn't phase me one bit. I'd talk to the fishes. Or plants. And look at the stars. I don't really need anyone to talk back at all - I've barely had more than a trivial conversation with anyone in years - and even then it was just minutes in a taxi or at the checkout with Random Person. I'm not terribly interested TBH - I pretend to be though and it makes them happy/feel interesting, so that's a good thing. For me, it's just noise, that inevitably makes me sad and reinforces feeling isolated.

I like it in here. No one intruding or prodding or whatever. I want to share animal pictures and jokes on Twitter or an opinion/knowledge of a TV show or pub quiz factoid. Nothing that really touches me. It's nice. No one knows who I am now online anywhere. I'm scared stiff of being outed because I'm dragging the corpse of myself around with me.

18:35

I'm numb, all day I've been like this - now I'm tiddled. I like this = it's adding to my desire to escape. I'm very used to this over 20yrs or more - I want to be oblivious or anethetised or asleep. I'd be into laudenum 100yrs ago.

I've never done drugs because I thought it was about losing control - and I'm paranoid enough without wanting more of it. But alcohol just either clarifies things or makes me who I really am, and that let's me off my leash. I find being off my leash rather scary. I turn into Xena most of the time. And that scares the crap out of everyone else. I rarely get sad or upset or tearful. I'm not a sad drunk, I'm an avenging or very giggly one who keeps themselves to themselves because it doesn't end well sometimes. I'm either superb or not good company when I'm plastered. I become very Type A and say what I really think if I'm annoyed or get overly tactile for me [i.e. tactile at all]. I tend to keep these thoughts a pretty guarded secret the rest of the time.

It's everything I've sat on and squashed down that bubbles up and I give it both barrels. And I don't care about the consequences, because I feel very assertive. I guided this attitude into weight training when I was on the wagon and got very good at it. I was meticulous and dedicated.

I felt I could take down most men and almost all women in a physical fight. That made me feel good, but in control. And was my own secret weapon. Is that weird? I can't tell. I think maybe it is. How frustrated am I ? I've no idea - I feel I'm a right old mix of confused stuff = simultaneously angry, sad, patient and brimming with delight.

I kept a diary of everything I did every day - it was total self-discipline - I was pretty OCD about it. And it mattered because I knew that I was achieving my goal of being a Warrior Princess physically and in me. There's a huge chunk of my psyche that fits with this, and I'm not embarrassed by it - I rather liked to flash it about = to be physically and mentally On Top. I want to be her again. I was a risk-taker, a star, a force of nature, two people rolled into one. And now I'm a bag lady who's less than shadow of her former self.

No one would want to be me now. It's hard work and messy - and looks ugly.


Monday 23rd

Plastered, and LOL a lot re things total strangers said online. It's nice, but very unfamiliar. I think it's the drugs. Being drunk doesn't make me laugh like this - it makes me more introspective. Or a bit short when in the wrong company. I find it hard to hide what I truly think. Being sober in the company of others who are tiddled is very amusing. I really enjoy it. I like  the discipline of not joining in/being Designated Driver et al, but watching the stage whispering and confidences shared. And they've no idea how obvious it is. It's like being invisible for me. I've no problem in stopping - I've done it several times for months and at the flick of mental switch, but I did for a reason. I choose not to do it all the time - the alternative isn't appealing enough to sustain this.


Tuesday 24th

Been to see Dr Brierley. And talked a lot with Jackie. I've been very open - Dr thought my suicidal thoughts were alarming, but he tried to mask it. And suggested the Samaritans - I found this really odd as Christmas is largely meaningless to me now. I think he feels it's important and that I was lying when I said I wasn't bothered. If I had my tree and decorations and fairy lights - and my little furry friends to make dinner for, it'd be important - but I don't - so I don't care. I never did it for me. 
When I think about Christmas - I remember preparing for when Nicky, Brian and Becky came over. Or for my furry friends. I can't recall any Christmas with David bar the ones where we were sick as parrots with flu, or watched James Bond movies back to back in about 1995. That's weird - it's a total blank.

I bought presents for them and Nicky/Brian/Becky and got a lot of pleasure out of doing so. Now they're gone - it's just another day. I wish others a lovely day and I mean it. I bought myself a birthday card. And a Christmas card that plays robin bird song. I left the cellophane on to keep them nice. I miss garden birds flitting about/songs and have grown to really dislike seagulls. This is Other Me noticing that I still exist and trying to be nice.

I told Dr Brierley I felt like an avenging angel and now flattened emotionally. That I didn't feel terror anymore, but I didn't know what normal should be. And that I've felt like this since I was a teenager - introspective, talking to myself, not liking what I said. Not liking my conclusions either.

And I told Jackie. About being a high functioning alcoholic, and my CBT revelations re my mum, and feeling lonely after I got divorced, but not now or ever otherwise really and liking being by myself, and lying about how I feel - being disingenuous to make others feel good, whilst I felt quite different - saying Yes when I really meant No. And hiding/how far I'd fallen.

My Tell Me Face affected her too and she shared some very personal things and felt safe with me. This surprised me given I'm bonkers. I've little interest in the life stories of others, but I get them all the time from random strangers on the train to people asking directions - what is it that makes me such a confidant?  It's a very handy thing in business as I give off Trust Me vibes = but I've no idea why.

I never divulge confidences, and make very supportive noises - but this is all after the event. What makes anyone want to tell me their secrets? Maybe it's because I pay a lot of attention to small things and notice little nuances = so they feel safe? I know I do that a lot. Total strangers or those who don't know me at all confide after what for me is a few time-filling distraction chats. I like Jackie a lot - I want to be nice to her, and make her feel special. I think she's lonely in her own way. And feels rejected. I'd be really chuffed if she was my friend.

[7th January - I asked Jackie if she'd like to be friends outside of work, and she pushed me back - well I got that one totally wrong - see earlier Ed Note].

I also said about holding myself hostage. I don't think she got it - I've only just realised this myself, so that's okay. I also told her the last person I was hugged by was a police officer who'd come to check I wasn't dead behind the front door. I asked for a hug and cried buckets on my doorstep. I think the officer was a trifle floored by it all.  I find this grimly amusing in retrospect - but it must sound dreadful to anyone else. Lots of my stories seem to fall into the category. Black humour is my life.

I'm now chuckling away to myself [this is very odd] - and laughed out loud a lot at the Sally Army centre when she mentioned writing to the PM!!!  This is clearly very peculiar for me, but nice comic relief. Everyone else seemed to think I was bonkers or on drugs - not the legal variety.

