Admission. Going to Hospital

On the morning of Tuesday 12^th May I woke up apprehensive and severely depressed. I had the bag that I had packed the night before containing my clothes, shoes, magazines and notebooks as well as my Plan B. I kept forgetting I had it in there and then remembering with a weird cross between relief and fear. I made a decision to try and get better first, before I used plan B as I said good bye to my children that morning – they thought I was off to Queensland to visit my brother.

We had planned to drop the kids off at school and head into a hospital in the capital city that my Doctor had recommended over the one in the town closer to where we live. I was told to go into the ER and tell them I was depressed and suicidal. I was anxious as hell the whole drive in wishing I could just open the car door and bail out in front of a truck.

 When we arrived in the hospital I freaked out totally, my husband had to coax me slowly out of the car and I was trembling all over, couldn’t see straight and felt like I would pass out at any moment. I wouldn’t let him take my bag because I felt sure they wouldn’t take me in anyway so he begrudgingly left it in the car and we made our way up to the ER.

My husband walked up to the triage desk as I hung back in the corner, I could hear her ask loudly what the problem was and I couldn’t stand the thought of all the people in the ER knowing what was wrong with me. I called out to my husband before he had a chance to answer and said “Its ok, lets go” and with out looking back at him I bee-lined out the door and back towards the car park.

He caught up with me and asked what was going on, I burst into tears and said “I CANT DO THIS!” He told me that I had too but I was too horrified at the thought of going back to where all those people just saw me freak out that I ended up telling him that I wanted to go back to the mental health unit in the nearby town where I had been last year during a manic episode.

He agreed to take me there, although I could plainly see that he didn’t want to and I was still trying to think of a way to convince him just to take me home again. After a long fairly silent journey that involved many tears on my part we arrived at the hospital. I held my husband’s hand tight as we made our way under the little covered walkway through to the ER.

I could feel myself starting to lose it again as we walked through the door so I said to my husband “you tell them what’s going on, I need to go to the toilet.” I locked myself in the little cubical knowing that the triage nurse now knew I was fucking crazy and half the waiting room would have probably heard too. I took a deep breath and went back out and sat down with my husband – he looked relieved that I hadn’t done a runner. I kept my head down and didn’t say anything or make eye contact with anyone, they all knew.

Eventually we were called in to speak with a nurse, I could barely speak – How the fuck do you say ‘Oh yes good morning, by the way I wish that I was dead and I am planning on making that happen ASAP’. I felt like an idiot and mumbled something about suicidal ideation, my head was pounding and I don’t remember much more of what she said but she told us to go back out to the waiting room and she would call the mental health assessment team from the unit to come and assess me.

We were called through and were ushered past all the beds full of sick kids and confused elderly people and into a room that had a bed much like at a GP’s rooms and glass walls, it had a video surveillance camera in it – I felt like a goldfish on a reality TV show.

My husband went out to use the bathroom and have a cigarette, I went to go to the bathroom but it was two way and someone walked in on me from the other side just before I sat down, so embarrassed as  I asked to use the one in the waiting room instead. They let me and feeling really overwhelmed I started plotting how I would do a runner but realised that by hubby would be standing having his smoke where I would need to go to run out anyway so it wouldn’t be an option.

 My head was still pounding, I grabbed some Panadol out of my purse, there were only 6 left, I took all of them, this felt like a migraine and I couldn’t handle that on top of everything else right now. I walked back to my little goldfish bowl, my husband appeared a few minutes later and after what seemed like hours the Mental Health Assessment team arrived.

A man and a women, both lovely, we talked for a bit and I actually started to feel a bit better, my head ache was finally lifting and I think the hardest part for me was admitting that I had an issue that I could no longer cope with. They toyed with the idea of sending me home, I could have quite easily bluffed my way out of the building at that moment but feeling stronger in myself I actually told them that chances are I would feel bad again tomorrow and I didn’t have any fight left in me.

They decided to keep me in after all, they took some bloods and told me they would sort out a room down in the unit and take me through to be admitted. I finally arrived on the unit and my husband had to go home and pick up the kids from school. I said goodbye, told him I loved him and would call him later that night ( The low dependency unit had public phone booths we could call from).

