Detox day two....

again, not much sleep, many lucid dreams. Dreams of things I don't want to remember, dreams of the past.... Woke really hot, drenched in sweat... but hey, still here!
Making the best of another hot overcast and rainy day by clearing out bathroom. Have washed down walls, tiles, skirting boards and floor. Polished mirror, cleaned shower tray. Scrubbed around seals of shower doors and cleaned both the outside and inside of the glass doors. Cleared through old makeup, odd bottles, of what seemed like a good idea at the time body lotions and hair serums and have decided that I do not need quite as many bottles of mascarra, have now cut down to three. Scrubbed loo until it is too good to use, might have to pee behind bush in backyard now. Motivated by this triumph, and a lovely smelling bathroom, decided to take on the kitchen.... second load of washing in, feeling good, though still desperately hot... think I will look up on Internet about detoxing at home...then clean kitchen cupboards etc....

Read up on detoxing at home, and after looking at three or four sites, consider rushing out to buy demon vodka and give up trying to do this on my own. Withdrawal can cause seizures, coma etc etc. Should only be done under medical supervision, they give you drugs to make this easy... but then read that first forty eight hours is the worst, and I have done that already.... struggle with thought that I could easily excuse myself for drinking tonight, as medical advice is against doing detox at home, but decide that keeping driving licence wins hands down, so keep on... decide to clean entire flat and not find any excuse to go out and find myself buying alcohol......

Last night.....

zzzzz.......
Usually getting to sleep involves a great concoction of vodka, sleeping tablets and meditation (then giving up and watching endless CSI, NCIS etc, whatever 5USA has to offer) But last night, after having over 1750 hits on my blog, and the amazing supportive comments, I was asleep by eleven, vodka untouched, meditations not needed, slept like a baby, with a feeling I haven't had for years.... peace of mind.
THANK YOU ALL
I feel as if I am doing and have done, something that really matters, and something I feel I have your support with. I no longer feel alone, yes I might feel lonely, but that is different.
I approach today with a new vigour, perhaps wrong word, resolution, that it really will be ok (soon), and ....... my lovely mate Nikki is bringing her epilator round at 2pm so I can wear my skirt without having spider legs growing from them!
Without sounding melodramatic guys and girls, thank you, your support has and is making such a difference to the way I am feeling about myself..... can't say more than that.
BUT will later when I have met the MP chap

What to do....?

I have spent much of the past three days wondering how to put my case to my MP? Infact, I have spent much of the past three days in tears wondering how on earth I can explain anything, when I have battered myself so badly with a razor, that the only thing I can do at the moment is to hide inside (thanks to Bev, who came to see me and was so non-judgemental and kind). Linda was right in her comment, I am here to put to rights the things, which other people with mental health problems cannot articulate as well. But, how can I explain to an MP, and this makes me cry now, why it is so important, and just how unjust so much is for people with mental health illness, when I have mashed myself up so much? I don't think I can make a valid point when look like I have been pushed through a food blender, to someone who will presumably not have much experience of total nutters (I have read everything there is to read about him on Internet, and he doesn't seem to have any published experience of us fruit cakes), and anyway, I will probably just sit in his office, cry for half and hour then get detained by the Police on their damned section 136 on my walk home. It does all seem so hopelessly pointless. Who am I, got retired out of a job I was damned good at because I am a nutter,to think I can change the world?
Think I will go for a fag and coffee and see if I can get some inspiration for a second.
Well, there you go, a quick espresso, and a rollie, and I think I have it. If I don't do it, no bugger else will, so I shall, even though I am a mess.....

Here's to espresso's, rollies, and loads of vodka, I SHALL CHANGE THE WORLD!

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

Goddamit, they will take away my drugs.... :o(

THIS IS A VERY HONEST ACCOUNT OF SOMETHING YOU MAY FIND OFFENSIVE, AND MIGHT BE BETTER OFF IGNORING THIS POST


One day this week, and I can't remember what day it was as I am totally stuck on today being Tuesday, and apparently it is in fact Sunday. I took 500mg of diazepam with 70cl of vodka, reason for was to die.
If you refer back to my complaint to the Police entry/post you may understand my motive for this even though you may not understand how I justified suicide, my thoughts of having no one who loved and cared for me, was my rationalisation for this. Yes, many of you will not understand, and I am sorry, and I accept you can't. Many of you may think it is an offence against God, Buddah, whatever you believe in, and maybe it is. But I can't exist without knowing that someone out there cares and accepts me, for the shitty, nutty, crazy  loony that I am.
Someone, who will remain nameless couldn't get hold of me of the phone, but didn't have the balls themselves to knock on the door and show some compassion, or at least just let me be, phoned the Police and  Paramedics who broke in through a window. I was unconscious. They chose to go against my wishes and to save me. I don't think, that once I woke up in hospital, I have ever been so pissed off about being alive, as I have ever been about anything else ever.
I tell you this with honesty, clarity, and with some idea of how things might get better. (But I can absolutely guarantee the secondary mental health team will not give me drugs again. Bless them, I surely let them down by doing this, and I am sorry that I did this with their prescribed drugs.)
The man who I loved has asked me to write down a list of things that he has to do to regain my trust, my love and my respect. Right now my reaction to this is for him to either lie down in front of a truck and die painfully, or I could try to stay off the vodka long enough to write the list, or I could do some self preservation, keep my phone off and not bother with him (Jesus, i nearly wrote another profanity again).