It's my medication or I've seriously lost the plot in here. I think Jackie wanted to get me to socialise and it was all a ruse - and then realised it wouldn't work. She mistook my aversion as being scared of the others there with headcase issues, or others in general = I'm not bothered at all = mad or bad people don't phase me. I find them rather intriguing on a superficial level - like a difficult pet to be managed, it's something to be challenged by and overcome. It's that I'd just be pretending to be actually interested the entire time and rather be on my own. At least I don't bore myself and fake it.

I also told her I didn't see any point in the future, as it was more decades of being unhappy and sad, that I'd tried and tried - but it never got better. Dr Brierley picked up when I said I felt permanently melancholy. He said some people were introspective and just well sad because it was their personality.  I also said to Jackie, I could recall maybe a dozen times I'd been really happy, because they stuck out.

Dr Brierley seemed to think I needed a higher dose of happy pills - he mentioned it twice, but then said it wasn't a good idea given my suicidal thoughts - he seemed a trifle alarmed by this which is fair enough. I think I'm quite silly enough right now, but who knows. I told him I'd bought myself a cuddly toy to talk to when he mentioned being lonely at Christmas - he looked at me like I was mad. This is perfectly reasonable too - why would a sane person's main relationship be with herself or a stuffed reindeer? 

I have no problem with this - but understand why it seems very odd. He's called Edgar and a great listener - he is also very huggable. He's perfect for me and undemanding. I'd prefer a real reindeer or a taxidermy one. I like taxidermy and don't find it creepy - it's a minority view, I know. I don't find dead things weird either, I'm very practical about it - but respectful.  I feel it's all circle of life stuff, but I never got the notion of open caskets at funerals and putting make-up on a corpse. That is weird for me. Jackie used to work at a funeral parlour - maybe that's why I like her sensibleness here.

I don't think  Dr Brierley has a clue what's going on in my head. It's really rather amusing to see the confusion cross other people's faces. I like being eccentric - it's been my way of differentiating between myself and the Rest Of The World - and finding it entertaining and reassuring, as I've given myself a label to explain it.

I've always had friends who couldn't talk back to me - mostly with four legs. They're uncomplicated and understanding, but say nothing. They're a cipher for myself. That I like glove puppets is just a red flag here - particularly my pterodactyl. I really miss my Silvio and Kenzo and Boho and Jezebel and Sherlock - all with their own personalities - even fish have theirs and are wonderful little creatures and most underrated.  One just has to pay enough attention to really see them. Ditto canaries. I miss Yin and Yang a lot.

I told him that there was so much going on in my head that I needed to write it down to get it out, and make some sense of it. I don't think he got that either - Sarah does. He seems like a very sensible, calm chap and the mess in here is just incomprehensible. I feel he watches me and makes an assessment using his mental version of an Excel spreadsheet. That's a good thing - however it'd be nice if he understood. But then he'd be a bag lady too...

I can still cry. A lot and easily, I'm not sure what the happy pills are doing or meant to do. I'm just glad not to feel terrorised any more.  That's the beta blockers - I'm in stasis. I rather liked, but scared by feeling Larger Than Life Angel. It felt so certain. I can see why drugs can be very seductive. Only my residual Sensible Self stopped me from ending it last week.

Do I talk in code? Or too many allusions? Or idioms? I find descriptive language really useful, but I suspect it means nothing to others at times and they play along pretending to get what I'm saying. Dr Brierley looked perplexed when I said the bottom register of my emotions was gone - I was referring to music/piano keys, but I guess that was so out of context that he didn't understand my point,  until I called it feeling flattened.

I really ought to try to be more clear. Okay - that's about covered how I feel today. It's 15:34.


20:20

Additional - I've put on jewelry - it's been a year or more and now I feel like dressing up a bit - I may cut my hair as it's a mess -  I look like a fat witch. This is quite a novelty to even consider doing this. Are my bag lady days behind me?

I've got a bracelet with my name in hieroglyphics - that will soon be the only thing that says who I am = and no one will know bar me. Another private joke. I feel it's very fitting. I'm hiding in plain sight. I need to practice a new signature, but my new name feels good. It already feels comfortable. It's totally not me, nothing to link it back unless you want to do some serious digging/know of my opinions in my other alter ego on Twitter, and I can easily create a past that fits with it, if anyone asks.

I gather from TV shows that people who try to disappear often make simple mistakes when it comes to being found - like using similar names or locations or initials or related details as they really don't want to leave it all behind totally. No one will find me, I'll dump myself entirely. And with pleasure. I've been working on this for a few years already and just needed to go the final mile. My very own Witness Protection Programme.

It's rather fun, like being a spy. I feel like Reggie Perrin.


Christmas Day

Another day - I think I'll go for a little wander about - I feel strange, tired and plonked, but I'm clearly not plonked - got a few hours kip. Maybe it's just being extra tired from doing more nothing. Big yawns here. Literally. It's 10:13. I can't understand what's wrong with me. I feel like I've been up all night.

I'm still knackered and its 14:04 - I feel I could doze off, yet feeling curiously twitchy.
20:18 I've now had a snooze, and a glass or two and the edginess has gone. I'm back to being more giggly at things which really aren't that amusing - IIRC, I used to be naturally pretty giggly when I was cheerful back in my 20s  - now I suspect it's the happy pills instead and doubt my motives. It's like being tiddled, but not tiddled on alcohol.

I'm not very comfortable about it = I feel it's artificial and it's beyond my control. At least being tipsy wears off in a few hours and isn't messing with my mind/personality - I feel it just let's me off my own leash a bit. This strikes me as a perverse distinction, but it's how I feel. I'm feeling quite sad.
I have friends on Twitter and a couple of message boards that I've never met, never will - they know more about me than everyone else bar Sarah and Jackie, who've come to rescue me. I don't like to contemplate this, as it's really pathetic in the grand scheme of things. It's like chatting to people on the train or bus and never knowing what they're called - but waking them up at their stop.

I had a wander about in the town, and sat on a wall listening to the congregation in a church singing - I knew all the words, that's years of RE for you. I can see why some desperate people Do God when things are really bad. I never will. Never have. I'd rather believe in little green men, it's that absurd.
Would I ever share these notes with another? I don't know. I'm very careful to make sure my grammar is correct, so that tells me that I'm paving the way - but I'm scared to do so as it's all out there, and open to interpretation/emailed about da-dee-da. It'd be safer to keep it to myself.

