buh bye brain

My brain sometimes decideds that it has had enough.
On days like this, it just deserts my body and my thinking.
On those days, it can be odd, the thinks that my mind comes up with on its own.
Kinda like when you have a ton of stuff to do and its all so overwhleming that you decide to do none of it and take a nap or go out instead.
I had my meds increased a couple of weeks ago, to try and limit these times, but there are still nights like tonight, when things just bottom out. and though i could essentially fight it, there is a  bigger part of me that just says meh, lets just let my mind do what it wants for a change, no  cares on the outcome.

Part of my mind says, lets not run my treatment, lets feel like a rebel and say fuck it. But that is shotting myself in the foot. Without the nebs I will go downhill quickly and perhaps then lose out on my holiday.

Part of me says, lets abuse this bottle of pain med, that it would be nice to be that numb. But it would take a few days to replace it and right now, the pain is at a level where I need it.

Of course, there is always my old friend the blade, that always gives relief, but there isnt enough time for healing to occur before my next addmission. Which leads to a whole new barrel of fish, as I need the hospital to see me as competent and non depressed. Signs of depression, could mean the inability to say no to further surgery when the subject arises. So for my long term plan, that is not an option.

Of course, there is always my other old friend alchol. Less permant, should allow me a few hours of numbness, though pretty borining and stero typrical. Always hated being predicatable. Maybe a mix of things might help.

Of course there is always the option of taking a shower, having an early night and just riding out the mood. But where is the fun in that. No I need this realse. I need to escape these feelings, because right now, they hurt like hell. And I am not ready to explore not feeling good enough and facing the darkness of the night alone just now.

Missing

I want to apologise.
Recently, all of my posts have been so negative and always about illness.
I vowed a long time ago that I would never end up like this, but lately my mood has been rather unsettled. I guess there are only so many hits that I can take, till it takes effect on my mind. This is my outlet, the only place I talk. And when my mind plays up, its here I come back to. But it is a rut that I need to get out of and I will get out of it, in time.

I have never really been a soap person. Not an avid follower, but the Australian soap Home and Away is the one I do watch. I wouldnt go out of my way to watch it, my mum likes it and its often on when we are having tea. Not to mention the gorgeous scenery and hot blokes with no tops on. But back on topic.

One of the current story lines revolves around the character Casey. He has undiagnosed PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) Well it cant technically be diagnosed yet due to time issues but yeh. Anyway, he is unravelling on screen. The filming is very good, I guess that is part of the issue. Its believable and I relate to it a heck of a lot. That feeling so tormented and lost that you dont know where you are. To feel so numb that you throw things around and dont notice. The ache I feel is hard to describe, its almost like a craving. To want to be able to break down like that, to not care any more. To let go of everything instead of hiding under a mask. I miss self destruction sometimes. I miss lots of things involved with it. Drinking, drugs, self harm, anger. I guess anger is a big one. I have never been able to express anger, not since the stabbing incident  And so it builds up inside me until I snap.

The problem being, how long till I snap? Its like I feel it boiling under my skin. The fear, the pain, the recklessness. Its as if I can feel it trying to get out of the box I keep it locked in.

The problem is, I dont want to be like this. I dont want to be the shut off angry person, I dont want to be the unstable one. But the truth is, underneath, I know I am. And I am terrfifed of people finding out, or the damage I can do.

For a long time, my reason for stopping with the self destructive behaviour was due to the danger of being refused transplant if the option ever came up on account of my recklessness. For a long time, I could not hide it as I was undergoing so many skin grafts in the area that I used for harming.  I know that I have a number of months before I need another graft and that plays on my mind too. There are a lot of things that are adding up at the minute. And whilst, I am no danger, I cant say that for the future.

So, I am going to try and force myself into more projects. I need more focus. I need something other than hospitals. I dont know what yet and I dont know how, but there has to be something right? I cant go back down that road, I cant head into destruction again. I am to tired to fight it and to tired to fight my way back out of it. I know destruction now, would not be a good choice.

down

I am slowly getting back in to UK time and managing the ability to stay awake during the day, so thats progress right.

I have been sorting through my holiday photos, one of those tasks with digital cameras, where you take way to many shots as you dont have to pay for printing. I am about 3/4 through sorting them but so far have 200 photos that I like eek. You never realise how many you take.

But I am writing tonight for a different reason. My mood is altering again and I dont like it. I know everyone gets holiday blues, but its not that. I am in one of those places where I dont know if it is my mood noticing more, or that things are getting pointed out more.

I cough, a lot, after being away, I am coughing more. I found that the pressure changes on the plane during landing and take off, really aggrivated my cough. So, on the plane, as you can guess, I coughed lots more. On two differnt planes, when we got off, Mum pointed out about hearing people complaining about my cough. It was the same in a shop earlier. I cant control my cough, its a violent cough to the point where I often either end up sat down making sure my bladder behaves or I end up in the loo fighting to keep my lunch down.

But this isnt new, so why I am noticing it more now.
The same went the other day. I walked past the person I have written about previosuly who I used to go to school with and who I got close to at one point. We poliety ignore one another and look the other way when we pass each other. Yesterday, we did the same as usual, walking past each other, but his girlfriend was talking to him. I noticed her looking at me, but ignored it. Mum who was behind me, later pointed out that he had said something to her and they both looked at me and she made a face, kinda like eeee.

I dont know, its a lot of things adding up, looking at holiday pictures dosnt help. but right now, my confidence and self esteem, is very low. This in the past has lead to dangerous ground. I guess it is a step forward that I am able to spot this before things progress. But that dosnt make it hurt any less.

Its time for change. I have to do something.
Just got to ride out the storm and hope for as little damage as possible ont he other side.

lies

I told a lie today. It was only a small lie, the same one I have told so many times before.
But once I finished telling, i didn't feel the same careless shrug I usually feel. I was smiling, reflecting.
It was upon this discovery that i stopped and thought. Perhaps it wasn't a lie. Maybe it's the truth. The thing i have wanted to be true for so long, now seems so natural.

I was talking about the past. About everything really. And i said I was so lucky. That sure things may not be ideal, but I was thankful to be where I am now.

It is true. For so long I resented being saved. I hated that things were hard. But right now, I am filled to the brim with love and gratitude. I could have lost much, yet here I am.

I will always want more but that doesn't mean I am not Damn grateful for what I have. I have so many opportunities and so many prospects that i can't wait to try out.

Hospital wise things are going so well. There are bound to be small hicups but i know i can beat them. I have a wonderful life ahead of me, filled with such amazing people, that I can't wait to get on with living it.

Oh and this was the first skin graft where there was no new or open scars to be discovered. Everything is on the up. And i can breathe a deep breath and admire the view from the top.

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these days

I know that I say this often, but the last few days have truly been so much of an emotional roller coaster. It has aldo shown me to a point that, the saying is true, that that does not kill you only serves to make you stronger. Illness is a nasty horrible thing, but at the same time, it does bring family closer and make you appreciate what you have.

Mum is home recovering and seems to be doing fairly well. She is still doing the whole negative thoughts thing. She only has a small scar and no drains, yet has convinced herself that the docs took a lot and decided things were to bad to bother doing anymore so closed her back up and left it at that.

Its funny, my surgeries never effect my sleep. Night before mums, I didnt sleep at all. In the last 3 days, I have had maybe 7 hours sleep, instead of my usual 12 hours a day.

The night before she went in, she said some pretty mean things to me. I completely forgive her for saying them, given what she was going through, but they hurt all the same. I think that I got mad and tried to ignore it,  I kept on with house work. Everything hit a down point and I felt like I was going to explode. Before I knew it, I found myself heading back to old habits. Whilst I dont try to kid myself that self harm is fully behind me, it was a shock to come face to face with it again so abruptly.

