So Here I Am Again

I took a break from blogging for a while as I wanted to try and leave that part of my life behind me...but...quite typically it caught up with me.

I met someone in January and fell completely madly deeply in love with him. He said he felt the same way. I felt good for the first time in so long. I felt as though I was a normal person functioning in society. I felt so normal that, I thought I could stop taking my meds. He knew I was on meds, and what they were for, that I had been in hospital etc etc. But, I hated taking my meds in front of him or carrying them around. He had seen them and laughed at me for being a walking pharmacy... an upper, a downer, a stop you pooh, make you pooh, stop the pain etc etc. He would joke, but it made me fel uncomfortable. This was a guy who wouldn't take a pain killer if his leg was hanging off. I wanted to be more normal. All through this illness since 2006, I have been told that medication doesn't do anything. Dr T was dead against it and didn't like prescribing it. So, I thought it would be a good idea to stop. I stopped everything except 25mg of Quetiapine at night so that I wouldn't be awake all night. I thought I was doing ok. I didn't tell anyone at all I had stopped. And, so I thought I was ok. But I wasn't. I was different...not sad down, but loss of motivation, stopped going to the gym, needed a lot of sleep and felt as though I was weighed down with something. Come July, I was a bit of a mess really. I was so anxious and constantly asking my friends for approval and advice about what to do with R. Were things in my head etc etc etc.

I didn't bring it up with him as I didn't want to be that neurotic needy girlfriend. But, I think I was different.

Last week I thought he was being quite odd. He was not one to talk about his feelings and he would brush it off if he was quiet or something. But not this time when I brought it up. The result was basically him saying he wasn't sure what he wanted, and he thought a break would be a good idea. Me being me, ran off to the Lake District for some fresh air, hiking, scenery, photography and wide open spaces. I missed him like crazy. I spilled my heart to him in an email telling him how I felt and I got an email back saying he had thought about it and he thought we should end it. I told him fair enough, but he has at least got to see me in person so we can talk about it face to face as after that long together I deserved more than an email. So we did. And it ended. That's that.

Yes, I am upset. It was kind of the straw that broke the camels back. I was managing to hold it together just enough the last couple of months as I really didn't want him to see that part of me.

It's weird...I love him so much, but what I am more upset is not losing him...it's what it all means to me. That I am 31, living in a rented small flat. My friends all have their own places or kids and are settled. I thought I was getting that in this relationship but, it appeared not. He said he had lost the spark and wasn't sure if he loved me now, and wasn't sure it was love at the start. So me being me...internalises it all. Me being me sees failure, standards, etc etc etc. It's more about that than losing him.

I do get upset about what could have been...the loss of the future. But, what has driven this breakdown more so is that I have yet again failed. That yet again this illness has ruined something for me. That I am faulty etc etc etc. So with the low mood over the last few weeks, the anxiety...WHAM suicidal thoughts and planning comes in again.

I feel so pathetic, that the break down of my relationship is what has landed me on a section. I feel like a silly teenager. I know deep down that it is more than the break up. It is more internalised about that. I am not crying "oh nooooo, he dumped me I best hurt myself to show the world how sad I am by this". It's the whole failure thing. It's the whole taking stock of my life and seeing where I am and not liking it. It is looking to the future and seeing the work I put in to being "normal", to having that conversation with him about the scars and where they came from, the being honest with another person, having to do all that over again. It is the worry that exactly the same thing will happen. The worry that I am 31, am still at college, living in a rented flat, still being slightly reliant on Mummy and Dadddy etc etc etc.

There is the hurt of losing him, but, maybe wrongly, I am telling myself that if the above is what is bothering me more, perhaps we weren't that suited. I don't know. I do love him, care about him. He is the second person I ever loved. I really don't know what's going on in my head,

While I was away last weekend, I had time to think, perhaps it wasn't the best thing to do (running away), and it was there I decided that I no longer wanted to live. Not if I had all of that ahead of me. That I was destined for a life of misery because of my stupid illness. Because of how it rules my life. The same things as usual really.