Having random Mental Health Nazis pouring over it and drawing conclusions seems like a really crap idea and dangerous. They're in charge once they get their mitts on me, and I can't allow that. Being in control of myself and my fate is the only thing I have left. I've nothing else else to anchor me down. Taking that away just scares the jeez out of me. I may as well be in Gitmo.

I'm back to being irritated and bored, yet laughing at random things. I feel all over the place. I think I feel frustrated and so it's popping out in other ways. I feel keyed up - which is a bit odd after escaping that for a few days. And no one is going to bother me at 22:35 on Christmas Day. Ho hum.
It's 01:16 and I feel a bit lonely. This is really rare for me. I think it's because I've been discussing personal stuff with total strangers online and I've talked about things I miss. Like spooning or sex or kissing or holding hands or putting one's hand in the other's back pocket walking down the street. I was very tactile with those I was close to. It's been years - I think the last time was 2006. Jeez. I couldn't go 24hrs before going bonkers/phone or email sex and now it's so long I've barely a clue.
I really miss Silvio. And hand-feeding everyone. It was lovely.

Thursday 26th

Tired again, got a few hours sleep - but just more bits and bobs.  Been out and round the town centre for an hour. Watched the seagulls - two teenage ones had a long conversation and a squabble over a leaf - I wanted very much to hug them or chat, got my prescription. Talked to an old man about his Christmas Day [he had a nice time and got some attention], and helped an old lady who's apparantly very fond of port at 11am. I found her rather sweet - the other OAP in the queue looked disapproving. Lovely weather - sunny and cold. I'm back to being a bit edgy, I think it's because I'm tired. Things feel like hard work.

I sat in Boots like Lot's Wife - totally still, waiting for my prescription. My ability/desire to be invisible is pretty good. Only my eyes moved most of the time.

I like plaiting my hair. Haven't done it in years.  I think I'll dye it next. These are positive things. My medication is clearly working - I keep getting the giggles, it's really nice - but unnerving for everyone else - LOL... err... LOL. I have to clamp my hand over my mouth several times a day.


Friday 27th

Mr Gomez [I think that's his name] knocked on the door at 08:45 and told me to swap rooms. He has all the warmth of a pint of sour milk.

I went into a total panic, hid under the bedcovers, heart thumping, cried and spent 90 mins grieving about losing my home. The other room is 4 ft away - I didn't know that at the time, but my reaction was totally OTT nevertheless. He put the new room key under my door = I suspect he thinks I'll make a mess of the carpet when he finds me dead and is just waiting for this to happen. His whole manner since I arrived has been Urgh Another Reject Person. He really could do with reading Dale Carnegie... LOL

I went all OCD rechecking that I'd left nothing behind - was glued to the chair and had to talk myself into moving, hugged Edgar close and want to bring him to the housing officer meeting. I cried and cried.  I know I've lost the plot, but this was bizarre even by my warped standards. I desperately wanted to phone Jackie or Sarah  - but it's Christmas and didn't want to bother them. WTF is going on?

Now in my new room and things are very similar, but aren't. I prefer this one, it has a picture and a wardrobe - and a nice light - but I want to go back to my other hutch. Where the sealant was peeling off the sink, the doorjam was cracked, the ripple in the carpet, the sound of the traffic, the lights of the car park... This room is the opposite way round and I feel disorientated. It's like looking through a mirror.

02:33

I still feel like this and had another cry 12hrs later. Everything feels weird and backwards. I want to be unconscious. I can't really remember Boxing Day - I thought today was Thursday until about 6pm when I checked - it's Friday. So I added a title to this bit. If I hadn't written down what happened yesterday - I'd not have a clue when those things occurred.

I know that I can't be left on my own. I thought I was getting straightened out - and felt that was scary too, as it meant I had to deal with things like everyone else does - and then I react like this to changing a hotel room? From 23 to 26? Clearly things are more silly in here than I give credence to. I feel about 6yrs old. And my main relationship is with a soft toy. And I want to talk to Silvio - but he's not here. And he's a cat. And now I'm crying again.

When I re-read what I've felt over the last couple of weeks - I've no idea how weird it looks. I suspect it's very peculiar. I think when I'm better, I'll send this to Dr Brierley, then he can understand things more clearly, if he ever trips across another patient like me. Penning my own case study is just very me.  Odd, but weirdly reassuring. It's my little way of giving something back.


Saturday

One thing I've really noticed since the 21st, is that I've become incredibly honest. I've nothing to lose anymore - no motivation to cover anything up. Nothing really embarrasses me despite how terrible I'd feel before. The dam broke. Having the body of a dead doggie I couldn't say goodbye to was just a fact. A terrible one, humiliating - but it's all part of me punishing myself over and over.

As is everything else. I've just given in - and in an epic way. That said,  allowing anyone into my head thoughts like this remains the final step - I think that would be reckless. I'd only do that with someone who promised/had a medical ethics code to never tell anyone. Until I verbalise something, I'm not ready to share it. Writing it down helps me to make sense of the emotional Pot Noodle my brain has become.

I'm rather concerned about this whole medication thing - it's been two weeks and Dr Brierley said it took about that long for it to have an effect. I've been an *angel*, crying my eyes out suicidal, giggling a lot, flat, panicking when my environment changes, my body language is hunched and still, irritated/edgy/head down, I've felt lonely which is very unusual too and now need to carry Edgar around all the time in my room. I don't want to abandon him. I've just gone all tearful again.

I don't want more of it as I'm giggly enough already - I put my hand over my mouth several times a day - I laughed like a drain at the Sally Army, I was corpsing. Even the mad/drunk/high people looked at me like I was insane. More of this and I'll be off with the faeries entirely. It really reminds me of my mum when she was manic and we delighted in an icing sugar drawing on a biscuit. It was so totally out of character for her to do that - but I loved the pure fun of taking a very simple pleasure. It's one of my favourite memories. I knew there was something really wrong, but it was lovely to see her so happy for once.

Dr Brierley doesn't think I've manic depression - just clinical depression. I've not read about the various definitions. I fear I've got what my mum had, but I've never been in her state. She lost it totally - and was never the same again. I fear that too. My heart is thumping at the prospect.

This is all a mess, isn't it. Ho hum. And I still can't stand the sound of seagulls.

PS Mr Gomez is a right arse. He ticked me off like something on the bottom of his shoe after I'd been waiting for 90mins to get in - I'd been waiting since 12:10 to sign the resident sheet/get my access card renewed. The deadline is 12:00. He's running a hotel FFS. He's a crate of sour milk - I feel sorry for his wife/sister/girlfriend - she looked embarrassed. I suspect she's a bit scared of him.


