Heart of Misery

I don't want to feel anything today
(I don't want to feel anything today)
Anything at all and just be alone
(I just want to know that you want to know)
I don't want to live through another day
(I don't want to live through another day)
Meaningless to fight for the victory
I just want to dive in the heart of misery

One love, One life
Locked me in the heart of misery
One loss, one fight
Locked me in the heart of misery

I will never be anything again
(I will never be anything again)
I'm tired to give, I don't want to try
(I'm afraid to live, I'm afraid to die)
I just want to fly, throw it all away
(I just want to fly, throw it all away)
Meaningless to fight for your sympathy
I just want to drown in the heart of misery

One love, One life
Locked me in the heart of misery
One loss, one fight
Locked me in the heart of misery

Heart of Misery: The Rasmus

I gave in last night, I just couldn't help myself. I thought I was so tired that I just couldn't cry any more, I couldn't feel any more and all I could do was sleep. I have spent so much time in bed at the moment. I get up as late as possible and go to bed as early as possible. I just couldn't stay awake. Interacting with people just made me feel worst. It zapped my energy more. Then I had a bad shift at work, I even had a few people come up to me and tell me that I wasn't myself and they wanted to know what was wrong. I just told them I was overly tired. I got home and I was determined to go to bed.

However, I was in the flat by myself, no one else was home. I put my music on (thru headphones), I drew my curtains, sat in the dark and before I knew it I started to cry, I honestly thought I couldn't cry any more but I did. I sobbed and more water came out my eyes than I thought was possible. The I reached for my razor. I held it between my fingers, turning it around and around, weaving it in and out. Then I took it in my left hand, I had no power to resit it's song to me, I placed it into my skin and I dragged it across. It felt good, but what shocked me was the fact it really hurt. It doesn't usually hurt until I start calming down. This hurt though, I could feel the pain. Rather than only three of four cuts, I did thirteen cuts. Although I hurt, it felt wonderful, the pain was euphoric, the blood was fun to watch as it came out as ruby droplets. I do not regret what I have done, I just thought that my will was stonger than this. However, I do except the fact that I have been slowly getting worse for weeks. I no longer just think of self harming, but of other things.

The strange thing is that I have felt better today, not fantastic, and I don't think I'll not manage to cut myself again tonight. I feel like the storm in my head is slowing down, blowing itself out. I'm glad I have another day to try and calm my head down and raise my energy levels before I have to face another week at work.

We also have a team day on Wednesday and I really don't want to go, so many people are going to be there, and it's hard enough to cover marks from people who know what I do, but the whole team and trustees, what the hell am I going to do. I also have to spend the day with her the person who has caused me so much pain, and still causing me pain, and still filling me with hatred and bile. I would really like it if I could let it go but I can't.

All I can think about it getting my razor and cutting again. The pain is like nothing I've felt before, and I want it again. I know I need to tell someone, any one but I'm scared they'll take this away from me. The one thing that actually makes me feel something, feel something positive and they'll take it away from me. I don't want that. I'm going to keep this to myself for a while. Why should I let someone take this away from me.

Physcotherapy

I know I haven't said much about this, and in fact most of me talking about it has happened on my other blog. But with what came up at my meeting last Tuesday, I don't feel I can write over there, or tell anyone. If someone, who knows I went, asks me about it I just tell them everything was 'fine'. The really answer to that question is not fine, in fact it's the complete opposite. My head is feeling like it's about to explode.

I was okay after the meeting, but then again I was going straight to work so I really couldn't think too much about what was said, but different aspects of the meeting kept popping into my head. I didn't want them too because I had to open for the youth and I couldn't collapse in front of them. So I pushed them from my concious brain. This was fine until I got home.

I got back to the flat, and the first thing I did was to open an alcoholic drink and within minutes I had drunk it, so I opened a second. Now I hadn't eaten all day. This isn't a good thing for me, I'm meant to be eating, my system can't take me not eating. If I don't keep my food intake up I'm going to become really ill, but that's by-the-by. The alcohol went straight to my head and the meeting came back to me and started to swim in my head. I was getting agitated. I could recognise it in myself. I wanted my razor, I reached for it and kept it beside me.

