tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49786782745049763272024-02-20T17:23:30.720+00:00The Path With Heartadventures of a werehorsewerehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-52695358226973042182014-04-08T22:09:00.001+01:002014-04-08T22:09:17.284+01:00Resistance<br />
I feel wild. Confrontational. Combative. And like doing something dangerous. "The path of excess leads to the tower of wisdom" - William Blake. "We slip through the streets while everyone sleeps" - The Cure.<br />
<br />
It's making me say "fuck". But it's also making me laugh.<br />
<br />
Just think about radio waves for a minute. They're there in the air all the time. But you can only hear them if you turn on a radio and tune it in. And if you took many radios and tuned them all into different stations playing at the same time?<br />
<br />
Oh my.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-78569554948868719812014-04-03T17:14:00.002+01:002014-04-03T17:14:54.287+01:00Acceptance<br />
I realise that my last post might have sounded rather miserable. I'm not miserable. I'm actually feeling quite light-hearted and energetic. It's just that there are only so many times you can go through the same cycle without recognising that something needs to change.<br />
<br />
Because it works like this - my mood lifts, I start to feel positive and hopeful and as though everything is possible. There are hundreds of things I want to do and I want to throw myself into them as though to make up for all the time I feel I've wasted being unwell, I come up with all sorts of plans, I feel excited about the future. Then things escalate out of control, or become difficult in some other way, and I end up achieving none of them. And every time, every single time, I am convinced that <i>this time</i> will be different, and won't end up that way.<br />
<br />
But the conclusion I have come to is that the shifting pattern of my moods and perceptions is not going to dramatically alter. I may be more stable than I have been in the past, but it seems unlikely after so many years of living with this mind of mine that I am going to become stable enough to consistently pursue complex goals, that I am going to be able to magically make myself fundamentally <i>different.</i> I think I need to accept this, to stop feeling despondent about it, and to turn my attention to the many little things in my day-to-day life that make me happy. To accept that there will be times when I can do more, times when I can do less, and that I have limitations, that I am in some sense <i>disabled</i> by my disorder. And people with disabilities aren't expected to <i>recover </i>from them the way you might recover from an episode of <i>illness. </i>Which might go some way to explaining my discomfort with describing myself as mentally ill.<br />
<br />
And of course services also increasingly have this approach that I am starting to identify as unhelpful, with their emphasis on Recovery, this idea that I can be seen by a Reablement worker for 12 weeks, or have however many sessions of therapy I'm allocated, or I can read some self-help books, or I can improve my diet and do more exercise or practise Mindfulness more often or whatever and then I can sail triumphantly forwards into a future where I "fulfill my potential" and never need help again. And complete a university course, or find a relationship,or more likely hold down a job, since that seems to the way Recovery is measured.<br />
<br />
It's very very tempting to believe such a transformation is possible, but I am coming to think it is a myth. For me at least, maybe not for everyone. And I think I need to accept that. I need to remember, when I am filled with excessive confidence, that the self I feel myself to be at those times isn't my whole self, isn't my only self. That the darker, more difficult times aren't an aberration, aren't due to an error I made that I can simply avoid entirely in the future, but are part of the totality of my experience on this earth, and are no more likely to disappear than winter, or rain, no more likely to be conquered and eliminated than death.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-34449021785202794732014-04-02T20:14:00.003+01:002014-04-02T20:14:35.709+01:00Fuck Up<br />
I've come to the conclusion that I'm not designed for this world. K said this morning, during my social care assessment, that I was writing myself off. But it's not that. It's more that it's foolish not to learn from experience.<br />
<br />
I can't cope with living independently. I can't manage money and bills. I can't manage keeping the house clean. I can't even manage keeping myself clean. Studying? Working? Connecting with people? Consistently making art? Those things aren't going to happen.<br />
<br />
So what do I do now? I think I just want to leave this life behind. I don't have the same ties, the same responsibilities that I used to, now that my cat and my horse are gone. And really, more years like this - why would I want that?<br />
<br />
I'm not upset, I'm not depressed, I'm not desperate. I feel very calm, very accepting. I feel that I have reached a point where all I can do is give up and let go.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-22139283761619043242014-03-24T17:13:00.000+00:002014-03-24T17:13:59.029+00:00Failing, Flailing, Helping, Hoping?<br />
I had to admit to myself today that I am in the middle of an eating disorder relapse. And that I can't actually remember the last time it was this bad. 2010 maybe? I thought I'd moved beyond it, so it is depressing to find myself so mired in it again. I keep thinking "tomorrow will be different" and then tomorrow comes and it isn't any different. I've been starting to feel desperate and out of control.<br />
