The Orangery.

Ponderings of the overpriveleged..

Fri, 25 Dec 2009 21:26:02 GMT

Well, christmas.

Christmas is so very good at being lovely for some, but such a horrible time for others. I guess the pressure for you to enjoy yourself and spend time with family really highlights if you don't have the ability to do these things. It's cruelly double-sided. I phoned home today to speak to the 4 left there. It's not right that teenagers should be alone for christmas day. They've found it tough - lots of tears and arguments, and one had her boyfriend visit specifically to dump her. Phoned best-friend-at-home who's in his little flat alone today. He sounded bored, and unsurprisingly rather sad.
I feel very lucky really.

I find Christmas particularly odd this year. It's been odd the past few years because i've wanted so much (my mum, love, an end to my mental turmoil, etc) but cannot receive those, but then can be lavished with material gifts. And this year it's similar, but i'm lacking materially/financially a little this time. A few days ago i was digging into my savings to buy simple groceries like Asda Value baked beans ... and then today i'm just swimming in luxurious food, sipping pink champagne, and have a massive pile of presents. When i return to Lincoln the only cash i will have with me will be christmas money from my aunts, which i'm sure they imagine me buying something nice with, like some new shoes, but that will have to go straight out for the £26 rent i owe and stocking up on food, toilet roll, etc. It's a strange parallel - here lavishing in middleclass excess, and then going home to my financial self-sufficiency (if you can call benefit-scrounging that...but what i mean is financial independence from my family) where my housemates are so skint that the newsagent took pity on them and gave them some groceries for free.
And then it makes me think that lots of things about christmas and our society as a whole... they're just all wrong somehow.

Fri, 25 Dec 2009 00:19:30 GMT

Thu, 24 Dec 2009 00:39:35 GMT

This place is heavy with memories and old emotions. It's quite stifling actually. It feels like i'm suffocating.
I'm thinking about getting rid of a lot of my belongings. Empty my room so much that it's blank and unrecognisable. A lot of my new friends are poor so they have very little in the way of material possessions, and they sell whatever they can (mainly to buy drugs, but nvmd), and it's made me question whether i really need a lot of my stuff.

I am incredibly tired and physically depressed. I expect it's mainly due to my mental state. It's quite annoying.

I feel horrible feeling homesick for Lincoln and wanting to get home asap. I know Emmy is somewhat offended by my suggestion that here isn't home for me anymore. I should want to spend time with my family, and i do, but it's hard. The people round here too - it must be a middleclass thing - being wrapped up in trivial stuff, not talking about anything important. It makes you feel more alienated in a way. And it's not like my family is that bad in that way either - not that wrapped up in bullshit - so i should be glad. I guess it's a bit of a backward culture-shock because i'm back in this environment again, after spending time around people who have nothing, and address life in a whole different way.
I don't even know if i'm making sense. Ah well.

Wed, 23 Dec 2009 00:07:25 GMT

Fluff has a new game where he hides in silly places... I'm at dads now. I'm homesick. I miss Fluff and my at-home friends and the house (even though it's a messy damp/mould-ridden crumbling fag-smelling wreck) and how there's no mirrors there and Lincoln and everything.

Mon, 21 Dec 2009 00:52:15 GMT

Am feeling some semblance of peace within myself. Like maybe i've shuffled a tiny bit in the right direction. This weekend has been nice. It's been very cold and has snowed (this is a Big Deal). I've hung out with Simon. We did a little xmas shopping, went up the hill to the cathedral and farmers market, hung out with my housemates, went on a late night mcdonalds trip and befriended some drunks, had Wetherspoons christmas lunch, had snowball fights, Simon burnt his eyelashes off (whilst attempting to burn his nasal hairs..!? Odd), we all exchanged xmas presents. I ate ostrich. Less than 2 days til dad collects me. It will be nice to be at dads for a few days: our house is damp and mould so we're all constantly unwell so it will be nice to have a break from that. And will be nice to have my food bought and cooked for me too. My housemate gave me a USB glitter lamp as one of my xmas presents. I'm overly captivated watching the sparkles moving across my desk and curtains..

