lost

I feel lost again.
I dont know how much to put in this blog. My pride is standing in the way of making true posts.

I want to be a good role model, I want to be one of those people that others look to and trust, but right now, I dont think I can be trusted. Im disgusted at myself for what I am doing, yet I cant bring myself to change it.

Im heading backwards. Back towards no man land, where I need constant supervision. Everyone thinks Im past that, that I have moved on and doing well. But truth is, that I am slowly crumbling.

Haunted by vivid dreams about death and in the waking hours, many things keep coming back to me. Every time I think I have taken a step forwards, something else hits. Be it a news article about Peter or a mention of reckless behavior that sends me spiraling into craving things again.

I dont feel comfortable right now posting here about the things I am most ashamed of, but I know that I need to change it sooner rather than later. I am posting elsewhere as a record and so I can get it out, but here is just to accessible at the moment.

I dont know, I know i should seek help, but a part of me is reveling in this comfortable feeling of self destruction. Not having to deal with things emotional as I just turn it all physical. Being able to beat myself up over things.

I dont want to go backwards. I dont want to end up back under a psych there is too much to lose right now.
I feel alone and confussed about this. There isnt anyone I can speak to about this.
I crave human touch.
And I crave peace from all of this.
Im ready to give up.

Peter Chapman

So today was Peters trial.
I expected it to go on for days or even weeks and to not hear much about it. However, he pleaded guilty and it has been on every single piece of news and website.

So turns out he had a fake facebook page that he spoke to Ashleigh on. Then claimed to be a 19 year old boys farther when he picked her up. He then tied her and gaged her and raped her while she suffocated. Afterwards he dumped her body in a field. He was picked up later by the police for a problem with his car and while he was in the prison told them he had murdered someone and where to find her.

In 1992, aged 15, he was the subject of a sexual assault investigation and four years later was accused of raping a girl he had befriended. She became pregnant but the allegations were later dropped.

In December 1996, aged 19, he found himself before Teesside Crown Court accused of attacking two teenage prostitutes.

He had stolen a car, fitted it with false number plates and cruised the streets of Middlesbrough before picking up a 17-year-old street girl, driving her to County Durham and raping her at knifepoint. Two days later he did exactly the same thing to another prostitute.

Chapman was sentenced to seven years’ imprisonment and, on his release in 2001, he moved to Merseyside where he befriended a woman and moved in with her.

In 2002 he was arrested by Cheshire Police for the rape and kidnap of a prostitute in Ellesmere Port. The case was discontinued.

This must have been when I met him. October 2002. He had recently moved into the block of flats were I was. I knew he had been in prison before, he told me it was after stealing a car. He used a hell of a lot of coke at the time but apart from that was quiet and sweet. Used to knock at his at like 4am when I was off my head and need him to roll cigs and spliffs.

When things kicked off with Dave, Peter was there for me. He let me stay there out of Daves way, he was helping me find somewhere else to live. When Dave held me prisoner, Peter, knew where I was and knocked but got no answer. He later told me he thought I had gone off somewhere with Dave. Was this true? Or did he know of Daves plans and helped him in someway?

The next day, he held my while I sat in shock, shaking from everything that had happened. He held my hand while sitting in the police station and later at the secure house. After my examination he reassured me that things would be ok while I sat and rocked back and forth.

When we got home, he ran me a warm bath knowing I wanted to scrub myself raw and checked on me every 10 minutes to make sure I hadnt done anything stupid. He cooked me tea and made me eat some, knowing I hadnt eaten for days. And once all that was done, he pulled me away from the window, he stopped me pacing back and forth, put calming music on and pointless tv. Held my hand while sitting on the couch and when I eventually feel into a pit of exhausted sleep he put a blanket over me to keep me warm.

After the stabbing, he came in the ambulance with me, held my hand and helped to squeeze fluids into me, held me down when I started thrashing. He came to see me a couple of times and bought a card while I was in ICU. I dont remember it but he did.

He phoned my familiy once a week to see how I was.

I met up with him a few times once I was better. Had a few drinks, went to the beach and such. He was still just as caring and sweet. I suspected nothing.

