Another preventable suicide.

Stories like this are exactly why I will never, EVER give up talking and campaigning and SHOUTING about mental health, my experiences and what happened to me. How dare they not listen!?

 

It makes no sense to me that a woman who was known to try and commit suicide was left alone in a cubicle, and only classed as a “moderate self-harm” risk. A very few people will listen, but as I’ve experienced, mostly nobody wants to know. Suicide is STILL not taken seriously. It’s seen as something that only a few people do, and that few people attempt.

Anyone is at risk. Anyone can develop depression. Anyone can have a mental health issue. This is not a problem attached to the few- the many can suffer too.

 

http://m.thisislancashire.co.uk/news/11771802.CALL_FOR_ANSWERS__How_could_my_vulnerable_wife_have_been_left_to_kill_herself_at_busy_A_E_/

This scratchy, writhing knot in my chest.

After therapy yesterday I did feel a little better, but now I’m feeling worried again. I have a memory stored in the back of my head that I can’t quite grasp. It’s worrying me because now all I can think about is how I’m trying not to think of it til next week.

I’m not sure what it is apart from that I think it has something to do with that weird religious cult thing my ex had B and I believing in. I keep feeling frightened for no reason, anxious that something evil is going to find me. He had me so worked up, I would see demons everywhere. The worst one was the one with the back of its head missing and no face. I was manic, so hallucinations came with the territory. He fuelled them.

I wonder if I’m actually losing control of my life again. I’m trying not to but I feel like nothing I ever wanted will work for me. I have no time or inspiration to write at the minute and I really, really want to. How can I hone my craft when I have no time to do it in?

J still drifts across a sea. A sea separated by hostile border-keepers and communication that’s been sporadic at best. I’m trying to build a life I can’t see.

R is now married, and I know that she will never leave me. Right now though she’s enjoying her honeymoon, and I’m not going to spoil it.

Lastly, A texted me I think. I had a ‘hi’ off a number I don’t know. It threw me cause I was out. Was he watching me? Cue panic and hypervigilance.

I need a holiday, or a break, or a day spent shutting out the world. I suspect I’d feel better then.

More on my stupid comedown.

Today I woke exhausted despite sleeping well, nervous and anxious despite nothing happening, and apathetic despite the fact there are good people to care for me. I’m really struggling with food, and I don’t want to leave the house.

 

The problem with keeping on trying to function whilst feeling like this is it wrecks you slowly. You struggle to concentrate. You have the attention span of a flea. You’re tired all the time… And you have just stopped being manic, you all you can do is feel inadequate because a week ago you were buzzing, able to do anything at all. Now you’re just crawling through life and death seems a pleasant rest.

Suicidal thoughts are partly a warning and partly because I just want a break from life. I am so glad that next week is half term. I can just flop and I don’t have to feel guilty. No obligations. I can just sleep.

Manic crash, damn it.

I’ve been trying to deny it, but I’m sliding. I’m trying to stay on top of this manic comedown but it is really biting hard now. I’m shattered but can’t sleep, starving but can’t eat. I’ve stopped replying to messages and I can’t be bothered with Facebook. J is sick so I won’t bother him.

 

I am so tired. I do not in any way want to go back to a psychiatrist but I am really struggling with regulating my damn mood. I’m either completely apathetic or I’m angry. I have no inspiration.

I am really trying though, this time, not to sink. Even though I’m sleeping like shit I still try and get up in the morning. Despite continued nightmares, I am trying to stick to my routine at night which has been helping me get to sleep, and I’m trying to reply, even if a few days or hours late. I am not letting this best me.

I need to have this recognised for what it is though- I have bipolar and nobody will believe me. Dr K does, but she can’t tell a psychiatrist without them trying to go down the old wrong BPD thing again. You all know my feelings on psychiatrists and also on BPD. I don’t think we need either.

Maybe I have to learn ways of coping without meds, because it is such a fight to get them and to get anyone to diagnose you with what you actually have. I have PTSD and an affective mood disorder, but few people in the medical profession will take me seriously. They’ll believe me about the abuse but not that I cannot control my moods well.

I suppose I will have to either summon up the courage to see a psych and try and persuade them to get me on mood stabilisers, or live with this and see if there’s a holistic way out of this.

A message for the creepers out there.

UPDATE: I seem to have a text from him now as well…

 

So A contacted me again. This during a tough time in my life- I’m on a manic comedown, and it’s busy trying to beat the shit out of me. Thing is, this time I seem to be managing it better.

I have a little message for the creepers that try and follow me. I have them on a photo application, dropping weird comments on my pictures, and believe me- I don’t do selfies. Other people have to take a picture of me before I’ll upload it. I usually post my dog, to be honest.

“Yes, it’s me again, and before you think I’m stalking you-“

Actually mate, you are stalking me. It’s been two years since I last spoke to you, so don’t contact me again clearly left no impression.

So, creepers, here’s the rub:

 

You do not have permission to fall in love with me. Do not think seeing a pretty picture lets you know who I am or what I’m all about. I do not give my consent to you to spew these bizarre words, to follow me through cyberspace, to ask my real name and tell me you think my personality is beautiful when we haven’t exchanged ten words.

 

The only people who get to be that close to me are my friends, H, R, J, and my family. They get to say they love me. I know they’re telling the truth.

You on the other hand- you have no clue what I’m really like. Stop telling me you love me when all I’ve ever said to you is ok. I will block, ban, report and delete you. I’ve already had two stalkers and I’m not about to accept a third.

 

There is no excuse for your ludicrous behaviour. I am not about to tolerate any more of it. I’m too nice- I’ll sit there feeling uncomfortable for hours, letting you spout your weird professions of a love that cannot exist, a one-sided, obsessive, disturbing “love”. You forget I know what real love looks like.

 

As for you, A- well, I’ll be in contact with the national stalking helpline. Done with your following, your obsessing, and your constant blaming of anyone else but yourself of your bad behaviour.

 

To all my true followers here, you are all spectacular people who keep picking me up when I have no clue how to continue. You offer advice. You read my blog, humble scratchings in a crazy corner of the internet, and that means more than any bizarre inappropriate confession of love. Thank you.

Why the children I teach are all scared of everything.

I’ve encountered many children over the years I’ve spent teaching. Recently, their pushy, over-protective, downright isolatory parents have instilled in the majority of them a sense of fear. They’re terrified of everything.

Have to leave your mummy to come to class? Cry a lot and she’ll come running in and remove you from the teacher’s obviously awful class. Got a cut knee? Feel free to not come into class, it doesn’t matter if the teacher has been up all night sewing your exam costume. Want to go on holiday? Of course, go, and make sure you don’t tell your teacher personally. She’ll be thrilled to hear it second hand from another parent, on the day before the exam.

I am so in agreement with this article, I cannot reiterate it enough. The children I teach won’t try to learn an exercise for fear that they will get it wrong. A correction is seen as a criticism- I’m trying to help your child. Would you prefer me to leave her doing the step wrong to save your injured pride?

I am trying to help your kid. I want him or her to do well. I want her to take risks, fall over, learn to laugh at mistakes, because it’s good for a kid’s mental and physical health to run the risk of… Anything!! Everything!

Children love to learn by risking things. They like to see what it’s like to experience adrenaline. They actually enjoy seeing how much they can push themselves!

Please, share the hell out of the article below. It’s amazing.

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/oct/14/risk-essential-childhood-children-danger