Sat, 19 Dec 2009 00:04:13 GMT

I don't feel good at all. In fact i just feel horrible all the time. I'm so fucking depressed. There's nothing i want to do, and if i do something i enjoy i'm worried i'll 'contaminate' it with how bad i feel. Simon and I have totally split up this evening. He left in tears 5 hours ago and haven't seen him since. How can something which you know is the right thing to do just feel so painful and wrong? I'm in a numb haze of pain and am just not understanding why it (well, i) went wrong. I just want it all to stop, just the pain to just go away. For the constant tension within myself to ease, for my mind to stop buzzing hazily, the headache that's been nagging at me for days to slip away. I want to slip away, just cease to exist, just dissapear, not leave any mark, be forgotten, not even a passing ghost in someones memory. I want to sleep - all night, all day, no waking and staring at the ceiling for hours, giving up and then trying to read on the sofa downstairs with my eyes sore. I want to eat too - to eat a whole satiating meal without feeling like i'm choking on a lump in my throat each time i swallow and feeling sick with the wrongness of everything - i want to feel well, not dizzy and weak and achey. Everything's just wrong, wrong, wrong, things were not meant to be like this.

Fri, 18 Dec 2009 10:43:17 GMT

This ^ is Fluff's favourite position. He purs in my ear. This is Fluff. Have realised he doesn't have fleas afterall. The boys were very determined to persuade me that he did, which i think is probably because they're jealous that the cat gets more female attention than they do. But i've come to the conclusion Fluff doesn't have fleas because he never seems to be itching and his fur is silky soft and smells like he's been well-washed. Fluff came across snow yesterday, probably for the first time (cos he's a baby!). He doesn't like it because he can't catch it and play with it, and because it's wet and cold. So he decided to curl up in my bed and sleep instead.

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 20:13:05 GMT

I can has money!!!
I got the letter through today saying i will receive ESA throughout the appeal process. Coolness.
I went to the housing benefit office to start my housing benefit up again, and was pleasantly surprised to find that their "internal system" (i never knew the benefits had a system..?!) had updated their records so i needn't have visited!

I spoke to a nice lady at Catch22 and she's sorting me out some voluntary work feeding homeless people. She also says that the police roleplay work is recruiting for February so i'll reapply for that too.

My new annoying housemate is corrupting the other boys-next-door (who are young) and turning them into arseholes. The three of them are picking on my other housemate, and she can't get away from it because she's agoraphobic and simply can't leave, and so is tearful and self-harming in her room alot. I've flat-out asked our support worker if the new housemate can leave, but it's not looking promising.

Last night i set myself a challenge. I challenge myself quite often to do something that confronts my anxiety problems, cos i get a huge kick out of beating it. Unfortunately last night i didn't meet my challenge, and am feeling rather sad about it, because usually i succeed. I'll try again though.

I got asked out today. Said no obviously. But rather flattering to be wanted all thesame.

Fri, 11 Dec 2009 19:38:46 GMT

Everything irritates me. The slightest little thing and it makes me want to kick something. A bigger thing - like my new housemate - that's enough to make me want to throw sharp objects at his face. On weds night i did ALL the washing up and cleaned the kitchen. I've eaten fuck all so in theory i should be able to cook my dinner tonight easy-peasy. Uh, no. Last night i came home to find approximately half my stuff out my cupboards and scattered around the place dirty. Every DAMN TIME i want to prepare even the simplest snack or meal i have to go on a hunt through the house to find my stuf, THEN washing it up, and THEN dry it. And then try not to panic about my stuff being 'infected' with 'unsafe' food like meat juices etc. And to be honest the motivation involved in eating anything is so low anyway that all this just pushes me over the edge into not being able to even face thinking about food.
He's also sticking his nose into my personal life. He can fuck right off.

I feel strained. I have a constant headache from the tension around my head. I find myself frowning all the time.

Everything makes me cry too. I'm tempted to just lie here and cry for hours.

