I still took a pair of jeans (in the 3 months I wore them once), my black tulip fit dress (I never wore), black combat trousers (I never wore) about 5 pairs of shoes (which within the first week was whittled down to 1 and had to buy more, a dog stole one shoe of a pair, when I fell off the motorbike I wrecked one pair as the amount of blood that was over them and two pairs of flip flops broke as they were primark crap! I always tend to have shoe crisis' when ever I go anywhere. I am not good with shoes. I have weird feet. They are a funny shape so most shoes I get rub me in places and I walk funny in them so wear out on one side. When I was with Gom we would have endless arguments about my shoes. He always used to say to me make sure you bring comfortable shoes. So I did but after walking a while I would have massive blisters or they would be killing me some how.
I also took over a years supply of tampons. I still have loads left! Why I thought I needed so many who knows. I put them in to a plastic bag which had a tendency to somehow come open and spill them everywhere.
I also had a bra crisis while I was over there going from taking 5 to only coming back with 2. Again that's cheap ASDA bra's for you.
It was one year ago that I said goodbye to my nephew on his first birthday. I wouldn't see him again for 3 months. He was bound to forget me. He was the only one I cried when I said bye to, he was the one I missed the most.
So I am sitting here looking out my window across the park. The leaves are coming on the trees and soon I wont be able to see the house opposite. It also means I don't have to worry about drawing my curtains every time I get changed. At the moment the people walking on the park can probably see in if my light is on, but once the leaves come I can have naked Tuesday's again! Only joking... It was Wednesday! Lol.
As I sit and watch the people amble by I think about what has gone on in the last year. What has changed for the better and what has got worse. I am thinking back to how excited I was about going travelling on my own. My first entry in my diary on 4th April 2010....
Sitting in airport in London. Feeling mixed emotions. Still deciding whether or not I'm doing the right thing by going. No backing out now though. Checked in and waiting for flight. Had my first heart stopping moment (the first of many). The check in guy asked if I had a visa for Thailand. I don't. I am lucky I remembered to print off my Air Asia flight confirmation. I thought I wasn't going to be able to go. Got really worried. Well all is ok now at least. Waiting for flight now. In 17or so hours I will be in Bangkok. Then where. Not decided yet!!!!
I remember the song that was playing as I landed in Bangkok (yeah I know you are supposed to not have iPods on but I still had mine on...ooops. I wasn't actually told on that flight). It was Muse, New Born. I felt amazing. I loved not knowing where and when I was going. I loved the freedom I had. I have never had that before. All I had to tie me in was a booked flight 3 weeks later from Phucket to Saigon. The taste of freedom was amazing.
I thought I could run away from everything. Turns out I couldn't. I did start having suicidal thoughts while I was over there. I went a bit mad while I was over there, put my self in stupid situations (like arguing with a a Vietnamese guy who has not taken me to my hotel and dropped me in the middle of no where and I refused to pay him), rented motorbikes when have never ridden one, had unprotected sex and protected one night stands, got tattoo's (well I actually planned one of them the other was because I was a bit pissed and I liked the music the place was playing, not exactly the best reason for a tattoo). I tasted the freedom and I suppose you could say I went too far. I had fun though. Isn't that what matters? I started having the thoughts of suicide about 6 weeks in. Thinking and making plans not to go back. Stocking up on Temazepam, Zopiclone, Diazepam, Diclofenac anything I could get over counter. Taking 20mg of diazepam and 15mg of zopiclone most days. And drinking shit loads. Scary amounts. Tried mushrooms, the first time...loads of fun, second time; never again. Buying weed off some back street guy in Phnomn Penh...risky stuff. Maybe it's me reading too much in to it. Maybe it's just me who was given that freedom and I took it. OK, I did some silly things but did I not just do what any person going travelling on their own for the first time would do?
So. A year later. My oldest nephew is now 2. 2 today. He's lovely. I also have another nephew now. I found out my sister-in-law was pregnant about a week in to my trip. And now. A 3 month old baby. He's cute.
I do wish I could go back in time a year. Have my whole 3 month trip ahead of me. Not be dealing with all this in my head. I wonder if I would have gone about things differently. I wonder if things would have still worked out the same if I had known what was coming. I always think that. "If I could just go back in time by...". I wonder what would be different. Would anything change. I think I would have ended it with Gom on my own terms if I knew what was coming. Not be the one who was the one people feel sorry for. Not have it end like it did. I can't blame him for what I am feeling and doing now. It's just the way things are. I don't know how much of it is behavioural if we look at the behaviour, medical disease approach. I don't know.
