Having A Difficult Time

Things are far from easy right now. I have a tribunal this week to see if my section can be lifted which is stressing me out and the date to go to cygnet is getting closer and I’m generally just not very well.

Last night I planned to take my life, I concealed the object I was going to use in my slippers but got caught out…cue medication and restraints and a lot of tears and trying to run away. I eventually managed to get some sleep but even in my dreams anorexia was present. I don’t seem to get a break these days.

Today hasn’t been any easier. I ligatured and tried to abscond this morning ending up in two floor restraints and then more tears, medication and restraining this afternoon. I am exhausted.

I have to be honest here, I hope they lift my section on Wednesday because I can’t carry on living like this. If I were an animal suffering so much they would put me down. Why shouldn’t I have the right to die?

The Biggest Lie: School Day Are The Best Days Of Your Life

It’s something I hear all the time, “School days are the best days of your life” and I can’t help but think that is the biggest lie I have ever heard. I can think of little worse than having to go to a place everyday learning about things that don’t interest you whilst being crammed in a room full of people who are only similar to you in age.

For me school days were not the best days of my life at all, far from it in fact. I was bullied, bitched about, I spent my break times in the toilets self harming or purging. I threw my lunch in the bin everyday. I faked ill to stay home. I hated everything about school. I hated that I was practically forced to see the school counsellor, a much older man that I just didn’t click with. No, school days were not the best days of my life.

The best days of my life were sitting in a hot tub with my friends and family giggling and drinking Pepsi max out of milk bottles with paper straws, the day I went on BBC Breakfast, the moments in my ballet classes when I don’t care about my reflection in the mirror staring back at me. Whilst I’m in a dark place now I have had some of the best days of my life and these have all been since I left school. I can promise you this: if you hate school and think these are meant to be the best days of your life, they are not. Your best days are yet to come and I promise you that they will come. School days being the best days of your life is one of the biggest lies I have ever heard. Don’t fall into the trap of believing it’s true.

Section 3

I’m sitting on the end of my bed in hospital. Numb but in pain. I don’t understand anymore. Utter confusion. Dreaming of a future like a child, imagining I’ll be a vet or a teacher but seeing reality like an adult…I am just a psychiatric ward patient….I probably don’t even deserve the word ‘just’ in front of that. I’m a nothing, a no one. Three months locked away has completely detached me from the world around me. I belong nowhere and with no one. The world outside the window doesn’t feel like mine. It’s like I don’t remember what the rolling hills look like, nor the supermarket aisles or petrol stations. My ballet shoes disintegrated when my life turned into compost. Maybe new flowers will grow out of the soil but I doubt it. It feels like I’ll never feel the sun on my skin again and that my heart will never vibrate with the bass of loud music. Will I always be gone? Will I ever find me again?

It’s Not All In My Head

If this is all in my head, if this isn’t real then why do I feel it in every inch of my body? Why does my breathing change and my heart race? I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe. If this wasn’t real then my body wouldn’t react and my survival instincts wouldn’t come alive as though I were a cave man being chased by a wild animal.

If this isn’t real, if this is all in my head then why do the tears roll down my face, why do I sob uncontrollably and scream and shout words because I am in so much agony. Why would I be suffering so unbearably if none of this was real?

If this is only in my head, if you are telling me that this does not exist then why on earth do I feel at war with myself so much so that I stand on the stairs of a multistorey car park unsure of whether to go down the stairs or up? Unsure of which part of my mind to listen to. Why do my arms reach for a lever, my whole body ready to depart? Why do I feel this so physically and constantly if this ceases to exist in an outsiders opinion?

If this isn’t real, if this is choice or weakness or the dreaded word ‘attention seeking’ then why do I suffer in silence? Why do I lay awake staring into the pitch black with silent tears soaking my pillow case and making my face sore? It never leaves me, it never goes away. It’s more than a full time job, this is with me every second of every day and last night six sedative tablets didn’t even get me to sleep. It seems to be my life sentence and I often wonder what was my crime? Do you think this is a choice? I wouldn’t choose this, I wouldn’t even wish this on a serial killer.

If it’s all in my head then why do my legs ache? If this isn’t real then why are my bones bruised? If this is for attention then why are there scars both physical and mental that nobody knows about and will never know about?

If mental illness does not exist then why was I crying uncontrollably and struggling to breathe yesterday? Why was my whole body shaking and my head hurting if this isn’t real? Why are the simplest of tasks like being a passenger in a car so downright difficult? This is real.

In a way, I hate that we separate and categorise illnesses into physical and mental. There’s such a cross over between the two, people who are physically unwell also have symptoms such as depression and anxiety but mental illness is incredibly physical too. This doesn’t just affect my mind but even if it did the brain is an organ, the chemical imbalances, the brain activity, the reactions. They are all physical too. Mental illness is just as real as asthma, cancer and diabetes. Illness is illness regardless of which organ it affects. I am telling you in the depth of this horrible and cruel illness that this is so real, I can feel it in every atom of my body and brain.