I was quite productive today. Went to the jobcentre to try and FINALLY get my address changed (6th time lucky?!). DLA was easy as pie, ESA however involves a great fat form. Ironic considering i'm not even receiving ESA. I also collected my last (ever?) anti-depressant prescription. And i went to the volunteer centre to make an appointment, but that didn't work out so i'll do that next week, hopefully armed with a list of potential ideas. And i joined the library. Having a whole big library for me to access that's only 5-10 mins walk from home is very cool. I got some leaflets there - it appears the community centre down the road does tai chi classes and stuff, and i'm going to look into what free courses i can do. The bad thing about joining the library is that it's made me realise how bad my concentration is and how difficult it is to read atm.

I'm trying to decide at what point i admit defeat and phone the crisis team. I've not been this bad for a long time.

Simon saying he never wanted to see me again didn't really last long, as he's here right now.

My carpet needs hoovering and it's REALLY bugging me. The effort involved in finding a hoover and actually doing it seems huge though. I don't know if we even have a working one.

HALP I HAVE FLEAS

Tue, 08 Dec 2009 19:42:58 GMT

Turns out 'my' beautiful cat has fleas. I've been pondering over why i've been itching like crazy for the past few weeks, especially on my neck and round my hairline (the cat likes to climb up and sit round my neck and pur in my ear).
Can/do cat fleas live on humans, or just bite you? And is it possible the fleas could have transferred onto my bed (the cat sleeps on there)?

Tue, 08 Dec 2009 18:48:46 GMT

So the government have decided to give the unemployed therapy to help them get back to work. Right. A psychiatrist is sceptical, as am I. The reason there's a hell of a lot of people unemployed is because there's no jobs, DUH. It also seems ridiculus that they're considering offering therapy to the unemployed when people with serious mental illnesses have to wait months or years for therapy. And finally the reasons for long-term unemployment are complex and won't be solved by CBT.

"When two snails meet during the breeding season (late spring or early summer), mating is initiated by one snail piercing the skin of the other snail with a calcified 'love dart'. The exact purpose of the 'love dart' is not fully understood but it seems to stimulate the other snail into exchanging small packets of sperm."
Two of my snails (Little Joe and Turnip) just mated and i've found the love dart. It's about 8mm long and white.

I've lived with my new housemate for 3 days and he's already pissed me off completely.
The following is housemate behaviour that i don't think is reasonable:
- leaving the front and back doors wide open (especially considering we've had so much stuff stolen and how people can be nasty round here)
- helping himself to ALL the cakes in the kitchen
- shouting loudly, rudely and aggressively at my housemate (even worse considering she's come out an abusive relationship)
- smoking weed in the house (especially considering his housemates don't smoke it, plus two of us have MH problems and the other is technically a child)
- helping himself to my cutlery and crockery. And then not washing it up. And then leaving it all over the place, including next door.
- whilst borrowing my laptop to go on facebook talking to SIMON on msn PRETENDING TO BE ME.
I'm trying to decide if he's gone far enough over the line for me to speak to our support worker about it.

I'm pissed off with things politically - particularly our governments complete failure when it comes to tackling poverty. I've mentioned that my best-friend-at-home has moved into a council flat. He's on JSA which brings in £100 a fortnight. £10 is deducted immediately to pay off the crisis loan he used to get the absolute basics for his flat - a microwave, a table, a mattress (he's still living without a fridge, cooker, washing machine - anything like that). Another £75 goes straight out in bills - water, electricity, gas and TV license. So he basically has £15 for a fortnight, so £1 a day. For him to go anywhere he needs the bus (otherwise it's 1 1/2 hours to walk to the city centre), and that's £3.40 a day. Add to this is an alcohol and drug problem, which can add up.
Now seriously - how is someone supposed to survive on £1 a day...? And with no cooker, no fridge, no washing machine? WHAT THE FUCK IS A PERSON MEANT TO DO?! The obvious answer for him is crime. No damn decent government should be forcing their people to resort to such measures just so they can put food on the table.
Fortunately he's got signed up with a support worker and a drug/alcohol counsellor who are both looking at his finances for him to help with budgeting. Maybe they can come up with a way to reduce the bills and/or find more money.
Frankly the prospect of moving out of here and me being in the same position scares the crap out of me.

