Well hum.

Seem to be over the majority of the side effects now. Did reach some low points - inability to care for snail babies (v important) due to the parkinsonism, a makeshift chamberpot due to failure to manage the stairs, best-friend-at-home having to lift me into bed after an attempt at brushing teeth using water in a cup on the floor. All rather comical now.
I guess tomorrow i have to go to the doctors and admit my idiocy, and somehow persuade him to give me more pills, still let me start withdrawing, and let me go off and sort myself out. Hmm. Have a bad feeling it won't neccessarily go to plan though, expect to be interrupted by some combination of CPN, crisis team, emergency blood tests and/or hospital. With one of the meds 1000mg alone is enough to kill, and i took 900mg as part of a cocktail. But i feel fine so i'm not worried.
Got to get self to the jobcentre or CAB and start my appeal asap. And tomorrow afternoon am being interviewed by a friend-of-a-friend about being vegetarian (for some reason).

I've taken no meds since the OD and i'm so much less drowsy.

Everyone's being a pain about food/weight/ED stuff. Have got zilch appetite because i just feel low. The only things i seem to be able to motivate myself to eat are sugary crap. Sugary coffee, gingerbread men (don't know why), pick&mix sweets and plain white rice are the only things i feel like consuming. Weight has dropped noticably and apparently i "look like shit". My housemates even have brought the subject up, and i had been keeping quiet about my ED past so they had no idea initially. It's annoying because i've done so well to leave ED-related thinking behind (so much so that people have had no idea at all) but the physical effects of my mood are looking like a relapse from the outside.

This discussion is interesting. I dislike the term "service user" very much. And i've been scolded for referring to my problems as "mental illness" about as many times as professionals have called it that. Some people call it "your demons" or "your difficulties", but i'm not sure about those either. I have a feeling that "mental illness" as a term is not used as much as it would because it builds itself into ones identity and makes it harder to let go of.

The strain at home is difficult. Everyone seems to be going downhill, and are brought down further by being upset about the others. There's been fighting (terrifying physical variety included), bitching, relapses, tears, and a general feeling of yuckiness.

( potentially triggering )

THIS THIS THIS.

That ^ epitomises quite a lot of what's annoying me about the welfare reform shit. It's bad enough that i've been deemed completely 'fit to work' on the basis of the most vague patronising questionnaire EVER, but even if i was still on ESA the whole Pathways to Work bollocks is still fucked.
It's upsetting me increasingly. It's not like i need anything else to confirm my unworthiness as a person without this crap, the continuous implication (or... more than 'implication'!) that all i need to do is get off my ass and ignore the fact that i'm not well. If i were well enough to work I FUCKING WOULD YOU FUCKING WANKERS. If i were well enough to work i'd NOT be years behind educationally (my god, i'm old enough to have a degree..), i'd NOT have had to quit my weekend job, i'd NOT have had to drop down to part-time at uni, i'd NOT have exclusions in my record from school, i'd NOT have had teams of support workers, i'd NOT have had to take my fucking MUM to school with me, i'd NOT have to drop the university place i worked SO FUCKING HARD FOR at college THAT I RISKED MY LIFE FOR IT.
If i were fucking well enough to work then i'd be getting a degree right now. I'd have been working part-time for years. I'd have travelled. I'd be able to drive. I'd have healthy relationships. I'd be embarking on a career. My family would be proud of me. I'd be proud of me. I'd NOT have spent so much time in hospitals and clinics. I'd NOT have sliced my flesh up, filled my body with toxic quantities of pills, thrown myself into rush-hour traffic, drunk myself into oblivion, starved myself. I'd NOT have torn my family apart. I'd NOT be on a meagre quantity of benefits where i have to continuously admit my failings (aka symptoms) to 'prove' my uselessness. I'd NOT be living in a doss-house with drug addicts, dealers, alcoholics and criminals, with more-than-regular contact with police.

The whole being-pushed-into-work thing continuously implies that i CHOSE all this shit. Or that i'm simply STUPID or LAZY. The implication that i chose this life offends me so deeply. I hate that. WHY THE FUCK WOULD I DO THAT?! WHAT THE FUCK WOULD THAT ACHIEVE?!

