“I don’t care what they say about you, I will love you no matter what, you are special and you are you and I like you just the way you are.”

Family will try their hardest even if they do not understand, they will love you unconditionally no matter how frustrated everyone gets.  They will take you in and care for you in the best way that they can.

You will discover that people you have only met once or twice will care enough to travel hundreds of miles just to give you a stuffed animal and some moral support when you are feeling at your worst.

Other friends will be incredibly supportive to begin with but as the novelty wears off and things become hard they will drift away.  Some will simply stop visiting, others will stop answering their phone, and others will give excuses like “I felt you needed time to yourself”.

People can only handle so much before they walk away.

You touch so many people in your life and it would hurt them to know that you’re not there anymore.  You might not even know how much you have affected them.  It may be one kind word, it may be that you have just been a figure in the background but they will have noticed you, whether you like it or not.

Sometimes although you feel involved you may just be on the outskirts more invisible than you thought.

There are people who will lie to your face just to protect you from what they say about you behind your back.

People are paid to care about you and support you.  Some care, some pretend and others just don’t.

When you give up on yourself hopefully there is someone who will not give up on you.

Sometimes the only thing that will help is a hug and for someone to tell you it will be ok and truly believe it, even if you don’t.

Sometimes all you can do is cry and hope it washes out of your system.

When you are out of control you just have to hope that someone else will step in and take the initiative.

You have to believe that things will get better.

Loneliness is one of the most painful feelings in the world.

When all hope seems to have faded you need to just concentrate on keeping breathing, no matter how hard.

When you give up, hope that the world will not give up on you.

You are the only person who will truly see you for who you are but others can see the positive things that you can’t or that you can but just write-off as unimportant.

Sometimes you just need to survive and hope with all your heart that things will get better.

As long as you are alive there is potential.

Life is unfair. Life is miraculous.  Life is cruel.  Life is for living.  Living is the scariest thing I have ever done.

I graduated in Dec 09 with my 2:1 degree – go me!

I was interviewed at the start of Jan for a job I really wanted and was offered numerous interviews elsewhere. Unfortunately someone “pipped me to the post” with the first job however three weeks later I got a phone call saying that another post on the rotation had become available and would I like the job and be able to start as soon as possible.  OF COURSE!  Now, all this looks great in theory, however, there were a number of stressing factors involved:

1)The job was literally at the other end of the UK – pretty much the furthest I could go

2)It was my first post after qualifying which is always likely to be stressful

3)I knew no one in the area and had nowhere to live

So…I moved down on a Saturday, my parents kindly drove the 10 hours in my replacement micra (didn’t think my first one would survive the journey)…now 10 hours in micra with 3 people and belongings does not make for a comfortable trip. This also meant that I could only take with me things that would fit in said micra without exceeding its weight limit.  Anyways, so we trek our way down the road and stay the night in a travel lodge, the next day we view flats and on the Monday I move into the new flat – I’ll move on to the flat situation in a bit.

Before I can begin work there is a problem with my reference – guess which?- yup the uni were being slow and annoying.  It got to the stage I was on first name terms with HR and we were both phoning the uni numerous times a day, every day.  Eventually the reference was written.  Also has a slight hitch getting occ health approval but this was expected and so not as annoying.

By this time we are now in the middle of March and I begin my new job.  I find out on the Thursday where I am going to be working and start on the Monday.  The downside of joining a rotation late is that you don’t get to choose your clinical area.  Luck was on my side though as I was given a secure mental health unit – which would have been somewhere on my list of choices.  This was slightly clouded by the attitudes when I told people where I was going to be working and the response was “you’re working where?!!!, and it’s your first job?!”  you sort of get the impression that this should be followed up with the line “you are so going to die”!.  Compound this with the fact that another new start had the position before me and lasted less than a week before getting transferred elsewhere and you can probably guess that the fear of God was within me.

Thankfully my boss was, and still is, more so every day, AMAZING.  A little excitable sometimes and swears like a trouper but overall a sensible, intelligent and brilliant at her job sort of person.  Who could ask for more? Me of course.