I am not niave, I know the exact reasons behind my harming. Its a control thing. When things get out of control, I run to it for comfort. I have very little control over my body, how it will feel from one day to the next. I have no control over my life right now, it is controled by hospitals, health and abilities. To lose control over my routine and relatinoships was too much. Harming, allowed me to feel in control again. I was able to cause the pain, to feel crap for a reason of my own doing, to control where and how. Whilst I am not ashamed that  went back to it, I know that I will struggle more with for the next few weeks. Its like inviting an old friend back into my life and not being able to stop thinking about them.

I am having a few other issues in regards to hospitals and doctors, but thats for another entry. I managed to be sensible and fght me fear so sought out treatment the next day. Some more medication and some stitches to take care of, but those things I can mange.

Last night, I was lying there, thinking. I was 12 when I made my first attempt at suicide. I remember vividly everything about that night including the disappointment the next morning when I was still breathing. I was niave. But I did write a letter back then. In it, I wrote about how I hated the fact that I didnt have a relationship with my mum. We didnt talk and we were far from close. Reviewing things now? Whilst at times I have hated it, being ill has forced me to be close to my mum and whilst we dont always see eye to eye, our relationship now is far better than it ever was. But it has always been a relationship built on my dependancy. The last few days things have felt a bit more even. She has needed my strength and support. She has needed my help and our relation ship has once again evolved. Perhaps I have gotten my wish after all, maybe this is how our relationship has been repaired and rebuilt. If only their were better circumstance behind it.

Wallowing

It feels like I have written here in forever, in reality its not that long.

I have been avoiding here a little. Wallowing perhaps.

Sometimes, I can look at things and I can say, wow look how far I have come. Look at all the amazing people I have met from being ill. Look how much I have gained.

Other times, I can look at things and feel nothing but bitter feelings, anger and resentment. Its hard not to picture the places I might have been in life had I not gotten sick. If I had just gotten sick from some sort of natural cause, would I have dealt with it better? It feels sometimes, that its harder, knowing that it wasnt natural, it didnt just happen, it was the result of one person. I think that also makes the psychological side harder to deal with.

The last week, has kind of been differnt again from the above. This week has more so been a mood that makes me ask why things are so unfair in life. Why do some people and families get to breeze through life without a care, while others seem to face continual set backs.

There seems to be a lot going on at the moment. Lots of things and people are crumbling, lots of people close to me falling apart or getting sick. Of course I worry about them, but at the same time as worrying, I am trying to hold myself together and appear strong for them. Its not fair if I am the one always sick or struggling if they get pushed out. But of course, covering up is never an easy subject.

I guess I have had a few scares and wake up calls this week. And my reaction? To shut myself away, to ignore everyone and block everyone out. To curl up, within myself.

The last few days I have been in a very dark place indeed. Looking back, its kinda scary to how bad things got at one point. I dont know. Words are hard at the moment. It feels like there is this big black hole inside me. Somedays, it just sits there pulsing, so I can feel it, letting me know its there. Other days, it grows, it feels heavy and weights me down. When it gets to heavy, I instead, turn over and wrap myself within it. To snuggle down with it, and pepping out, is like walking into bright sunlight.

I know there is hope, I know how well I have things, I know that I am the fortunate one and that others need me right now. But sometimes, logic dosnt make sense or my heart dosnt want to follow. Its then when things get dangerous.

At the moment, communication, just seems to not be worth the energy expenditure that it needs.

honesty

I think perhaps my writing in her has drifted from its original purpose.
At the start, I wanted it to be my outlet, where I was truthful, no matter how much that hurt me. Then, when things where getting hard, and I didnt have the energy it took to keep everyone in the loop so to speak, I let people know about my blog so they knew where I was and such. As a result of this, news of what I was writting was trickling back to my mother and of course, not only did that hurt her, but it also meant a lot of ear bashing for me. So I delinked everywhere, and only online friends knew where the links were. Of course, anyone who was already aware of the link still knew about it.

Somewhere along the way things changed. Fear of upsetting my friends, or of my mum finding out what I had written, or even just not wanting to be a burden, meant that unconsciously, when I came to post here, it would always be upbeat for the most part.

I think I have bee fooling myself.
I can feel myself slipping once again. The self esteem going lower, the mood dropping, the urges returning. I find myself questioning myself, is my current energy dip due to my health, or my mood. And how far can I take things before people in the real world begin to notice.

I can in the most part, be sensible. I know that I need to do everything in my power to stay well for my admission on Monday and for the most part I can do that. I take the meds, run the nebs and when bad urges strike I wait them out and talk myself out of it. But every so often, it gets too much. I will have spent hours talking myself out the urges and finally settled them, until someone says something and its the straw that broke the camels back. I find myself digging out my sharps, playing with pills or simply reaching for a bottle. I am fine and I can deal with this, but I need to start being more honest with myself, things dont feel as rosey as they once did. I am spending money on stupid things, replacing emotion with material objects. I am overdrawn, which I have not been in many years. Of course this just adds to the things that bother me.

I need to get this under control, before it consumes me and things go back to the way they were.

Small things and Big Thanks

The sunrise this morning was truly breath taking.
From this angle, the sun rises from right next to the London eye and this morning the sky was bright orange right across the horizon. I really wish my camera had been closer to me and I had been upto getting up to capture it. I was coughing at the time, but looking out over the scene, kinda made me feel a lot calmer.

I slept last night. Actually slept through. Think it was about 1, when I settled down and I didnt wake till 6. Thats really good going for me at the moment. Last night I managed to prop myself pretty upright to sleep. Usually I cant settle sitting up, but I was aching all over last night, so I actually took the Codeine. And it helped a lot. My aches vanished, but it pretty much wiped me out, hence why I was able to sleep better.

Waking was still a little scary, but not so bad. I kinda describe it a little like drowning. You know that feeling when you accidently end up under water and you come up coughing and spluttering, feeling the cold liquid in your lungs and you know you have to get it out. Its kinda like that, but this liquid is thicker than water. But I can feel it, feel it rattling in my throat, feel it settled in my lungs. Once I start coughing to remove the stuff in my throat, it disturbs the stuff in my lungs and I cough twice as hard.

I had a lazy morning and slept for a couple of hours in the afternoon. Again, woke from my nap coughing tons up again. Mentioned all this to the doctor today. She said, for now they wont do anything, but might do something on Monday ready for surgery on Tuesday. Well gee thats helpful. So if its an infection, your not going to test for it till the day before. >.< Gah, lets hope its all clear and clears up.

Cam came to visit again today. We had chinese take out yum yum. Though hers was gross. She had salt and pepper squid (eww) though she burnt her tongue on a Chile (haha serves her right for eating disgusting food!)

We went and sat in the restaurant downstairs which was empty as it was shut. There is an old piano in on one side and after a few minutes of sitting there, music started to fill the room. It was good music as well. Clear notes, all played with right timing and depth. Of course we began laughing at how we were sat at a table on our own being serenaded, just needed the candles to make it romantic.

Once we finished eating, we were just sat talking and the man who had been playing got up and walked across the room. He then saw us and suddenly starts yelling obscenities, about hoe he is going to kill us and such and then he vanished. Funny, but I dont think he had realized we were sitting there and perhaps he got a little embarrassed that we had heard him play. Still it was sweet, well not the killing part but the music and of course the break from the ward.

We went to the day room to watch a film and when we came back, the moon was just rising. What timing. It was huge and orange again. This time I did have my camera with me, though I still got annoyed at the bounce back from the window.

I dont know if its the sensory deprivation from being stuck in here or missing my sense of smell and voice effecting my other feelings. But I do seem to be taking more pleasure from the little things around at the moment. The beauty of the world, the magic of friendship, the enjoyment of doing something out of routine and the general feeling of contempt with what I have and who I am, even when I am annoyed at how things have turned out.