I was introduced to the big personality of psychiatrist Dr C. A solid but not overly tall man with a shiny suit and a pink paisley tie, he knew his job inside out and didn’t take bull shit from anyone; that being said there was something appealing about him – at least you knew where you stood. He asked A LOT of questions, I answered them as honestly as possible with certain omissions regarding plan B’s when asked if I had any immediate plans to harm myself – honesty was to my detriment though because Dr C decided to not only admit me, but admit me to the High Dependency Unit. I had spent a day on The HDU during my last admission while half unconscious recovering  from the drug OD and it wasn’t fun.

I chatted with a nurse as she went through my belongings, they have to make sure nothing prohibited comes in mostly stuff that can be used for self harm such as ties on tracksuit pants, shoe laces, scarves etc. They take photographs of everything so there are no disputes about stolen items later. The nurse was lovely and we were having a good talk which came in handy as she started going through my toiletries. My heart skipped a beat as I remembered my plan B, she picked up the conditioner bottle I had hidden my 100 tablets in, neatly packed into a heat sealed bag white tablets, surrounded and concealed by white conditioner. I commented on something she had said and she laughed and put the bottle down and continued going through the rest of my things.

The nurse finished up and she began to show me through to the HDU. My shoes clopping as I walked due to their lack of shoe laces. Suddenly Dr C appeared out of nowhere and dramatically declared “Stop! She’s not going in there she needs to go straight to the ER!!”  “Wha..??” The nurse and I looked at each other puzzled. “Do you have something you would like to tell me young lady?” Dr C said staring at me. Fuck. How the HELL did he find out about plan B? The nurse didn’t notice- she was still carrying my bag with the evidence in her hand…

Dr C , still not breaking eye contact then says “well they why is your paracetamol count so high then?”  Did you or did you not take an overdose?

“Paracetamol count? What are you talking about? I haven’t overdosed on anything!”

“Ugh. She needs to go straight to the ER to have the antidote.” Dr C shook his head at me and walked off briskly saying “we will talk later”. I was still trying to work out what was going on when a nurse informed me that they had called an ambulance.

The unit is technically separate to the hospital even though they are only next door to each other and as such they ridiculously had to waste tax payers money by calling an ambulance to drive me 100 meters up the road.

So we are sitting waiting for an ambulance and I have a different nurse now. She doesn’t believe me for a second, at this point Im trying to think why and suddenly remember that I took two Panadol with breakfast as I had had a headache and sore throat and realised I had COMPLETELY forgotten about the 6 Panadols' I had taken in the loo. 6 wasn’t enough to give you an overdose blood level surely, I took bloody 50 odd of the things when I was actually trying to overdose last year and that only made me nauseous. I couldn’t admit that now as it’s embarrassing to say I frequently take 6 for a headache and it’s never done any harm before so I told them about the two with breakfast and continued pleading my innocence.

The Ambo’s arrived after about 45minutes (seriously!!?? 100m people I felt fine, could have walked!) and one of the ambo officers mentioned that Lemsip has paracetamol in it ( I had Lemsip in my hand bag when they did the inventory) I had also had a Lemsip that morning! Things were starting to add up… FUCK.

So as a result of a completely accidental overdose on 6 to 9 depending how you count it – paracetamol tablets I spent the night in ICU feeling 100% fine, bored out of my brain watching dodgy re runs on telly and listening to an old women with dementia ask the same series of questions over and over. I was annoyed that I can’t seem to kill myself intentionally yet the one time I do something accidently I am at a hospital and they can fix it.  So of course they rang my husband and he didn’t believe me either. Awesome.

 

 

The Purple Coffin

She was one of those people with more personality than she knew what to do with. She stood up for the world and was passionate about everything, a mother, a wife, a sister, a friend and to me she was a colleague. Her firey sense of standing up for people’s perceived rights could be downright scary at times depending on which side of the argument you were standing. I won’t forget the blaze in her eyes as she would snarl “just try it!. Her passion it seems, was born from her own inner demons, described as somewhat formidable at times, she was also a nurturer, a care giver, gardener and breeder of small dogs.

