Crawling ( Opening old wounds)

For a bit of background… I detested Linkin Park when they appeared on the scene. I was a hardcore music snob and hated all the new (short haired) nu and rap metal. I only bought Hybrid Theory this year thanks to a podcast called Thrash it Out, thanks guys! Now I’m annoyed at myself because this album is ABSOLUTELY my kind of music.

I’ve been listening to it obsessively over the last week or two.
I had a meltdown recently, you may have noticed. And I have been VERY depressed, withdrawn, unable to focus, spending hours just laying in bed staring at the wall. Not doing anything I didn’t have to do, with a couple of exceptions in attempts to perk myself up.

I did have a very lovely time with my occasional bitch (don’t look at me, they chose that title!) which gave me some much needed relief. A ‘sleep’ later and I’m back down in the clingy shit filled pit trying with all my energy to just get through one day and pushing myself into something I’d be content to withdraw from. Something that forces me to interact with other people and I do deliberately partly for that very reason.

anyway, I digress. Back to Hybrid Theory. I’m listening to it right now, for the 13 billionth time. I should stop and pick something else, less depressive music. But I can’t. I’m stuck. I’m inside myself screaming to get out and I can’t. I need to get out of my own head. It’s somewhat of a cliché but music saved my life. Music, dancing, going to clubs was the only way I was able to connect to and/or express the lifetime of feelings I had repressed. Over the years, cutting whilst listening to something that has connected emotionally has become a valid and useful coping mechanism. The pain became a way to release pent up rage and pain, partly because as a young child extreme pain was the only time I would cry in front of my abuser so it became a thing. It has developed into blood letting, the more blood the better, which mean lots more shallower wounds OR three deep ones. Usually it works like the valve on a pressure cooker, letting me pick up again and carry on, until the next build up. Usually. Sometimes I need to repeat the process, try the other option. Or it just doesnt work. If that happens I’m way more prone to becoming suicidal, if I’m not already.

desperate to do something, trying not to put myself into danger, I decided to cut into some old scars that had long faded. Something that would be seen but that I can also pass off as body mod stuff and thus not feel self-conscious or spend the next couple of months exclusively in long sleeves. Listening to Linkin Park on repeat, a decent amount of blood flowed.

It didnt work. No connection. Not a single fucking tear. The only thing I felt was a manic joy at the blood and endorphins. No emotional release.

It’s also really fucking depressing that this album came out 17 years ago, covering things around mental health and abuse and stuff. (There is a reason I called them the Little Angry Ones when they appeared!) So, recently Chester lost the fight with mental health problems, after all this time he still couldn’t make it. I’m really struggling with thoughts about my future, I can’t picture anything other than failure. And if he can’t continue after such a long time how am I going to manage. In my mind I have ‘failed’ so many times. I can’t see/feel any successes and thus can’t see the point in continuing now especially as in a years time I’ll likely be a total fuckup, again. Logically I could argue against that, even show proof to the contrary. But my abusive depressed brain would not be able to see or recognise anything other that what it keeps telling me. Which is that I may as well give up.

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I’m okay.

Kinda, for now. I think. Thank you to those that got in touch. It helped me to get help. I’m processing things better cognitively, emotionally I’m not so sure about. Maybe I am, I certainly feel awful. Whether that’s because I’m actually dealing with stuff or its the same old bullshit wallowing I can’t tell. 

I spent a few days staying with friends, got some sleep, did loads of gardening and started to settle down. So I came home, to see if I could cope. Did not sleep the first night, took a pill to knock me out the next. Now its just the same tired old routine of shitty sleep and shittier dreams. I want to get out of here, really don’t feel like I can keep asking people if I can stay at theirs (despite assurances to the contrary) so am feeling trapped again. 

On the plus side there was a new boiler fitted today, at last. I’d have a bath of I could be bothered. I’d really like one. Maybe I’ll manage to do some dishes at least. 