And...... the amazing thing, the thing I had not even thought about is the seemingly endless list of amazing friends who are there for me, who do love me for the fucked up nutter that I am. I could make a huge list and embarrass all of them, but it is ok to embarrass my brother, that is part of my role of being a sister, ha ha ha, my brother is the best. I haven't seen him for so many years, but you know what, even though we loathed each other as children, normal brother sister relationship, I couldn't love anyone more, obviously in a sisterly way, than I could love anyone.

Here's to brothers! To staying alive, but living somewhere else, to having my right to be utterly nuts, and being left alone. Yeay.... now I am going to drink copious amounts of vodka and go to sleep, much love you to you all, I think somewhere inside all of you are all probably a bits nuts, or wish you could be, that's what makes me love you more x

Vodka...you just got to love it, or love it

Thank you Russia for inventing Vodka

Why it isn't easy to like me...

as you know, I suffer from a few pretty devastating mental illnesses. The reasons for which I cannot publish, for their libellous content, but the symptoms are not!
I cannot cope with negative emotions, they consume me. The result of this leads to me abusing alcohol, cutting my arms and legs with blades, overdosing on sedatives and attempting suicide.
I wish with everything in me that I was well and that I did not do this, but I do. I it is not "attention seeking", as has been suggested in the past by a so called friend, it is not a waste of Police and Ambulance services, as has been suggested by a Police Officer, it is not up to me, I don't want to feel like this,I WANT TO BE WELL. it is the result of an illness, of which I have no control, the reasons for cannot be discussed, as previously mentioned, they are libellous.
Believe me, no one wants to feel like this. I think everyone wants to feel happy, or at least a state of normalness, peace, safety and love.
Tonight, I had a conversation with the man of my dreams, who believes, erroneously that it is up to me to be better. Yes, I partake in the pill/potions/therapy etc which I am glad to take part in and engage fully, but to be honest it just ain't hitting the spot.
Yesterday I took a combination of diazepam and vodka, the point of this was to die. I am frustrated by my attempts to be well not working, and the effects it has had on my relationships with other people I love. It must be damn had work being friends and loving someone who just wants to die. Today, having been thwarted by the attempts of the emergency services to die, I cut have cut up my arms and legs. I have done this in an attempt to supercede the overwhelming emotions of self hate and guilt I feel for having failed to die, and for hating that I will have to cope with another day, tomorrow, feeling that I am the worlds worst girlfriend, mother, ex-wife, daughter etc.
BUT .... a word of hope, we do all have friends, strong friends who are there for us, the non-judgemental, loving friends who may not have the answers, but who are there.... love them, like they love you x x and you will find acceptance, not for the illness you suffer from, but for YOU x x much love to you friend, you know who you are x

Once upon a time.....

....sadly, I have to miss the plot, because it is libellous, and the end isn't happily ever after either.
There are times when 'manic defense against chronic dysphoria', seems not only impossible, but also utterly pointless. Not the writing, the writing helps, but the condition. The fight to remain well against all odds, seems more and more like putting myself in an undefended trench whilst the enemy fire from all sides with ever increasing power.
God, Buddah, my CPN, Psychiatrist, therapists.. etc etc know how hard I try to do the right thing and to stay safe, not only from myself but also from those who have made it their lives work to manipulate, corrupt, abuse and take what they want (you can refer to the entry about fault and blame too!).
But those selfish souls have won, I give in. From now onwards they can do what they want, there is no justice, no end, no closure to this.

I will move far away, away from them all, their memories and their poison, and live in a yurt or a finca, with a few chickens and a goat, and plant seeds. I will write poetry and be regarded as slightly odd by my distant neighbours,so they will leave me alone. Occasionally I will go to an Internet cafe and write my blog, and drink good coffee.

But for now, today, I am taking my house rabbit, Dave, and my tent and I am going to practise living where no one knows me. I am going to go camping. I am going to behave slightly oddly, so that I am left alone. I will drink copious amounts of vodka, and sing loudly, and very badly. I will write my blog on bits of paper bags, and update when I return.

In the meantime I hope you all are well, are loved and are safe.

Much love x