I'm just so tired. I don't want to keep 'proving' to people that i'm a failure. I don't want to fight anymore. I just feel so exhausted in every way. It's tiring enough fighting for health, let alone fighting to prove my ill-health as well. I'm slowly sinking back into the murk. I could talk about the way all this bollocks has made me more unwell mentally, but you've heard it all before. I just want to be well. Or at least whilst not being well not be patronised in every way imaginable.

At the end of last week i decided "Fuck it". Usually that phrase means me impulsively diving into something destructive, but this time i zoomed off north to Preston and stayed at AF's (long-time readers can probably remember the drama-fest that living with AF was!) house for a few days. Much partying and clubbing and so on. I actually discovered the key to the appeal of clubbing - you have to like the music. AH. In Preston i visited The Warehouse which has 3 floors, including one that was heavy rock and metal - now THAT is more like it.
AF is still as endearingly annoying as ever. Her complete lack of logic is amazing. Keeping the heating off to 'save money' whilst everything smells of damp, towels literally grow mould and she uses an electric heater and her hair-dryer for essential heating/drying (and electricity doesn't cost...??!). Spending all her money on alcohol and therefore not having any toilet roll. Etc.
AF has surprised me by sticking to her new diet (no meat, no dairy), though she's become much more sensible about it - letting herself have small amounts of dairy to prevent her binging on it. I'm surprised. And she's not calling it "vegan" anymore which pleases me.

I've been treading the line between me feeling 'safe' in my own mind and 'not safe' for the past 4-5 weeks, but the latest money/benefits shit has pushed me too far to the 'not safe' side. The self-harming, drinking, disorganised, forgetful, panic-attacky, spaced out, lack-of-appetite, clingy, teary kind of 'not safe'. It's not too bad really considering how much worse i've been in the past, but it's just frustrating to be back in this state yet again when i want to make PROGRESS, not go backwards.

Had the big psych team meeting. My med withdrawal should begin in a couple of weeks and last a month. When i showed my no-benefits-for-you-anymore letter to them there was much near-swearing and grumbling, and my support worker is due to get in touch with the psych units CAB for me.

Today i went with best-friend-at-home to his appointment at the Drug and Alcohol Misuse Service. I was actually really impressed by it. I was expecting it to be like MH services (aka, shit and patronising) but it was so good. Especially the drug counsellor - he was really down-to-earth and spoke on a level that was good for best-friend-at-home as he feels intimidated easily.
We went on to the Jobcentre because best-friend-at-home has benefit problems too to sort out - he applied for a community care grant (which is for helping people becoming independent after being in supported accomodation) to buy furniture for his new council flat (he has literally nothing - he's sleeping on the floor, and doesn't even have a fridge, cooker, any furniture...nothing). But he was turned down and all he's been offered is a loan which he has to start paying back immediately out of his JSA and is barely enough to get just a fridge. Wankers.

I'm still learning SO much as a result of living here. When thinking about it the thing that strikes me as my biggest lesson is revisiting the old "don't judge a book by its cover" - you must never judge someone by their appearance. If i look at all my at-home friends you think things like "chav", "Asbo youth", "teenage parents", etc - all those phases that newspapers and so on sneer about all the time. That's the kindof people they are and look like. But their chav appearance is deceptive. One of my best friends here was a teenage mum and looks/speaks chav... but she got all As in her GCSEs, is into lots of the same stuff as me (she paints, she plays guitar, etc), she even had a stereotypical middleclass childhood and went to an all girls private school. You'd never know by looking at her. My best-friend-at-home is interested in history and architecture, and today we walked round the old town looking at the Roman ruins, the castle and the cathedral. All the boys act really tough, but that too is deceptive - they're scared of spiders, they like to make hot chocolate before bed, when i doze off and am right on the edge of sleep best-friend-at-home tucks me in, and they're not afraid to show their vulnerability to eachother.
The thing that's touched me the most is how close everyone is and how fiercely protective everyone is of one another. Two of my friends came close to eviction because they took the blame for something their friend did. With me they always check up on me to make sure i'm okay, keep drugs away (weed is smoked out the window), and generally look after me. Everyone's so lovely.