I guess its a nice feeling. For so long, all my thoughts and feelings have been consumed by depression, twisted and disfigured beyond recognition. I mean sure, I always knew a pretty scene when I saw it, but it was always a kinda, oh thats pretty, now back to me. Now though, I find myself mesmerized by the beauty, staring at it for long periods. I am in awe at what the world can do naturally, without any effects or manipulation.

When I was young, I read this book called The Gift, by Danielle Steel (yeah sad I know, but it came free with the butter and I was only in juniors so read it anyway.) It is about a girl who is used and gets pregnant and how it goes on to help others. Since I read that book, I became a firm believer in fate and that everything happens for a reason. A theory that I still believe today.

I hated being depressed, but perhaps, there were reasonings behind that. Without the depression, would I be appreciating the beauty of things now? I know depression, has made me ok with spending large amounts of time in my own company. I have learnt to occupy myself and generally be ok with my own thoughts buzzing around my head.

Without the self harm, I dont think I would be who I am today, I wouldnt have the compassion nor the understanding of just wanting to destroy yourself. The feelings of control when everything is out of control, the need to satisfy your own sick thoughts. But more than that, without all the negative stuff, I wouldnt have the people I have around me now. I depend a lot on my family, they have helped me through the tough parts and been there unconditionally for me. They have taught me what love and contempt is. They have always encouraged me to fight and to make the most of the hand I have been dealt.

Of course, there is only so much family can do or know. After that I depend on my friends. I depend on them to know when to push and when to just offer a shoulder or an escape route. To know when I need to get out or when I need to snuggle down and not move. The ones that do the hospital visits in style, the ones that bring take away and films, the ones that break the time up and try to introduce some normality into a hospital schedule. 

I cant begin to imagine how I would have coped being so far from home for so long, without having a friend close by. Someone to lift my spirits, to console me and ask the right questions. Someone to gossip and bitch with. Someone who will fight my corner when i cant and actually take the time to allow me to socialize. London would have been a lot harder without them, so thank you.

I didnt have any intention of rambling on in this post but there you go.

all good things come to an end.

Ive barley been on the computer compared with my norm.

Ive had a friend over and its been a good but busy weekend. Need to recover now (lol) There will be more about this later.

Im just tired tonight. Its been one of those long days that you just wish would hurry up and be over with.

It was my sisters birthday so we were going to go out for a meal. We were discussing how to arrange things best and I suggested a couple of things, but nothing was decided. Then they decided that they were going to a certain resturant and I mentioned something about how many tokens they needed. With that I got my head bitten off. That all the plans need to be changed yet again as i wasnt doing what I said I would do. (Yeah, I would be doing it if you just told me what the hell it was supposed to be) Anyway, they got pissy and stormed out.

So I deduced that I was supposed to pick my niece and nephew up from school and wait at my sisters house with them. So I am sat in the car, in the car park, waiting for the youngest to finish and talking to the eldest. We had the windows open because it was hot and we were just talking. The guy in the next car kept shouting his head off at his kids and was beginning to really annoy me. Then he looks over and shouts oi, whats that you got in your neck?! (Yeah I did have my scarf on but it was lose as I was in my own car minding my own bussiness) I sort of shook my head and shrugged, thinking perhaps I had imagined it. So he shouts again. I just glanced over to him and mumbled something about it being a medical device and turned back. I felt so embarrassed about it. I know I shouldnt, and I also know that he as an adult should have had a bit more tact, but I just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole right there and then.

I made a cake for my sisters birthday, it was in the shape of hello kitty.

She seemed to like it.

I was talking to her later on, once my parents had gone home. Apprently mum told my eldest niece that I might have a nark on when I got there. (I have no idea why, when it was them getting pissy) and she told my sister that I had been out all weekend and had no meals at home at all. (I mean how dare I have any kind of social life for one weekend at the age of 24? Shocking isnt it) ha heres me thinking she would be pleased I was getting out, but of course, mother dosnt do pleased. Its so annoying. I know I need to keep doing things like this to get her used to it, but its been like this since I was young. I just give up on socializing and getting out because its just not worth the effort and the after effects that I get off my mum. It used to be the same with going to my sisters. I eventually stopped going as the time away wasnt worth the hassel and abuse I got when I got home. Its stupid, im an adult, I shouldnt be in fear of my parents.

Oh and even after asking mum not to say anything to my sister about me getting in touch with my other sister, mum starts talking casully about it in front of my sister, so I assume she told her then. (gee thanks)

So as a result of dad getting angry with me, the flashbacks have been on the edges of my vision all night. The blades sitting on my bedside table shouting out to me and a box of pills on my bed. It would be so easy to just destruct at this point. But its not worth it. I have the nurse out tomorrow so any damage would be picked up pretty quick. blah. But there is always tomorrow.

Oh and I am fully expecting at least one parent to kick off on me tomorrow, probably for not getting in till 10pm tonight (shock horror!) as they were in bed when I got home. But I dont care, it just gives me more fuel for my fire at this point.

Screw it

The dawn of a New Era

First off, I have some good news!

I got my appointment letter through to go down and see the team in London! YAY finally getting somewhere again. Its a week tomorrow, so its really soon (which is a good thing) Now just need to find some cheap transport and accommodation. So excited.

I dont know if I should email the surgeon I emailed originally with some crappy excuse like asking him if there is anything that I need to bring to my first appointment, as just a way to make sure that he definitely knows that I am coming down. I am pretty sure he does, but there is still that slim chance. And I dont want to travel all the way down there and it turn out someone in admin made a mistake and there are only junior doctors their and not who i need to see or something.

I was going to post about getting this appointment when I first received the letter. However as it was only a few hours since my last post, I decided I would wait until the evening when I usually post and things had settled in a bit a more.

But then (another) encounter with my mother put me in an absolutely foul mood. I had to get it out, but I was reluctant to post it on here as all I seem to do is moan on here these days, so instead it ended up typed out on my ipod. This is from my first post on this blog:

Trying to stay positive

I need somewhere I can safely rant and moan.

At the moment I seem to be whining a lot and obviously I dont want others to get bored of me. I dont want to be that person that is constantly complaining. I know i need to make the most of things.

Originally I wanted this to be a place where I would be positive where possible. When my health took a sudden turn for the worst, I felt alone. I was in a ward where all the patients where at least 30 years my senior and I know numbers dont matter, but you know, would talking to someone that much older get it when you said you dont want them to perform this potentially life altering procedure because people might look at you funny? Or would they say you lucky to have the chance ect. Since I was stabbed at 16, my life has been a mass of hospitals and appointments and missing out on things. While my friends where all off to party and get drunk in Ibiza, I was in hospital with pneumonia, when they where all meeting boyfriends and doing day long shopping trips for clothes and make up and I was learning to walk again and having my mum bathe me and my dad carry me up the stairs.


I felt like I had missed out on so much and I guess I just wanted someone who could relate, maybe to speak to someone who had gone through something similar and come out the other side. I was also silently hoping I was going to find someone else who had similar problems as I did and they where marcously going to turn around and say, no your dont have to have any of those surgeries there is a magic cure that will fix everything.

But after searching and making many posts in vain, I didnt find anyone. The closets comparisons I could find where people with CF, but even that was different. People with CF seem to exist in a very tight knit community and dont seem to readily accept people with completely different problems that might still be just as debilitating. And even if they did, can you really compare my problems to theirs? Yes they get sick and have trouble breathing, but in the end it only really goes one of two ways. They either end up with a transplant so things improve for them or they die. I didnt have the prospect of things getting better and couldnt compare my issues with someone dying.