Tue, 08 Dec 2009 14:05:01 GMT

I saw my CPN this morning. Not sure why i bother trudging all the way across town to see her because we just piss eachother off. She wants me to come up with suggestions of things she could do to help me - but as i see it if i knew what i needed to help me then i'd have come up with those suggestions myself and implemented them already, rendering her pointless. Am curious if anyone does have any good uses for their CPN??

She's come up with more annoying suggestions, such as:
"Why don't you go back to your dads?"
"Why don't you and Simon live together?"
"Why don't you attend a day centre?"
"Why don't we put you on [insert name of any psychoactive medication here]?

And i pissed her off with the following:
accidentally displaying my flawed/negative thinking (i don't think she likes depressives...)
the answer "i don't know"
saying that i don't believe anti-depressants work
saying that numbing my feelings with psychoactive drugs is not the way to solve my problems, and then really pissed her off with "that's just wimpish"
refusing to ask my dad for money and struggle on on my own
my general appearance (i do look like shit)

I was sent off for a quick medical after my appointment (ECG, BP, bloods double-check, etc) on the basis of how bad i look - weightloss, dark circles under eyes, bad bruises, etc. I hadn't realised i looked such a state until i actually got a mirror out to see. I've even got a bruise on my chin. Everything's fine except i was too cold so my blood decided to not come out.

Had enough of stuff so i'm going to go back to sleep.

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 21:54:18 GMT

simon never wants to see me ever agiain.

Sun, 06 Dec 2009 22:55:05 GMT

Everyone who's talked to Simon has advised him to keep the hell away from me. Within 15 minutes (not kidding) of my arrival home Simon was here, and he was here again today. It's so hard because his hurt just bubbles through by way of tears, questions, accusations, more questions, self-criticism, and yet more questions. The questions are the hardest, because i can't think clearly enough. I can't provide any decent answers, and i can't/shouldn't make any decisions. One of the first things i was told when i first got depression is to NEVER make any kindof important decision when you're down. But at the same time it's agony for Simon to be left hanging not knowing where he stands with me, and hence what to do with his feelings. The strain is just too much for me and i'm not coping. My mind is on self-harm/drink/starve/gorge/suicide=solution autopilot - i can't think of anything else. I'm exhausted, not eating right, not sleeping right, feel ill (coming down with a cold, oh joy), my mood swings like crazy, i keep suddenly crying, and i've been getting the paranoia/panic. I'm hesitant about telling my MH team - i'm halfway through my med withdrawal (my anti-D dose has now reached half what it was, and i'm off the anti-psychotics) and don't want to stop, and definitely not go backwards (there's a suggestion of me going on some kindof instant-calming med... have a bad feeling they're thinking benzos... unless there's something newer that's used now?? There's no way in hell i'm going on benzos).

Sun, 06 Dec 2009 00:03:11 GMT

I'm hurting so much.

Thu, 03 Dec 2009 00:08:30 GMT

I'm on Emmy's annoyingly tiny laptop. The journey was much easier than i thought. I made it on the underground and in London without breaking down and panicking, and i didn't get lost walking from one station to the other across Newark.
Emmy's room is so messy she's basically moved into Tom's (her boyfriends). She managed to clear her bed enough for me to sleep on though.
We did some xmas shopping this afternoon. Not easy while skint, but i'm used to it...Emmy's not! And this evening we went to the nearest campus bar where Emmy's a regular. She was hit on by a 24-year-old phD student; it was bizarre, cos i still see Em as my little baby sister with a snotty nose. i met Tom - he's much better-looking than in the pics i've seen of him, and nice. The uni and everyone here is much more like what i used to imagine uni to be (probably from all the stories from my mum and dad who met at Bath uni) - probably cos it's a Clever Person's Uni and it's on a traditional park campus. It's definitely a big contrast to home.
Talking of home i'm homesick again. It's part missing home, but also the people there. There's a group of 6 of us at the moment and we really stick together.