After a couple of months of doing well at work, developing confidence and not making too many mistakes things started to take a bit of a downwards spin.  My landlord turned out to be a complete neurotic tool and started being rude to both myself and my friends to the point where I didn’t really want anything to do with her.  This was then followed by her being made redundant and deciding that she needs to sell the flat.  After 3 months in my new abode I had to begin looking for somewhere to live, again.  Hopefully this time it will work out a little better, fingers crossed x.

All the stress of everything crept up on me and I started to feel a little low.  I, unlike my usual self, decided I should be proactive (with a little encouragement from my boss) and seek help before it became an issue.  Now, a referral had been sent from original home to gp here, who forwarded it to CMHT.  I was seen there by a consultant who was to be retiring a couple of weeks later…oh well…then I found out to be replaced by a locum consultant…my upstairs neighbour and best friend to my landlord…nightmare.   Only my life could get this messy.  So Consultant started me on an antidepressant (duloxetine) and increased my mood stabilizer, all well and good, she then arranged for me to be transferred to another CMHT.

So being the good girl that I am began taking the pills.  The first day of taking them led to:

Me – to boss- Would it be possible to get a lift home after work?

Boss- Why what’s wrong with your car?

M: Nothing, I just don’t feel very well and don’t want to drive.

B: well wait 20 minutes and I’ll come take you home after my meeting.

M: OK thanks

Thoughts over the 20 minutes:

OMG I am going to be sick

I can’t see, I can’t move

If I move a muscle I am going to spew

How am I going to get home

Should I just walk – no i might not make it and collapse somewhere

should i get a taxi – no cos they’ll charge me if i spew

Ill just wait

It’s been twenty minutes already, should i crawl

I feel more sick than ever I will put my head on the desk and try not to die.

About 30 mins after requesting my boss comes back to the office.  She takes one look at me and says “OMG you don’t look well at all” my response “*groan* I really don’t feel well”  So she starts throwing her stuff in her bag, hands me the dustbin and we rush down the 3 flights of stairs to get out of the building – I say rush but I couldn’t really move fast at all.  We get to the reception where we need to hand in our keys between double doors and get the receptionist to let us out.  Well the receptionist looked at us and answered ringing phone – bloody temp- and starts a very long conversation with person on the other end of the phone describing each part of the unit and suggesting people that the caller could speak to.  Meanwhile my knuckles are white with clinging onto the bin for dear life.  Receptionist then gets the hint when I BEG her to open the outside door and leave my keys with the boss.  The fresh air helped a little.  Eventually boss manages to escape it felt like forever and we get in the car.  I was well warned that I had to aim for the bucket and not get her car.Of course by this time it is 5.20pm in the city centre…rush hour.  So she ends up driving manically down the side streets, twisting and turning with me just praying for death in the passenger seat.  My boss laughs at me and says “Now you can tell why I am not a nurse…I don’t really do sympathy”  NO SHIT! I’m at deaths door and you’re laughing.  It was pretty funny at the time though and  even funnier in hindsight.  I made it home and spent the next couple of days playing the game you do when you’re incredibly hungover, it’s the “how still can I lie here” game. Fun fun.

I didn’t take the pill the second day and on the third it was a battle of will between me and the pill, I must have stared at it for at least 2 hours before managing to chuck it back.

Little did I know that this was only the start of my woes.

This wonderful little pill sent me on a rollercoaster ride lasting a couple of months.  Cycling  every 3-4 days at most from swinging off the chandelier to everyone is out to get me to i can’t move my limbs are too heavy to where’s the nearest bus/lorry/train I can throw myself under.  Fun and games…needless to say after breaking down twice in the office and being unable to function properly at work and also with patients asking me whether I was taking drugs I ended up being signed off.

Meanwhile my GP and I are chasing up referral to new CMHT…one month later we managed to get an appointment which lasted 10minutes and consisted of the consultant saying “”ah yes well anti-depressants can cause swings into mania” No shit! I could have told you that.  What the hell are you being paid for?!  he changes nothing, offers no followup and tells me I can go back to work.