So I started this blog. And it was going to be about my journey through this and what I had found.
But before my health did go downhill, I suffered from depression, when I got ill the depression kind of took a back burner, now things are settling? Well the depression is coming back in.

So I dont feel that this blog is a true record of what is happening to me. I think the depression is dragging things backwards and downwards. Do I really want to potentially have someone struggling like I was to read this and see all this negativity that has nothing really do to with the problems that originally sent them looking for this info?

So I am thinking long and hard about splitting this blog into two. One to deal with physical health and one to deal with mental health.

But are the two really that separate? Would I still be depressed if I didnt have any problems?

And the answer is, that I dont know. I just really dont know anymore. Any views on this are greatly appreciated. Have you had enough of my depressive ramblings? let me know.

Im unsettled. Im pacing, not concentrating on anything. Maybe its time for change? Ive had this blog theme since day one (6 months ago) Is it time to freshen that up? Or has that too become part of me and my blogging.

I get a fair amount of views, yet I cant believe people actually read what I write. I do get some comments, but not loads. So who does read it and what do they really think.

Sorry this is so long. Guess im just *shrugs*... mad as a hatter?

Double standards

Advanced warning: This is a pissed of uber annoyed post and will probably contain a fair bit of swearing. Oh what fun.

I am fucking fed up of your bloody double standards mrs oh so fucking perfect!
I was sick, from Thursday through to Wednesday. However, I did not moan, I got on with things. You had a right nark on with me on Sunday because it was mothers day and meant to be your day and yet I was being lazy. (It didnt matter to you that I felt absolutely rotten and it hurt to move or do anything) So I did what I could. I went to the cemetery even though all I wanted to do was curl up. Then when I sat down to recover for like 20mins you start kicking my possesions around 'because I shouldnt dare have anything of mine downstairs!' I was basically told to suck it up and get on with things when I was unwell.

But then you pick up the same virus from me, as does my niece. My niece, like me gets on with it and dosnt make a fuss. But you get, and its the end of the fucking world! You had to go to bed very early, then bring in a clear basin that you puked in to show me how sick you was. (Yes at the time I was still throwing up myself but I didnt bother taking the time to show you... mhmm why did i do this? maybe because im not a sick twat!)

So then you lie on the couch all day and cant possibly move, not even to get your own drink (Bear in mind if the illness progresses the same, this is the day I was being told off for not doing enough) Then in the evening you were offered food but said you would get something later. Then you go to bed in a sulk because dad didnt offer to make you something to eat later on!

All day you had go at me, that I didnt have to stress so much about getting dads tea done and stuff because he is perfectly capable of doing it himself. Then the next day when I didnt do much, you told me off because dad has been working all the hours and shouldnt have to come home and do anything in the house! Make up your bloody mind!

You tell me I am lazy and shouldnt sleep so much. And then when the doctor asks, you tell her that I need my sleep because my nights are disturbed. And oh joy, the doctor told you today that if oyu didnt begin to feel better by saturday to not go back to work. Gee thanks Dr. You know my mum, you know she will milk this for all its worth. So now it looks like I am going to have to put up with her all next week to as i bet she stays off.

Mum said something before in the car. And I mentioned that we had the same thing so it will probably run the same course and if anything hers should clear quicker than mine as she is healthier than and with a proper immune system. Her reply: But I have been much sicker than you. I just looked at her. And she started explaining about throwing up and such. I just said... oh right, I didnt have any of then? I must have dreamt it. Just because I dont bloody go on about it permanently dosnt mean I dont have.

Its like the other day when a doctor was going on about how high at risk I am from cancer due to my medications. We come out and mum goes, yeah your probably about the same risk as me now, because I got sunburn as kid!! FFS stop comparing, its not a bloody competition to see who is the fucking sickest. Because to be honest with you, you can be the sickest! You can take all my pills and go through all the surgeries and procedures and the trouble doing things and everything that goes with it!

Argh. Majorly pissed with her!

Oh and then she sees that I have just taken my bedding straight out the tumble dryer and am folding it and she starts having a go at me because its creased and its never creased when she does it. For one its bedding, I dont really care if its creased! And for 2, what the fuck am I suppossed to do? Iron it before I put it in the dryer then fold it up all nice and ask the dryer nicely not to toss it around to much. Fucking get over it loserhead!

Im on a slippery slope right now.  I gave up my 2 months free. I dont want to be free anymore. I miss the control and all the other feelings of release that come with it. Its funny, I was looking at pics earlier from a time when I was a mess and causing a pretty bad mess of myself. You can see my hand in one of them. With perfectly manicured nails all painted and shinny with the french tip. Good how you can be totally falling apart, yet on the outside, everything looks rosey. Time for a relapse I think. I still have it in me, I doubted it at one point but I know its still there.

Photography and Photoshop

Something a bit different from my usual moaning for tonight's entry.
I website I 'work' on is having a creative competition with the theme of Orange (mainly because Self Injury Awareness day (SIAD) is approaching - 1st March) and they needed some examples to advertise it with.

This is SIAD one;

Not sure how much I like this one. Perhaps it would have looked better on a black background hmmm

hmm, it does make it stand out a little more. oh I dont know.

I also played around with an old photo that I took. I took this picture when I was away with my sister on the island of Mull in Scotland.

And after playing around with it I came up with this:

While I am here, these are a few of my favorite photographs that I have taken. owh I miss having a decent working camera =[ (although I did see a great deal on a Nikon DSLR the other day and i so so want it)

  

 

 

 

 

  

Yup, so there my favorites that I have stored online. Most my decent photographs are still stored on my old laptop whose power wire dosnt work >.< I will one day get around to grabbing all my old files off there. Oh and incase you didnt notice, I do have a kinda thing for sunsets. Used to be a thing for waterfalls (again mostly on my old comp)

Lonely

Im living upto my online name again. Im bitter and its becoming more and more prominent. 


Im lonely. Im fed up being alone in all senses of the word. Sure I have some great friends online, but that dosnt help the need when you just want to curl up with someone, or lean on some ones shoulder, to just sit with them and know they know what your thinking.


I mean im what 24 now. The last time I was in a relationship I was 16 and we all know how that ended. I know im damaged goods, but still 8 years, you would have thought I could have picked some desperate soul up.


Maybe Im not in the right place at the moment for a relationship, but you know it might have helped, just to curl up with some one, to cuddle, even if it was a friend. But no, I stopped talking to most of them. Couldnt stand the jealousy. Seeing them get engaged, buy houses, plan weddings, have kids, finish uni, get good jobs. And those I didnt push away purposely ran away screaming anyway. You only accept refusals to go out a certain amount of times before you stop asking. I just wasnt ready and now I cant cope with it. I see all my friends going to festivals, out with friends, generally having a laugh. And I sit in my room and watch from afar. Even if my physical stuff allowed me to go out, I wouldnt be up to it at the moment anyway.


It just hurts you know. Knowing that it is going to be like this for a while. I mean I know I desperately need to lose weight. Its just hard at the moment with all the meds and how hard it is to exercise and such. I know it could be far worse, but I am going to work on it.


But who wants to be with someone who wakes up several times a night feeling like they are drowning. Who has to put the light on and sit up for about 30 mins while they cough half their chest up. You know not exactly sexy is it. Plus the medical equipment in the bedroom, sure that must be a turn on. A suction machine all loaded up ready, a nebuliser, a draw unit full of medication and dressings and other fun medical stuff. And if I was ever to get to the point of actually sleeping with someone (breathing allowing of course) I would prolly need to ask them to wait a minute so I could get comfortable and dismantle myself. Take the hearing aids out, take off the glasses, clean my tubes so I can breathe. Oh and of course how can we forget the whole attractiveness of the body. The stomach that looks like a train map from too much surgery, the tube sticking out of my throat, the stretch marks on my arms and hips, the drain and line scars on my boobs and of course those lovely layers of parrell lines on my legs and arm. The lines that I love, the lines I crave to add to, my own version of surgery. My way of cutting out the bad, even if it dosnt last long. Oh how I miss that. 