<br />
Hand in hand with that goes a general failure to do any of the things I want to do. I have been flailing around, and failing all over the place. I fully intended to go the workshop this morning and I just didn't. And I don't even know why. The people at the workshop are friendly and easy-going and I really enjoy the carving. I knew that going would make me feel better. But the time kept ticking away and I didn't change my clothes and I didn't leave the house and then it was too late.<br />
<br />
So I have been disappointed and frustrated and annoyed with myself. The house is a mess and I haven't showered for a while and I haven't touched my paints or clay. I feel like I am wasting my life away.<br />
<br />
But I'm slowly starting to figure out that confronting myself, pushing myself, driving myself, forcing myself doesn't work. And it is exhausting to try to do battle with myself all the time. Sometimes I need to come at things sideways.<br />
<br />
So this afternoon I took a cup of coffee into the garden and looked around at all the plants that are busily growing, and felt the sunshine on my face, and thought a little about my situation, and dipped in and out of an anthology of Chinese poetry. And I felt something relax inside me, I felt returned to myself. It was such a relief. It was like someone had pressed the reset button. When I came back into the house I found myself picking up some clay and beginning a pot. It just kind of happened.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow I am going to spend some time tidying the garden, weather permitting. Then maybe on Wednesday go to the garden centre for some seeds. I want to grow sunflowers. Hopefully I will then find myself able and inspired to tackle the house. And break the cycle of the eating disorder by turning my attention outwards towards the world and remembering how much else there is to think about and experience and enjoy.<br />
<br />
I'm really hoping I will be OK now.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-25603764511787991802014-03-06T14:16:00.000+00:002014-03-06T14:16:59.168+00:00I Don't Know What I'm Doing<br />
Well, I guess I do know <i>what </i>I'm doing, I'm just not entirely sure <i>why</i>, and whether it is the best idea I've ever had or completely idiotic.<br />
<br />
I've stopped taking the quetiapine and the depakote. I'm still taking the other two for now. I figure that the paroxetine and lamotrigine work against the depression and I hate the depression and it scares me whereas I can handle the high moods. Or do I always think that when I'm not in the middle of one?<br />
<br />
Anyway it hasn't taken long. I stopped taking them, I don't know, two days ago? I'm definitely a little buzzy. Streams of words in my head, great long monologues. I have no one to bore with them so I tell them to myself, pacing round my room, gesticulating, animated. I have had surges of feelings, and various urges, and all sorts of ideas. Wonderful plans! But I am being sensible. I am able to be sensible. I am NOT going to London on Saturday (£70 just to get there and back) and I am NOT spending a fortune I do not have on hundreds of plants that won't even fit into my tiny garden, however much I am in love with the colours and the shape of the flowers.<br />
<br />
I've done this before, of course. And it hasn't ended well. But I'm still convinced that <i>this </i>time will be different. Because - well, <i>because.</i> Because I know more now. Because I'm wiser now. Because I'm just going to go with the flow and not fight it. I'll clean my house, I'll make art, I won't spend money, I won't hook up with strangers, I won't pick fights on the internet. And I definitely, definitely won't call for help. I'm tired of being a psychiatric patient, I'm sick of being a service user, I just want to live at full force, to be myself, a bit strange and fierce and chaotic sometimes, prone to passions and raptures, and always seeing strange connections and having images and ideas flashing in my mind. But not <i>ill.</i>werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-31967819809236472092014-02-23T07:36:00.000+00:002014-02-23T07:36:20.050+00:00Shifts<br />
I've been getting a bit mixed up and confused. I think it is probably connected to the changing of the seasons, the days that are starting to feel like spring is on its way. The energy I was beginning to feel in the last post become agitated and darker. I found it hard to take my medication, I missed a few doses, I felt I was heading for another breakdown.<br />
<br />
Today I feel much better. I am taking the depakote and quetiapine again. I feel more solid in my self, I feel like things are possible again, I no longer need to pace. I've decided that now is not the time to make changes to my medication and that I am going to ask to try procyclidine for the tremor. If it makes me too buzzy I can always stop.<br />
<br />
I think one of the things that bothered me is the letter I read from my CPN:<br />
<br />
<i>Werehorse has a constantly fluctuating mental state where can be either very low or at times elated. She experiences abnormal perceptions including persecutory delusions and auditory hallucinations. Werehorse has great difficulty managing her small home and her finances. She will sometimes feel very low and become preoccupied with delusional thoughts and struggle with the motivation to self care. This includes showering, changing clothes, cleaning her house and buying food or eating meals . . . Werehorse has engaged well with mental health services over the last year and I am hopeful she will eventually develop greater stability of her mental health. However this is a long term condition and it likely she will always have some difficulties with mood instability and impaired self care/ home care.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