While we had talked at work often, I think I learned more about her that day in the room full of mourners, those that had loved her than I would ever have been privy to otherwise. Her bright purple coffin adorned with the most brilliant display of flowers collected from her own garden. I was somewhat saddened that we had so much more in common than I had realised and I wondered for the conversations that might have been had time permitted.

While the taste of salt trickled onto my lips, the feeling I had in my heart was not so much one of sadness but self-guilt – my outlook on what so many were calling a wasted life, is somewhat tainted by my own experience and feelings, I was glad for her that she had found the peace she needed at that time and secretly I was jealous.

Two of her children, the same age as two of mine – their faces. The way her eldest daughter spoke with guilt wishing she had said more, or less – never imagining that once her mother had been admitted to the hospital that she would not have the chance to take back any harsh words and tell her she loved her. That was hard to hear.

I took a deep breath and with a final look at that bright purple coffin I whispered goodbye. As I drove home my mood was rather surreal. The looks on those little faces, the same ones I would likely be causing on my own kids someday. It hurt so bad. For them so many more questions than answers.

The hardest part about this for me is it hasn’t changed how I feel in the way it seems it probably should. I was supposed to look at this as a realisation that I need to stay well for my kids, to TRY and want to stay well. But it didn’t work, I understand the intellectual concept and I feel as guilty as hell that i don’t FEEL it but I can’t help my own need for peace.

A few days later with these added guilty thoughts and pit of depression I had already sunk into before the funeral, I had an internal anxiety attack at work and ran out the door chased by a team leader asking what was wrong, I lied and said nothing I had to go and drove to a spot I had always regarded as a possible resting place. A beautiful waterfall that tumbles down a sheer cliff face. I cut through the bush track to avoid the safety rail look-out area and instead climbed down the rocky stream to the edge of the cliff. I sat there with a bottle of water and a bottle of pills in my hand and my legs dangling off the edge, feelings of numbness and simultaneous peace.

The sun was warm on my skin as I lay back absorbing the rays on my face for a while feeling very close to nature. My iPod on the ‘D’ playlist. I had no paper to write a note. – oh well, someone would eventually go through my computer and find my heavily passcoded ramblings.  A little voice in my mind kept saying – ‘this isn’t fair on Cara’ – Cara, my team leader who’s final words to me had been ‘are you sure there is nothing I can do?” with a look of startled concern in her eyes and a slight wobble in her voice. I had told her ‘no, but thanks..’ with a tears in my own.

Our team had already lost one of our own to suicide in the last week, and as I lay back in the sun tears stinging in the corners of my eyes I felt like I couldn’t do that to Cara- she would blame herself for not acting on her instinct, she’s only young and she doesn’t need that, it’s too selfish.

At that moment I heard voices from up the track. Shit! People were coming down to the look out. I shoved the pills back in my pocket and bolted up the flat rocks and back into the crevices of the boulders on the side. Getting caught on a cliff face with pills in your hand probably lands you locked up somewhere I don’t want to go. I got back to the car and drove the long way back to the city.

Muscle Memory

Muscle memory- wake up, get dressed, drive to work. Approx half way through the journey to work the two cans of sugar free energy drink and 3 no doze tablets secretly ingested start to kick in and you wake up and wonder what the hell you are doing here, again. You swear today won’t be like yesterday, set yourself new rules, new dates, new rituals. Get to work, today is like yesterday, new rules broken, dates become meaningless, old rituals take over as though you are out of your own body simply watching you find yourself walking powerlessly through the same old destructive pattern. Tomorrow is a new day, a new chance?

Rinse, repeat.

Each day your will grows weaker, your resolve is dying, it’s too hard now, it’s too late.

The drugs that were supposed to take away the beast and set me free have taken away the beauty too. You are gone and I’m on my own, flying blind.

Stockholm syndrome.