You see self harm, was always my way company, my friend to turn to when things feel crap. It takes the pain away, its there in the dead of night when everyone else is sleeping, and it stays with you for a while afterwards, giving you that nice stinging feeling every time you move, just to remind you your not alone.


And psych declare me normal so I do just need to get over all this. Learn to move on. Move on with the fact that a true relationship isnt something that I am going to experience in this lifetime, no matter what.


The sooner I get used to the fact that Im not destined for a relationship, the sooner it will hurt less.

Brief history of time [Part 2]

So I ended up back home where I hated being. Things were ok for the first 2 weeks or so.
I decided seeing as I was home I should make the most of things and so with my GCSE results, I headed back to college. The one I went to, I was amazed that I got in, it was classed as the best one in the North West and in my true style, I took on as much as I could in one go. So the first week in September (Two weeks exactly after getting home) I started studying AS level Maths, higher Maths, Physics, English combined and technology and then took on an evening course studying computers.

This was all very well, It meant I had to be in college for 8am  and most evenings finished at about 6. At a push Im sure once I got into routine I probably could have managed this, but of course you then have to take into account that it took about 80 minutes in each direction to get into college and 2 buses. Again, cope able with as long as the buses were on time and I had a smooth transfer between them. Of course the first bus I had to get from college was one of the most popular, so the days I got out at the same time as everyone else, you have to add a 20 minute walk on to get to a further away bus stop or else wait about an hour in a queue for a bus with room on it. Add to that the mounds of homework and I think I was bound to fail from the start.

What was more, because of the area the college was in, the students were alot more 'upper class' than me, generally had more money and mostly knew each other from their past schools. I stopped sleeping again, at most getting about 3 hours a night. Going into college and living on energy drinks, caffeine tablets and chocolate.

Of an evening I was regularly 'bunking' on the train as I had no money to go visit Kieran over the water. (The lad I had back at my flat) and by the second week in college, I started leaving after first lesson too go visit him too. most of the time just going back to one of his friends house (he didnt have a place of his own) and either watching tv or making out.

The week after that my parents went on holiday. Kieran pretty much came and lived in my house. Ha my mum had asked my sister Tracey to keep an eye on me while they were away. She came in at about 9 one morning and found us in bed together. She was not best happy at all and kicked him out. Of course I screamed at her and as soon as she left he was back anyway. But that was the end of talking to my sister or even escaping to her house. She worked in the same school that a lot of my friends had gone to and kept quizzing them over me, which of course I took as an invasion of privacy and so things between us got worse an worse.

My parents got back from holiday and things resumed back to normal. Mum and I argued and refused to speak to each other. She would tell me I was grounded except for college, so I would leave for college in the morning and not come back till about 11 at night. She would yell at me again, I would go to bed and get up the next morning and do exactly the same thing.

One day, Kieran introduced me to his friend Dave. Dave was a bit older (26, I was 16 at the time.) He had just gotten out of prison, he said for stealing a car and holding a post office up. Well who was I too judge, the person I was closets to (my brother) had recently gotten out for something similar.

A couple of days later, I had gone around to Daves, thinking i was going to meet Kieran there as had become normal that week. When I got there Kieran was no where to be found and his phone was off. Then Dave told me that he had gotten back together with his ex. Just what I needed. So rather than do the sensible thing of going home, I spent the day drinking flat cider with Dave and playing playstation. It came to being time to go home, I knew I had to leave as the last train was in 15 minutes and it was a 10 minute walk to the station, but I just could not be bothered moving. I asked Dave if he minded if I slept on the couch that night and he said no, so i turned my phone off and didnt bother going home.

That night Dave gave me the bed while he slept in the chair. A true gentleman I thought. But the next day I still didnt feel like going home. So I decided to move out. Dave said I could stay at his till I got a job and my own place sorted and that he would help me with it all. So I put my phone on and text my dad. Told him I was fine and not to worry about me and that I would not be coming home but would ring and make some arrangements to come pick my stuff up at some point, then turned my phone back off.

Over the next few days I managed to sort out a job interview and from that a job working for a catalogue company taking customer orders over the phone. Next to sort out was a place to stay, unfortunately, I kept coming to dead ends. Nobody wanted to rent to a 16 year old in a new job. Dave said to just stay in his as he didnt mind and liked the company. I said it was stupid that there was a double bed and he was sleeping on the sofa so he might as well share the bed and such.

We started drinking... a lot. He got me into weed and I got him in to Ecstasy. Pretty soon we were spending more time wrecked than we were not wrecked. I was even going in to work still off my head with no sleep. A lot went on in that few weeks. While off my face, I went after Kieran with a knife, I met his girlfirend, who was lovley and who hid in our bedroom one day when Kieran knocked and tried to talk me into getting back with him, while he was still going out with her. I met Peter. He lived downstairs and quickly became friends with us. He had a daughter somewhere, and spent most the day off his head on coke and most the night sleeping on his sofa. He was kind and sweet and often ran errands for us. When we were too off our heads to roll up the weed, we used to knock on his door (usually about 4am) and he would roll for us and share it with us. And of course, im sure you saw it coming but I ended up sleeping with Dave, which became a regular thing. Dave one day went to my parents with me so I could pick up my stuff, which wasnt really fun.

After a few weeks the novelty soon began to wear off though. Where I used to think Dave was being nice walking me to work and back, I noticed that he hardly ever let me out of his sight and I began to feel crowded. One day I was texting a male work friend. There was nothing to it, we were merely chatting about work but Dave demanded to see the messages,  me being stubborn refused to show him. That might my phone managed to get smashed against the wall, a lot of furniture got thrown around and a table went through the window.

Alarm bells were ringing, but I had no where else to go so the next day Dave apologized profusely and things went back to normal. Until one night we had an argument over something stupid. I refused to go to bed with him that night and instead sat on the sofa reading. He ripped the book out my hand and knocked me across the room. Things continued to go downhill. Dave locked me in the flat a few times and other such fun things. He was a self harmer and if he didnt get his own way or we argued, he often took out a blade and would make me watch while he slit his arms open, telling me it was my fault and it was because he loved me so much. It wasn't merely small wounds either, they would often require stitches and would leave a terrible mess on the floor, sheets, clothes whatever. I knew I had to get out.

I told Dave I was working a long shift so needed to be in work early, but I had arranged to meet Peter. He said he would go with me to get some legal advice and such and see if I could find a way of getting my own place. Something set Dave off that morning walking me in. He ended up pinning me up against the wall and punching me in the stomach a few times. Some passerby dragged him off and I ran to work. 20 mins later came out of hiding from the bathroom and went to meet Peter. The place made an appointment for me to go back in a couple of days while they researched the info for me.

I went into work for my afternoon shift but could not stop shaking and crying so they sent me home early. I went to Peters rather than home. Dave kept calling me all day, I ignored his calls. When the time came that I had to head back, I couldnt face it. Peter said to stay in his and get rid of dave so I did. And went to work the next day, though I had altered my shifts to make sure Dave didnt know when I was in and security were told about the situation incase he turned up.

Halfway though my shift, Peter phoned, said Dave had come down to his and pretty much collapsed on the floor with his arms a bloody mess. Peter had called an ambulance and made him go to hospital for stitches where he had needed over a hundred. He said Dave just wanted to talk and that if i was willing we could meet in a public place or in peters and he would stay to make sure nothing happened. Me feeling guilty agreed and so we meet in peters flat that night.