Nurseman Mike would seem to think it is. He kept saying things like "it's your choice". Maybe it is. Maybe though sometimes I don't feel like I have a choice. Sometimes I can't help but self harm, or try to kill myself. Maybe at first it was. Maybe at first I could have rationalised and said to my self "stop right there, hang on, what are you doing? If you take all those Diazepam it is going to start a spiral of self harm". Maybe I had the choice then. But now I feel as though it has gone beyond it. Obviously it is my choice on what I choose to say to the Psychiatrist and everyone else about how I am feeling. Part of me knows if I am not honest then how do I expect to be helped. A lot of it is because I am so bloody scared of the outcomes. I suppose that's my choice isn't it?
I am not a big fan of the behaviourist approach. In a way I would rather be diagnosed with bi-polar or similar than it be coping mechanisms, or what ever. Bi-polar can be treated with medication. I am sorry if I am making bi-polar look to be a nicer thing. I know to people diagnosed with it they are probably wanting to shout and scream at me for wanting to be diagnosed with it. I know you probably feel that you don't want the diagnosis. Nor do I. I don't want to be ill. I don't want to be like this. But. I am. And I would rather they label it as something I see as more of a medical than behavioural thing. Does that make sense?
However I say that. I had a stern chat with one of my clients the other day "Marie, it's your choice. You say you want your kids back but you are the one who is choosing to go and get pissed most nights and not have anyone able to track you down. It's your choice whether or not you see your social worker but you need to work with us and not against us as on your own you are making the wrong decisions". I said to her all this behaviourist stuff. What's that about? Is it just that I don't want to see my own thing as a behavioural issue as if I do that then I can't put blame on to anyone or anything. You know if it's medical then I can blame my brain for not functioning properly. If it's behavioural I have no one to take any ownessis away from me. Nothing. That's probably it then isn't it. Also in terms of getting better. If it's medical, give me drugs. If it's behavioural...it's bloody hard work, hard work that I have to do and I don't have the energy for it!
Anyway, back on to time. It's now spring. It's averaging about 15c. It doesn't seem 2 minutes ago since it was -15c at it's worst here. Brrrrr.
I can't believe how in a year I have gone from being quite positive and optimisitic about things such as going travelling to being like I am now. All the same issues were there a year ago. So why am I like I am now. Infact I should have been worse a year ago as the break up was still raw. I've had a year to get over him. I am getting there. I don't feel so much hate towards Gom and LD now. I think that is because I am getting used to it. I am getting used to the idea that she lives there. I know when I find out she's pregnant or something like that that will hurt and I will probably be thrown in to a deep cycle again. But I feel ok-ish about it now. I think partly because I have seen her most recent profile picture and she looks like a DOG! Ok I know slightly bitchy? But I am allowed to aren't I?
So much has gone on in the last year. Out of 12 months I have probably spent close to 1 month of that in hospital. 2 weeks were to do with my knee but I have probably spent more than a week in as of self harm and suicide attempts or the resulting infection.
Uni is good. I enjoy placement but I do have my concerns. I am worried about written work. Especially now Sam has questionned my fitness for the course. It's made me question it. I do wonder if I am deluding myself about it. I have questionned myself so many times over it. I know I just need to keep on with it. I am passing and that is what matters. Ok, it's not what I would like but the way things are it looks like I will get my Masters. I know I have another year at it but things seem to be going ok. Uni are happy with me. I should stop being so hard on myself I suppose.
I am dreading tomorrow. I have to tell me practice educator about what has been going on. I don't want it coming out at mid point review in the week and it being the first she has heard about it. So explanations tomorrow. JOY!
I think tomorrow will be a hard day for me as it does mark a year since the day I went away. A day I remember being full knowing what freedom I had. I don't have that anymore.
Oh and incase you were wondering, if you have got this far...my nephew did remember me. The day after I got back my mum was looking after him. I went downstairs. He was in his high chair having breakfast. He looked at me. Stared at me for a second not quite sure then all of a sudden he squeeled with laughter and put his arms up to come to me. Awwwww, it makes me emotional thinking about it.
And the other ending point...no naked days happen, nor naked weeks, months, hours or anything. Lol. Of course I shower and get dressed but I don't refer to anything as "naked..."