Though right now all I can do is feel horribly rejected. I told (by text) a family member about my meltdown and asked if there was a family history of breast cancer as I had my appointment coming up. And later, with prompting and support from a friend, also asked the same family if they be able to come with me to the doctor for moral support. No response to either message. I hadn’t wanted to asked them to accompany me precisely because I didn’t want the possible rejection. But as I want to get past my issues with such things I sent the request. Had they at least said something, anything, I wouldn’t feel so fucked off and upset. And now I’m going to have to deal with the situation and that’s making me even more stressed. I wish I hadn’t asked. As it was I did the doctors appointment alone, looking after myself like I always have. Same old shit. 

Doctor thinks the lump is some sort of fibroma type thing, or something like that. Been referred for imaging to make sure. Probably won’t ask anyone to come with me as I cannot cope with another lot of non answers. I’m half not concerned and half fucking worried. My cousin just died from cancer (not breast) and I think someone in the family did die from it. Though I don’t know for sure which is why I asked. We’re it not for those things I wouldn’t be worried. I also upped the dose on my antidepressants, don’t know if it will help but it might.

We’re it also not for the fact that the family rallied around my cousin when they were sick but can’t even answer a fucking text for me… So. Many. Issues. Past traumas, current stresses and repeated let downs resulting in me looking after myself. I need and want to find people that I CAN turn to for help. Ain’t nothing I can do right now though, that would involve pushing myself way beyond my current capacity. 

fake it till you make it…?

Is this really a viable option?

sometimes, I guess. Though I’m not sure its good for all situations. Its essentially what I’ve been doing for years, if not my whole life. /Though certainly with more conscious awareness in the last 10-15 years. But is this attitude not harmful? Even potentially dangerous? I know its gotten me into a few ‘scrapes’ in the past and could well do so again if things continue, as is. I get it, theres definitely benefits and a possible ego/confidence boost to putting oneself into the place one wants to be (or at least where you think you want to be) and just jumping in at the deep end. I’ve done things that I definitely wanted to do, but my motivations were misunderstood. Had I gone into the same situation, lets say my former career as a vehicle/plant mechanic, with a diferent motivation. Once that was clearer to me and more ‘honest’ then maybe things would have worked out very differently. Maybe I wouldnt have had a meltdown, maybe now I’d be running my own garage now, with my pink overalls and misogyny free atmosphere. Maybe not. But my underlying emotional state, driving me to do something I’d wanted to do for 15years or more, might have (almost certainly had) a huge effect on the way things played out. I did not have the skills nessescary, the self confidence or belief in my entitlement to be there, the ability to self care and manage stresses in a safe and healthy way. To say it all went horribly wrong, thats accurate.

With the right skillset though it might have worked out the way I imagined it would when I started on that path. So faking it did not work, and nearly killed me in the process. It conpletely wrecked what little confidence I had, and led to a path of recovery that is now in its 9th year. This in itself is no bad thing, but…. its been 8+ years of physical and emotional challenges beyond anything I ever envisoined for myself. And I had a pretty shitty upbringing!

Why am I rambling about this stuff? I kinda dont know. I have been increaslingly unsettled the last few weeks, struggling to care for myself, creeping further into self harm territory. All the time, trying to tell the world that somnething is very wrong. But my autonatic habit of not showing pain (weakness) not being able to communicate (not knowing how to access internal stuff) and being so pigheadedly stubborn about being seen as self sufficient (not asking for help) really has not been any fucking help in processing whatever IT is. Today I’ve been pushed over the edge.

The last few days Ive been fatigued, lightheaded & nauseus, my knees are week and I’m physically unstable. i can barely sleep, have been over eating and consuming foods that I shouldnt. been filling my time up so much that I dont have any real relaxation periods. spending money like its going out of fashion and withdrawing whilst keeping a facade of okayness and funcionality. basically most of the things that are absolute warning signs that shit is not okay. And today I slipped over into having serious RAM issues in my brain, a growing feeling of panic and strong paranoia. Which has forced me back into my house, because even though its not a safe space for me anymore, its still safer than outside. Especially when I start disassociating. This is breaking point, this is where things could get dangerous if I cant mend it very soon. I’m scared, and maybe I’m scared because I dont know what the fuck is happenening, or going to happen. I’m definitely scared that my career choice will implode, as it has done before, twice. I definitely dont like the unpredictable and fluctuating nature of whats to come. Maybe I’m an idiot and am just going to fuck it all up, again. Maybe I am not cut out to be a fucking human being. Maybe i’m just overthinking it all and creating anxiety about stuff that doesnt need to be. Maybe I”m not in control.