I have been off 3 weeks now and I am so bored…you know you are either verging on completely manic or bored as fuck when you start cleaning skirting boards, doors and cars (I never cleaned my previous car out in the entire 6 years I owned it).  I think I may have been both.  Unfortunately occ health are involved and have decided that I must have 2 weeks completely stable and sleeping.  This is pretty much impossible as I have atrocious sleep patterns and given recent moods and I now have to move house next week.  Hopefully he will let me go back next week. Please please please please let him say I can go back!

So I think that’s just about where I am at.  I am settled and completely unsettled.  I feel

lonely, scared and lost.  I feel frustrated about my job and living situation and mental health support equalling nil.

Hopefully things will get better soon and I can stop feeling like I am back at square one and get my life back on track again.

Kx

P.S. Despite all this I never self-harmed.  Woohoo! I have lost count of how many months, well over a year now…I am quite proud of myself

Firstly the placement: Placement was AMAZING! Never have a felt so much like I belonged somewhere.  I felt comfortable doing what I was doing and felt that I made some small difference to the lives of the individuals I worked with over the six weeks.  Apparently I have a calming voice that is good for mental health settings- and giving that came from a patient I feel that I have to take it onboard.

Anyway the placement was pass/fail and I passed! I also got an A for my final piece of coursework.  The A and then the revelation I had achieved a 2.1 for my degree left me speechless on the end of the phone to my lecturer.  I was so glad to have finished but more so to be able to say that I showed everyone that said I wouldn’t qualify or would get a low grade that in fact I am better than they gave me credit for.  Graduation was last week but since then I feel like I am in limbo.  I don’t have a job, there are few job prospects at the moment and I just feel a little lost.

In other news my best friend is ill again which has led to many crisis management situations.  Now I know what it is like to see a friend restrained by security and know what I put people through when the police took me home in crisis.  Anyway she got out of hospital today and is now eating a little better than she has in a long time so hopefully things are looking up in that department.

I feel this post is a little rambly, actually they probably all are.  I have two appointments tomorrow, my gp and my psych.  I see them both monthly so why I am seeing them on the same day I don’t know, I feel that possibly defeats the purpose of regular support but never mind, things aren’t atrocious moodwise.  I get to be a human pincushion and get blood tests taken.  They are supposed to be every three months or something but I approximate it has been far more than six months since my last blood test.

So, the mood. Well.  It hasn’t been too bad possibly mild level depression which for me at this time of year is fantastic (this is my worst time for being very depressed).  I am a very calm sensible person, really.  However, I can see elements of the recklessness that was present when I was ill and not in treatment.  It has crept in quietly and sort of nestled inside me.  When I say recklessness I’m not sure I mean impulsivity but I also don’t mean mania.  I have sort of reduced my dose by half – not deliberately over the last couple of months.  This is mainly because I have forgotten to take doses, because I have had colds and been sick and also just because I didn’t want to.  I brought this up with my consultant last month and he just advised me to take them whilst telling his medical student that some of his younger patients find it hard to take regular medication.  TIT.  I also have a confession to make and please don’t judge me on it.  I don’t know what happened, it was a strange night and has obviously caused me some concern.  I don’t know what to think.

Here goes then (it pains me to even type it).  I was nice and comfy midweek in my bed around 12.30am when my mobile rings.  I answer it.  My friend/ex support worker is on the phone.  She has been to an xmas night out and everyone has left her and she has been left to party alone with a warning that she had to be at work 10.30am next morning.  So given my inability to say no I get dressed and meet her at the pub.  She is blazing.  We had a couple of drinks and I end up following her to a flat with a couple of guys, whilst reminding her about getting up with no avail.  Basically she fucks off with one of them and I am left with the other and his flatmate who start doing lines of base/speed.  I did a line too.  I don’t know why.  I know it was incredibly stupid.  I learned from it.  My heart felt like it was gonna explode and I drank a lot afterwards to the point of being very ill.  I haven’t been that hungover in a while either. Thankfully I never had sex which would have been the final act to cause intense self-hatred.  I hate myself for doing drugs.  Hate me.  Yeah and anyone that ever compared a buzz to mania was far far off.  I was more awake but didn’t have any of the drive to talk, make things, do things that I have when I am manic.  All in all it was a pointless exercise.  My friend never made it to work as we left the flat at 8.30 am for a sleep.I let her down.  I was supposed to get her home.  I should have tried harder to persuade her.  I am a total loser.