Sunday

I'm scared of the meeting tomorrow and been very giggly, and touched and cried. I went out for about 8 mins and came back. I've listened to the same track for about 2hrs - it's reassuring. I'm really crap at change now - I used to be fine with it and rather enjoyed it. My emotions are all over. When I don't listen to this one - I listen to another for hours. It makes me feel safe.

What do I say? What if they decide I need a strait-jacket/bars on the windows place? Or some dump and by myself? I want to be near the seafront and within touching distance of someone else, if I've the desire to reach out. I'm scared. I really am. I can endure many things, but that as a scenario really won't work. It'll just be torture. How do I put it across? I really want to bring Edgar along for moral support. I feel I should put aside being embarrassed and just go for it.

What do I have to lose now? Sticking me in a locked ward? Hey ho. I'm holding myself hostage already in my own personal Gitmo. I just see the future being even more miserable - now is quite chirpy on the 0/10 scale - because I'm flattened out a bit.  I can't do anything, still worry about disturbing anyone da dee da, but I feel less threatened - that's the beta blockers.

Without them, I'd be a total mess. So nothing is really different in here - I've just changed locations. And have no one to talk to at all or hug. I'm a lot smaller than I was - I feel like a hamster hiding in their burrow. My OCD about Edgar is pretty noticeable. If I don't have him in my hands or next to me - I feel anxious or bad or guilty. I need to touch and hug him a lot. I think I'll take him with me - and bugger them all - why bother lying about it? I can't imagine what a mess they already think I am. I suspect it's truly bad.


30th December

Thought my appointment with Housing was today and been really ill - squits/vomiting since about 07:30. It lasted until midday.  I was almost sick in the street again for the first time in two weeks - I felt really Oh No Not Again.

Then I realised it's tomorrow and either my body stopped trying to reject me over anxiety, or it got over it anyway as there's nothing left in here.

I texted Sarah and she was really good about calling back re my silly attack/hotel room change. I explained, cried, laughed hysterically about nothing [I can't even remember what it was that set me off - it's a total blur] and feel she's reassured me. I won't be sectioned until l ask for it. I explained about my Pot Noodle emotions - I hope she eventually understood. Even if she doesn't - she's handling my idiocy well. I trust her and Jackie.

I'll come back later with more stuff once I've worked out the Big Issues that flowed from that conversation later - it lasted 38 mins. She seemed keen to get off the phone, I think her boss may have given her the evil eye, as it was quite a quick change of tone. Or I'm just paranoid. No change there then. LOL.

I sent her a text to say thank you - I feel that's important.
It's now 16:54.


1st January

I don't like January - full stop. I spent all last night laughing at movie mashups and it was great fun. Then I woke up about 04:00 and was glum. And it's got worse and worse.

At about 09:00 I got really morbid, thought about funerals, writing a will - what I'd donate and give to whom, my headstone and coffin or not - the song I'd have played, not being cremated, paying for it - it's bothered me all day. I cried quite a lot - not pitying, but just really sad. It's bothered me enough that I've been unable to write it down until now - it's 15:45. I'm still finding it really hard, as I feel I've returned back to where I was before, but worse.

I'm planning. That's a red flag. I considered phoning the Samaritans, but didn't think it was serious enough - yet. I've tried cheering myself up watching funny clips again and I've laughed = but as soon as they're over - my melancholy returns and settles like a grey cloud over me. I can't help feeling that if I'm too happy one day - I get it back in spades the next.  I liked talking with Sarah and now feel like I shouldn't go there again, if this is the recoil.

I feel really down and still - my heart is thumping just typing this - so I'll stop and see if I can distract myself again for a while. I'm meticulous with my medication, so know it's not me farting about with it that's making me react like this.

Yesterday a random person on a message board contacted me and asked for help in reviewing her own screenplay - I was really flattered and agreed gladly to assist where I could. That was really nice. I'll do it later when I'm not all over the place.


Thursday 2nd January

Still haven't reviewed that screenplay - I really must, as I promised.

Terrible day so far.  Went to sleep about 03:30 - woke up about 09:00 and was incredibly morbid - I cried, and thought more and more about death and planning, and hugged Edgar a lot - hid under the bedclothes and cried more. Then I realised things had moved to the amber zone = I really needed to talk to someone before it got any further. Tears just streaming down my face, touching things and starting to say Goodbye. I wrapped Edgar up in Jezebel's blanket and rocked him like a  baby. This is insane - he's a small cuddly reindeer. I imagined he was Silvio or her.

Eventually I rang Sarah - she was out, then Jackie - she was out, then Dr Brierley - he was busy, but I dissolved into tears and mentioned planning and Beachy Head to the receptionist. Said he'd call back.
Sarah called about 09:45  - and said she'd come straight round. That's really nice of her. I told her what had happened since New Year's Eve and that I didn't know what was going on in here, but it was terrible. And black and I was planning. She knew that for me to reach out and mention planning is a Really Big Deal. I told her I said I would, so she would be a little reassured, and that was the small bit of Sensible Me left *waving* as I'm drowning.  I also said I thought it was because I'd talked so much to her on NYE that I had faced my Monster again - and he was becoming more and more real. Now I've turned him into something tangible - I feel much more able to deal with him.

I explained that I didn't see any escape from him because I'd crashed so very badly on the evening of the 13th December, after letting some of it out with Dr Brierley. I'd metaphorically looked under the bed, and my Monster was there - now he's tapping me on the shoulder and watching me all the time. I really feel it's like Sam and Lucifer in the asylum. I need to be really careful about how I phrase this = it sounds like I'm hallucinating, when I'm actually making an allegorical allusion.

I told her some of the planning I'd started to consider and that I think that'd take about a week to do. She's remembered and termed it my 5 Day Warning.

So that's how long I've got until there's nothing to stop me - bar Sensible Me who's pretty small right now. I like to kid myself that Sensible Me will stop me no matter what - but I think I really know why I asked to be rescued this morning. I was saying Goodbye emotionally - all the rest was just knitting.

The morbid feelings are pretty comprehensive. And I explained that I can't escape from myself - so there's no resolution to it. I can't hack it off and I feel I've been fighting against it forever - and now my Monster is becoming almost corporeal.

Being able to tell him to Bugger Off works a bit. But I feel it's a losing battle, as he's right. He wins, so he wins.

