Coming up for air......

Recently, well, to be more precise over the last week, but not Sunday, Sunday was awful, but that is over now thankfully, I have felt a new feeling. The feeling doesn’t last for very long, and I don’t think I have felt it before, but it is good. I can’t describe it as ‘peace of mind’, that doesn’t explain it properly; it is more like a feeling of total well being.

There is a battle in my head. On one hand there is me, grown up, successful, caring and in control of me, versus, a little girl who is frightened, lonely, unsafe and has no control of herself or anything. The problem has always been that the little girl me, is much much stronger than the grown up version, so she wins. Her vulnerability, her inability to manage a grown up world, her absolute need for love and acceptance, at whatever cost, have always been stronger than the grown up version, who can actually do ok.

The little girl knows that her writing is rubbish. If you really knew her you wouldn’t like her. If you knew her you would push her away and not accept or love her. That no place is safe. That little me has been kept strong by abuse, and  by others reinforcing those beliefs.

The grown up me is not strong, it hasn’t practised enough how to manage, how to cope, how to deal with every day life, it hasn’t been fed, made robust, It has no resilience.

The grown up me knows that actually everything is ok, that I am safe, warm, clothed, have food in the cupboards, fuel in my car, some pennies in my purse, and that right now, I am ok. But the stronger persona, the little me, is jumping up and down, shouting that everything isn’t ok at all, that everything is really scary, that I can’t cope, that I must keep the curtains shut, mustn’t go out, must stay inside…. The little me wants to phone everyone and make sure that they still love me… the little me is sure that no one does, so it hurts itself.

So, why do I have a feeling of total well being sometimes now? I guess that the voice of the little me is getting drowned out by the support I have been receiving through my blog. That maybe I can write well, that may be people really do care about me, that actually though I do struggle, it is ok… other people who may or may not suffer in the same way empathise, sympathise and give a shit….  there is becoming a balance of those personas, maybe the support for me is strengthening the grown up me, and maybe, just maybe…everything will be ok.

Much love x

Thought for the day . . .

Hmmmm….. Certain concerns about appointment with MP next week.

      Oh my god, what shall I wear? If I go suited and booted, makeup on and looking professional, then unfortunately stigma says that I don’t look like a nutter and maybe he wont take my complaint seriously. With this thought in mind I dyed my hair purple yesterday. I am planning to fill up my shopping trolley with plastic carrier bags, and not wash for a week. Maybe if I wear my wetsuit, with a bobble hat and slippers I may look the part. However, after being detained under section 136 of the mental health act once this week, I don’t really want to go back there.

This week has potentially been one of my worst weeks, hence the amount of drawings I have been putting up onto Facebook. Drawing is a diversion tactic for me, it makes me concentrate on something other than dying.

Yesterday I decided to cut my face off, and put cigarettes out on my arms, after having lacerated them with a Stanley knife. Therefore, today, when I was meant to have blood tests to make sure my liver is still working because of the amount of vodka I drink, I bottled out and left the waiting room. What can I say to people who ask what happened to my face? ‘Oh I cut myself shaving’, ‘be careful of exfoliation, it can remove parts of your face’, ‘I was wrestling with alligators and came off worse’, ‘be careful of those piranhas in the river, they are hungry right now’, or should I just say, I hate myself and my stupid face and wanted to cut it off?. Oh the cuts on my arms? ‘ Battling with brambles in my garden, and they won’, ‘I was engaged in a duel to the death, and though I obviously won, I have some superficial cuts’. The blisters and burns, hmmmmm, more tricky, however, what about, ‘I was involved in studying an active volcano which erupted whilst I was in the crater’, or ‘I have become allergic to sitting next to people who are not nuts, go away’.

It is ok though, I have come to a contract with my CPNs boss, a lovely man. I have agreed that I will not self-destruct until 12.30pm today, when he will phone me again with another contract. Though I have been thinking that contracts should be mutually beneficial; I don’t die on his watch, therefore he is ok, and has done his job well. But what about me? Do I get a fiver for not deliberately self harming? A certificate? A bottle of vodka? I think not, but I will negotiate with him later.

So, going to see MP today would on one hand be pretty good, as I am looking a right old nutty state, but then again, the points I wish to make need to be listened to, understood and acted on as if I wasn’t stigmatised and discriminated because I am justjane.