We were too bonded, the love I had for my captor too strong. When something has become such a very big part of you, you can’t just take it away – it was the only part of you that made sense, the one that took the lead, made the decisions and…. I suppose you were the dominator. I was the submissive, I lost my voice and spoke for me when I could not. Although you caused me such terrible pain and hurt me so badly, I felt loved by you, safe.

Now my heart is broken, wounds too deep my soul disconnected and bailed out before I did. Too late for this, better things to do.

My eyes water constantly from the smoke screen I am trying to hold up, I will soon drown in the pool from these tears. Finally a chance to quietly slip away.

Beginnings, Endings and the Beginning of the End

I wander around the world now as a vague reflection of my former self. I know what my ideals were, I understand their importance and while I still regret nothing, I also feel nothing.

The drugs they gave me to cease my bodies natural ebb and flow have now rendered me numb. Apparently this is the perfect place to be, ‘normal’ or so they say.

I couldn’t imagine always wanting to live a ‘normal’ life, void of divine spirituality and completed sense of self. Never experiencing the intensity of pure fun, joy and excitement mixed with the energy of a thousand four year olds.

Nor however, could I believe in a world without the extreme sense of despair and hopelessness that comes from unchangeable circumstances or being racked with guilt over something real or perceived or often, no reason at all other than to remind you to appreciate the times of experiencing vivid life and self-awareness.

One thing I have been thankful for not experiencing was the ‘voices’ so many people speak of intruding into their minds and scaring them into psychosis.

At least I thought that I hadn’t, until I stopped taking the antipsychotic they put me on. Suddenly I have music playing around me, as though a string quartet or an orchestra is warming up or playing in the distance, it’s faint and somewhat beautiful, but it’s there, where it wasn’t before.

I also hear a voice coming back, an intrusive voice that I had always attributed to a pattern of self-thought and not an entity of its own – the voice from my eating disorder, the one that keeps me in line, that reminds me of my youth in an encouraging, scornful and often violent manner.

I had barely noticed it had gone missing recently– too much other stuff going on, but God, the binging. The binging that has reached critical levels – levels I may never be able to return from. I was inadvertently watching myself from the outside and wondering how the fuck I was letting this happen, the auto pilot on button stuck like glue.

The dirty little secret is that I want this voice to come back. I need it to come back. I must be held accountable for my actions and this is the only way I think it will be possible. I need to look upon the criticism and judgement as constructive, a challenge and a God to be obeyed at all costs. The depression that comes from living with the voice is nothing compared to the dire pit of hell that stem from the consequences of a world of silence and dirty normality.

I would rather let the voice take me over and let my new found lack of fear be my final undoing. Since the overdose I no longer feel frightened of pain or death at all. Not even a tiny twinge of concern or fear of future regret. I think that after taking the pills and feeling completely at peace with it even several hours later reassured me that it was the right course of action, I chose my fete and now I am but a mere ghost caught between worlds but able to interact, just waiting for my time to come so I can move on to where I am supposed to be.

The trouble is I am impatient, I don’t like waiting and I don’t want to wait now. I wonder if patience could in fact my life lesson this time around. God knows I breezed through the usual trials and tribulations that one must master so quickly that I must have learned them before. I completed what I came to do but if that is in fact my life lesson (and possibly acceptance – which I have for almost everything) I must learn it and not end my human existence by my own hand or I will simply have to do it all over again. I just want to move on, I am READY to move on.

Suicide attempt and the week that followed

Hi people,

I have just uploaded the below posts which I had stored on my computer but never posted. I decided to upload them all and start doing this blog properly as in the past writing has been good therepy for me. If you are reading this in order I need to add a pretty big TRIGGER WARNING. If you have any thoughts of suicide AT ALL, this is NOT the blog to read. Stop, turn around and leave now!

Quick.... off you go!


I will wait.....


Ok, now that the crazies are gone ( I can say that cause they aren't supposed to still be reading),
The most recent post below was during a mixed transitional state which peaked out the next morning (Monday) when I couldn't handle being in my own skin anymore.