Dave tried to get me to go back but I refused, he got angry, he got sad and then he gave up, or so i thought. Said I should come get my stuff from his place and implied that he wouldnt be around tomorrow or again after that night. Again Peter agreed to help me and so I started shifting my stuff. What I found out later was that As I was putting stuff in the lift to go to peters flat, dave was taking it back out and hiding it. Daves flat was a mess. It looked like a murder scene, all the windows had been put through, most the furniture was lying around broke, there was blood everywhere and the smell of it was disgusting. Just incase, while taking all my stuff out, I removed every sharp object  I could find from Daves. All the knives, razors and scissors I packed up and sent them down to peters too. After all it was me who had made him cut the last few weeks so I didnt want it on my conscious if he killed himself.

Peter got called away right at the last minute, I said he could go as Dave had been behaving and I only had the last few bits to get. I just assumed Dave had given up and was wallowing. He had locked himself in the bedroom which was fine by me. I went into the living room to get the last of the stuff and then I heard a loud band and a click. There by the front door stood Dave with the keys in his hands and a grin on his face. He had taken all the bandages off his arms so all his stitches were on display. I knew this would not end good.

He came into the living room, begging me to spend just one last night with him. I of course refused. I shouted at him to let me go. He just stood there calm as anything. I began shouting for help, I hoped that the windows being broke the neighbors would hear me. He obviously had the same idea and so he grabbed me, and put his arm around my neck and pulled tight. I was gasping for air. I tried to kick him, I tried to scream, I tried to escape, all with no luck. I awoke a few mins later on the floor.

Once again, i tried to get to the door and scream, once again the arm went round my neck till I passed out. The third time he did it, I tried to out smart him. I thought perhaps if i faked passing out quicker he would let go quicker so i just went limp and stopped moving. He didnt let go. I woke a while later. I could tell it had been longer than the last two times, the room was darker and Dave was sitting on the other side of the room crying. I dont think I will ever forget that night or the feel of his arm around my neck. The feeling of the stitches rubbing and irritating my neck, the gasping feeling, believing it was the end.

Through the night he kept telling me how easy it would be to kill me, how he could do it now and then finish himself off to. How it would be the perfect ending. How it would prove his love. How if he couldnt have me he would make sure that no one else could either. I sat on the sofa feeling rather dazed. I remember giving up at one point and telling him to just kill me and get it over and done with.

He made me lie down on the sofa while he sat on the chair. Kept saying if i just spent one more night with him he would let me go in the morning instead of killing me. I kept refusing. We sat in silence for a long time. After a while he fell asleep. I got up quietly as i could and tried to get to the phone. I dont know who i would have called as im sure he would have woken up at the sound of the phone.

Turns out he did wake up as i was getting across the room. He dragged me back to the sofa and decided that he would lie on the sofa with me so he would feel if i moved. He fell asleep on my shoulder. It was one long night. I watched the through the small window as the sun came up over the skyline. It was so cold, the flat smelt so strongly, that rusty blood smell and the dawn seemed to take forever to come. I lay there not daring to move, trembling and crying. I truly believed that I wasnt going to get out of there alive.

He awoke about 6 and tried to cuddle me. I didnt move.
I eventually plucked up the courage to say well I spent the night with you now can I go. To which he laughed. He moved the goal post. He said if I slept with him one last time then he would let me go. I knew there was no end to this. After a few more threats to kill me, I eventually just said do what you want. So he did. He took me right there in that smelly cold room while i lay there not moving, tears running down my face.

He must have been aroused by it all, it didnt take him long, maybe 3 or 4 goes. When he was done he just lay there still in me and laughed, flashing those manky teeth. I just looked at him. He said after all that it was harldy worth it was it. He withdrew and went and got washed and changed.

When he came back I asked him if I could go now. He told me I had to go change my top (my current one was covered in snot an wet from tears) and that I had to clean myself up, wash my face, brush my hair and teeth and such. He wanted me to get a bath but I wouldnt.

Once i had done as he asked I asked if i could go, he shrugged. I begged. I promised him I would not say a word to anyone ever about that night. Told him I didnt want anyone to know so wasnt going to tell anyone. That I would get back with him, but that I needed a few days to sort my head out. That I wanted to go stay with a friend for a short while and then i would come back and live with him again. He eventually agreed to let me go and said he would walk me to the train station.

We got downstairs in the flats and he suddenly decided that he had to give me his mobile so he could get in touch with me and so he made me walk back up to the flat. I didnt think he would let me go again, i thought here we go again. But he got the phone and walked me to the train station, bought me a ticket and waited on the platform with me. It was still early and the place was dead. He put his arms around me, trying to cuddle me. I just stood there.

As the train came, he said on second thoughts, better give me that phone I need it and he took it back as I got onto the train.

Slippery slope

So I havnt posted much recently, theres a surprise. My orginal aim was to keep this blog nice and positive. To a point. Well mainly to keep my darkest thoughts out of here. But perhaps that wasnt the best idea. There should be a more rounded view on things.

So things are not going great. I am still in hospital, though I dont need to be. The nurses whose care I will be discharged to dont want me to be let out till they are fully prepared and what with the holidays and now all the snow, that is proving to take a little bit longer than expected. so im still stuck in here. However, it does have its positives. While in here I am getting physio everyday as opposed to the once a week I will get once discharged. This really is making a huge difference, I can feel my stamina being built up and everyday I am working on increasing the speed on the treadmill.

However, mother is complaining about it. She said its like being instituonalised and that I should be home by now. Really it just means that there is lots of work going on at home and she dosnt see why I should be allowed to get to 'rest' in here as she puts it while she is doing all the work. (The work btw is things like putting the christmas decs away. If it was upto me none of them would have come out this year. Plus I am really not upto messing with dusty stuff and climbing in and out the loft, I have enough trouble with stairs without even attempting a ladder) More so her complaining is directed at me.

Its all the little things that get to me. The tutting under her breath, the implications of how lazy i am,  the whole, wel i have to visit you as the nurses take notice. Theres just so many little digs that she has at me.

Well at the moment my mood is everywhere. Im fine one minute and suicidal the next. so when she does get one of her digs in, or something happens that brings me back to reality on this whole situation, my mood just drops.

Fair enough, I should be able to cope with such things. But when my mood drops i become impulsive and this really isnt a good mix. I keep thinking about al the new methods I have of harming myself and how little it would take now to do some serious damage. I have considered things like dry drowning. I have easy access to my lungs so why not fill them with water or other substances. Dirty water would probably be more effective and would carry a higher risk of server infection. Then there is other liquids i find around, what would pepsi do? or alcohol gel? shampoo? The problem is getting caught, explaining it and such. water I could say it was an accident in the shower same with shampoo. Ive ben playing around with saline (technically im allowed to do it with a small bit of it anyway upto about 2.5 mls) I put 20mls in the other day, it felt kind of good, tickled a bit but deffintly gave relief. Then I tried with my hypertonic saline as i have more of that, but that made me cough so bad that i bought up more blood than normal so it wasnt very comfortable and it didnt stay in.

Then my mind wanders to what solids i could put in. But again there is the whole thing of getting caught.

I havnt taken my meds since i went home on friday either. Tonights are sitting in front of me and i doubt very much if im going to take them. Its good seeing the effects work so quick. My heart rate and blood pressure are very slowly creeping up, and i can feel my chest starting to clogg up. Not sure if its related but i felt so dizzy earleir that I couldnt stand up and then I threw my tea back which was rather nasty. so although these effects seem to be happening quick, i want them to happen quicker.

I dont know, I dont think I want to die (not right this minute anyway) but I am tired of living and see no way around it. Maybe a nice server infection would do it. Perhaps pneumonia, enough to have me knocked out and put in icu vent'ed for a week or so. The break last time seemed to help and restored the whole positive attitude so maybe that would work now.