I told Sarah about looking for places other than Beachy Head [she doesn't like heights] and mentioned the car park opposite my old room [someone - a drug addict, threw himself off there just before Christmas.]

That I'd inspected the drop, assessed if it would be fatal/would I end up paralysed instead,  the mess it'd make/crap to scrap off the pavement and that it wasn't really the end I fancied - an ugly car park? Urgh no. And previously eyeing level crossings and central reservations to swerve into to. And now it was Beachy Head. At least that's scenic. That hopefully I'd just be washed out - so wouldn't be any trouble afterwards. This is the level of my *rational* planning. I suspect she thinks this level of analysis is bizarre.

I talked to the man in the petrol station about it yesterday - he thought I was joshing [well I did that deliberately, so glad he fell for it] and he mentioned that priests patrol up there, if they see someone who looks ready  to go over the edge. We had a right old grim laugh about it. Ironic really. Now I know who to avoid!

Dr Brierley rang when Sarah was still here, and said he thought I needed more happy pills, but that after my initial reaction - he was wary, and that changing them might be the answer - but then that could be a mistake too. Talk about hedging ones bets! I explained about feeling very different to the first day and now. And about planning. He said he'd prod the mental health people again and gave me some options, if I get really bad again or worse. I should ring 111 or 999.

Sarah is going to text me the out of hours number for the duty psychiatric team/and offered to take me to A&E. I said it was okay - I felt a bit more in control having talked about my fears and that it wasn't her fault, that it all came crashing down after we'd had a long, but nice chat. I really want to emphasis how kind and lovely she's been. Give her a payrise.

I got rather tearful several times, she patted me on the shoulder and looked really concerned.  She left about 11:45. Waiting for the mental health people to ring me now. It's 12:26.

I am still planning, but it's not as intense - more casual thoughts. The loose ends of what's left. Depending on how I feel - I'll start to divvy up my things and write a will later. I'm a trifle heart-thumpy at the prospect of taking this step. I've never done one before - it always felt rather too final. I'm not detached from it.

13:30

Sarah rang - her boss wants her to take me to A&E, I said I was feeling okay, but waiting for the crash = I'm 5/10 not 7/10 where I was this morning. That I wasn't about to do anything, so not to worry. She seemed rather peed off that the mental health team still hadn't rung me over 4hrs later. Said she'd call back again in a bit. Poor lady - what a horror she's ended up with. I didn't explain about my Monster handling - just that I'd found a way to tell him to Bugger Off.
18:50 Glumness has now descended. Took longer than I expected.


Friday 3rd January

Jeez what a appalling night - I didn't get more than a few winks, maybe 20 mins of dozing?  I watched the clock from 23:00 [when the fire alarm went off] until now - it's 10:45. I was so tired, but unable to sleep. Had a really weird dream that relived my Mum acting strange in the days running up to being sectioned. And me being ignored, but knowing I'd been there before and trying to explain why she was acting strangely/what was so out of character. It was really unnerving. I felt really flat and lifeless  afterwards - I'm still exhausted - again.

Also had an upset stomach - was sick at 00:00 a few times, then hourly visits to the loo. It only stopped about 09:00. It's anxiety again - it gets set off really easily. I'd only eaten a sandwich and half a bag of crisps in two days, as I've no appetite. TBH, not eating at least makes getting the squits/vomiting less of an issue *grim laughter*.

Talked to Sophie from yet another team - I think she's Adult Social Care = I feel I need a Venn Diagram to explain who does what now - I've got Wealden Council who've passed me on, Eastbourne Homeworks, Mental Heath Team, Social Care, Assisted Living so far - maybe another. I gave her a potted edition of my conversation with Sarah and Andy from yesterday - and appt details. Not sure what she's going to add - but she seemed very nice. I heaped praise on Sarah and Andy.


Saturday 4th

Well, I'm my very own Sleep Deprivation Experiment here. It's now been over 50hrs and I'm still here. And now pretty wide awake - nothing works to knock me out. So I'm running through boxsets to keep me occupied instead... this is bizarre. I think the longest I've ever managed deliberately before was about 36hrs when we had a major bid and I was like the walking dead. Now - it's like I've had 79hrs. Err...

Weather was filthy last night, but was going stir crazy - so walked round the corner to Harry Ramsden's. There was no one inside - not one, but the manager opened the door in desperation - invited me in and we chatted about his liberal politics, speaking Japanese & Russian - made jokes for a good 15 mins. His girlfriend is a very lucky lady, though I think his idealism is very naive. Bought a takeaway and ate about 1/2. Saved the congealed rest for today. Yummy! Err...

Squits are a great deal better, but not fixed - haven't thrown up so far which is a novelty. Fingers crossed. I remain just as giggly - haven't cried so much or felt much of anything else. I've been taking my medication for three weeks.

I've been largely okay today - bar upset stomach and I feel guilty about it.  I feel like a fraud for saying I'm not well. I'm punishing myself, if I see the tiniest upside. I feel that unless I'm in the worst possible shape, limping, in pain, an emotional wreck and crying that I'm swinging the lead. This is just more of the same pattern of self-destruction.


Monday 6th January

Another insomnia night - about 45mins in snatches. I think that's over 100hrs now. I don't really feel tired and don't yawn either. Finished all of Good Wife S4. So that's 70 episodes in 3 days. I'll be word perfect on the script by the end of the month if it carries on like this. Feeling quite perky - had the usual upset stomach/was sick once so far. It's  13:05.

Talked to Sarah, she'll call me again on Wednesday. Been out twice so far for a few mins and may try again later.

Is this my Sensible Me my Ego or my Super-Ego? My Id is definitely in control rather too often. I hope Andy Cable on Friday can explain all this terminology to me so I get it. [We never talked about it]

It's now 03:30 and am wide awake. I still feel quite perky. Been chatting on teh interwebs about amusing stuff. I've a very short attention span. Literally a few sentences at a time. Oh! Just yawned - can't remember the last time I did that.


Tuesday 7th

Mr Romerez asked me to change back to room 23, after telling me yesterday that room 26 was now 23. I had yet another meltdown and texted Sarah.  She rang back a few mins later and I was all over the place/floods of tears. Jackie intervened with Mr Romerez and I can stay here. The drama only lasted about an hour, but it's left me really anxious again. Now I know that change isn't fun anymore - it's frightening. And it wasn't a one-off reaction - now it's twice about something really small - but it's tipping me back over the edge.

