Interlude- What she said.

I saw my friend Hermione yesterday. I call her this because she reminds me of the Harry Potter character- brave, smart, stands up for what’s right and is a loyal friend. It was a gamble, a massive one.

Why?

Well, she went to a different school after primary school, and she ended up meeting my ex there and becoming his friend.

So, as you can imagine, I’ve tried not to say anything really too revealing on Facebook for fear he might still be friends with her and see it. I have been frightened that he could spy on me through her.

When I posted on Facebook that I had been in an abusive relationship and that it had put me in hospital, so many people commented and told me I was brave. I felt it, and I suddenly noticed I had a message. It was my friend Hermione, asking me if I was ok, that she felt awful that I’d gone through what I had, and that was it the person she thought it was.

Yes. Yes it was.

I told her I was sorry for not being able to talk to her properly for so long, as he’d been there interfering and making life that much harder. She said it was fine, it didn’t matter, and could we meet up? I was so pleased. I said yes, and I met her yesterday outside a building I used to sing in with primary school.

One of the first things out of her mouth was, “I can’t believe he tricked us all like this. His best friend is going to go crazy.”

There it was. He hurt and manipulated me so badly I was convinced that no-one would believe me: yet, here she was, someone who had called herself his friend, on MY side and telling me that she believed me. I’d not given a scrap of evidence to her, hadn’t begun to tell her of the horrors I’d gone through, but she BELIEVED ME.

I can’t get over how I feel about that. I feel more powerful. I feel supported in a way I never thought I’d have again. She was so angry that he’d lied to her like that, and the other two he used to call his friends. I realised that I still have the power of the truth with me and that I am believable.

We discussed his lying, his smear campaign that I only just realised existed that he mounted against me without my knowledge. We talked about how long his front of an innocent victim had lasted, and how long I’d been split from all the things and people I love. She was one step ahead of my desperate words, understanding and believing and just being there. The forthright ten-year-old shone through and I realised she had seen through his lies.

However, she sparked a memory in me that I’m going to have to process slowly because it still disturbs me, and I don’t know what happened next. Hermione said that she saw me and my ex walking down the road near my mum’s dance school handcuffed together.

I’d forgotten all about that and it frightened me to remember it. I wanted to erase it again, because I remember being frightened by his insistence that we do it and frightened in case the cuffs didn’t come off and humiliated. It was still when all my schoolfriends were in or around my home town, so any of them could have seen. As it happened, it was Hermione and her mum who saw. She said she knew that it wasn’t something I’d do, and she apologised for frightening me. She’s kind like that.

I told my therapist today about it. Dr K was concerned about that, and she was concerned about me telling her about the weird cult-like thing the ex made to trap me and my friend B. She said he sounded dangerous, that he was like Charles Manson in a way because of his controlling and his charisma. He’d bewitched the teachers at his school and he bewitched me, too. She said if I feel bad at any point, I should call her and we can fit in another session before I go and see J.

I also told Dr K of the fear that I have other things like that hidden in my head that I have blanked out. She said she was worried about that too, and that it was also a very brave thing of me to go and see Hermione like that. Dr K asked me whether I still felt frightened of him, and I said yes. I am still frightened, because I met a man who could lie his way out of any situation where he was guilty but still have everyone believe him. As J says, and wisely so, sociopaths use a tiny grain of truth to base their lies upon, so that they sound believable. Dr K agrees with this. She says it’s a common tactic amongst abusers.

She also thinks that I can bring a case against him. She’s not the first to do so- the other person was a man in the RAID team who took all of my ex’s details down and told me that because of the nature of what I had disclosed to him, he was going to have to pass it on to the appropriate channels. Good. That means that if he does anything else, it will appear on the system. Anyway…

Dr K said that I could ring the Domestic Violence hotline and talk to them to see if I could bring a case against him, and I went home and found the leaflets. I want to ring the DV hotline as soon as I can. I want to keep talking. My silence is broken.

“It’s not over til it’s over, and it’s never over…”

 

 

Admitted- the beginning- Part Seven.

I said when I got out I would write up my journal entries. Here goes the first one.

April 24th, 17:31.

Voices are on at me still non-stop. Being admitted. The mental health nurse said that I was a concern. Dr K got me to come here because she was worried for me.

The RAID team got called (Rapid Response mental health team) and now I’m waiting for a bed.

The voices are so angry with me! They want me to die so much. I don’t want to kill myself but they keep wanting me to.

I really hope this fixes some of this or I might die.

April 25th, 00:59.

I have been admitted.

I’m absolutely exhausted. I want to sleep but my brain is on fire, so I’ll be writing until I feel a bit more tired.

I’ve been taken to A&E before, like I’ve written, but I’m not sure it’s ever been as stressful as this. I was in such a state with Dr K at my appointment, she taught me some breathing techniques with a relaxation technique, then she rang the RAID team to let them know I was heading across. She talked to mum, too, and we got to A&E (ER for my American readers). The lovely Triage nurse saw me and told me that they would keep me safe. That was nice. Right then, I felt anything but.

The good part about being assessed was that I didn’t have to keep saying all the bad stuff in front of my mum. I felt believed, respected and valued.

I’m in Ward 3- have my own room with a little ensuite toilet. Not sure how I managed that but it helps with the paranoia. It’s a mixed ward but the men can’t come down here, so that’s a bit relief.

I saw the consultant- she was very kind. She has taken my blood and done a full mental health assessment on me.

I rang R and J. Both were awesome. Told Mr Robot about all of this too, and Harley Quinn and Y.

