Tag: selfharm

We got there in the end

Andy Young1 Comment

Hello. Firstly I would like to apologize for not doing a post yesterday. I took the easy way out and did multiple QOTDs. Things are going well. Ish. I did self-harm in the end last night because I couldn’t stop the stupid thoughts going through my mind. Bit of damage, but nothing the dr needs to see.

My best friend emailed late last night which was awesome as the missing company now. He is doing well with things but also has his own battles at the moment as well. We are trying to arrange a date to meet up in the city, book a hotel and spend the night catching up. That will be great as yeah, social contact is needed.

As I was desperate to leave the house (and not just walk the dogs for 5 minutes) I drove over to the supermarket nearby. I walked around and my god I was tired by the end of it. I think I bought two random items. See, us British have this thing that if you go into a shop you MUST buy something otherwise they will think you are stealing something. It’s very annoying but ingrained in our DNA. I was quite surprised that it wore me out as much as it did. I really need to recover faster and do the walking more often. Even if it’s just walking somewhere alone so I can take my time and not be dragged.

Ended up watching MasterChef till the early hours and we all didn’t wake up till after 9am. I love Sundays for that reason. D & S are going to a roller skating place today, B is home with me. I pressed a button by mistake and it deleted his 700 follower tik tok account. I’m not in his best books at the moment. It happened when I handed the phone back and my finger must have touched the X and closed the age verification thing he needed to do.

Anxious about the meeting on Tuesday. It’s with my social worker, then the mental health consultant, and following that the housing officer for the area. It’s in a place I don’t know. I think I know how to get there. I’m just anxious as its a few people in a room talking about me which I’m not very good at. I forget to ask questions, I muddle the answers and say the wrong thing and not to mention the social awkwardness which when it kicks in I just put up a wall and become confident Andy and everything is fine, and no issues in the world. So yeah. trying to forget about that until Tuesday morning.

The Pokemon blister packs remain unopened.

Black dog

Andy YoungLeave a comment

The black dog was always there. It followed me everywhere I went, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce. I could never see it clearly, but I knew it was there. It was the depression.

It started slowly. At first, I just felt a little bit down. I didn’t want to go out, and I didn’t enjoy the things I used to. But then, it got worse. I started to have trouble sleeping, thinking, and existing, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I felt worthless and hopeless.

I tried to fight it, but the black dog was too strong. It knocked me down, and I couldn’t get back up. I stopped going to work, and I stopped seeing my friends. I just stayed in all day, feeling sorry for myself.

I was trapped in my house. I had a chronic illness that made it difficult for me to move around, and I had a social anxiety disorder that made it difficult for me to interact with people. I was also experiencing a functional neurological event that made it impossible for me to leave my house.

I felt like I was all alone. I didn’t know how to get better. I thought about self-harm as the only answer right now. A way to release the pain and feel something else. Even just of a second.

One day, I was lying on the sofa, feeling sorry for myself, when I heard a voice.

“You’re not alone,” the voice said.

I looked up, and I saw a figure standing in the doorway. It was a woman, and she was wearing a white dress.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I’m the light,” she said. “I’m here to help you see through the darkness.”

The woman came over to me and stood next to the edge of my sofa. She took my hand, and she looked into my eyes.

“You’re not worthless,” she said. “You’re not hopeless. You’re a valuable person, and you deserve to be happy.”

The woman’s words touched me deeply. I started to cry.

“Thank you,” I said. “I needed to hear that.”

The woman smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said. “Now, it’s time for you to see the light.”

The woman moved closer, and she held out her hand. I took her hand, and she led me out of the lounge. We walked through the house, and we stepped outside.

The sun was shining, and the birds were singing. I took a deep breath, and I felt the warmth of the sun on my face.

“I can see the light,” I said.

The woman smiled. “I knew you could,” she said. “Now, go and live your life.”

The woman turned and walked away, and I watched her go. I knew that I would never forget her. She had helped me to see the light, and she had given me hope.