It just made me feel all messed up and weird. I kept asking "is this really me? abnormal and delusional? suffering from a long term condition?" I am so much more. I wanted to reject these words written about me.<br />
<br />
And yet it's true. I look around and my house is in a disgusting state and I can't exactly remember the last time I had a shower. I struggle so much with these things and it causes me great shame. Sometimes I think that I just can't cope with living independently, it's too difficult, I can't do it. And sometimes I want to die, not because I am depressed but because I feel I can't cope with my perceptions and my thoughts.<br />
<br />
But I am going to have a community care assessment soon, so I can have regular help with my house and my daily life. Hopefully that will make a difference to how I feel. Hopefully that will make things easier.<br />
<br />
Maybe if I tried to come off medication slowly, which is of course the right way to do it, I could manage without. Or maybe I couldn't. I don't know. I do know that even though I have still had mood shifts and other problematic episodes I have on the whole felt much bettter than before since I started taking depakote and lamotrigine. Is it so wrong to want that? To not always be aware that the earth is turning and has a molten core and space stretches above me? To not feel entirely alienated from other humans? To have some basic, simple pleasure in my life, to actually be able to do things and not be constantly bombarded by overwhelming perceptions?werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-26316230398936574812014-01-29T12:37:00.001+00:002015-12-23T19:29:35.643+00:00Thought I Ought<br />
to write something. Not sure why I haven't blogged. Tedium, maybe. Because I have been doing little other lately than trudge. Thought I was a bit better, but seem to be taking a few steps back right now. Brain bleating again about wanting to die. Have managed to mislay my meds, which won't be helping. Undertaking an archaeological excavation of my room in order to locate them. But feel stressed because I can't remember when I'm due to pick up a new prescription. Ha! How boring! Ecstasy where art thou? And I hardly slept last night, which is bad, very, very bad.<br />
<br />
It begins with a sense of panic over something you wrote on a website, and the warring compulsions to revisit the site and delete your words, and never to open that page again, just in case. Though in case of what, you're not quite sure.<br />
<br />
Then it goes further. That conversation you had yesterday? You almost certainly said too much, you should have kept silent, you don't know who was listening, who was behind you, who was at the table next to you. Stay quiet, be quiet, YOU HAVE TO BE QUIET. Police your words, and be careful with your thoughts. Because everyone can hear them. Because everyone can tell.<br />
<br />
Because it's not that you *think* the people who live the other side of the railway line are shouting about you. It's that the people who live the other side of the railway line *are* shouting, and they are shouting about you. And their voices are full of mockery and disgust.<br />
<br />
And the you that you rely on, that talks you through things, that suggests you do this to feel better or distract yourself with that, is disappearing.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-30393674035402009532014-01-01T14:39:00.000+00:002014-01-01T14:39:16.222+00:00A Happy New Year?<br />
Well, feeling like a pile of complete crap was <b>not</b> how I intended to begin 2014. I feel bad. Really, really bad. Bloody atrocious. The thought "I want to die" is on repeat in my head and while it doesn't feel like my own thought exactly, I can't override it and make it stop. It's there when I wake up, it's there through the day and it's there when I go to bed. Worst of all, it's there while I'm talking to my friend about her cancer treatment. Sleep is a huge relief.<br />
<br />
I failed today at my strategy of pushing on through. I got under the duvet and then I seemed to become paralysed. It took over two hours before I could make myself move. I'm going to try and rescue the day now, and at least do <i>something.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I have an appointment at the hospital tomorrow. I feel that I am letting people down by being like this. Then on Friday I am meeting K, and then next week the workshop starts again. I don't want to do any of it. But that way lies another wasted year, and I just can't bear that.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-51512663456115118182013-12-29T10:16:00.001+00:002013-12-29T10:16:58.627+00:00Staring Down Depression<br />
Ok, so maybe I'm not depressed exactly yet but my mood is dipping and I am distinctly lacking in energy and enthusiasm. If I stop to think I feel rubbish. It is as though there is a current trying to pull me below the surface. But I am fighting back.<br />
<br />
There is a point on which the day turns. I take care of my animals, that is automatic and non-negotiable. It doesn't involve a choice. But after I have come home and had a cup of coffee and my breakfast, then there is a choice. I could choose to go back to bed - and, oh, I can't tell you how much I want to. Sometimes I have to sit in front of the computer for a while focusing what energy I have on resisting that urge.<br />
