Well the laptop is about to be turned off, cue massive internetz-withdrawal for me!!



Off to Istanbul i go!! Home on the 27th. x

I HATE packing.

I'm not the kindof girl who needs to take hair-straighteners, a makeup kit, 6 pairs of shoes and colour-co-ordinating jewellery for every outfit...in fact i'm quite minimalist and organised.... but i can never fit everything into the suitcase. 
I've just had to upgrade from the Medium suitcase to the Big suitcase. *SIGH*

I guess that since i can look back on the last year and think "omg wtf?!" when i think of how i was, it's a good sign.
9 suicide attempts in half a year. Well, they're labelled that but some of them cross the line into "self-harm". I never wanted to die i don't think, i was just certain that I didn't want to live.
I guess I need to think back and see what went wrong, so i don't hit desperation like that again, like when i go to uni. I'm not sure exactly what was so wrong though. I guess i was very very lonely, even though i was surrounded by people, i felt alienated by my experiences, by the thoughts in my mind, by my difference. Maybe coming back into the 'real world' after being out of it for 16 months was a big trigger, and when people ask the most basic of questions my answers gave away that i was different immediately. And the strain of being in that environment, there's something about the school/college/etc kindof environment that puts me into a state of anxiety as soon as I enter it. I hope so much that uni will be different. Stress and anxiety and panic attacks are not good for ones mood. I was so desperate to succeed - to be normal and make a new start - failure felt terrible. And that isolated me further and further. Everyone knew i was different, and though they were so nice to me they kept back because they could tell they didn't want to deal with what was inside.

It's different with old friends. It's good to be with friends i made from 'before' (i don't know what the pivital moment was - maybe when my mum died?), it's like they remember the old Josie, the one before the shit, so i can slip back into my former being instead of being this shell of a Josie that i am now. All the old jokes, the memories, we can delve into those and it's so safe. No-one needs to think about the big changes that have scarred me inside and out.

I wonder, in the future, will I be back to the old Josie, that of my earlier teens, or will I be a new person? Or some combination? Depression and big life experiences can change your personality completely. That's a scary thought. 

I guess what i'm getting at (and failing to do so - this entry is messy) is i'm scared of going to uni and sinking as low as I did when i was at college.

Want. 

Omg, so i AM going to Istanbul in 4 days time!!!! 


OMG OMG OMG!!!! EXCITED!!! And SCARED!!

I've never been abroad without being 'looked after' in some form before. The most I've done is going to Edinburgh with Loz last summer, which was a little scary, but we did it!! This time i'm off to the other side of the continent, OMG!!!

So i've got to:
- get turkish monies
- get travel insurance
- book our first hostel night
- acquire suncream 
- print out flight/accom/insurance info
- get guidebook or info online
- pack 
- get meds in a rush on weds night or thurs morning

Booking cheap flights online is nightmarish. You think you've found a reasonable cost of like £200-300. Then the cost doesn't include the air fare/tax/booking fee which then means it's actually more like £700. Or you have to change over in Germany and spend like half the night there. Or you're arriving at some absurd hour of the morning in Istanbul. Usually some combination of the above. 
I conclude that holidays are only fun if someone else plans them. Or you're a millionaire.
Holidays should not be preceded by screaming at your laptop screen and self-medicating with chocolate biscuits. 

I'm really rather suicidal at the moment. In no specific way and with no specific reason. I've just had enough.

The weather is pissing me off. Either it rains for days and days and days, which is shit. Or it pretends to be nice and then soaks (and freezes you) suddenly with a HUGE torrent when you least expect it, which is also shit.

I won't be going to Istanbul on monday (stupidonlineflightbookingsgrrrrrr). However we will be going somewhere exotic (probably still Istanbul) next week (sometime).

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

farmer_faye!

 

In 4 days i'm off to Istabul with onelastgo.

 

Beat that for random announcements in ones LJ.

We put my car (my mums old car) up for sale in the newspapers. As a result the phone has been going all morning. I should be pleased that half the Cotswolds wants to buy my car, but it was annoying to be disturbed from my slumber every few minutes. 

This afternoon when i eventually removed myself from my bed dad made me go out into the garage and clean out the car, avec hoover. It was REALLY weird. It's like a time capsule from summer-autumn 2005. Most of it was old shit like tissues and stuff, but there was my mums picnic stuff (she liked having an array of plastic cutlery and crockery available), a pot of pills, her parking-money purse (the same one she had my entire childhood), etc etc. Reminded me of when we cleaned out her room, except we did that straight after she died, so this was different.
Bit mean of my dad to make me do it on my own.

Whilst on the subject - in my dreams i am always so confused about whether my mum is actually dead. Sometimes she's alive and well, other times she's alive and ill, sometimes i have the knowledge she's alive but she's not there - she's in hospital. She's not dead in my dreams. And there's been events in my dreams where we've thought she's died but she's actually come back to life, and weird shit like that. Last night in my dream i was stood there and i simply COULD NOT REMEMBER if my mum was alive or dead. Wtf?!?!!?
In Emmys dreams mum is alive too.
Maybe the subconscious takes years to accept huge things like this. 