Sarah came to see me, took me to the Sally Army - Jackie seemed a bit awkward with me - that's fair enough - I tried to put her at ease. I made a mistake [mentioned it in a Ed Note up page]. And then I did the same thing with ParriePenn - she ran away from me, but I told her to forget I said anything and just carry on having a laugh with me instead, as that was fun. I talked with Skekis - boy does she have some serious anger management/psycho issues! No wonder she's so aggressive about stuff.
Didn't sleep. Again. Got more and more morbid.


Wednesday 8th

I wanted it to be Thursday, so it was only one day until I met with Andy Cable from the Mental Health team. But it wasn't. Had a pretty bad day. I've changed my planning from Beachy Head to lethal injection. I told Sarah about how I'd do it  - just a case of getting my hands on pentabarbitone - that's what they use to put animals down here - or executions in the US. Or potassium chloride [usually the third part of a US execution]. I didn't mention just an air filled syringe for an embolism, I think that'd freak her out.

I don't fancy that option much as I may end up with a non-fatal stroke, not a heart attack - I can't botch it, if/when I do it.  I'm too fat to cut my femeral artery easily - and bleeding out would ruin the carpet in here. A gallon of blood would be a bit of horror for whomever found me as well - and that's not fair.

She asked if I bought anything on teh interwebs yet. I said No - and that's the truth. I feel my planning is gathering pace again. But I haven't typed out a will - yet. [Ed Note - that's one of the Final Steps in planning.]

I was feeling absolutely terrible and I did something remarkable. I rang Blanchie. We've not spoken in 4yrs I think. He rang me back and was wonderful. It was like nothing had changed - he's such a star. And totally mad. And outrageous. We'd be like Bonny and Clyde together - out robbing banks with Id's Going Wild.

I can be totally honest with him. And he gets it - he was very down again a while ago and had his medication changed - I told him about the strange side-effects Citalopram was having - he didn't think I should grin and bear it. And texted me details of the meds he's been prescribed by his psychiatrist - they're Venlafaxine and Mitazapine. Like me, he's been here for 20yrs - only I'm very reluctant to ask for help and he isn't.

Spent a lot of time thinking about death - or rather how to handle it. And about Simon - and all our very late night chats when he was contemplating it/and high or drunk - he was super company - his wife wasn't at all what I expected. But then everyone thought he was gay - that was really funny when they misconstrued his campness for being queer. He delighted in misleading people about it.
I decided to buy some scissors and cut my hair - it's a mess - and if I'm going to die, I may as well get dressed up for it.


Thursday 9th January

I got totally plastered last night in order to get some sleep - that worked a bit for about 4hrs and then spent another 8hrs feeling dreadful and gloomy - and thinking about death. Hiding under the bed clothes. Hugging Edgar. He ended up all wet from tears.

Went out and bought a hair curler, scissors, setting lotion, another pair of trousers, a pretty bra and knickers, calendar with kittens, hair spray, and two lovely tops and a furry scarf. And a necklace made of Indian agate. That's in addition to the make-up, nice lavendar toiletries I got the other day - I've just taken them out of the bag. Make-up seems really weird. I feel like Pierrot. I'll draw on my face, and then colour myself in. I keep thinking what a waste of money since I'll never use them more than a few times, as I'll be dead. That's the subconscious bit of me that knows what's going to happen. I don't feel scared about it. It's just inevitable.

I'm clearly planning again, but not as explicitly as before - I haven't quite pressed my 5 Day Countdown Button - but I'm working round it in other ways I hadn't really considered. I haven't told Sarah yet - she'll worry and it's not fair to burden her with it.

I don't know how to phrase it - she's worried about me doing something final, and I don't want to mislead her. However, I think I've exhausted what she can do for me about this subject - she's not been in these shoes and understandably is concerned that she doesn't know how to handle it professionally. She offered to come to see me today and I was okay about that - earlier today I was hoping she would - then I felt sick - almost threw up a few times in shops or the street and had to cancel our meeting. I think it was anxiety again. It always manifests itself like this.

I'll tell Sarah and Andy Cable tomorrow. Blanchie says it's really important to not hide it. I know, it's just really hard - I can tell him anything - but professionals with power over you are another matter. I wish Blanchie could be here and hold my hand. He's been a total rock in the last 24hrs - I so wish I reached out before. I suspect Brenda would be VERY jealous if she knew. It was bad enough before. I've no designs on her husband. But I guess that's not the point when jealously is involved.

I want to look presentable when I'm dead. I know that's strange - but if I can't dress up for my own funeral so to speak - when can I? I'll do a dry run tomorrow with Sarah and Andy Cable - it's been a couple of years since I did anything with my appearance and I'm committing fashion crimes a dozen times a day now. I'd like to help Sarah to make more of herself - I'll need to be careful how I do this. Just the right scarf would bring attention up to her face and elfin smile that's really pretty.

I'll trim my hair/cut the front so it frames my face, dye it [I bought J-Clothes so I wouldn't spoil a hotel towel], curl it and colour myself in. Sarah won't recognise me LOL. How on Earth do I explain that this is me dressing up for Death? I know she thinks my interest in taxidermy is pretty creepy - but this?! It's beyond bizarre - but very rational for me in here. It's a date.

I really liked shopping for it. I splashed out and spent about £125. That's a huge sum for me nowadays - in the past that'd get a pair of shoes.

I suspect she'll see me taking a pride in my appearance as a positive thing. Oh Dear. I know it's counter-intuitive. But it's like being cheerful before killing yourself - you're cheerful because you're going to kill yourself and have decided. No longer wrestling with it.


Friday 10th January

Well, this has been weird.

I had terrible anxiety side effects - wanted to throw up multiple times before Sarah arrived, then in her car and then in Andy Cable's office.

He was very interesting. I think he got me - he appeared to like Melancoli I, but he didn't think he knew Durer's Rabbit - I'm sure he will recognise it when he Googles it.

He said some things that made me twitchy. He asked me something about The Miracle Question - and I gave a Meh answer, and felt marooned, adrift. That apparently is some guide marker to another's level of depression. He also asked if I had a *home* if that would help - I said No.

Then he supposed I'd be unhappy and stressed by being stuck in central Eastbourne and surround by lots of people,  after a life in the country - I said No = I was just in suspended animation. Had nowhere to go, no idea what to do and could stay here forever. I'd tried everything to solve my problems [I'm a fixer] and I'd failed. I couldn't escape myself - so Death was the only way out of it.