<br />
But then I get up. I light a fire, I do a quick clean and tidy round the house, and then I start on a creative project. It is interesting and illuminating for me to see that I don't need to be elated to be inspired, that even slowed down as I am now, the ideas come.<br />
<br />
I could still be doing so much more, and in the evenings I have to fight off the thought that I haven't done enough, though I don't know what enough would be.<br />
<br />
So this is what I am doing right now. Ploughing on as best I can. Hoping that if I can just keep going my mood will not overwhelm me, and that I will come out of the shadows and back into a brighter place.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-67202075583292330572013-12-20T12:48:00.001+00:002013-12-20T12:48:30.489+00:00A Cleaning Spree<br />
Yesterday K came over to help me sort out my little house. I did a fair amount upstairs before she came so we concentrated our efforts downstairs. I still need to wash the floor but the end is visible now. Over the weekend I plan to finish upstairs, clean the bathroom and tidy the garden. I am going to start 2014 with a clean house AND I AM GOING TO KEEP IT THAT WAY!!!<br />
<br />
I feel very driven and determined at the moment. I want 2014 to be a good year, a better year, a year when my illness doesn't run my life. It has done that for far too long. I want to be doing some of the things I want to do, and not just be busy coping all the time. The question I am struggling with is - how many plans is too many plans? What is realistic to expect of myself? What if I become unwell again, will I be able to manage it better than I have done in the past? The unpredictability of living with this illness or disorder or whatever you want to call it is really hard. I don't have a whole lot of faith in myself. I have too many memories for that. So I don't know. I can't know. All I can know is that I am going to try to keep moving forwards whatever my mind throws at me.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-6009107700759088062013-12-09T16:06:00.001+00:002013-12-09T16:06:41.398+00:00Exhausted Again<br />
I went to the workshop with K today. It was good, really really good. Everyone there is so friendly and helpful, it's a lovely atmosphere. I'm carving a wooden horse, not a fancy detailed one, just something that I hope will look at least vaguely horse-like, because I need to get used to the tools and working with the wood.<br />
<br />
I started to get really frazzled after a couple of hours though, and told K I needed to leave. I'm not used to talking to people, and the muscles in my jaw actually hurt! I want to build up to going to the workshop three or four times a week and if I can save the money go the ceramics course that starts in February. I'm starting to think that, you know, I might actually be able to have a life. This Reablement work is exactly what I need.<br />
<br />
But I'm also aware that I have to be realistic. That's something I've not always been terribly good at in the past. I have this pattern of feeling relatively sane and capable, and wanting to catch up on all the things I want to do but haven't been able to, and making various grand plans and then being so disappointed with myself when I fall apart and can't manage. And then I feel defeated all over again. I want to do things differently this time around. Get used to doing one thing and then try adding another. Be patient with myself.<br />
<br />
Because it's just after four and the only thing I feel capable of doing is getting into bed and watching a film, and I wouldn't be surprised if I fell asleep before the film was over. Pathetic, eh?werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-60356486287039621482013-12-06T17:24:00.000+00:002013-12-06T17:24:32.860+00:00In A Damn Weird Place<br />
I'm not quite sure what is going on. Something is changing, and when something starts changing I've learned that I need to take notice.<br />
<br />
Yesterday the chimney sweep came in the morning. I busied myself cleaning while I waited. Cleaning, which has seemed an impossible task for a while, is suddenly easy. The chimney sweep was late so I had to rush into town to meet K. We went to the library first. I collected a ridiculous amount of books and then I made myself be sensible and reduced my armful to five - a book about living with bipolar, a book of David Hockney's recent paintings, a couple of books about painting abstracts and a book about woodcarving, because I am going to begin learning how to carve wood on Monday.<br />
<br />
Then we went for a coffee and we talked. Wow, we talked - art, books, politics, oh yes, lots of politics. It made me feel really fizzy and buzzy, it made me think that yes, I would like to make some friends, that I would join the reading group I saw advertised at the library, maybe I'd even go back to the dating websites. But by the time I got home I was physically shaking.<br />
<br />
This morning I had to go into town - shopping, bank, prescription. Except there had been a screw-up with my prescription and they gave me lamotrigine, quetiapine and paroxetine which weren't due, but no depakote, which was. Turned out that because the last letter the GP's got from the hospital didn't list depakote on it they'd taken it off repeat, and they won't put it back on repeat until they have another letter from the hospital, so the doctor just wrote me a prescription for a month, and I had to go back into town to collect it this afternoon, and I'll have to phone my CPN on Monday.<br />
<br />