I feel like shit today. Maybe later i'll have a shower and hopefully feel better.

EDs and depression are amazing at wiping a persons personality and interests away. Wiping their life away.

I used to love doing my artwork. Going to galleries. Shopping. Going to the cinema. Watching DVDs. Watching gruesome medical programmes on TV. Playing guitar. Swimming. Being with my friends. Going to houseparties. Reading books and magazines. Going out to eat.

My ED and depression has wiped that all away. I'm blank and empty, a shell of a person, especially since leaving college. No wonder i've relapsed into my ED so quickly (yeah - if you didn't know - i've completely fallen on my ass into something kinda bulimic and shit. Recovery attempt no. 3 fell through). I'm so unenthusiastic about everything. For a long time it's been about surviving - just getting through the day, getting through another week - wishing time to pass, hoping something better will come along. 
Time has flown by in a haze of sleep and struggle. I can't believe i'm 21 this year and still living life as a mid-teen, while my friends are zooming on ahead - uni, travelling, engagements, pregnancies, moving out, moving on.

Each day all i'm interested in is ED and other self-destructive stuff. Starving, obsessing, eating, exercising, cutting, shopping, drinking, sleeping. Just surviving, in my fucked-up ways. 

I can't fight my ED and depression if there's nothing to fill my life with instead. 
And i can't go to uni if i have zilch interest in art, or even in life.

Not so bad now.
The rain eased off for a while so i went for a walk to tescos to get chocolate to c/s. My leg has stopped oozing and bleeding now. I've also found that if i keep moving it doesn't hurt, it's when i stand still that it does.
When i got home i had pepsi max (got some cheap in Lidl) which has got to be the best brand of coke EVER.

I've been talking to the mental health adviser at Lincoln. He's offered to be a contact for me there to go to if i need help and stuff. He's suggested i come down to Lincoln so i can meet him and he can show me around. I think that's a good idea, but when i think about organising it (i'd have to stay over there and stuff) i feel so stressed i want to just hide under a rock. Which is how i feel about everything actually... sorting accomodation, transferring my NHS team over, getting a job, meeting up with friends, the prospect of a holiday project, planning holidays and days out .... *MIND EXPLODES*

I am so miserable, irritable and unenthusiastic.

I desperately want it to stop raining and for my leg to not sear with pain when i stand up. I want to go out and get exercise damnit! And i need fresh air and light. I can tell because i've got the too-many-days-shut-up-at-home headache.

And my hair looks like shit.

Everything is pissing me off today.

New cocoa butter and mallow body lotion - why are you making me smell like an old lady?
Emmy - get the fuck out of my room, off of my computer and out of my bed (and tidy it behind you).
Dad - yes i'm mauled my leg horribly, yes i am not happy, now leave me alone and stop treating me like a naughty child.
Leg - stop hurting, i want to WALK.
Weather - stop showering and being cold. It's fucking July.
Carpet - why do you get in a mess so damn quickly?
Hair clippings - why do you keep falling down my back and itching?  
Sleeves - why are you so tight? I do not have fat arms.

Not really feeling any better. I had therapy this morning and then i went to Swan Yard for a special hot chocolate - cos hell, if you're suicidal, you deserve a treat.

Before i got depression i thought the idea of suicide was very weird. I used to think that if things really got that bad i'd go and do something outrageously fun and exciting - like go off to London or New York or something, spend all my money shopping, talk to strangers, eat at restaurants - generally have a crazy time. My logic was that if you get so down that you're considering suicide nothing matters anymore - you're free to do anything.
But now i know the truth of what it's like. Being this depressed feels like you're really weighed down, even sitting up and typing this is an effort. The prospect of doing anything is daunting - even just manouvering myself from here on my sofa into my bed seems like a big task. And i never realised how little you enjoy things when you're depressed. All those fun things i thought i would do probably wouldn't effect my mood much, i just wouldn't have any enthusiasm for them or enjoyment gained. It would be completely meh.  
I also thought being suicidal would be black and white - you either are or you're not. However there are many different levels of suicidality. In this level i don't completely want to die, so if i were to act upon it it's likely i would sabotage the attempt somehow (potentially subconsciously), and therefore i know that i don't want to do anything completely outrageous because chances are i'd still be here tomorrow, next week, next month, maybe even next year, and I'd have to deal with the consequences of my actions.

Not feeling at all well as a result of some rather self-destructive actions last night (i'll spare you the details).
Today i went shopping with Emmy for no apparent reason.
Freedom @ Topshop had everything half price - i now have bangles and a tiny necklace with a little teapot charm! And of course had to go to Primark, and i'm thoroughly miserable that i'm a size 16 in trousers still. 
Not keeping up with things very well - concentration has gone awol - so sorry.