FUCKING WHAT..

So after all these months of battling with my benefits, we've got the biggest of all....: i am not entitled to ESA and i am no longer being paid (and am consequently no longer receiving housing benefit and council tax benefit). They've received sicknotes, they've received the medical questionnaire filled in in great detail, they have letters from my consultant.... but apparently the 20 minute medical with a nurse over-rules all that. In the work capability exam i scored 0 points - and you need 15 points to qualify as fit for work.

Yeah.
100% healthy and fit for work.
And now have to claim jobseekers. HA.
Obviously not, because i now have to appeal. Fortunately i'm seeing the support worker, CPN and psychiatrist tomorrow for the big Med-Withdrawal Meeting, so can get them to stick their noses in and do something useful for once.

In other more positive news, Emmy phoned me today for a chat. This is a Big Deal because she's not talked to me once (except out of neccessity) since we left home. Em is crazily busy with uni - she seems to have really taken to it (though she'll never admit it). She goes off to London lots to see plays, and goes out drinking with her friends (and boyfriend!) all the time.
I told Em that i was withdrawing from my meds. She has a huge fear about me doing this because of the first time i changed meds and had my meds stopped for a few days - i ended up in hospital after some kindof mad night of serious SI. She's told me that i'm not to try kill myself and if i do i should phone her so she can remind me about all the good things in life. This is HUGE. Words can't describe what this means in terms of my relationship with Em and her relationship with my problems. Her saying something like that is just unbelievable.

Since my last LJ i've just not been away from best-friend-at-home for more than minutes. Got another friend here who i'll call 2nd-best-friend-at-home and i've barely been away from her too. It's holding me stable, but this is too clingy really.

We've done painting, listened to loud music, watched films, had sleepovers in my room, gone to town, gone with eachother to appointments and stuff, i visited best-friend-at-home's new council flat, made fondue. It's been fun.

I think that really us 3 are holding eachother together. best-friend-at-home is stressed out by moving into a a flat with nothing in, with no money, and a huge pile of paperwork and bills, all whilst trying to keep off alcohol and drugs. 2nd-best-friend-at-home is struggling particularly because there's a good chance her new boyfriend died in a car accident today (waiting for confirmation), and that's on top of her terminally ill baby and MH problems, etc. And there's me, who's fucking up for no decent reason really, but i don't know where i'd be right now if it weren't for these two.

This morning our support worker dragged us out of bed and out to a cafe (actually the cafe where i've applied to volunteer) for a community meeting. There was us 3, our support worker, social worker, head of the neighbourhood watch, and 3 police officers. They're trying to improve relations between Catch22 residents and the neighbourhoods we live in. Catch22 residents (understandably!) get quite a bad name. We did REALLY well and impressed them by not appearing like wasted loud-gobbed teenagers and making good suggestions to improve the areas safety, and now we're in the support workers good books. 

Two days til the meeting to plan my med withdrawal. About time.

I wish i didn't feel so torn up and on the edge of a fucking abyss.

Penny Red hits it on the head again.

I feel like such a bad LJ-friend because i'll read friends entries several times over but just can't think of anything to say. Not even anything fluffy and unthoughtful. It's annoying me.

Just stopping by briefly...

Today i went to Skegness with Simon. It's my birthday outing as such. We walked on the beach, paddled in the sea (in wellies), wasted too much change in the arcades, bought candyfloss and rock. We stopped by Simon's sisters house and i played with their cat. And then we went to Simon ex-bosses firework/bonfire party briefly.
Photos...

Quite quiet in the house now. Just me, Simon and the new girl around.

Someone has stolen our big TV from the living room. Don't know how/who because we're good at keeping doors locked and there's no sign of a break-in.
Pfft.