After all that negative rant I should probably end on a positive note.  I am now officially a published poet.  Two of my poems have been published in a book being sold completely for a charity that provides emergency medical kits to rural doctors in Scotland so they can provide care prior to the arrival of an ambulance which can take a long time in remote areas.  I wasn’t too sure as to what sort of quality the book would be and I honestly was surprised at the contents.  The aim of the book is to bring hope, motivation and understanding to people.  That’s probably not the best explanation.  It is very motivational without being too cheesy.  Anyway I should probably tell you where you can buy it.  I am recommending it as it is uplifting and not just because I am in it.  It is called

The Swallow, the Owl and the Sandpiper: Words of Courage, Wisdom and Spirit by Claire Maitland for The Sandpiper Trust.  The charity’s website is:  http://www.sandpipertrust.org/  and the book can be purchased HERE.

Yeah, apologies for the weird and rubbish post.

Further update to come sooner than later, hopefully.

Back-track slightly to what has been going on before now.

Last time I posted I was doing a difficult placement which thankfully I survived.  Unfortunately having thought that was bad I was to be horribly disappointed with the next placement.

I ended up doing a six week absolutely hellish placement with a completely horrible educator.   She was so horrible she made me cry on day 2 due to snide remarks and criticism through sarcasm, which she thought was funny.  Thankfully when new staff started on a rotation, strangely girls who were in my class first time round, it got directed onto them which made life a little more bearable.  She told me the uni wanted her to fail me and that I am a strange girl and that she has grave concerns about how I will do in my final placement.  Oh yeah and she made a huge issue about how my confidence or lack thereof was causing great barriers – well to be honest you are really not helping bitch.  It just wasn’t very fun.

Anyways.  Having scraped my way through the beginning of it and barely passing at my halfway assessment I managed to pull my finger out and give a big fuck you to both her and my university tutors by gaining a fairly respectable C in the placement. HA!

I then had to go away and write a case study based on the placement but the patient I was supposed to write it about was far to complicated so me being me decided to just use an imaginary patient based on a mixture of the patients I had seen.  Again another huge up yours to the uni as I got an A for it.

So the only thing standing between me and my degree is a 6 week mental health placement.  I am one week in and having done absolutely no treatment my supervisor – who is incredibly lovely- says she sees no reason why I wouldn’t pass.  Hell Yeah.  I am bloody loving it so far, mental health is totally my niche.  This is good as I was seriously having my doubts about whether I was going into the right profession.

The placement is pass/fail which means all I need to do is meet my learning outcomes which I am damn well going to do.  So by my calculations – don’t quote me – I am all set for a 2.1 in my honours degree.  I am so incredibly chuffed.  The only downside of the placement is that it’s 30 miles away from my flat which means I am having to live with other people.  I stayed with my friend’s Mum the last week, who is also my supervisors boss- awkward.  She insisted on feeding me which at the moment I am not all that happy with.  I know I should be grateful but all I want to do at the moment is lose some weight as I feel massive and whalelike. Meh.

My mood has been relatively stable for the last, well ages.  I spoke to my consultant and he said at a guess maintenance meds should be taken for 2.5 years.  We worked it out and that means I can technically come off them in the summer.  It has been ages since I self-harmed despite huge urges on my last placement.

