Tum....te....tum

Today… well today is one of those days when I am defined by illness. I simply cannot cope. I have tried removing myself from people, tried driving, drawing, painting and pastels, no good, can’t find peace of mind. Have taken prescribed tablets, not too many, just the right prescribed amount. Am thinking of turning on telly and watching mindless crap, but can’t face the thought of wasting the day doing nothing. It is intermittently raining, so no beach and no walk. Got no money, so can’t waste day wandering around shops, and really I don’t want anything anyway. Have come up with plan to clean flat, but just remembered I did that yesterday. Thought about cleaning blinds in sitting room, but after event with rabbit and curtain pole earlier in the week, have decided against that.

I am not depressed, I have great drive and motivation to do things, and depression usually affects people’s ability to be motivated. No, not depressed.

I have tried being mindful, ie. Reminding myself that right now I am safe and that nothing harmful is going to happen, or at least nothing harmful is happening right now. Nope, that isn’t what is going on in my brain.

I am not bored, though I can’t paint, draw or do anything well today, it doesn’t really matter, I can still do it, just do it badly, and that’s not a problem, I only do it for me, it’s not like I am ever going to be a professional artist and find my livelihood depends on it. But that doesn’t seem to bring relief today.

Maybe I could write another letter of complaint to the Police about how they dealt with me when they detained me under section 136 of the Mental Health Act, but there seems little point as the last two letters have made no difference. Could compile all the information I need Oliver Colvile MP to see when I meet him next week. But have awful feeling that the meeting will be that horrid little pat on the head,’there, there dear’, and nothing will change.

Maybe I could go to Sainsburys and buy a bottle of their pink value plonk and drink that followed by vast amounts of vodka? At least then I would feel nothing.

Cutting is no longer an issue, at least not to my face. Ben, my CPNs boss, who I mentioned in yesterday s blog, came to see me. He had come up with a contract, that I wasn’t allowed to cut myself until 12.30pm of yesterday and I stuck to it. However, when he came to the flat yesterday , I mentioned to him that though I had stuck to the contract and not cut, I felt that contracts should be mutually beneficial, and that this one wasn’t. He had asked me not to use my method of dealing with my frustration and self hate, not replaced it with anything else, and in return, he had a  patient who hadn’t cut and he therefore had done a good job. He then asked me to agree to another contract. This time I had wised up to his contracts. He asked that I didn’t cut my face until after I completed a new form of therapy, DBT, psycho dynamic psychotherapy, EMDR, lobotomy, can’t remember what it was.Ha! I thought, not on your nelly mate, to satisfy this contract, I want something out of it too. I suggested a large bottle of vodka, he refused, I asked for a big box of diazepam, he refused, I asked for a balloon, he refused….. running out of ideas I asked for a t-shirt. We have now agreed, that in six months time, if I stick to my part of the contract, I will get a t-shirt which will state, ‘Bugger me, Ben was right!’. I have to say I am not sure I will wear it, but at least this time, we have almost a contract.

So, today, I am going to draw, very badly, some boats and some angels……..

Much love, peace and safety  to you all x

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.