Not so quiet outside. There's been big fights in the street all day involving men whacking eachother with big bits of wood. Cue lots of riot police, police dogs, riot vans, etc.
And a woman was stripped naked, raped and murdered just round the corner from here.

Not feeling so very safe really.

Too many police, too much drama kthnx.
Violent drunk housemate was released this morning and was immediately evicted. Girlfriend (and other housemate) has left too to be with him (people are weird..) for a couple of weeks. So it's just me and the new girl here, and only 2 people next door (technically speaking - a kid is sleeping on the floor in the attic) too. Very quiet now.

Am very excited about the Christmas-ising of Starbucks and Costas. Gingerbread latte, creme brulee latte, dark cherry mocha, toffee nut latte, eggnog latte......OMGZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11

I like this.

I want to get off out and do stuff but i've got to wait for the police. The couple in my house broke up and he went on a drunken rampage kicking down her door and putting his fist through a window.
Nice.

Everyone has more energy when they're happy and excited and less when they're sad. I feel different. When my mood is flat i have no energy. When i'm happy i feel so full of energy it's like i'm bouncing on air (i've always been like that - hyper, tend to get overexcited). I'll always need more sleep than usual, whatever my mood.
There's definitely a psychological element to this tiredness thing. Maybe it's a combination of meds (there's something to be said for a hardcore stoner to say I look stoned out my head), a physical manifestation of depression (aka sheer exhaustion lasting from having pushed myself too far all these years), anaemia/ED stuff, and quite likely a somatic thing - unconsciously trying to maintain my 'sick role' while everything else (depression, ED, anxiety disorders) get better.

I'm learning stuff like crazy here. Moving into this house is a really damn good thing for me. I'm learning so much from the others. Like that it's okay to let go, to be yourself however you're like, to take big risks, that you'll survive through whatever life throws at you, that there ARE people who care and understand, that you don't have to live a lie, that you can be proud to be who you are despite not 'making it' in the conventional/middleclass/educational/career-oriented kindof way.
No wonder students drink so much. It's the only way they know that's acceptable to let go of the facade of perfectness. 

I live by "musts" and "shoulds" all the time. onelastgo tried to get me to stop saying "should" but i never realised the relevence until now. She sussed stuff before i did. She's let go of the expectations placed upon her and is just living. I didn't understand until the past couple of weeks. It's everything from "i need to get a degree to get a good job" to "i must eat grapes in multiples of 2" to "i should do a piece of artwork every day". Life is so goal-oriented, and maybe we're too busy trying to achieve all our goals to remember to LIVE.

I had more to say but life has gotten in the way - my friends are outside so i'm off to watch them hurl beercans at eachother.

My goodness, my last post was rather too self-pitying and whiny really. Get over it KJ. A cold and some med side effects will be gone in no time. Last year you had the crisis team phoning every few hours to check you were still alive and breathing, and back then you didn't know if you'd ever get any better (and due to depressiveness didn't think you would). Temporary physical yuckiness is nothing on potentially chronic mental fuckery. Or any other true suffering for that matter.
Pfft.

I managed to get off my shaky ass and made it to town. Have more ibuprofen (v important) and am filled with a Cafe Nero hot chocolate (they do the best hot chocolate...evar). Also have eggs, bread and beans - for some reason i crave combinations of those atm.

Dad sent me a parcel of BOOKS LOVELY BOOKS. I now own:
Outsiders by Steve Lazarides
Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen
999: True Stories of My Life as a Paramedic by Lysa Walder
The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery
Look Back in Hunger by Jo Brand

I've got started on Girl, Interrupted already cos it's easy reading for my brain-fuckeriness. It's good already.

So, tis my birthday. I'm more unwell today, and it keeps raining. This is annoying because i want to go out and see people FFS.

This morning a new girl moved into the house. She seems quite nice. Unfortunately that meant our support worker and social worker were there, and whenever they see me when i'm unwell they assume i've taken something. It's SO annoying because it means they adopt a disapproving attitude towards me and don't neccessarily believe me when i say i'm just ill as opposed to on something. Fortunately the social worker remembered about the quetiapine increase and was told i'd turn into a dizzy slurring mess for a few days, but still EUGH. I can't be the only person in the world who barely ever ever drinks or take drugs...?!