Basically what came out of the meeting is the following:

1. I'm in the high risk category for committing suicide. This has completely fucked with my head. I don't feel suicidal. Sure I want to cut myself but there is a difference between cutting yourself and being suicidal. But still the therapist is worried that I might take that I step further and actually end my life. Then I looked back at my last attempt. That did come out of nowhere. I hadn't cut for quite a while, I was in a dark place... certainly darker than I am now.... but I hadn't thought about it. I just did it. I wrote a will, instructions for what to do, how to tell people etc.... but I just did it. This time though I have just thought about it once, so I'm thinking I don't want to do it.
2. The therapist wanted to convince me that I was jealous of my sister, because she has a relationship, is getting married, has the house etc. I have to say although one day I would like that, I'm not ready for it right now and I don't want it. Maybe five or six years down the line, but certainly not now. The therapist couldn't understand why I wasn't jealous though.
3. My biological other half and my feeling towards him, confused the therapist. She wanted to make out I was angry at him, that I was hurting because he wasn't around. How can I feel like that, I have no idea what it means to have two parents. I never had it, I have no memories of him. She asked if I had any photos and I said yes I did. She asked how I felt when I saw his in them. I said I felt nothing. She didn't like that, she wrote something on her pad and that was that.
4. She asked what would I be like in group therapy. I told her I wouldn't like that at all. I don't trust and there is no way I would open up to a group of people. I would be hard enough if it was just one person. She said how I had open up to her. I said that I've told her things most people know about me. Nothing I've told her is a secret.
5. We also talked about my cutting. We only talked about that because it's on my medical notes. This is when the whole suicide thing came up. We didn't talk a lot about it, we will do that at the next meeting, but she asked me what I felt when I did it. So I tried to remember what it was I did feel when I cut. The problem is that I don't often know what I feel, there is so much there that I can't name everything I feel. She also asked about how I cut. I told her slow and deliberate. As I calm down the cuts get less deep and lighter. Less blood.
6. We talked about the mask I put on for the world to see. The happy go lucky nothing bothers me mask. The mask I will show everyone because I don't want them to see me crumbling inside. I don't want people to know just how crap I am feeling.
   
7. We never really talked about work. We did talk a little and she said that it must be exhausting for me, emotionally as well as physically (teenagers are not easy). She said it must be equally exhausting because I have this mask on that the world sees. So I have two lots draining what energy I have. None of this is easy.
8. We talked about how crap school was for me.
9. We also talked about physcotherapy itself and how it's about accepting what one feels and examining ones life, what happened and how things from the past can affect us etc. This can be very hard if you have a persecution complex. I didn't think I had this, but she explained it that if I had ever thought 'if it happens to anyone, it's happen to me' or 'why does this always happen to me' or 'why bother doing that it's only go wrong anyway', then you have this complex. Well that's me down to a T. So I'm going to struggle. But if I don't do this, what's left for me. What more can I do? What do I need to do to get better? I can't keep going on like this.
   

As all this was going around and around my head I got more and more agitated. I'm not sure why though. I picked up my empty bottle and in tears and anger I let out a scream and threw it at my wall. I didn't smash, so I tried again. It still didn't smash. I fell to the floor in tears because even that I couldn't get right. (In the cold light of day I worked out why, the plaster is too soft for it to smash, all I have now is huge dents in my wall and missing plaster work which I must fill in at some point).

I cried for hours. I don't think my flatmates heard me, they didn't make any issue of it. In fact I haven't seen them all week to see if they noticed anything. All week this stuff and more has been going around and around and around and around and around and around my head and I just can't get it to stop. My next appointment isn't until the 26th.

What I have to think about is if this is the right thing for me to do, and if it is I have to sign a piece of paper that says I won't attempt to kill myself. I will be given a CPN (Community Psychiatric Nurse) and a number to call when I'm in crisis at 3 in the morning. I may even have to go back on meds.

What have I got myself into, why did I get into such a mess. My life wasn't meant to be like this. Where is the happy girl I used to be. I want her back.

Valentines Day

I think I did a really stupid thing. I sent my flatmate an anonymous valentines card. I got someone else to write it, and post it so it wasn't my handwriting and it wasn't with a local postmark.

Part of me wants him to work out it was from me, but part of me wishes I never had the idea and that I never sent it. It didn't turn up today, which means it'll probably turn up tomorrow.

I think it has to be the dumbest idea I have ever thought off and acted upon... why did I have to be so stupid!!!!!