Inbetween all this I carried on cleaning. My muscles were aching and my temperature control seemed to be shot, but I felt driven, I didn't want to sit still. And I didn't want to just get my house basically clean and tidy, I wanted to make it spotless, to organise all my paperwork, and to arrange my books. I have this really strong feeling that I don't want to sleep tonight. The idea of getting into bed is repugnant. My mind is trying to override my body. Which makes me suspect I should do the exact opposite of what I feel like doing. Because of this mix-up with the prescription I now have a fair amount of 'spare' quetiapine, so I think I am going to take some extra and try to get a decent night's sleep.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-85280061849755315612013-11-26T16:19:00.000+00:002013-11-26T16:19:46.703+00:00Frustration<br />
It's hard to express my current state of mind. It's not that I feel apathetic or unmotivated. I'm not depressed or distressed. It's just that my skull is the only thing holding my thoughts together. I am having to be patient with myself, and I am not very good at that. I am having to be content with the smallest of small steps. I am so far away from living the life I want to.<br />
<br />
I remember when I was at school, and I could write essays analysing arguments, or understand mathematical proofs. I used to enjoy feeling my brain work like that. I remember the teachers who told me I was "a high-flier" and would be able to succeed at anything I chose to do. What a joke. These days I struggle to do something as simple as have a shower every day. I am aware of the New Year rushing towards me, and of my absolute lack of achievement during this one.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-42945043931386192872013-11-23T13:20:00.000+00:002013-11-23T13:20:03.867+00:00Disorganisation<br />
My mood is good to high right now, but my thinking is very very disorganised. Thoughts don't follow on from each other but leap around and often aren't completed. Words and phrases repeat. Then there are periods of blankness. It's a problem. And it makes it very hard to actually decide to do something and then do it. It's no wonder I don't tend to achieve very much in my life.<br />
<br />
I'm trying, when I can, to sort the house out. I need my environment to be ordered because inside my head is so very disordered. I'm still waiting for help with my finances, that just feels too big and complicated to think clearly about. I'm working hard on developing a routine, so the ordinary everyday things that need doing, like showering, I do automatically because that's just what I do and I don't need to think about it. I'm having some success with that. I've started splurging out thoughts into a notebook every morning. It's a bit scary just how all over the place they are, but I think it helps me feel a bit clearer and get at least some stuff done during the day. I think I'm also going to start keeping a more traditional diary because writing it will force me to be more organised (just as writing this blog does). Hopefully that will also help with my memory, which is terrible at the moment.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-54530536566348247632013-11-18T15:54:00.000+00:002015-12-23T19:38:26.167+00:00Forgetting<br />
Sometimes I feel like I've just been parachuted into my life and I'm looking around saying "Huh? What the hell is going on here?" I know that I've had various things I've wanted to write about since my last post but they've never quite coalesced into paragraphs. There was something about the "sick role". And patience. And paradoxes. But I don't really know exactly where my head is at right now, so this may be rather random<br />
<br />
I know I've been sleeping a lot, a lot, a lot. It's the quetiapine. I feel great when I'm awake, I'm just not awake that much. It means I'm dreaming all sorts of elaborate dreams, both personal dreams, about emotions and events past and present, and more impersonal dreams about ideas and epic fantasy adventures. So I am spending a long time in another world, and it makes this world seem rather less solid, rather less definitely real. I feel a need to read and read about dreams, and to investigate the holographic nature of the universe. Because maybe experiences that have been labelled "psychotic" are actually telling me some truth about reality. So that's the parodox, I guess. That the effect of the anti-psychotics I'm taking is to make me think about "psychosis" in another way.<br />
<br />
I know also that I've been feeling rather expansive, that I've had the thought "I'm just a naturally happy, high-energy person! Skipping in the supermarket, or having to pause because there is a rush of pleasure in my blood, that's just the way I am!" Hmm.<br />
<br />
I had the first part of my psychology assessment this morning. It's hard to know how it went, but I talked a lot. The ninety minutes went by very fast. And I'm still talking in my head. I could talk and talk! I must make sure I note down the things I want to highlight in the second part, so I don't get distracted. Today was mostly, inevitably, about family and childhood, but oh, there is so much else I want to say!werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-84111892404496602822013-11-07T07:23:00.000+00:002013-11-07T07:23:36.237+00:00The Way Back<br />
Saturday, Sunday, Monday I felt as broken down as I have ever been. I'm pretty sure that isn't true, it's just that time softens and blurs things so the memory of brokenness is never as sharp as brokenness in the moment. But I felt as though I was close to simply ceasing to function, to enacting my recurring fantasy of lying down somewhere and letting whatever happened next just happen. I thought I had reached the point of no return.<br />