So, I reached out. I contacted crisis team. I told them how I was feeling...their response was distract yourself. So I told them to fuck off and I would manage on my own. A few hours later I have my GP, a AMHP and  a Sec 12 doc at my door. I told them the same thing. I can manage on my own. I didn't need their input and I would not be working with crisis as I felt it was a waste of time, Where did that land me...170miles south of my home city in a private hospital (there were no beds any closer), and now... on high obs.

A few weeks ago I had a conversation with G, he said something a long the lines of as long as I will make sure you don't end up in hospital again as it is not beneficial to you. With this in my head I basically told the people in the MHA assessment to fuck off too. G was on leave last week so had no input. So, a section 2 for me.

They didn't have a bed straight away and I was on my own over night. The AMHP left at about 10pm, and he was back the next morning at 8.30am. I had had a phone call at around 5am from crisis telling me they had found a bed but transport wouldn't be available until later in the day. 5am! 5AM!!!! WTF. I was actually already awake, but, I don't see why they needed to call me then. The AMHP knocks on my door and tells me they've got a bed they are just working on getting an ambulance. Seriously an ambulance, to come get me.

Even though I knew I was going in to hospital, I prepared a stash of meds and things to harm my self with. Half way down here I took all the meds I had. Because I didn't have a bag with me the ambulance people didn't realise I had taken an OD and anti psychotics, sleeping pills and tricylic antidepressants. They thought I was just drowsy cos I hadn't slept the night before. I can't remember getting here at all. I think the staff just put me in bed as soon as I got here. The next morning I think they cottoned on that something wasn't right. I don't remember at all really, just blurry visions of not being able to walk and bumping in to things. It was when I saw the doc she said my speech was really slurred and something wasn't right, She asked me if I had taken anything, at first denied it but then admitted. I refused to go to hospital at first, but, being as though I am under a section I had no choice they said either I go in a taxi or the police and ambulance will come. Hospital just did bloods and said I was ok...I think. Well, I didn't need treatment and they let me go. By the time I got back my room had been stripped, they had found all my ligs and extra pills.

So now, I am on to my third night here and am now on 1.1 obs as of how I have been. Honestly I feel shit. I am finding it hard to rationalise anything. I feel like I did way back in 2011 when the hospital stuff all kicked off. I can't listen to anyone. And, I don't know how long I will be here for.

I am supposed to be seeing G on Monday...that's not going to happen unless they transfer me tomorrow back home. But, I have the staff here talking to me about therapy groups and being assessed for therapy etc etc. I don't want to do that. I know where I am with G. I know him and I can be open with him. I don't want to start all over again. I don't want to have to talk to people about my childhood etc etc etc etc. I don't want to go over everything and make it fresh. But, I am worried, they will want me to "engage" and if I don't it lessen my chances of getting anywhere.

The unit is a lot nicer than NHS...obviously, it's private and I think costs around £1000 a week. My parents looked in to sending me private back in 2011. And, knowing how much it is costing the NHS...how much I am costing the NHS makes me want to die even more because I am a waste of money. I have been in and out of hospital for 4 years now. 4 fucking years. OK, granted it's been a year since I was last in...but being quite a prominent patient in services. It's such a waste.

I don't feel as though I can talk to anyone here. I don't know anyone. They don't know me. They don't know my history. I don't want to go over everything again and again. In my home town, I have people that I know. I have G for therapy and if I am on the ward I know at least one member of staff per shift. It makes things so much easier...they can also tell when I am heading down a slippery slope of SH etc etc.

I am not sure if I need to be in hospital or if it's working. Would I be at the bottom of the river by now being left on my own. Would I have seriously OD be in ICU again. Am I saying I could cope so I could be left to my own devices? I don't know. I don't know what is best for me at the moment.

It's tough. I don't really know what to do.