I ended up cutting earlier as well. Nothing like what I wanted, im so out of practice and of course I had a nurse knocking on the door so I got distracted. But it felt good. Not great but good. It would have felt so much better if it was my arms. Oh how I want to rip them apart, tear them to shreds. Seeing pictures of slit wrists just looks so appealing to me, its like im attracted to it. One can only dream.

So I guess this is me going downhill again. Time to stop rambling now I suppose. lets wait and see what tomorrow holds.

Not so Brief history of time (Part 1)

Well the trend at the moment seems to be to write about what you hope the future holds for you, your resolutions for the new year. But frankly, sitting in my hospital room, where I have been since November, but before that in and out a lot since August, I really dont feel like looking ahead. Its not all positive and rosey right now as I know there is a lot of hard work ahead. Surgery, physio, exercise etc. So instead, I have decided to give you a brief history in time. Its been a while since I wrote about my past. I mean odd snippets yes, but nothing fully since I started with the whole depression performance. blah. Perhaps to have it down on paper will make it a little more real and maybe a little more possible to leave ti where it belongs, in the past.

I had a fairly healthy family life growing up. Lived with both of my parents, my brother (who was 3 years old than me) and until I was about 6 one of my sisters (who was about 20 years older than me.)  I used to love it when my sister lived at home as I shared a room with her and so used to get out of tidying it up a lot. (Somethings never change) However, she used to work full time as did my dad and my mum worked part time.

Mum expected my sister do to all the cooking and cleaning and often pick my brother and I up from school. It would have made more sense for my mum to do these things what with my sister working full time, but my mums logic was my sister had it easy as she still lived at home. My sister got in with the wrong crowd, she had a bf who was very possessive. She worked as a chef and if her bf came to pick her up and saw her talking to any other males, be it colleagues or customers, he would drive off and leave her to walk home.

But she found his company favorable to living at home and so moved out when I was about 6/7. I didnt see her again for years.

Life carried on as normal, I fought like any sister with my brother and often argued with my mum, usually about how little I was doing to help her. One day my brother decided to run away to London, I begged him to take me with him but we wouldnt. I didnt tell anybody he had gone. When they found out the police and such were phoned. He was bought back the next day no the worse for wear. We kind of bonded after that. Stopped fighting and used to comfort each other when mum had been mean. Dad wasnt around much, he worked all the hours he could, often we used to think it was to stay out of her way. I used to love it when dad came home. Because no matter how mean mum had been to me, she was normal with me again once dad came in.

When I was about 9, we received a mysterious letter. I was not allowed to know anything about the letter but mum and dad argued a fair bit about it. About two weeks later mum told me that I had another sister, but that she had left home when I was very young. She had gotten pregnant and the babies farther didnt believe it was his so he kicked her out. She ended up in a refuge. Near the end of the pregnancy he came to see her and said he would take her back if she got rid of the baby. So the baby (whom she named Samantha) was put up for adoption. Apparently my parents put in to adopt her, but my sister said she didnt want them to have her so blocked it. She ended up in  the Isle of Mann.

Well anyway, turns out the letter was from my sister. She had seen us out shopping one day and decided she want to make amends. Dad had gone to visit her without my mum (how dare he go without her permission she said) but anyway, turned out she had 2 kids. I found out later that when my dad went he just sat with the kids on his knees and cried.

So he arranged for my sister(Shell), her husband (Mike) and the 2 kids to come visit us the following week. Mum was not happy about it but she did agree to it finally. And so the following friday I met my sister, brother in law niece and nephew. Things were akward at first but they came down regulary and soon it was like they had never been gone.

A couple of years later my Mum found something in my brothers room (I forget what ti was now) and asked were he got it. When the full story eventually came out, it turned out he had been visiting my other sister (Tracy) and that was were it came from. Although the parents were not happy, they knew they could not ban him from seeing his sister. When she had her third child (Who was a twin, but one died during the pregnancy) my mum sent a gift and even allowed me to go with my brother.

A couple of months later, my brother came to tell my mum that Tracys youngest baby was very ill in hospital. Her stomach had twisted inside her or something which involved a big op and along stay in Alder Hey. My mum offered to have the other 2 children while Tracy was at the hospital and so they started speaking again. I now had 2 nieces and 2 nephews.

There was always some wierdnesss between my two sisters, but I put it down to sibling riverally. When I was about 14, I started to do things that I shouldnt have been doing. I stole some poppers out of my brothers room and used them a fair bit, not really knowing what they were at this point (remember there was no internet back then so I couldnt just look it up). I also started punishing myself, I would stay up late at night mostly till about 4am but often all night, still going to school for 8am the next day. I started smoking and playing around with boys. I got into lots of fights. From there on, I started scratching myself with needle along my wrists, fantasying going deeper.

One night when I was about 15, I decided enough was enough. I took half a packet of paracetamol, wrote my goodbye note, laid down and cried myself to sleep.

When I awoke the next morning, I was so angry. Why was I still here. Sure I felt rough and couldnt keep much down, but I was still alive. I screwed my note up (Which was full of I am sorry, I wish we had gotten on better and had a normal relationship blah blah and was addressed to my mum)

I sat down the following night and took the whole packet of paracetamol. I spent most of the night heaving my guts up and generally feeling awful. Yet the next morning I still got up and went to school. About a week later, I picked up a prescription for migraine tablets from the doctors. As it was a prescription it was for a large amount. That night I took 2 full boxes.

Within 40 minutes I was heaving again. Mum thought I had a stomach bug so let me stay off school the next day, which was a good job as I spent most of the time in the loo. I felt so rotten I will never forget it. I dont know how it didnt mess me up more. The amount I took should have caused liver damage. But of course, once the sickness subsided and my muscles healed from all the heaving there were no signs at all.

I started spending as much time as possible at my sisters house (Tracy).  She had moved house and we often joked about converting the extension into a room for me. My brother was working in a local supermarket, but ripping them off by stealing alcohol. He used to sell me it at a cheap rate so I used to spend my weekly pocket money on spirits and spent a lot of time drinking, even getting drunk during an RE lesson in school. Pretty soon after that he was caught out. He was sent into the bosses office to wait for the police. The boss got called out of the office for some reason and my brother stole his keys and ran out the shop. He then stole the bosses expensive car and was involved in a high speed police chase involving helicopters and such before he eventually wrote the car off. He was of course arrested and as he had spent a lot of time in the past in trouble with the police (robbing car badges and other various teenage pranks) he was sentenced to 8 months in juvenile prison. We visited him a couple of times. I missed him lots. Visiting will be something I wont forget. the whole police dogs and searching stuff.

Around here sometime, my sister (Shell) also had another baby, a girl. Her husband (Mike) beat her up one night and she rang us crying.n We went down and made sure she was ok and everything. I found a lot out about Mike that night. Turns out he had tried to sleep with my other sister a few years back and had kind of stalked her in a way. (explains the tension between the two of them) And Mike had apparently beaten my sister lots of times before and locked her out the house a few times. Of course she got her self back on her feet, but as these things tend to happen, within a few weeks, she got back together with him and it was like nothing had ever happened.

At 16, while studying for my GCSE I got a job in a shop in town. Suddenly I had money, most the study went out the window. I used to have to be in for 11 at night. So once on study leave I worked most days. In the morning I would ride my bike to my friends house and leave it there. We would then get the bus to town were we would both go to work. At the end of our shift we would meet up, get the bus back and go the local pub were we would spend the night drinking. At about 10:45 I would leave hers on my bike and ride home and make it in just before 11 (As long as I didnt wobble off the bike, which was always a possibility) This continued for a few months until I had a huge row with my mum.

After that row, I didnt physically speak to my mum for about a month, we avoided each other which suited me fine. I started saving some money (Move on to spirits instead of cocktails, much cheaper) and then I found a bed sit to rent. The place was a dump to be honest, but it was easy to get to work and I could just about afford it.