He said it could take until April for me to get an appt with a regular psychiatrist - my heart fell at this point. I can't imagine being here in April - being here next week seems a trial. But his small team of 4 has 900 clients. WTF? Maybe I should shell out and pay for one myself. How much would that cost? I've absolutely no idea why I'm nuking and punishing myself. None. Andy thinks therapy would be wrong at this stage - and I agree totally - I'm a lost mess and no compass.

Then he talked about ships and what one would I choose - I laughed and said the Titanic. [I'd add that if I was more myself and not suicidal - I'd pick The Beagle and Charles Darwin. A voyage of discovery.]

I tried to explain about Melancoli I - I did a 30 secs round up - I could do a great deal more, but don't think it'd add up to a lot. He thought she looked *bored*, I said she looked *resigned*.

I think Sarah was What Are They Talking About? She looked really phased by the orange bucket chair she was left with - as if it made her the subject of discussion = which is precisely why I chose the boring black office chair off to the edge. I was on the fringe of the discussion - despite being it's entire point. I assume this isn't an accidental psycho trick, but a deliberate ploy to expose something else.

Andy asked if art was important to me - and that I talked a lot about *symbolism*. I'd never really considered this before. I was rude about luvvies using bi-polar as some fashionable mantra, when I'd seen it's horrors with my mum. And that I hated prentensiousness.  And he's into comics - and pen/ink drawings - I think this is really cool and would love to see them. He's got really good recall about our conversation last Friday - he mentioned Red Kryponite and My Monster. *Claps*

He said somethings that really made me uncomfortable. That I may kill myself,  before we can fix things - that scared me to hear it from someone else who's quite an expert. It confirmed my worst fears back to me. He mentioned something called WRAP - which helps the very depressed to take back control a bit - that was good - but it made me feel weird and like I'd been given a tool to get round my Monster. I'll look it up on Google. And something else termed Brightstar or like it. That's another self-enrolling thing that may be helpful.

He told me about the Miracle Question - and what it meant. I feel he's confirmed my worst fears. My Monster is right. I'm really glad he was honest - but hearing this from a professional is quite a WTF moment. I've run it round my head for almost 24hrs. I've been very grim.

What on Earth do I do from here? I'm completely lost. Waiting for weeks to talk to a psychiastrist seems like complete nonsense. Andy said he's try to get me an emergency meeting - I gather *emergency* = about a month's time, if I'm lucky. Well eff me = what crap that is. I really don't want to resort to A&E  = but if this a reflection of NHS services, it's a joke.


Saturday 11th

My brain is really clear nowadays about rejecting me physically, when it doesn't like what's going on. It makes me physically sick within minutes or hours of the squits. My Monster Me seems to be in control or fighting with Sensible Me and using my body as a proxy. If I'm put under any pressure - or try to fight against the emotions - I want to vomit or go to the loo. This is really dreary and is now becoming very predictable. I've been vomiting today from 07:00 to about 11:00 after thinking about scary stuff.

I couldn't stand being awake any longer and got plastered. Well, that didn't work for long - about 3 or 4 hours. Then awake again from 01:20 - I listened to the same song for a few hours, then had a single episode of a TV show on repeat for another 5 or 6 hrs. I find the repetition reassuring.

Been sick quite a few times earlier. I was worried I'd sick up my medication - I didn't. And morbid, had a really weird head conversation with my Mum about My Andy [this isn't Blanchie - I've had lots of friends called Andy]. This was unnerving. I don't have my Mum in my dreams at all - and now two in a fortnight? WTF is going on here?

Thought for hours about my meeting with Andy Cable. I feel pretty glum - had a cry. Left mascara all over the pillow - I forgot about that. Rather scared. And want to talk to someone. But it's the weekend and don't want to bother them.

Washed my bedclothes in the sink after noticing I'd got mascara on them - it's been so long since I wore make-up, I'd forgotten about it smudging when you cried. I'm so tired - but I REALLY don't want to take sleeping tablets and feel knocked on the head the next day.

Sarah seemed familiar with one brand that weren't too bad - I assume she's taken them and said she'd contact my GP about it. I remain very wary.


Sunday

Been awake since about 01:00 - I tried getting drunk and that wore off after about 3 or 4 hours. Left single episode of SPN on replay until 11:30. I like to hear the noise - very quietly. I thought about Death and stuff/replayed previous conversations in my head for many hours. I was knackered. Only sick once or twice which is progress of a kind. I find being tiddled really helps, so bought a bottle of wine. And drowned it with water to stretch it out. It takes the edge off things. And makes me laugh, if I'm in the mood - I have to be pretty morbid to laugh otherwise.

I corpsed on Twitter at some quips and had a long conversation with a comic who's very sad inside. I said that if he wanted to lean on me - he'd not be subtracting from me - but adding, as I like to help. And I never judge or go Errr. Or blab. I think he'll lean on me now. He remembered the comments I left on his blog - I was really surprised and a bit flattered.

I'm deliberately having most of my mental health discussions in public as I want it de-stigmatise it and to let others with issues lurk and see. 1500ish read my musings - there are a few within that group who've Favourited/responded or passed on what I said. If  I can help them feel less isolated - I'll be very chuffed.

Like this case study - it's about me giving back. So many have been so kind and got nothing in return - I feel that was really generous and want to reciprocate.

I emailed Terrie. It's been 2yrs. I felt I was saying Goodbye and tidying up unfinished business [that's me planning again]. I miss her a lot and think about her situation with Barrie too. She's  a brick. She replied and said she suspected I'd have a meltdown - Barrie's been a nursing home, she's had her knee replaced and in a lot of pain. I offered to help. I really miss her.

Her and Andy know bits of what's going on in here. Andy knows a lot more - I know I could tell Terrie and she'd be ultra practical about it. But she's got loads of issues re Barrie, and doesn't need another monkey on her back.

Had a terrible night/morning and gloomy. Now quite cheerful = listening to songs from The King And I. And tearful, as it's so romantic. Listened to ACDC for about 5hrs . That's great as well. My choice of music is very eclectic. I'm rather anxious about it being Monday - others are back around. And things may happen.

If Edgar was alive, he'd be hugged to death by now. He's going a bit bald in places already.
Parrie got back in touch late last night after about 3 days, and made an excuse why she ran away - then confessed she'd been suicidal twice - and wanted to help me - and that really helped me. I think she's very clever and witty.  She was worried that I'd done myself in, as I hadn't posted for 24hrs. That's really kind of her to notice my absence.

