Down down deeper and down

Today i reduce my dosage again. Ill be down to … *does really basic sum in head very slowly* ….. one quarter of the original dose. And currently im feeling, well… tired!

Theres a post coming on feelings, when im less tired, brain fogged and busy!

Right now I have Dr Who stuff and friends to distract me 😊 (there’ll also be at least one post relating to that, one of them not necessarily good but there’s still hope) But for now, im awake far too early, have already cleaned my airbnb room (second in 2 days, this place is DISGUSTING) and actually have a few hours until a friend arrives on the early train…. we gonna hang for the day and no doubt mingle with others arriving later. Gotta take Dalek with me, and hopefully get the prize for worst team in the quiz, again!

Also….ive started yet another new medication. A beta blocker as a prophylaxis for migraines as theyve been horrendous of late. Lets hope this all works out and then when things settle i can stop this and go back to the PRN stuff.

Oops I did it again

And I’d do it again and again. But I’m going to make it difficult for myself.

I am ashamed, and I should be, also not ashamed, which is good because shame can ruin anyone. So I am going to try to make sense of things (which could take a long time) and to use this to motivate me in a positive direction.

So obviously I have been increasingly anxious with a building drive towards self destruction. Generously assisted by the appalling mental health care being provided. I Still am grabbing for a reason to bother existing, I had something when I got back from Egypt but that only lasted 2 days before begin destroyed. And thus I have to go into ptsd related therapy yadda yadda. Which means that I have to CHOOSE to put myself through a long time of unpredictable and horrendous emotional turmoil before I can even think about reawakening that terminated dream. At the same time as doing the hours/days/months of work required in the flat. Just so that I can move out. I am keeping that bit somewhat secret from a friend as they don’t want me to move and are currently very unstable themselves, which feels horrible. But, it’s time to start over and get away from the awful neighbours who both the landlord and police refuse to do anything about. They have genuinely been making my life worse, to the point where just the thought of being at “home” can bring on a panic attack. As it is right now. Hence the valium and extended time away (though am now on my way back there, my chest is getting tighter and tighter)And once I’m more emotionally stable then I can go back to the pain clinic, or chronic fatigue clinic, to help me get back into a more stable physicality. And I desperately want to be going to the gym regularly, which I need mental and physical stability for…. AAAAAAGGH. ITS ALL CONNECTED. ITS ALL FUCKING DIFFICULT. I’M SO DAMN TIRED OF IT ALL.

On the plus side… I’ve been off tobacco for a couple of weeks!* Which would go some way towards explaining stress levels, sugar madness and food cravings.

And yes, I am incapable of doing one difficult thing at a time.

I am going to take a break from writing this as I’m getting too upset and stressed.

It’s been a few days, this isn’t going to get any easier and as I am collapsed spoonless, desperately needing sleep and incapable of switching off. Nothing new there , I might as well try to get this done.

I could also faff and delay this indefinitely. I do feel I need to give context, in part for understanding and forgiveness from you, but mainly because this blog is very much here to help me understand myself.

I am trying to understand why I am fighting so hard for something I am not enjoying. Why I still have needs and wants that stem from 30+ year old shit.

And why I need to understand the intricacies of myself to be able to make tiny steps forward. Would it be easier to make changes if I understood less. I’ve seen people struggle with that in therapy groups and have seen them sometimes find peace with things anyway. Is my drive for “understanding” actually a drive for vocabulary? Much of this stuff comes naturally, through intensive experience during childhood. But having the words to describe is something else.

Does understanding make it easier to change or easier to punish myself when I don’t change?

Does it make it better or worse when I choose to do something that I know is “bad”?

And that is finally getting close to what I’m doing here now.

I do know that I learn a lot from bad and painful experiences. And that I, and only I, have the power to act based on those things.

So when I in full consciousness choose to do something harmful I need to understand why. I also sink into a pit of self hatred, anger and confusion.

Which then leads back to trying to understand my self, and thus a circle is created.