I had 3 envelopes with DWP on the back today. NOT COOL because this usually means something has gone wrong (fortunately was only the case for one of them), and also because the handwriting on one looked like my friends so i was dissapointed.

Cafe Nero do chocolate fudge cake that they'll heat up and serve with cream. I want some. Need to get a helluva lot less dizzy to get that though. 

Emmy has a BOYFRIEND.
This is the first one in about 3 years. And the first Facebook-certified one.
He was her Best Friend but they had an "accidental upgrade".
Obviously i had to wind her up by reminding her to have Safe Sex, which worked... "EWWW. Knob. We don't do that sort of thing.".
Naw.

I can't believe that i turn 22 in a few minutes.

This med-increase-related not-well-ness is easing off slowly. I've been able to put away my sickbowl, and can wander around without having to grab onto things for balance much. 

Earlier i was out bench-hopping (where i walk from bench to bench, and sit down to regain the energy and get control of dizziness ready to move on to the next) when it occurred to me - part of the reason i'm so exhausted is i'm hungry. I'm always a little hungry, just never enough for me to do anything about it (i'm still in the habit of waiting until i'm Really Properly Hungry* before eating). Simon's always on at me to eat more because i just end up knocking the edge off hunger with crap like sweets instead. And now it's getting colder i know my calorie requirement will be going up, so i need to take action.
Each day i'm going to aim to eat around 4 small meals. I need to get past the idea that eating bread, pasta, eggs, milk, cheese, fish - these are all okay. And when Simon takes me on our weekly trip to Asda i need to not freak out about the quantity of food i'm buying, because recently i've got what i felt was adequate (and was about what i'd get through in a week, say, a year ago) but only turned out to last 3 days.
I'm going to eat more bread - i might as well seeing as our house gets free bread from Greggs all the time. And i'm going to eat more scrambled eggs, because heck, i like them. And i'm going to make a stew/soup of some kind. And it's going to be okay for me to eat quite a few readymeals - they're not ideal but are much better than just nibbling biscuits on low-energy days, and Asda vegetarian ones aren't that bad actually.

And now it's past midnight, so
 

*I love the way xanantha writes, like this. It really clicks with me, so much so that i start talking with emphasises like this in my head.  

I stumbled on this on Frontier Psychiatrist:



I knew that it was something like this, but it's nice to see it visually.
All this drug stuff annoys me because of how people often assume that legal=safe, illegal=dangerous, and if you listen to politicians then you'd definitely be led to believe that. I'm frightened by how uncautious people are about alcohol, particularly people my age.

Various 'legal highs' are being made illegal this year. The trouble is that that is NOT the way to address the dangers of a drug. For each banned substance another will pop up in its place. We can't just ban every substance that causes any harm. The approach should be to educate people about the dangers of various drugs, and make it easy to seek help if they cause a problem.
And i really REALLY see the value of decriminalising drugs - street prices will come down, there'll be less drug-related crime, drugs can be regulated for their purity.

I guess sometimes it's not always bad when you're reminded of how bad you felt in the past.
I went back a year in my LJ. I'd forgotten how ill i was. The depression was indescribable. The crisis team phoned me repeatedly on my birthday itself. I remember my birthday trip to Edinburgh that my dad took me on was terrible because i was in such a state that everytime my dad wasn't looking i'd start crying. And i was underweight, eating fuck all (and not realising it was actually fuck all), and binging and purging
 several times a day.
BUT, even though it's sad to see how ill and down i was, i am SO much better now. I can compare day-for-day and i'm so SO much better. And that's good.

I'm wondering if there are people who are too emotionally broken to get better?
I feel overwhelmed at the immense task of recovering from the onslaught of emotional muck of the past few years. And that's when i'm not even really thinking back. I've delved back into the past in two ways recently - one through music, the other through writing.