Sun, 29 Nov 2009 23:44:56 GMT

Simon and I have sortof-split-up. Kindof having-a-break. I don't want to explain why because there's quite a bit of backstory, and because i've not made sense of it all myself yet. Both of us have just been crying on/off for the past 3 days. It all feels alien.
Last night we went out for dinner with Simon's parents, Simon's sister and husband, his parents, and his parents old family friends. These things are awkward enough for me at the best of times because i'm too shy, young, scruffy, awkward and socially unacceptable at present to feel right, but add to that the tension between me and Si...and woah it was hard. We kept quiet about what had happened between us which in a way made it worse because we were subject to the usual "what a sweet couple..." "aww look at those lovebirds..." kindof stuff (if we're out in the street on a fri/sat night random people say that kindof thing about us...and even happened on friday literally hours after our sortof-split. Very weird and awkward). We also went to Skeg (absolutely FREEZING) and paddled in the sea (and a big wave filled my wellies with seawater...icy cold!), and today we were shown Simon's sister and husband's to-be house.

Mentally i'm unwell. I've been getting the odd thing where everything just feels wrong in a way i can't describe. Familiar things seem alien and unfamiliar. I can't bear to be still and can't POSSIBLY get bored.
Simon (who can analyse my mental state better than anyone) thinks i'm unstable, 'not yourself' and am seeing things too bleakly. He reckons i'm 'seriously depressed' but i'd disagree, i've been much worse.
I'm seeing my GP tomorrow. I'm thinking about asking for some quetiapine.

Emmy has asked me to go visit her at uni in a few days. I went to buy train tickets - £70 WITH a railcard?!?!!?!! So i went on a bargain ticket website and found one for about £48. But after i'd bought it i found out i have to walk across a town from one station to another AND have to get the tube between Kings Cross and Paddington. *PANICPANICPANIC*. Walking across the town shouldn't be too hard if it's sign-posted well and if i can manage to carry my stuff. But London+Tube....FUCK. I was scared enough about having to change trains in a big London station, let alone getting the underground. I've not done either London or the tube on my own, and even with others it petrifies me.
Getting a refund on the tickets will cost me £10 in admin fees. And even if i then got the more expensive tickets i still have to travel through London. I guess i've got to bite the bullet and go through with it, even if i'm terrified. I've travelled around abroad on my own before (even crossed continents alone!) when i was in Istanbul, i've travelled cross-country by train before several times, and summer-before-last i did the trip to Lincoln alone. I know i was terrified before doing any of those, but i coped. So i can do it again.

My youngest housemate annoys me. She promised to go to town with our partially-agoraphobic housemate (who can't go out alone and so looks forward to being taken out) and then pulled out. Her best friend was rushed to hospital with a bleed (she's pregnant), and she couldn't be bothered to go visit ("i'll be stuck up there for ages! I don't like hospitals, they're boring. One of you text me so i have an excuse to leave quick??"). Bloody selfish. Grr.

Thu, 26 Nov 2009 12:43:04 GMT

I love this cat more and more.
It loves me too. Apparently if it gets in through the back door it goes upstairs and waits outside my room for me to get home. It's always in and out my window, and settles down to sleep wherever it likes, including inside my bag, on top of all my stuff! The only things i dislike are that it likes to knead my bare skin with its claws (OUCH) and it sees nothing wrong with climbing on me and nuzzling when i'm asleep!

Edit: this time when i was asleep the cat curled up against my tummy and went to sleep too. When my key worker came in to see me the look on his face was priceless!

Wed, 25 Nov 2009 21:29:25 GMT

My CPN has gone back to being an idiot devoid of logic. Yesterday i walked for nearly an hour in the wind and rain to see her, only to be met with this wisdom:
"You're thinking rather negatively..." (well no shit, i'm depressed duh, aka the reason i'm seeing you...)
I said "I just want to do normal stuff like have a job, go to uni, go travelling..." and she says "i think you need to lower your expectations of yourself". (right, WHAT. Don't think i even need to list everything that's wrong with that statement...!)
"Why don't you move? Go live nearer Simon..." (right, yeah, so if Si and i had an argument i'd have absolutely NO-ONE i knew to turn to...! And i'd be 40 miles from almost all my friends?! AND have to get a whole new medical team?!)
And then i was in so much pain walking home from the friction of my jeans on my eczema that i had to get a taxi. £4.
Pfft.