I am trying to NOT do a lot of things. It feels as though that’s all my life is. Making choices to not do something. Making some choices for my benefit, based primarily on a drive to Not continue with behaviours I dislike. Deciding to do something harmful based on Not wanting to care for myself. Choosing to do things that are not in my benefit because I do Not want the potential for more unwanted experiences, such as staying awake because I’m scared of sleep and nightmares.

There are times when I am calm and calculating, this is when I should be worried. When I should be checking myself and stopping. But I’ve switched off that bit and not only is it nice to not be feeling horrendously anxious, but I just don’t care. It’s so nice to not care for a while.

This is also when I’m likely to make bad choices. When I am going into self destruct mode and doing what I can to fuck it all up.

And still, I’ve not said the thing I need to say. Because it’s HARD.

Also because it’s hard I am here to say it.

I bought and smoked crack.

I’m making it public in part to make it harder for me to do again but also because I HATED the secrecy around the addiction. The lies, the omissions of detail, the denial. It all fed the addiction. Had I felt able to talk about what was going on then I might have avoided the severity of consequences. Had I been able to tell my friends ‘I did a bad thing’ then I might have been able to fight the drives effectively. Rather than telling myself that I had things under control despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

So did I do it to escape the overwhelming stress and anxiety? Or to derail my efforts to improve my quality of life?

There are so many answers and potentials to both those questions. It would be a whole other essay to explore them.

Following my minor meltdown and decision to extend my break away. Of course the stresses didn’t magically disappear. And I am loathe to medicate myself out of that, as I’ve explained it doesn’t really help and creates its own problems.

The reduction in antidepressants is certainly a factor. An increase in self destructive behaviour a natural and expected result.

The overwhelming pressure of feeling pinned into a life and home I despise and that is detrimental to my health.

Barely managed emotional reactions to things not going as hoped (as is typical with BPD) that lead to strong drives to lash out, punish, hurt and destroy. Primarily affecting myself as I try very hard not to hurt others.

So many factors came into play that I’m not sure I’ll ever truly understand. Maybe one day I can be at peace with it.

Now I am ashamed. I can see the expressions on people’s faces as they read this.

I’m angry, not so much that I did it but that I choose to do so knowing what could happen.

I’m scared partly because it was better than I anticipated. Giving a false sense that I could maybe “get away” with doing it again. And the chain of shit that would result.

I’m terrified of how fucking quickly I went back into addict mindset. Checking every little white crumb just in case it was a fallen bit of crack. For days. Willing to conceal, manipulate and lie. Tempted to steal to be able to pay for stuff ostensibly telling myself it’d be for other things but knowing really that it would go to fund some scum dealers expensive lifestyle. All that stuff returned almost instantly after just one small rock and lasted days.

The only positive is that I went into it consciously because not doing so would have made it much harder to deal with after.

The two people who I have spoken to about this have both said that it’s good that I reached out to someone inbetween buying and smoking. That long tearful conversation with M did help. I talked through a lot of options and feelings, made no promises to do the right thing and gave myself some space to make that (bad) choice.

Though having relieved some of the pressure I was not going into it in a bad head self hate state. Angry at everything and everyone, believing that the only option was to punish myself by feeding the addiction.

This is also why I actually mostly enjoyed it. And why I have to keep talking about it now so that I don’t screw up the little bit of progress made before I smoked that shit.

As it’s very difficult to find someone to talk to about this that isn’t a concerned friend, another addict or someone trying to give unasked for advice. I am putting it here. My shame, for all the world to see.

I am worried about falling down that horrendous gutter again. Mostly for the sheer monetary expense, wasted on temporary relief. The emotional expense of choosing to go back to one of the places I’ve hated most in my life (and that’s saying a lot) the physical expense of what it does to the body and mind and the social expense of closing down my already narrow lifestyle to one where I cut out everyone that ever cared about me so that they can’t see what’s happening.

I don’t want advice or sympathy, that’ll only make me angry. I do want empathy and understanding, a space to be open and honest and a chance to talk openly in the hopes that maybe I can understand and not do this again.

* I chose to buy some tobacco a couple days aafter getting back, mainly bexause it gives a low spoon distraction from hell

Can you say OWWWW

Coz i can. A million times.