One day when my phone was playing up I gave him some of my details and asked him to top it up for me which he did. Later when I got a bank statement he had also put £50 credit on his own phone. He denied it of course. But I had trust issues and completely blocked him out of my life. Good job knowing things now.

After a time, I had a little bit of contact with a few people I knew then. I always asked for information on Peter. Tried to get back in touch with him. No one ever knew where he was.

The bit that gets me is:

In February the following year (2003) he was arrested in Liverpool for the rape and kidnap of a prostitute.

He had enticed her into his car and, because of his “meek and mild” looks and manner, she agreed to go to a house where he kept some money.

It was there he produced a knife, tied her up, kept her prisoner for 14 hours and raped her.

So that would have been what 2 months since I was stabbed. 2 months after I was held prisoner, probably for about 14 hours, at knife point and raped he goes and does the same thing! Was it some sort of reenactment? his past points to no. Did he maybe have something to do with it happening to me? Did he spur Dave on? Did he give him the idea? help him in some way? I guess I will never know. Maybe its a good thing.

I dont know, my head is everywhere with this at the moment. I dont know how I feel nor do I know how I should feel or even what I believe.

He has been given life so I suppose that is something.


http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/crime/chapman-was-a-manipulative-liar-who-used-the-internet-to-kill-1918335.html
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/crime/article7054518.ece?token=null&offset=12&page=2

Breathing Space

Its been a mad few days. I feel like I have lived on my nebuliser. I havnt slept through a whole night yet without waking because my breathing is so restricted. I cant walk anywhere, even going the bathroom I come back gasping. I tried going shopping in Tescos with mum on Saturday. My throat became so tight that I felt like I had to physically suck air into my lungs, my chest muscles where killing me. Mum could tell I was struggling. She kept asking if I wanted to go and sit in the car. I said no. I couldnt tell her that I didnt want to sit in the car alone incase I went into respiratory arrest again. I was starting to panic, it really did feel like I was going to pass out.

Its really not a nice feeling, struggling for breath all the time. I could manage it when it was only struggling for breath on things like running up the stairs, but half the time Im getting this now just sitting still. It is exhausting me so much that I have been getting up late and still going for an hour nap in the afternoon. Problem is, I still wake up from my nap gasping and having to jump straight on my nebuliser.

Mum said before that I cant live like this and I think she is right. As much as I dont want it, im going to have to look into a permeant Tracheostomy. Just the thought of it makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry. But I think that I have pretty much reached the stage now where things are unbearable. I really dont want to consider having it done. Plus I dont have time now till the summer to have it done. Can I last that long as things are? I have a lot to think about.

I cant keep complaining about this to my surgeon, I already feel like he has had enough of me. I bet he regrets taking my case on. I dont see him again till two weeks on monday. That seems like an awful long way a way to live like this.

Saw my GP on Friday. The amlodipine hasnt even touched my pulse or blood pressure, they where both still very high. She has doubled my dosage now up to the maximum of 10mg. My bloods all came back clear again apart from my white blood cell count. I have to go for an ECG on monday now and I have to have more blood tests to check my hemoglobin and fasting glucose. She is still looking for the cause of my high blood pressure and wants to decrease my effexor dose again next week when i see her.

She started asking me all kinds of questions about if I was self harming and if I was suicidal. Mum was in the room so of course I lied my way through and said no I was fine. She asked when I last harmed and I just said about 3 weeks ago. Which is true as I havnt had the energy to do anything lately.

When we got out the doctors mum said to me, so what happened you got straight out of hospital and started harming again! I just shrugged and said I only did it once. I couldnt tell her I was doing it in the hospital. I think she may have had a heart attack if I did.

I needed a break so I went out with Alison on friday night. We went out for a meal. It was nice. But the topic of conversation soon turned to Peter. And of course in turn that went to Dave and me in hospital an all those other fun subjects. I kinda felt distanced from them all while talking about them and blocked most feelings out. Still not nice though.