Oh, I think I actually feel tired now. I will end up writing more tomorrow.

These hours are dragging.

So I got a call from my Psychologist, after having a breakdown today in front of my mum. She suggested I ring her, but when I did she was in a meeting. Dr K rang me back, but I was in the car with both my mum and my Gran. Gran doesn’t know much apart from that I am depressed, and she sure as hell doesn’t know about the voices of the dark passenger. So I was limited in what I could convey to Dr K, and I must have sounded cagy and desperate. She somehow thought I wasn’t coming to my appointment tomorrow, but I told her I certainly was coming. She said I should write down everything the voices are saying and bring it tomorrow to our appointment.

I wanted to cry after the short conversation. I felt like it had gone totally wrong. What about the fact that the voices are STILL telling me to go and find the steak knives/bleach/ibuprofen and kill myself? What about that I am self-harming again, that my mum saw all my cuts today, that I still hear the voices telling me to go get the steak knife and do much worse damage?

I’m so fucking tired of it all. I want to sleep and dream, not of some awful man forcing himself on me again, but of nothing. Maybe a couple of mad dreams about talking dogs or flying would be great, but I don’t want any more nightmares where I am pressed against a wall and choking on aftershave, a hard bulge pressing threateningly into my hip? I don’t want this any more!

At least there is tomorrow. Mum is staying with me tonight so that I have someone to wake if the voices get bad again.

I’m so tired, everyone. I’m just so tired.

watch me bleed.

Oh god. It is coming.

May is coming, and I am so frightened that it will happen. On the other hand, it would be a way out of this. This struggle for life, the idea that some magical fabled fucking day I will be better and everything will work out just fine.

Basically that day isn’t coming. May is, however, and I am fucking dreading it.

The voices of the dark passenger have scheduled my death in May. They wrote it in my journal. I’m supposed to die then. I feel like I will be able to do it, too. I am tired and worn out after another panic attack today, in public. My mum was angry with me for ‘letting this rule your life’. It is ruling my life, and it will never leave me. The male voice is angry with me because I am ‘blabbing our secrets’ all over the internet, and he thinks I need to just kill myself. My therapist asked them to consider the fact that if they kill me, they die too. They are still in denial over it, especially the female voice. She is very in denial.

I feel dissociative tonight, and I do not want to sleep. My panic attack was brought on by song lyrics, and I am still upset and flinching. Mum doesn’t seem angry with me right now but she was then, because she wants me to be better so badly and that my ex will stop having an effect on my life, but that is the problem- I have nearly six years of bullshit to go through before I can feel any better.

I am so tired, but I don’t want to sleep. I am frightened of what tomorrow brings- which is basically feeling triggered all the fucking time. The other huge problem is that they want me to cut and I am getting such strong cravings to go and do so.

What the fuck is wrong with me and why the fuck is this happening all over again?

Alive?

A wise lady on a programme I enjoy has just said the following:

“It will get better. You just keep living until you are alive again.”

I am crying. That’s what I am starting to feel like now.

I am seeing a psychotherapist tomorrow. I don’t want any of my demons to come back from behind that door. I don’t want all the work I have done for three weeks to be undone.

Please let this be something good and not bad.

Fed up.

Today, I talked to a friend, D, who suffers from mental health issues of his own. He is currently undergoing therapy for his problem, and for some reason, today we ended up talking about the mental health services, and how different our experiences have been.

He had a huge wait for therapy, but after he moved, he was able to access therapy very quickly. He has regular sessions, and he says that they are helping him a great deal. He is also taking an antipsychotic, but it seems to be helping him to relax, and he says he hasn’t seen any of the side effects that can occasionally manifest.

He also said he thought that I hadn’t got the right people helping me, which I completely agree with.

So far, I am STILL waiting for regular therapy. I have had NO HELP managing my symptoms. I had to stop cutting by myself. I still have panic attacks, and the antidepressant I am taking has only helped me feel a little more balanced. I have still felt suicidal on it, and if I forget to take it, I suffer chronic headaches which make my jaw lock.

I have been prescribed an antipsychotic which I am not going to take because I can’t afford to see if I will gain weight on it- I’m a dancer, and my stupid judgemental peers will never hire me if I am the wrong shape. Personally, I enjoy being fit, and I don’t want to be any more lethargic than I already am.
I still have no diagnosis after seeing three psychiatrists and a CPN. I saw a psychologist for four sessions, and I know I need more because that was what helped.

I am slowly coming to the conclusion that the mental health services actually don’t care that I hear voices, that I have a history of suicidal thoughts and attempts, of self harm, of emotional and sexual abuse. I think I am yet another unsolvable problem to them and that I will never get the help or answers I need. You may say that’s paranoia, but I am at heart willing to believe the best of people. So far all I have seen is that the mental health professionals I have seen just don’t have a clue what to do with me, and some of them don’t care.

Despite the mental health assessment going well on the 23rd December, it’s now the 9th Jan and I still don’t have a follow up appointment or a referral to their psychologist, something they both promised me I could have.

Stop bullshitting me, please. If you don’t want to fix me just say so, and I will continue to try and fix myself. So far I’m not doing to well with that- I had another panic attack on the tube yesterday. I see my ex wherever I go in London. I am terrified he will find this blog and I will lose you all.

I suppose my big question is this- what happens next? When do I get help?!

I am beginning to fear that the answer is never.

The good news is that my awesome friend D is going to give me the number of the mental health team who look after him. Maybe then I will get some answers, and they might help me like they have helped D.

I hope.