Fuck medication changes. The valium is providing temporary emotional easement and some lessoning of the back pain where the lumbar has been in spasm for a couple of weeks.

But… as a result (of being bloodied. Soz D&D joke) of the sertraline reduction or in combination with. The fibro is flaring and wordening each day. I am probably experiencing the physical side effects that one gets when starting sertraline, i was warned that may happen because I have fibromyalgia.

I have pain associated with poor sleep.

I have pain associated with reduced movement. Resulting from above pain and lack of sleep.

I have pain associated with stress.

Pain from side effects of the increased amount of pain killers (which I’m struggling to maintain)

Pain from minor actions of self harm/neglect

Pain from menstruation

Pain from anxiety and ptsd

I am So Soooooo glad i packed my TENS machine. But even with that, brain killers, stretches and controlled breathing, walks where i can all together I am still in Agony.

And I’m only 2 weeks in… am beginning to suspect that i am going to be virtually housebound for the nedt couple of months. Please try to tempt me out, I’m gonna be a miserable fucker with mood swings to die for but it will help to get out, see friends, do stuff. Even if its just a gentle walk down the road.

Stop being so damn nice

Seriously though, thank you. I know i swear at anyone being nice or complementary but i do appreciate it, i just can’t accept it. And yes i resent everyone that doesnt want me dead, you’re all being fucking selfish, but i get it. Im sad about people who have died. But then not all of them were merely existing and barely surviving rather than living and enjoying life for the most part.

I miss my brother and am horrified by how he died and what led to it, im sad that I never got the chance to reconcile with him and im angry that he had to suffer so much. But at least for him its over.

A friend said recently that they think im more resilient than i realise. I tried to explain that thats not entirely true. Part of what gets me down is knowing that i can survive a lot before I break, that i can deal with so much fucking shit before the cracks start showing. And that every minute is going to be hell. That i will remain superficially functional for way longer than ‘average’. That because I can still appear coherent and aware that i will not get the help i know i need. That my ability to survive and look after myself, to hide my wounds and vulnerabilities and to articulate all fuck me over royally particularly when it comes to mental health care. Just because I put on a clean top and can explain whats happening inside my head somehow makes it okay for the medical community to sideline me and declare me in less need than somebody who didnt learn those self protective and introspective skills as a child.

As a fucking child. Because growing up in a home like ours was rough, I got treated way worse than my brother as a result i got stronger, more resilient. Less able to relinquish control and allow the sickness to take over. More aware of just how fucked up things are getting, and how much more fucked up they need to get before I break completely.

Being resilient is its own curse. And im painfully painfully aware of whats going on. Thats why i used to drink so much, why i would get wasted as much as possible. Why I’ve had a tight chest, clenched jaw and troubled breath for days.

Thankfully I have generous friends who are looking after my place, and friends i can consult for advice when my brain is in meltdown, and friends who have been AMAZING while I wobble and crack. And not the good kind of crack.

JOKE

Yeah i still want it but no I don’t actually think its good. And you probably dont think thats funny. Lets judt call that gallows humor.

So…. I have extended my stay. Even with quetiapine i was still experiencing severe anxiety. I chatted with some people about my options and the consensus was to stay, get some more rest (hahahaha, I dont actually know how to do that) and allow myself time to prepare mentally to go back there. So i changed my plans, somehow managed to get a hospital appointment moved to the following week! and was permitted some valium to help me through until I go back. A different appointment i have not, cannot cancel as its a home visit, i dont know who with or have any contact details…! And another appointment I’ll cancel when i get around to it, it’ll likely be a waste of my time, they have all be so far… such is the state of mental health services currently.

I stumbled across some information another friend had helped me research just after I got back from holiday. A neighbouring borough has so much more on offer for MH support. Theres a residential place, thats an alternative to hospitalisation. That i dont qualify for due to a matter of a few streets the wrong side of the catchment boundry. But I think I am going to ask them anyway, the worst thing is that I’ll be refused something that I know im not entitled to. Though i hope that theres a work around And that theyre amenable to it.