<br />
Except that something always does return, somehow. I don't know what that something is, but you wake up, you want to die, and then you keep living. It's as blind and stupid and stubborn as that. The body keeps on going, even when the mind believes that to do so is impossible.<br />
<br />
The Crisis Team consultant came to see me on Monday. He refused to sit down, he just stood there firing questions at me. Had I heard of Maslow's hierarchy of needs? Why wasn't I taking care of my environment? What would happen if my landlord came round? Why wasn't I doing this? Why hadn't I done that? I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. Because I'm a complete failure? Because I'm an abject excuse for a person? Because I seem to be incapable of living like a human being?<br />
<br />
But on Tuesday I got up and I did some stuff, made a few steps towards sorting things out. Then I comfort ate and comfort slept the rest of the day away. And yesterday I did the same. And today I will do it again.<br />
<br />
I feel that the quetiapine is helping. It holds me somehow, makes me feel more solid inside myself. I am no longer filled with sickening fear and a sense of oozing badness. I am sleeping for a long time, and that is good for me right now.<br />
<br />
The Crisis Team are coming to see me again today and then I expect they will discharge me. It is some ongoing support I need now, not an emergency intervention. I have a psychology assessment the week after next, and I'm still waiting to hear from the Reablement team, and then there is the tenancy support agency. So it's a case of waiting for these things to slot into place and hopefully help me move forwards.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-57815392751033485362013-11-01T18:29:00.001+00:002013-11-01T18:29:45.006+00:00Everybody Knows<br />
I feel like there is an oozing badness in me and everyone can tell. It makes me scared to be around people. And no matter what I do, no matter how hard I work, I will never be able to fully conceal it. I feel sick and I feel afraid. I wish I didn't have to leave the house.<br />
<br />
I hit the wall yesterday. I have been going on day after day, thinking I could cope, and yesterday I knew I couldn't do it anymore, I knew it was all over. I phoned the Crisis Team. I feel like shit for needing help but I didn't know what else to do.<br />
<br />
I don't really know what happened next. People must have phoned other people because a man and a woman from the Assertive Outreach team came round this morning with a food parcel. And they asked me how I was. So I told them. And then they made some calls and the Crisis Team came to see me. They were kind, they said I should trust them and they would help me. I am to increase the morning dose of quetiapine and I am being referred back to the tenancy support agency that I used to see. I feel completely rubbish for needing them again, but I simply cannot manage my life. I feel like I should be in an institution.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-5677846920994670502013-10-22T19:19:00.000+01:002013-10-22T19:19:16.436+01:00I Don't Hear Voices<br />
I <i>see </i>them. I see text, and my mind speaks it, and it gets faster and faster and more and more nonsensical and I can't make it stop. The sentences get jumbled up and then it's not even real words anymore. It's like the total disintegration of language. <i>And I can't make it stop.</i> It's one of the reasons I spend a lot of time on the internet when I can't read books, filling my eyes and mind with other words. And also why I have the news on so much of the time, to have a voice to focus on. Except that lately, more and more, the news seems to be talking about the things I'm thinking. The newsreader is speaking my thoughts. Or are my thoughts only what the newsreader is telling me? Do they know what I think or are they controlling my thoughts? Then it kind of resolves itself and I realise they're actually talking about something else, something on the news.<br />
<br />
I'm making a quick note of these things because I want to remember them. They're slippery and difficult to really explain. They happen, and they happen frequently but I forget that they happen, and I've never mentioned them to anyone. When I hear voices outside of me or feel that I am being watched through the windows, those are big concrete things, I can kind of grasp hold of them and describe them. These things are harder to be aware of. But they have just been happening, so I wanted to write them down while I can think about them happening.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-53092099649557064102013-10-20T04:12:00.000+01:002013-10-20T04:12:05.624+01:00Sunday 29th January<br />