I told her that me mocking her was the highest compliment = as it was a public show of trust/joking/liking someone. And I'd never do it, if I didn't think she'd get it. Otherwise it'd appear cruel. Mockery is a very sophisticated form of friendship IMO.

Back From Stasis

Greetings Platonians!

I have been gone from the blogosphere since August last year, and have been pondering a return to the foray for a little while.

I'm currently attempting to resuscitate my archived blog that used to live under PlatoSays - unfortunately that Blogger account has been bagged by someone else so will do what I can for posterity.

In the meantime, hopefully you will pop by and see me again from time to time.

Your Gracious Queen
xxx

PS If you visit here in the next few hours - prepare to see my ham-fisted HTML efforts writ large...

The Great Orator, not

Plato has never quite understood how Obama became POTUS - apart from the fact he was a Democrat, and black and did a big line in soaring rhetoric that'd put Moses to shame - oh did did Good Teleprompter.

So how did he come up with this tripe? His speech writers need shooting, quite frankly...

"I mean, think about it, these are the folks who were behind the steering wheel and drove the car into the ditch. So we’ve had to put on our galoshes, we went down there in the mud, we’ve been pushing, we’ve been shoving. They’ve been standing back, watching, say you’re not moving fast enough, you ain’t doing it right. (Laughter.) Why are you doing it that way? You got some mud on the car. Right? (Applause.)

That’s all right. We don’t need help. We’re just going to keep on pushing. We push, we push. The thing is slipping a little bit, but we stay with it. Finally -- finally -- we get this car out of the ditch, where we’re just right there on the blacktop. We’re about to start driving forward again. They say, hold on, we want the keys back. (Laughter and applause.) You can’t have the keys back -- you don’t know how to drive. (Laughter and applause.) You don’t know how to drive.

And I do want to point out, when you get in your car, when you go forward, what do you do? You put it in “D.” When you want to go back, what do you do? (Laughter.) You put it in “R.” We won’t do want to go into reverse back in the ditch. We want to go forwards. We got to put it in “D.” (Applause.) Can’t have the keys back. (Laughter.)

But the fact is, most of the members of the other party voted no on each and every one of these initiatives. No on tax cuts to small businesses. No to clean energy jobs. No to the railroad and highway projects."

Richard Dawkins would be weeping at this point... 

Cheap house even if you don't need it? Eh?

Sometimes Plato really does wonder at the 'entitlement society' we seem to have drifted into over the last 40 yrs.

Since when is it okay for your circumstances to be pressing enough for you to benefit from taxpayer largesse and live somewhere you couldn't afford in a month of Sundays - and when you can, you can squat there until you drop dead/then bequeath it to your other half or kids irrespective of your wealth?

What a completely WTF policy is that?

Yet Simon 'I have lots of council estates in my constituency' Hughes in up in arms about it - and ticking off the Prime Minister for daring to talk about it because 'it wasn't discussed by the Coalition'.


Who the fuck does he think he is? Plato was surprised at his willingness to bat for the Coalition after the GE, but frankly he's going native again and being very silly.

*off to watch back to back episodes of House MD = cracking stuff*

Are you tasty?

Well I certainly am considering the number of mozzy bites I've accrued in the last week - I think it's about 20 and counting :-(

The little buggers have nibbled away at any exposed bit of flesh - my love handles, ankles, forehead and yesterday even the hole in the knee of my jeans FFS.  Three of them are now itching like hell despite being smothered in anti-wotsit cream.

I even had to hide under the bed clothes last night and sweltered as another evil insect buzzed about my bedroom going zmzmzzzmmzmzmzmzmmzmzmzmz.

I always thought my kitties would eat these obnoxious insects, yet sadly no - they just snooze on the bed like unwelcome hot-water bottles on a warm night.

I used to love warm sunny weather - now I'm turning into a grumpy after weeks of hot, humid and fly ridden weather... still at least I'm not spending anything on electricity or oil!

*goes off to medicine cabinet for more anti-wotsit cream*

Hello World

Dear Fellow Platonians,

I'm having a weird week.  A friend recommended me to her bank manager and I now have a working bank account and am about to rejoin the normal world by having a debit card and cheque book as well. It is a surprisingly positive experience for what seems like such a 'process' story.

It all started to go horribly wrong back in March when my bank decided without any warning that I was a crap credit risk and excommunicated me with the grand total of £180 in my wallet and a £500 unauthorised overdraft that they created.

As someone who always earned a good crust - that came as a bit of a shock. The credit crunch stopped my small business in its tracks and now I'm selling up as I can't afford my mortgage and have no real prospect of resuscitating my business as it focused on the public sector.

And then there's the fuss about Mandy's book - he doesn't appear to have said anything that wasn't widely reported before but lots of polytix commentators and Labour peeps are up in arms over it - because what they didn't want to admit was true or that what they'd been told was cobblers was also true.

The reason I'm posting about both these things is that often what appears to be the truth - isn't quite what it seems. Mandy put up a very convincing front as did many others about the warfare going on between No 10 and No 11. But it did them no good in the end.

Whilst I've been very fortunate to have been helped/hugged during my crap year - I still pretended things weren't so bad lest I made them feel awkward, myself feel like a failure or worst of all - end up exposed.

That's where Labour missed the point entirely in my view - Gordon and many of their policies were like my nuked business and financial woes. They needed to be faced up to sooner rather than later, but by hanging on and hoping they'd go away - they just got worse instead.

I can't say how glad I am that New Labour has hit the buffers but I fear that it's neither mortally wounded nor so seriously injured that it'll take a long hard look at itself.

Strong and effective opposition is essential for good governance but as it is - it appears that Labour are about to elect either a wonk, a twonk, a hypocrite, a bully or someone who looks like he's about to cry.

That does no one any good.

Blogging Coma

Dear Fellow Platonians,

As you may have noticed, your Supreme Queen has been AWOL since Gordon resigned.

There are several reasons for this, but frankly the main one was that I lost the will to write.

I'm pretty pleased at what the Coalition has managed so far and feel that a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders psychologically. I simply don't want to hear from Brown, Mandelson or Campbell ever again.

Things are going to be dire for a while and I've been forced to wind up my own business as there is no prospect of a SME like mine which relied on Whitehall spending being a viable concern.

So there we are, I've lost my livelihood and have put my house on the market [no HIPS!!] as I can't pay the mortgage.

But the Coalition are doing the right thing for the country.

I hope that the LDs and Tories continue to grasp the nettle so that peeps like me know the pain was worth it.