Before my hyatus writing stuff down used to help me process it, work out what the issue was and hopfully give me a starting point on where I could start with the healing. So I thought I’d give it a try again today. I hope it helps, but so far I’m not feeling any better. I may well take myself down to the crisis service as I dont feel safe around myself. If I can manage to leave the house that is. I genuionly dont knwo whats going on right now and its fucking terrifying.

wassup?

In answer, I dont know. Not specifics anyway.  Have had an insatiable hunger since getting back home a few days ago, triggered by exhaustion and lack of sleep. It now seems to be more than that, tied to emotional stuff that I havent identified. I’m fed up with not being able to sleep much, fed up with feeling crap and spoonless, fed up with eating all the fucking time. I’M NOT ACTUALLY HUNGRY. Getting stuck in a mini whirlpool of being sleep deprived, restless, in pain, depressed, angry and emotionally frayed which stops me from sleeping and makes me compulsively eat ALL the food and sweets. And getting wound up by all of this, disgusted and angry at myself for letting it happen and not fighting the compulsions and beating myself for not sleeping. Which leads me back into getting stressed, not being able to sleep and force feeding myself.

Its an old entrenched abusive coping method. Its also a classic screaming neon sign that theres some deep serious/nasty/terrifying emotional shit lurking just below my conscience. Shit that I dont want to deal with, that I would rather just fucked off and went away never to bother me again. Its making me extremely short tempered and sensitive to my surroundings. The clutter in my prison of a home is making me VERY stressed right now. At this moment I could really do with someone to cuddle up with and just …be… To cry or laugh or watch tv, or whatever. But that’s something I cannot think about so it gets pushed away as dwelling and making myself feel worse isnt going to help. So its just me and my head demons here

The boiler saga

Sounds like a really crap steampunk series!

Its actually just a really crap real life broken boiler… and a cheapskate landlord who wont pay for a new one.

Thankfully its summer so I don’t need heating. Cold water baths are not my thing though!!

sigh

Gimme a break!

Dear body…. You have got to be kidding me!

Just about recovered from major surgery after having a large endo cyst removed. Doing my physio (yayy good me) and did a breast exam at the same time, efficiency ftw. And I found a lump *rolls eyes so hard* I am going to hope its something hormonal and will bugger off soon. Though it feels different to the usual transient lumps. The prospect of yet another round of hospital appointments, scans, possible surgery etc…. well, I’m sighing right now. I’ve worked SOOOOOOOO hard the last few years, with a billion* medical things going on. Gradually reducing the amount of clinics and appointments I need to attend, it has literally taken up a massive part of my life, so each one I’ve been discharged/graduated from has been a small but significant win. And with all the other stuff thats happened in the two years I was away from this blog, stuff that hasnt gone away. Goddammit I Need a holiday! A real loooooong holiday. With No hospital, clinic, doctor appointments. No therapy group. No restrictive medication routine (which reminds me, I wanted to write something up on that, made massive progress there) No family drama. No life drama. And no arsehole neighbours!

Right now, the prospect of yet more medical/body drama is rather depressing. So I’m gonna grab me some spoons, deal with the stuff on my plate right now, try to get some rest, and go enjoy the fuck out of something. Anything. Maybe a cuppa tea! 😀

*maybe a slightly exaggerated number

In the End, it Does Matter.

Pondering Fandoms

If what follows helps someone, anyone, even a tiny bit then it’ll be worth it. ‘Cause in the end, it does matter. You matter.

Warning: mentions of past thoughts of suicide & Chester Bennington’s death

5689c6a5b2You almost never know how you will react when you learn about someone’s death. We like to think that we have a good idea, about whether we would cry or sob or just feel sad when we hear the news. Yet here I am wiping away tears, feeling like someone sucker punched me in the gut at work after hearing Chester Bennington, lead singer of Linkin Park had committed suicide this morning. Mike Shinoda of Linkin Park confirmed it on twitter as well as numerous trusted news sources.

Please understand, Linkin Park is a strange band for me. I tend to take it or leave it. I would never say I’m a fan. Sure I…

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