I was struggling because I was hearing voices telling me that I was evil and should kill myself. I phoned the helpline for support. During the call my phone ran out of battery. I put it on charge, gathered myself together and went to take care of my animals. When I got back there was an ambulance waiting on the road. I went inside but after a few minutes decided I should tell the paramedics that I was OK and I didn't want or need them. As I was about to do so two police officers arrived. I turned and walked back into the house and the police and paramedics followed me in. They spent a long time trying to persuade me to go to hospital but I refused, explaining over and over again that I hadn't found it helpful in the past and I wanted support at home. They said they could get a warrant, then they moved towards me. I tried to hang on to the taps on my sink but they pulled me away and twisted my arms up behind my back. I shouted that they were hurting me and ended up on the floor. They dragged me out of the house and then they said to me that if I got up and walked they would cuff my hands in front of me rather than behind my back so I stopped resisting, and they put the cuffs on me. They took me to the ambulance and told me that if I got in by myself they would take the cuffs off, otherwise they would come with me and stay with me which would be a waste of police time. Since it was clear that I had no choice but to go to the hospital I agreed to get into the ambulance. I was taken to A&E where the nurses put me in a room. I wanted to leave but I didn't have my phone or any money with me. Eventually I saw a psychiatrist and we agreed together that he would give me some diazepam to help for the evening and speak to my consultant the next day to arrange for my medication to be increased. Transport was organised to take me home.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-53540130680767988092013-10-17T09:55:00.004+01:002013-10-17T09:57:58.526+01:00Scrambled<br />
Struggling to organise my thoughts. Hard to describe and evaluate what I'm experiencing and decide best thing to do about it. Guess that's why they call it losing the plot. Took 800mg chlorpromazine last night and extra depakote as well. Very faint and dizzy today. Keep losing balance. But slept through the night. Win. Sleep the only self-management strategy I can come up with at the moment. Very much living moment to moment. Saw CPN/NP yesterday. She said she can't be someone for me to talk to, her role is to look at meds. Suggested I try the Samaritans. Felt chastised and rebuked. Felt foolish and embarassed. Humiliated myself by crying a bit. Can call Crisis Team if desperate. Did think about it but worried they'll want to admit me. Hence little OD. Going to try quetiapine again. Chlorpromazine not doing much. Hopefully quetiapine will help me sleep. Been given another credit card. Scary how easy it is to get one, even when already in debt. Always with high interest rates, of course. Also being inundated by payday loan offers. In control though. Have budget. Know what I'm doing. Reablement referral gone in. Psychology questionaire returned. Going to ask for referral to Mind. Maybe all that will help. Just services seem very fragmented these days. Social worker used to be central point and organise other stuff. Had chance to get to know and trust her. Felt different.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-78199441620013834672013-10-16T03:23:00.003+01:002013-10-16T03:23:27.880+01:00Gone<br />
There is no gap. There is no self. I have been weak and must be stronger. I have been short and must be longer. I must walk through fire.<br />
<br />
My house is full of maggots and my head is full of money.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-86552391110045034012013-10-14T17:01:00.000+01:002013-10-14T17:01:07.526+01:00Compulsions<br />
So, I signed up for Netflix. I don't know why I haven't done so before, I kind of thought it wouldn't work on my thoroughly ancient computer, and I didn't realise how much was available. But it works fine, and I thought it might help me distract myself from everything to be able to curl up in bed with the cat and the rain outside and catch up with all the stuff I've missed during the years I didn't have a television or go to the cinema. But it seems that everything I watch has embedded messages designed to manipulate and further confuse me. Yet even as this agitates and disturbs me I am somehow compelled to keep watching, as though the messages exert a hold over me. And I'm not sure that silence isn't worse. I keep thinking that the fear is easing up a bit, this morning I even thought that maybe I was getting a bit "better" (though I'm not sure what "better" is) but I've been shaking with it this afternoon and it makes me want to die. I'm currently contemplating actually calling the Crisis Team.<br />
<br />
Back in January I wrote a post mentioning a film I saw when I was younger - <a href="http://werehorse.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/the-secret-cinema.html">The Secret Cinema</a> - and I woke up at half three on Saturday morning obsessed with the need to see that film again, because <i>it would help me figure everything out.</i> I think it was deliberately arranged that I should watch it back then and if I watch it again it will help me understand what is going on. I found that to see the original I would have to buy a Blu-Ray player and I plain can't afford that right now, but it was remade in the 1980's as part of a Steven Spielberg series and the DVD of that was pretty cheap and I had enough credit left on one of my cards to order it. So I'm just waiting for it to arrive. I know it's going to make things clearer. I also had enough credit to order a copy of "The Twelfth Pan Book of Horror Stories" which I read when I was seven. There were a couple of stories in it that seemed significant to me even back then and I feel I <i>have</i> to re-read them.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-88490377665076559912013-10-11T17:54:00.000+01:002013-10-11T17:54:00.154+01:00So, The Appointment<br />
My CPN was very kind. I guess she is just very kind. She said I had no reason to be ashamed or to feel that I was weak and a failure, and that as an outside observer she thought I had a tough life and I kept trying. I just find it hard to share her optimism that with the right support and the right medication things can be better for me, even if it takes a few years to work it all out.<br />