This weekend things don’t feel entirely right.  I drove up the road imagining my car drifting into the motorway central reservation, not so good.  Other suicidal fantasies keep going round and round in my head too, keeping me awake all night.  I know it’s not good and it’s subconscious planning and running through scenarios and I should be worried but I know my head is fucked and just plan to ignore it.  Possibly it is caused by the fact over the last couple of months I may have missed too many occasional days of meds.  Not many in a row but odd days,  Never mind.   As soon as I know I am passing the placement and there is no chance of it going wrong I am coming off them anyway.  It’s all just wrong.  I’m not ill anymore, not in the traditional sense.  Yeah I am maybe psychologically a bit weird but as for bipolar I am no longer sure.  Hmmm.

Nothing is set in stone and things change so….

I better go pack my bags for driving down to placement tomorrow, although I am technically homeless tomorrow night but nevermind I am sure it will all work out fine.

Kxx

I swam!!!!  So often I was convinced I was going to sink, but no, I managed to swim, albeit with armbands but swim nonetheless.

As a consequence of my busy day I am now struggling to keep my eyes open but I guess that is to be expected.  I am keeping myself awake until a reasonable bedtime by checking the important internet stuff, like this, and re-reading Twilight, again.  I can’t afford to break routine now.  I should be studying although I have the feeling that my last two brain cells may just die if they are pushed any further.

I think (I hope) I have managed to successfully stave off a depressive episode for a bit longer.  This is what I hate about my meds, I never got high highs just a few scarce amazing hypomanias and millions (ok slight overstatement) of crippling (not overstated) depressions, and the meds have stopped my highs and not stopped my lows.  It all leaves me feeling a little disheartened.  Although I do know that this is probably the most well I have been in years, probably since my teens – I don’t mean right in this present minute but as a whole, in the grand scheme of things my cycling has slowed down somewhat, become more predictable and things aren’t so extreme.  In short, my life is not nearly so chaotic and unpredictable as it used to be.  Some of me finds this a drag and wants to break from the monotony, part of me loves chaos and thrives on it.  The sensible part of me says listen to the Doctors and be a good girl.  I am going to be a good girl.

This illness is messing with my brain though.  I go from wanting to be invisible to wanting to be the centre of attention but feel uncomfortable in the middle.  I crave for someone to notice when I am not doing well yet resent them when they do.  It’s total double standards and a lose-lose situation.  I feel so self-centred at the moment but if I have my sensible head on I realise that this is all just self-criticism and if I am being self-centred then it’s probably because I need to be or that I am getting sick again and am retreating into my head where naturally things are about me.  It’s as if a lot of the time I spend looking through a filter.  Sometimes it is too tiring to filter stuff out so I stop looking and concentrate on what I have already let in or at other times concentrate so much on looking at the filter itself that I don’t see outside of it.

When did I get so caught up in this illness?  When did it start to define me at a cellular level?  When did it attach itself to every ounce of my being?  I don’t know the answers, I don’t think I want to know the answers.  It isn’t who I am but it is.  I find that very hard to cope with.  I don’t know when this illness started to become such a large part of my life.  For a long time it did define everything I did, that was before I was diagnosed and knew what it was.  I look back and see the car crash that was the last few years and can say – “oh yeah now I can see that I was very ill”.  The thing is I can only see when I am ill in hindsight.  I am a very good reflector, possibly too good, it stops me living in the present.  I don’t want to be self-centred and I don’t want everything to be broken down and analysed as part of my illness.  I want to be able to say – look, these are my actual flaws and not a product of a wonky brain.

I was asked recently why I gravitate towards “damaged” people – in the widest sense of damaged.  I gave many answers and at the time they were all correct – that I like helping people, that I care, that people tend to gravitate towards people in similar circumstances i.e. fucked up people are attracted to fucked up people.

There is one more answer, the one I didn’t think of at the time and probably the one that is the most true of all:  It takes the spotlight off me and it, if even for a second, helps me to pretend that I am not ill.  It’s avoidance.  Pure and simple.  I do not want to deal with the issues in my life so, like a coward, I run away, I hide or I find a distraction.  Maybe I should work on that with my psychologist when he gets back from his holidays.

Anyway, that is quite enough for now.  My two brain cells are now conspiring against me and plotting their revenge

Kx