I tried to crash the car twice (ended up being harder than it sounds) and ended up just damaging it and then I went to work where I promptly lost the last of my marbles in the car park and ended up ODing on the only available substance I had with me at the time which was paracetamol, I took enough to do the deed and started feeling nauseous pretty quickly. I had been under the impression that it took several hours if not days to work so I was a bit taken aback by how fast I was affected.
I went into my work, told them I was sick and had to go and went back to the car.

I was quite disoriented at this point I drove (very stupid and unsafe decision) I wasn't sure where to go but was feeling increasingly unwell, I thought I would head out to a look out area I like around 40km from my small town, unfortunately (or fortunately upon reflection) I was getting dizzier and dizzier and realised I wasn't going to make it. I reached the small town before my small town and started vomiting uncontrollably, this is not ideal whilst driving and made a huge mess of the car while trying not to swerve into oncoming traffic.

The vomiting probably saved me as I think I threw up a large portion of what I had ingested, I managed to make it home and had a bit of a freak out regarding the children coming home from school and finding me, I even contemplated calling a friend to take me to hospital so that wouldn't happen but didn't want to risk them saving my life.

At this point all I could think about was crawling into bed, which I did and slept for what must have been a few hours. I woke up - this in its self upset me greatly - and promptly threw up again, lay in bed feeling god awful for a few more hours, started to feel more alive and pulled out the lap top to google how long liver failure takes etc and did a vlog entry.

Long story short, hubby came home and I had to confess due to my pitiful state, he was AMAZING about it ( I am SO lucky to have him) and took me to the GP. She took blood tests, organised hubby to stay with me and I managed to talk my way out of being sectioned although I could see she wasn't happy about it. I came home and started to feel better physically and mentally, went to bed and SLEPT until morning.

Tuesday I woke up manic, as you do, but physically fine, organised a week and a half off work and we went to the shops and bought some things we needed, hubby kept watch of my money spending and had lunch together and talked. It was actually a really nice day! That night I ended up in a mixed mood again and was starting to really freak out but was eventually able to contain it by running on the treadmill for half an hour with my headphones up full bore.

Wednesday I went out with a friend to the movies and was flying high but still reasonable, spent a bit too much money, ate too much and didn't care until later that evening but then as I was manic I continued to binge ALL night because I didn't go to sleep.

Thursday I went out by myself - I was manic as hell at this point and bought a STACK of things, ate too much, GAMBLED (very very naughty for me) luckily I ended up $200 richer. Went and looked at new cars I cant afford ( I am going to have care salesmen bothering me for months) Met a friend for coffee and headed to my GP appointment.

My GP has been awesomely trying to find me a new Psychiatrist and generally being very helpful. All my blood work came back ok even the liver function test - which was surprising.
So I have all these plans in place now for in case of more nervous breakdowns, my hubby has been given phone numbers and strategies for him to use on me if I happen to lose it when he is around.

Knowing myself, when I am in that state the chances of me calling anyone are pretty slim as I don't want help, I want to die. When you WANT to die, you don't tend to make phone calls to people who will stop that from happening.

Just glad to be still fairly hypomanic today (Friday) but not off my rocker and rested as I actually had a real full nights sleep last night!

I will leave it there, but that's an update on my mixed episode instant suicide attempt.

Que Sera

There isn’t much time now and I must get ready to say goodbye. In the end everything turned out exactly as it was always meant to.

By chance I was able to see or reconnect with almost everyone that I intended to and please know that this brought me great peace.

There is a playlist in my music folder marked ‘funeral’ it has the songs that I most related to and is in my preferential order.

I want to be cremated with all but a handful of my ashes scattered across the back paddock at the farm (the one near the back neighbours place at the area just before the trees start) facing west on the spring evening of a red sunset. (not that I’m picky or anything).

For the last handful of my ashes, take me to the top of my magic mountain near where I grew up on a warm breezy day and stand overlooking the mountains. Feel the wind on your face as you lean forwards and hold your arms back until it feels like you are soaring high across the valley below. There you must let the last of my spirit fly one final time. This is a sacred place to me and was the place where I first learned of the destiny of my soul.