I've been listening to music a lot more recently. And you know that way that music takes you straight back and you can remember things so vividly, particularly how you were feeling at the time?? Had quite a bit of that. Sometimes it's good (Hot Fuss by The Killers takes me back to the incredible time i had in China when i was 17), but often it's not.
We have:
A Hundred Million Suns - sitting around Lincoln in the winter rain on dark evenings, working my way out a terrible depressive dip
A Present for Everyone - endless time in the car going back and forth to Bristol to visit my mum (she was there for her transplant) over winter 05/06
Busted - recovering at home after a stint in the paediatric ward
By The Way - being 15. Feeling a bit miserable, but much enjoyed often going on the bus to Cheltenham shopping at the weekend.
The Clapton Chronicles - being very cold. And very hungry.
Either Side of Midnight - last summer. Getting a little more cheerful, and spending a hell of a lot of time on the bus to Stroud.
Eyes Open - age 18, wearing black and white all the time (hung out with emokids a lot!), sitting in Sandford Park in Cheltenham in the early summer sunshine. Mum in her last hospital.
Fallen - typical teenager, feeling depressed, but like the words in their songs made sense to me.
Final Straw - getting over the excitement of going to China when i was 17.
How to Save a Life - when Kristi died.
I'm Not Dead - just turned 19, seriously depressed, very EDed, lonely and cold.
Join With Us - getting the bus to Stroud every morning.
Juno Soundtrack - being in hospital with severe parkinsonism. Possibly the most ill and low i'd ever been. Agony.
Legally Blonde Soundtrack - exercising, all day everyday, all the damn time.
Panic at the Disco - hanging out with emo friends. Endlessly going back and forth to Bristol that Spring while mum recovered from the transplant. Too much time on Myspace.
Room on the Third Floor - being just turned 17, and though times were tough feeling like everything was so incredibly exciting and positive.
Sam's Town - going to Edinburgh on holiday.
Scouting for Girls - being in Budapest. Very very ill (mentally), but trying my best to have a good time.
Songs About Jane - winter/spring 05, age 17. Going out with a rather creepy guy.
The Remote Part - starting to learn the guitar, age 15. Felt so happy to have found something that worked so well for me.
Under my Skin - just turned 17 and very sad. Feeling heartbroken (dumped for the first time) and worried about my mum.

I wonder why it is that the most appallingly cheesy pop that i wind up listening to ends up being the stuff i make memories to...?! That's quite a shockingly uncool selection.

As for writing i found a folder on my laptop full of stuff i wrote at least 3 1/2 years ago, back when i was at 6th form college. Reading the stuff in the folder it made me realise how i'd blocked out a lot of my memories of how crap i felt back then, letting the better feelings take precidence. Some of the stuff really shocked me. The fact that i was younger than Emmy and i felt so appallingly awful.
I'd written quite a bit about my ED. Back then i had very little insight into it (only enough to label it as an ED as such). And it's SO sad. As in depressingly lame - samey, miserable, hopeless, pointless. It really REALLY made me think about how i've wasted such a huge amount of time and effort on something that means fuck all. I can't BELIEVE all that shit felt so important, so important that i didn't/couldn't understand people who didn't live with the same thing - the same obsessions, the same aspirations, the same thinking patterns. Reading all that crap has really pushed me into thinking i NEVER want to go back there ever again. Such an incredible waste. I don't want to be that person anymore.
One big positive - since getting to Lincoln 3-4 weeks ago the ED grip has lessened even more. I think i've been too occupied with other stuff, not been so self-absorbed. Not having mirrors helps too. The only one i have access to is in the bathroom, and even then the light doesn't work so i can only really see it in daytime. I do have my own mirror but i've not had any inclination to get it out. I think being in a new place where there's VERY little ED-ness around has really helped - there's no memory-triggers, and i live and hang out with many more boys than girls (last year was not so good living with female students who have their fair share of body issues themselves to share). It's refreshing. In fact - the boys are refreshing - these boys are way more laidback than my student/mainly-female social group are, and any talk is much easier - nothing serious, we just prat about all the time. And, god, SO much less judgemental too. You don't realise how judgemental people are until you're around people who aren't at all.