Stressful weekend

What a weekend and its not over yet.
It started on Friday, when my friend phoned me to say she was being admitted to hospital. She had started new anti depressants but had gone into serotonin syndrome. I got lots of random texts off her that didnt make a lot of sense. by evening she was being discharged, which judging byt he way she was talking, I didnt agree with at all. She left the hospital but she hadnt been fully discharged as of then. The hospital rang her and asked her to come back as they wanted to give mer some meds. She didnt want to go back, but after a bit of persuasion, she did. All they did was give her a couple of days worth of sleeping pills. She went home took one and was out for the count.

Saturday she was hyper again, talking to her on the phone she was speaking so fast I could hardly understand her. She went out with a friend so I thought she would be safe. Her friend took her to a club, where she said people where listening to her thoughts through the music so she came home and took her sleeping pill again.

When I came online later on she was freaking out. Apparently someone was out to get her, they where outside the window and had swapped her meds as they now had a funny smell. I rang her and she said they where in her room but they had gone when the phone rang. She went to sleep but was awake fairly early. And that brings us to now. She still thinks people are out to get her, but she is hyper again.She wont go the hospital incase its them out to get her. Just wish there was more I could do. I would be down there in a shot if i was well enough.

But last night, I nearly chocked. After bragging the other day that I had gone a few days without needing my nebulizer, last night I blocked up good and proper. Got to the point where my breathing was getting stuck when i breathed in and out. I had to take huge big gasps to get it in and cough really hard to get it out. I was running my nebs again while I was doing this, but I was just about ready to say to mum get me to A&E. That would have been fun. Why is it always a saturday night? Anyway, after a lot of scary coughing, I finally managed to clear it.



Then I got some more news. Peter Chapman, the guy who I always thought had helped saved me, is being convicted of murder and is s know sex offender. Apprently he met a 17 year old girl off facebook, he was 32, and he killed her I really should remain single for the rest of my life. The last person I slept with is a known sex offender and now a murderer and the person before was a known rapist. Great choice I have in men. (gazzette article)

Pete was so kind to me. He gave me somewhere to go when things got violent with Dave and I had to get out. He went to the police with me, he held me while I sat in that horrible waiting room waiting for the police doctor to examine me. He made sure I ate and he sat and cuddle me all night when I couldnt sleep when we got back to his. When Dave went for me the first time, he pushed him into the kitchen away from me, when Dave caught up with me in the hall way brandishing his knife, Pete went and got help, even if it was to late, its the thought that counts right. He came to visit me when I was in ICU.

Even once I got out of hospital, he came to visit me a few times. He used to come the pub on a friday night with Haley and me. I was going to marry him, I decided at the time. He abused my trust then, but I never thought he was capable of doing what he has done. I was having trouble topping my phone up, so stupidly I gave him my bank card number and asked him to try from his phone. The follwoing week £30 went missing out my account to his phone. I couldnt deal with losing the trust I had in him. It was so hard to have any trust with anyone as it was and so I cut all contact with him, changing my number and such.

And until last night, that was the last time I had seen him. Pert of me is saying, how could he do that to someone after he saw what I went though and how much it effected me. Another part of me is saying maybe its my fault. Maybe, its some kind of psych compliant, kinda like he witnessed everything that happened to me and reenacted it. The girl was 17, he was 32 thats 15 years different. There was 10 years between Dave and I.


For some reason I have an urge to go to his trial. (3rd November) I know it would only cause upset. That I wouldnt be able to handle it in my present state. The urge is still there though. Didnt sleep much last night thinking about it. I cant get him out of my head. Seeing his picture in the paper just bought it all back. Which then of course had memories of him running through my head, which lead to memories of Dave running through my head, which in turn leads to even more nasty memories. Just wish my head would silence for a bit. I have to keep busy or it all starts playing through my mind. Stupid PTSD.

And of course I would normall make a post for support and I would normally talk to my friend about this, but I wont put any of it on her. Shes not well. I will tell her when she is better, but who knows when that will be. Its times like this I realise just how few friends I have these days. I guess I have pushed them all away, to be honest most couldnt deal with having a sick friend. When I first had my transplant, I couldnt do much for myself. They where young, 17/18 wanting to be carefree out having fun, not stuck with someone in a wheel chair who spent more time in hospital than out. From then we just grew further apart. And I havnt had the trust to make new friends really.

Anyway, enough depressed rambling for one entry.