I didnt tell my family I was leaving. Didnt think I owed them anything so why should I. Left a note, basically telling her not to try to contact me and a load of selfish ramble to boot. Rang for a taxis, one of those big people carriers. Dumped my stuff in the back and officially left home.

Things were great, for a few days. Till I went into work and was told I was being fired. Apparently there had been some discrepancies in my till. I had never ever stole from work! I did consider it once, I thought about taking a pound out as I had no money to buy dinner, but instead I Went hungry. But this is what they claimed and so I was offically out of work. Now it was hard enough getting a job, but at that time of year, nowhere would hire a 16 year old as they had all the uni students looking for work.

A few days later I got my GCSE results. While I didnt do as well as I had hoped, I had done fairly well especially considering the lack of work I did. I decided to write my results down and give it to my mum. I dont know why I decided to go to her work instead of just posting it through my old house. But I had basically said that I knew the results were not good enough for her, but I was happy enough with them (which was kind of a lie) (Bear in mind that I did my maths GCSE a year early and got a B, the highest  I could get on that paper and I had come higher than all but 1 of the year above me. When I told my mum her words wre "I dont know why your celebrating, you could have done better, why didnt you get an A" so my assumptions were not totally incorrect)

Anyway, my friend who I asked to deliver the letter decided to tell my mum I was outside so she came out. We had a begruding hug and a cry. She asked me to come home I agreed as I didnt have a choice with having no job. She then gave me some money to buy some food and such with.

The first thing my friend and I did was buy some stuff for a fry up ha. That night we went out clubbing with the rest of my class. My friend and I decided that we would go to a different club from everyone else as we wanted to do some drugs but didnt want the whole school finding out. While out I started dancing with this boy, Kieran. We got on ok and such and my friend decided that I should lose my virginity before moving back home. ha. Seemed like a good idea at the time. We had no taxis fair so we were going to walk but then kieran said he had money and so we invited him back. My friend eventually fell asleep on the sofa in my bedsit while I was cuddling with Kieran. Still high as a kite and drunk to boot, I slept with him.

Had to kick him out early the next morning after getting his number as my parents were coming to collect me to take me home again. and so I moved home. But not for long...

7 years!

So I meant to post yesterday, but didnt get around to it (naughty naughty) I dont know how I ran out of time as I didnt leave the hospital, although I did sleep a lot (nothing new there then)

Well anyway, yesterday marks 7 years since my transplant.
I read other peoples posts about how grateful they are for the turn around in there life and how much better they are since receiving there transplant. It makes me feel bitter as I dont feel that overwhelming feeling of gratefulness. I think I know why. Most people are very ill before their transplant and then they get the transplant and things get better for them.

Im the opposite. I wasnt ill before my transplant (I was stabbed) and since my transplant, I have been ill in one way or another for most the 7 years. Started off with all the normal after transplant stuff, infections (kidney, stomach, chest), then came my surgical stint when I had a hernia repair followed by a major op for an ovarian cyst and acute appendix followed by another hernia. Then throw in being diagnosed with hearing loss and needing hearing aids. Then all the mental health stuff that came running along (and is still ever present) and then the latest thing with my breathing being rubbish and needing a trachy. The last 7 years havnt been ones of getting better, they have been bloody hard years and I have the scars to prove it.

I dont know, I just feel like I should be more thankful for my transplant, but the fact of the matter is that there are days when i am not. There are days when I wish/pray that they hadnt saved me as dealing with everything else is just to damn much.

But I must be getting better. Usually around this time of year I beat myself up for not being grateful but I think perhaps im starting to analyze it and know why I feel this way. Maybe its the first steps towards acceptance. One can only hope.

And then another blow was dealt today. Last night, my voice started to go raspy. Today it is barley a whisper. Concerned I spoke to my surgeon this evening. His words, well i dont want to mess with that. Great, so im supposed to deal with having no voice?!? He mentioned the other day that my breathing being tight when I use the speaking valve is probably where my airway has collapsed above. I think the speaking is related. Im just really hoping that its not permeant.

I mean really, he said having a trachy would solve all my problems. That I would be able to do everything I could do before but my breathing would be better. Well it is no better, not really and now im losing my voice and then there is all the care of the trach that goes with it. Things are not better, there worse! And im trying to be hopeful and im trying to stay positive but it seems like such a waste when you keep getting dealt new blows.

And im still in hospital as they cant sort out the equipment I need to go home with. Oh well less stress without having to deal with all the christmas stuff I suppose. *sigh*
Will things get better? eventually? maybe?

Sinking

Ive been meaning to write for  few days. I put it off last night as  I was in a foul mood. I have no idea why I was in such a mood, you know when you just get in a mood for no reason and cant seem to get out of it. It was odd, as I was on my own all day yesterday, I was in isolation (I will explain i a minute) so I couldnt just go wander around the ward or anything and the staff had to gown up to come in so most of them didnt bother. Then mum text and said do you mind if I dont come in till later. She wanted to go for a walk around Birchwood and do non essential shopping and stuff) so it was 7 before I spoke to anyone properly. I spent most the day sleeping, curled up in a ball.

But as soon as she did come I didnt want her there, I didnt want to speak to her or anyone. I just wanted to curl back up and go to sleep. So I was very short with her and I couldnt help it. She started going on about speaking to one of the nurses where she works who deals with trachys and how I should have this care and that treatment and this equipment. I felt like saying I know but what do you want me to do about it. Its just so frustrating. I know they should be doing more but maybe if I was to try and speed them up it would mean me admitting how much things have got to change.

She kept going on about how I should be using my humidifier more, cleaning my tubes more often, changing my straps more often, having a new filiter every day. I felt like saying to her, well you know what, we could complain about the lack of info we have been given, but since you have complained every time I have been admitted so far its taken with a pinch of salt now. I mean last time, you had my dad fuming, you couldnt visit because 'you were too upset' and all because a nurse had canceled an appointment that I could not make it to as I was admitted. I mean really was it worth making such a fuss over something so stupid? And now that I could do with pushing them I wont because i have had it being a moaner.

So you just visited again today and im still in the same mood. I told you what Mr page had said to which you replied im sure the other doctors secretary could have told him if he was sick, so I said im only telling you what was told to me. We sat in silence then for a few more minutes until you got up and said you were going home to do some washing and that was it.

I know im not being a very nice person right now, but truth be told im struggling. I think im sinking into a bad depression. Im sleeping most the day and not talking to anyone. Building myself into a little box where no one can enter. Putting up those walls and believe me this time they are strong walls, I dont think I can take them down even if i want to. And suddenly and probably predictably, my mind races back to suicide and self harm.

I want to harm, but I know it will be messy and I dont have any dark bottoms I can wear to cover up. Different ways of killing myself are running through my mind, all the new possibilities that exist with my trachy. If only the bin hadnt have just been emptied, I could have gotten a syringe out of it and used it now. I could have been gone by tea time. I have no real means to do it in here, its so damn frustrating. Im impulsive enough that I would do it right now, without thinking about it.

Maybe its being stuck in this room too long. I say that it is approaching 3 weeks but its closer to 4 if you forget that I got out for one day near the beginning.

They say home hopefully on Monday, but I cant see it happening.

Man Im sinking low.
I hadnt realized till now how suicidal I was feeling again. But I will continue to paint a happy face on things. The staff here know me as someone who dosnt moan about being here and all the treatments and such. And I will wait. I will wait for one of them to slip up. To leave something in my room that they shouldnt. And then maybe I can act upon my desire.  I know its selfish especially this close to christmas, but I have had enough pain, enough of trying to adjust, just enough. Im sure in time they will forgive me and see that it was truly for the best.

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.