<br />
She is going to refer me to Reablement and also floated the idea that I could have a Befriender. That just about killed me, because back in the spring when I was feeling pretty well I was interested myself in becoming a Befriender. What a joke eh? The idea that I could provide consistent support to anyone else. I wasn't entirely positive about these things, but eventually agreed with her that they could do no harm. My point is that everything is geared towards recovery. You have a time-limited intervention and ta-dah, you are reabled, you have ten or twenty sessions of therapy, or you have a Befriender for a year, and you are supposed to be well on the way to recovery. I guess I don't believe any more that I can recover. What about those of us that have ongoing difficulties and need ongoing support to live our lives?<br />
<br />
I am in despair at the state of my house and myself. I don't understand why I can't do anything about it. It's not a lack of motivation, it's not "I can't be bothered", it's that for some unknown reason I <i>can't.</i> I haven't had a shower for three weeks, though I have washed my hair a couple of times. I am truly disgusting. And I'm having trouble doing any laundry, if I had any money I would go and buy some new clothes because I can't seem to manage to wash any. And I definitely ought to buy a new hoodie, because I am wearing the only one I have all the time. It makes me feel safer to have my hood up and the sleeves pulled down over my hands. But I have no money. I am having to get another Wonga loan to cover the rent that is due this week, and I am worried about my cat but can't afford to take him to the vet which just confirms my thought that I am a terrible owner and don't deserve to have animals.<br />
<br />
My CPN put an alert on the Crisis Team's system so that they know I am still struggling if I call in, and she encouraged me to use the Helpline if I am awake in the night and need to talk. But I probably won't, unless I feel really desperate. I have too many experiences of the Helpline wanting to call an ambulance, or sending the police round. I felt pretty desperate yesterday evening but instead of calling anyone I took a strategic small overdose in the hope it would knock me out a bit. And I did sleep through the night though I felt a bit strange today, my vision kept going funny. Tonight I'm thinking I might sign up for the free Netflix trial and try to distract myself watching stuff. I just need to work out a safer place to put my computer, because where it is now I have a window behind me. I'm getting a bit better about the other windows but that one still really disturbs me, even though it's covered.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-90070712465314482752013-10-10T10:22:00.002+01:002013-10-10T10:22:35.264+01:00I'm Tired Of This Life<br />
I have an appointment with my CPN this afternoon and I don't want to go. I feel ashamed because I lost control last week, and I hate that. It is one thing to say that you are feeling low and having some strange thoughts, and quite another to crouch in the corner and then to cry.<br />
<br />
So I feel scared and depressed and ashamed. I am tired of this life. I am tired of being the toy of these people. I am not coping well. I see no hope for the future. I have had enough.werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978678274504976327.post-3469409898149086202013-10-08T08:36:00.001+01:002015-12-23T19:44:36.468+00:00Revelation<br />
<i>I have a mental illness.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Yes, I know, I know, you'd think I would have figured that out by now given my many hospitalisations, the number of pills I take, my ESA and DLA, the severity of my episodes and my ongoing difficulties with those much-touted "activities of daily living". But even at those times when I've been most rational I don't think I've ever <i>really </i>believed it. Because I would surely fix it all, any day now, certainly sometime soon. Just a matter of getting on and doing it, being a little stronger, trying a little harder.<br />
<br />
One of the things the Crisis Team discussed with me was having a support worker again, to help me keep on top of the house and go to the community workshop. Afterwards I thought <i>oh no, it's ridiculous to need that, of course I can manage. </i>But what's my experience, what's the reality? And it is that apart from brief periods of time I do not manage to keep my house clean. And I don't mean that it is just a little messy, I mean that it is dirty, often verging on disgusting. And I hate it. As for the workshop - well, when my mood was rising in the summer I was able to go there easily, and chat to people and participate. But then things started to get out of control and I didn't attend, then it was closed for the holiday and I just haven't felt able to go since. And this has happened over and over again with different groups and classes and courses I've tried to do. I have failed to continue with them, despite all my intentions.<br />
<br />
Realising this, and trying to let go of my long-standing denial, makes me feel a great deal of sorrow, something akin to grief. Because I have not been able to live the life I thought I would, I have not been able to do the things I always dreamed of. And it's possible I never will. I feel I need to rebuild my life around this new understanding, and rethink my future and what will be feasible for me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />werehorsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04853583140343749049noreply@blogger.com0