Despite the challenges along the way, I wouldn’t change a single thing. The way a story ends is not always an accurate summary of the chapters lived between.

Thank you, all of you for such an amazing ride. Nobody could hope for a more fulfilling life with their soulmate, a wonderful family, great friends and the opportunity to understand and achieve their destiny.

Take care, remember que sera sera, cest la vie. Let peace be forever in your hearts and I will see you on the flip side!

xx

God Theory

Depression sucks, being high is awesome. I’m the happiest I have been and yet I am ready to cease my life. I guess that I want to go out on a high. Does that make me sound depressed? LOL

I feel better than I have in forever, I am so complete and fulfilled and to the amusement of anyone who has ever known me, I think I found God! OK, rather I have summarised my interpretation of the meaning of the word ‘god’ and how ‘god’ fits into the creation/ development of our perceived world.

I watched a movie today called Lucy. Very long story very short, u know how humans only use 10% of their brain? Well this lucy chick ends up using 100%. The movie speculates what would happen if we had this ability. (*Spoiler alert*)When she reached the 100% she disappeared and essentially became everything or as we humans would view it, a god like entity.

Anywho, I was thinking about it after and came to the conclusion that using 100% of brain function is you become so in touch with your structure and the environmental structure at a cellular level that you become one with all matter which is equivalent to ceasing to exist. So therefor you are unable to use 100% of your brain potential until you are using none at all. Death is equivalent to complete life, in the way that all colours are white. This is probably where the perception of a god like after life state or going to be with god when you die originated from. If you think about it, the fact is that we are all simply energy particles forming and changing shapes.  Perception truly is the only reality, we perceive energy particles around us to form in a predictive manner, what ever causes these particles to connect together to create and duplicate cells until they form a ‘physical’ being surely potentially causes a energy image or shadow style effect of the previously existing cellular structure that is left behind once these cells die and go back into the energy pool. It would therefor be plausible that people who are more sensitive to changes in energy levels around them to pick up on these ‘energy shadows’ and perceive them in the shape they once held as a physical being thus giving rise to the theory of ghosts.

If purely energy based, these apparitions would not have any intentional function to visualise such as walking or spontaneous movement, they would merely behave in a replicate manner  or photographic style model of the physical form they had been previously connected to, for this purpose the existence of a ‘soul’ for example would more likely be present in the replicated energy field than within the breaking down cells from the physical form.

Depending of the energy frequency the human perceiver is tuned into, these ‘spirits’ for want of a better term may be able to communicate although this would only really be possible using implanted imagery or word based thoughts transmitted via energy particles. Actual ‘speech’ as we know it would not be possible for the same obvious reasons that tree frogs don’t verbally communicate the same way dogs, cats or even ppl do – the ‘speech’ or method of communication using sound relies on physical structure through a collection of cells. The sub atomic structure that goes into creating just one physical cell is nearly infinite and can only be increased via duplication. Always continuous equal parts, always in pairs – DNA, Reproduction as a general – to create the existence of any cell based object it must involve a level of duplication. This process is not (by sheer natural design) supposed to be reversed. The splitting of an atom, creates an explosion – this almost proves the big bang theory in one simple step, we reversed the natural process and created an explosion, thus an explosion would have created an atom in the first place, atoms must be duplicated in order to form anything else. – What would be interesting is to know exactly what substance was released in the explosion of the atom splitting as that substance is essentially what creates life as we know it, that substance IS energy, the molecular everything or “god” not in the man with a beard way, but in the true scientific sense of the word.

We can never harness that substance as it is God, there for it is everything. Halving one atom creates “God” energy. Halve the “God energy” and we would cease to exist, one can only imagine what comes before that – unfortunately our 10% brain capacity doesn’t quite stretch that far… 

As far as the alien debate is concerned, I think the forming of physical structure in such a predictable manner (ie humans are one form, cats are another) is probably magnetically based, when we look for life on other planets we need to pay particular attention to places that have a magnetic core like earth rather than focusing so much on oxygen and water. Our physical structures have evolved like that due to their environment however if another planet had a life, it would be plausibile that it is the magnetic structure of the planet that governs the way atomic particles cluster together, creating a unique environment which in turn would see life forms model physical designs based on their individual environment ie lungs might not be required at all but cells may form from gasses absorbed through the bottom of a foot or hoof or talon. 