I turned and walked back into my house. I was still feeling a little bit down, but I knew that I was going to be okay. I had seen the light, and I knew that there was hope for me.

The black dog was always there. It followed me everywhere I went, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce. I could never see it clearly, but I knew it was there. It was the depression.It started slowly. At first, I just felt a little bit down. I didn’t want to go out with my friends, and I didn’t enjoy the things I used to. But then, it got worse. I started to have trouble sleeping, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I felt worthless and hopeless.I tried to fight it, but the black dog was too strong. It knocked me down, and I couldn’t get back up. I stopped going to work, and I stopped seeing my friends. I just stayed in bed all day, feeling sorry for myself.I was trapped in my house. I had a chronic illness that made it difficult for me to move around, and I had a social anxiety disorder that made it difficult for me to interact with people. I was also experiencing a functional neurological event that made it impossible for me to leave my house.I felt like I was all alone. I didn’t know how to get better. I thought about self-harm as the only answer right now.One day, I was lying in bed, feeling sorry for myself, when I heard a voice.”You’re not alone,” the voice said.I looked up, and I saw a figure standing in the doorway. It was a woman, and she was wearing a white dress.”Who are you?” I asked.”I’m the light,” she said. “I’m here to help you see through the darkness.”The woman came over to me and sat down on the edge of my bed. She took my hand, and she looked into my eyes.”You’re not worthless,” she said. “You’re not hopeless. You’re a valuable person, and you deserve to be happy.”The woman’s words touched me deeply. I started to cry.”Thank you,” I said. “I needed to hear that.”The woman smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said. “Now, it’s time for you to see the light.”The woman stood up, and she held out her hand. I took her hand, and she led me out of the bedroom. We walked through the house, and we stepped outside.The sun was shining, and the birds were singing. I took a deep breath, and I felt the warmth of the sun on my face.”I can see the light,” I said.The woman smiled. “I knew you could,” she said. “Now, go and live your life.”The woman turned and walked away, and I watched her go. I knew that I would never forget her. She had helped me to see the light, and she had given me hope.I turned and walked back into my house. I was still feeling a little bit down, but I knew that I was going to be okay. I had seen the light, and I knew that there was hope for me.

Then I woke up. The feeling of depression slowly started to spread until it was all I could think about. I tried to focus on the dream, I tried really hard but the pain and constant reminder of what my life is blocked the light from shining through. It was a nightmare. Tormenting me that things could get better. The person on the other end of the phone yesterday said that self-harm serves a purpose and if it ultimately stops me from taking the final action then it’s a means to an end. Except I know its not. I want to, so badly, but I don’t think I could stop if I did. Maybe hurting my arm with something that no one can see would help. I’m scared of the reaction. It’s not like anyone sees me naked. Not that they would ever want to anyway.

Imploded brains

Andy YoungLeave a comment

I was going to do a QOTD but need to do some typing therapy. So, there was a saga with my meds not turning up on time, only a couple that I needed were missing from the several I take. I started a new increase in meds on Monday which ruined the first part of the week. It took ages for the meds to come through and I missed the delivery so was without for 48hrs which has caused me some pain issues. It was nice though when D collected them, despite some BS that she is going through at the moment. BS is some shit that went down at her work. I took the meds and felt instantly better. The problem is I’m having side effects, whenever I move my head it feels like electric shocks going off. Not tazer proportion shock but enough to bring your shoulders up and clench.

I also realized I had the curtains closed almost every day this week. D noticed when she came home early yesterday. It became a comfortable habit to just block myself at home to feel safe I suppose.

I’ve also secretly been taking out certain meds namely (propranolol, cyclizine & pro banthine) because I had this brain wave that the beta blocker was slowing my heart down and making me fatter, the cyclizine because it interacts with my other meds and pro banthine that stops sweat because of fear of it making me retain water thus fatter.

So I’m starting to think that since I’m still fat the experiment has failed, might as well go back on them and just work on my social problems and self-sabotage instead. I read this amazing thing about how self-harm isn’t just cutting lines along your arms, it can be missing meds, taking more meds, and things in that vein. I never considered that before. If I look back I can comfortably say there have been several times I’ve taken small-batch overdoses in response to punishing myself.