I've got to write my appeal. I basically have to sit here and write an essay describing all my psychiatric symptoms and their negative effect on my functioning in extreme detail. I can't think of anything more patronising, demeaning, negative and depressing to do. But i know it's got to be done.
Writing notes for it with my support worker rather ruined the taste of my gingerbread latte.

In terms of ED i'm really well atm. Better than i've been in years. What's annoying is that no-one can see it because of the depression. I've lost quite a bit of weight and am not eating much because i've no appetite, so it looks like i've had a relapse. But i'm better than ever. How frustrating.

My psych team are really pressing to get me moved out of here. They've decided that my housemates and at-home friends are causing a toxic environment for my mental health. I disagree - that is a rather oversimplified explanation for my decline. I'll look into what they've got in mind though. It's supported housing but with mini flats with communal areas. They seem to be simultaneously trying to get me socialising more by helping me do voluntary work and college courses, but at the same time when i do make friends they deem them innapropriate and try move me away from them!

In other news, i'm still a tearful suicidal mess.

Mon, 23 Nov 2009 12:36:55 GMT

No more anti-psychotics for Josie.
Anti-depressants prescribed weekly instead of monthly. Damn expensive.
Doctor is a bit of an idiot. Is it possible for doctors to actually...yknow..communicate with eachother? Or even get doses right? Somehow my notes say i'm to come off my stupidly high anti-D dose over a period of 4 days, not 4 weeks. What?! Potentially life-threatening mistake right there surely. Fortunately i have enough knowledge/experience of anti-Ds to point out that a 4 day withdrawal is a really bad idea.
My toxicated body is apparently fine according to idiot doctor. He took my pulse and declared me fine.
Will see useless CPN tomorrow.

Got an appeal form. Want to write "YOU ARE DICKHEADS" all over it, but feel that may be a bad idea.
I wish the DWP would change my address to Lincoln. 6 weeks of phoning and visiting trying to get them to change it to no avail. Surely it's not that hard? Rather inconvenient to receive letters late when they have such stringent deadlines for stuff.

Been trudging around in a depressive haze randomly bursting into tears. Don't see the point in doing anything and just feel like hibernating forever.

Saw a cat outside our house eating a pigeon in the way of the traffic (that cat must be the cause of the spate of mangled pigeon carcasses across the neighbourhood). Went to move the cat and its lunch to the curb.... kicked the pigeon to move it...and it was still alive. The poor thing flapped its wings and tried to run away, with a great big gaping wound in its side. We always think of cats as being so cute and all that... but sometimes EUGHHH.

This rather lovely cat uses my bedroom window as a cat-flap and loves coming in here for fuss (and to curl up under my bed). He (or she... unsure) has a bell, so although he tries to catch pigeons too he's more unsuccessful.

My snail babies are 5 weeks old now.

10 have survived and are starting to look different, with different sizes and tiny patterns on their shells.
My housemate liked my snails so much she's got some too.

Mon, 23 Nov 2009 01:29:36 GMT

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.

Sat, 21 Nov 2009 08:12:07 GMT

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.

I'm going downhill too. SI is nearly a daily occurrance. And last night i made the mistake of thinking about stuff, and it got too much, far too much. It resulted in drink and pills. My support worker wants me in hospital but i refused. I'm just sat on my bed while the waves of side-effects flow by. It's not too bad. Parkinsonism, faintness, drowsiness. I'm pretty much okay as long as i stay horizontal alot. I feel rather stupid really. Haven't i been down this road a few too many times now? I know all that an OD does is just complicate things. Unless i were to die, which would decrease the complication for me, but amp it up for everyone else. I think the amount i've taken is on the verge of enough to kill me, but i have more under my bed that if i added it to the mix would definitely be enough. I won't take it though, because i'm not done with living yet.
I'm not quite sure how to explain to Simon why i'm in this state, or just cope with the next few days in general.

Thu, 19 Nov 2009 20:37:47 GMT

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.

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 22:32:35 GMT

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.

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 20:08:31 GMT

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.