What ppl need to remember is that HOW and WHY don’t always matter. Just because we have the ability to ask these questions doesn’t always mean it is necessary, or ideal to do so. Sometimes simply being present in the moment and knowing what IS and observing what CAN be will be a far more powerful and liberating thought process that dwelling on the things we have no control over.

As previously stated perception is reality and therefor reality is perception, we can choose our perceptions and how we react to them. Your life is your choice, take today to take charge.

THAT is the true reality.

Clearly Blurred Lines

I don’t know what the fuck I want, I don’t know what I am thinking anymore or more often what I’m not thinking. I think I know something/ understand something/ want something and then five minutes later I do a total 180 on the subject. My memory is fucked, I am doing random shit like cleaning the car to within an inch of its life even though I am planning to crash the bloody thing anyway. I am trying on and buying dresses that are on SUPER special and SO nice while simultaneously throwing a cocktail of drugs down my throat with the intention of overdosing.

Asked the Guru for details of her sound system today via text (super awesome sound quality) I told her I want to get one for DH for fathers day. She commented that she was pleased to see I am planning for the future – I sent her the txt mostly cause I felt guilty for putting her in the spot I did yesterday. I shared enough that she could have and arguably should have put me in hospital, but I talked my way out of it – the text was kind of a silent “see Im still alive, like I promised”. The fathers day thing was just a good excuse to buy something expensive, lol. I do want one, yet its stupid because I just took a fatal overdose. Hey look subscription to H&G is reduced, and OOH it has free mixing bowls *clicks and orders*, hang on wait a min – why am I wasting money, I just took a fatal overdose…. Part of it might be I’m a touch manic so wanna have fun and spend money rather than actually thinking about the fact that I wont be alive in a week or less anyway!

I guess one good thing is the constant in all of this is even when I realise that I wont get to give DH that sound system, read that H&G mag or wear those dresses – I don’t mind, I have been resigned to the fact for so long now that its more a passing – hmm shame, could have worn that to A/B/C…

Augghh! I’m so messed up! Thank god I took the overdose I’m better off without me LOL.

revival and resistance

Well I haven’t blogged for so long I have almost forgotten how to do it. So much has happened, so much has changed yet nothing at all is really different. I don’t know where to start, my life has done a full circle repeatedly over the last 18 months and yet I’m loathed to be back to the beginning again, phases – Always phases, I really should be used to it by now, a high wouldn’t go astray either.

I guess this is just another one of those rapid cycles. I can’t keep it up much longer, my pseudo life is starting to collapse – ironically it’s not the blogging one I think of as false, but the real one where I try and hide all of my sins and dirty secrets…

Speaking of secrets, forgive me bloggerverse for I have sinned.

 I stopped taking my meds cold turkey and lied about it.

I went to the shrink on a bit of a high ages ago now and promptly forgot everything she told me within 48hrs. It occurred to me just now that I have not filled in a single day of the mood chart that I forgot she gave me and my moods have been all over the place for a little while now too so I really should have filled it in, but I can’t even work out how long ago I should have started because my memory tends to fuck up when my mind goes…

 I also can’t remember when my next appointment with her is and I’ve miss placed the appointment card I was given. I would ring up and ask but her name escapes me as well and I really don’t care enough to bother trying. I wonder if I shouldn’t have taken myself off the meds after all, however the side effects are no longer something I am able to cope with and I have been off them too long to go back on them anyway. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

Not much point going to the shrink really anyway if I’m not going to take what she prescribes. It becomes an expensive and pointless visit. I do kind of miss seeing The Guru though, I call her my ‘rent a friend’ to her face and she laughs. She is a great wall to vent to with a few zen contributions where it counts. Unfortunately money issues and school holidays make it impossible to go to see her at the moment though – besides I would probably just end up dobbing myself in about the meds and I think she has to tattle tale on me in to the GP/P doc and that simply doesn’t work for me.