Interesting theory and way of looking at it, so I will watch out for more in the future.

The problems with B have gotten worse. He has dysphonia, well we are working with the school SEN & doctors to get a referral to CAMHS for assessment. There was an appointment this morning that D attended which ended with my messaging the GP to let them know and for them to send the referral through to the hospital. The school is putting things in place to try and help him. The dysphonia means B’s fight or flight response kicks in when he hears disagreeable noises such as people chewing also people moving or twitching their legs or heavy breathing.

It has taken an immense toll on the family so we are invested in making this easier for him in any way that we can. We have headphones, earplugs, and white noise. It’s sad to say that I had to acquire inhalers to try and see if that would stop my loud breathing. I even started taking shit tons of anti-congestion tablets for the past two weeks to see if that would help. It didn’t. He still screamed at me for breathing. He’s not himself when he has that. I just keep telling myself that. It was so horrible one day I took a mouthful of pills to an overdose level with a liver as buggered as mine. I actually have done that twice now with the way he behaves towards me. It scary throws up anxiety and makes me feel ashamed to be alive because if I wasn’t here, it would partially solve the problem, which is all I want for him.

D must have felt it too when she joked about a suicide pact.

It’s hard. S has ASD and now Ben is with his thing, then throw my crap into the mix, and then D has anxiety/depression and it’s a whole shit show of everything never being normal. Can’t go out to eat with the kids as ben will freak out, I’ll have a panic attack and run back to the car. Then I can always take a pill to calm down, the rest of the family cannot.

We are going to try some recommended techniques with B tonight. Have him stay in the same room as I and D eat for one minute. He can do anything he wants to cope with (coping skills, fidget toys) but needs to last a minute. Then we do that three times a day during the weekend and once a day during the week. The logic is that it makes things worse if we just give into in. He has to be reprogrammed and forced to cope with the issue without getting violent. My only problem with this is, it sounds like a cruel punishment to expose someone to something which forces them into a horrible situation. I guess you have to weigh up the pros and cons.

Hopefully, it won’t be for nothing and it will help him have a normal life. And maybe I can stop punishing myself for it because for sure I know tonight I’ll swallow a few more strips.

Blank Pages

Andy YoungLeave a comment

After all the stuff that has been happening mental health wise, my doctor made an urgent referral to the hospital again so I can see my consultant. I thought in preperation I would type down my thoughts. What I typed I dont know as I didnt look at the screen, printed it and closed notepad. Yes. I still use notepad. Programmers habits die hard. I’ve folded it and put it in my pocket. What I typed came from just letting my mind do the typing, so am not feeling too great after that because its knocked my anxiety and paranoia up a notch. I’ll give it to the consultant at the end of the meeting because I’m scared about what I typed. That way I can make a run to the door before they can stop me 😉

It was so hard though. Typing out what you are feeling is never easy but when you really have a hard time processing and dealing with emotions its the ultimate block. Well. Not a block. It either comes out manically and fast or nothing at all. Extremes. Suppose thats why they call it Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder. Learn something new every day.

B’s communion is tomorrow which I’m looking forward to. Hes been working towards it for a while and we’ve got a big tent up in the garden for a meal with friends and family tomorrow. Due to covid the only people allowed in the church are me and D which is a shame as I know D’s mum wanted to come as well.

The dog, Nina, is doing well. No more fits or episodes in over a week. Hopefully it was just from stress and now that shes chilled everything has calmed down for her. I’m guessing due to being starved for the 5 years of her life, her obsession for eating food won’t stop. Shes still underweight but we’ve been sticking to a planned diet and shes slowly putting on weight again which is great. Problem is we have to hide everything food related. She demolished a bag of brioche rolls (no chocolate) when I went upstairs for two minutes the other day. Sad in a way but hopefully she’ll come to trust the regular feeding and be happy with that.

…

Meat tendoriser to the arm. Best reset the SH timer from last September then. F*cking brain.