 Tomorrow marks day one of the end project. I am committed to this now. Temptations are inexcusable and willpower is the only answer. This is what needs to happen and I am the only one who can make it happen. This is the one chance I have to get something right and I will bloody succeed.

Still Alive, Still Crazy

Today… Still alive, slightly less foggy headed from the lithium OD, but still dizzy as hell, shaky sore eyes with trouble focusing but not quite as bad as yesterday, very strong pressure in my head that comes in waves – feels similar to ice-cream headache only you start blacking out. didn’t take Lithium again as I cant stand this feeling a moment longer

 I was triggered horribly by a fucking 13yr old. I tried on a pair of jeans that were a size 8 and while they went on, my big fat calves made the bootleg look like skinny leg, I already wanted to cry seeing my giant shape in multiple mirrors is confronting enough.

As I was getting dressed again I hear someone talking to a girl saying “ooh lets try the size 7s shall we?” and when I walked out I saw miss size 7, the jeans were way too baggy. I KNOW she was only 13 and I am a grown women nearly 30 FFS but still, I guess cause I’m a fruit loop it triggered the crap out of me, I want to be that small, I NEED to be that small. On my way out of the shopping centre all I saw was stick thin women with perfect legs and perfect hair and I just wanted to die.

Then I had to pick up like 4 things from the grocery store that weren’t for me, I had them in the basket in 5 min and proceeded to spend nearly 40 min doing the old pick up and put back things that I wanted to but could never eat. I hate being this ridiculous.

Zombie

God damn I’m a total fuck up. Today spent lying in bed like a paryletic zombie while TBH entertained our friends who had come for a pre planned visit. Passed off neatly as heat stroke, I am unable to admit that my hallucinogenic stupor was actually the cause of a self-induced drug overdose.

Baclofen, a muscle relaxant I take primarily for my hand issues ( stops my fingers cramping up in an unusable claw like manner) has a side effect. It makes people sleepy. Now as I only take a small dose of the stuff, I got used to it quickly and the sleepiness side effect hasn’t been an issue.

Yesterday I was in a state of I don’t give a fuck, and I was tired, cranky and my mind was racing too fast for any kind of sleep to take place, so instead of taking my usual night time baclofen dose, I decided to times it by 5, add a little codine, ibuprofen, Panadol and some extra valerian for good measure.  Approx 45 min later I achieved the desired result and fell asleep.

Sadly, when I woke this morning I was dizzy, nauseous and half blind in my right eye. Fuck. I was supposed to be getting up early to go into town and buy food for the bbq get together today, yet I couldn’t even sit up or talk properly let alone drive 45 min to town and shop. So I played the migrane with vertigo card and stayed in bed drifting in and out of consciousness with some killer hallucinations. At about 10am TBH suggested I have a shower to see if it would make me feel better, I agreed but standing in the shower proved next to impossible and I opted to pass out in bed again instead, I vaguely heard the sound of my friends arriving, TBH came to check on me off and on, suddenly it was 1pm and he asked me if I wanted food, moving my head made me want to hurl so I thought it was probably a bad idea to attempt food and just stayed in my little hallucination inspired world under the covers.

They all went off to do the ‘farm stuff’ my friend and I had been planning for weeks, I floated in a semi unconscious bubble wondering how long this was going to last and if I just swallow the rest of the baclofen jar to end the pain, unfortunately my bag containing the jar was out of arms reach and I couldn’t get up, so I suffered through.

About 6 ish I woke again as they got back and it was bloody hot, hit 40 degrees C apparently, I felt less dizzy so sat up on the couch for a little while, my mind was clear but I couldn’t focus on anything without feeling nauseous so had to keep my eyes closed. They left around 7:30 and I was feeling markedly better.

 Ate dinner, and went and watched a movie, which was a long one but a good one, now seriously awake and slightly stoned feeling, so thought I had better take my pills as I’d missed the morning ones (for obvious reasons). Seemed like a good idea to take an extra baclofen tablet, thought one should be right cause I have to see The Guru tomorrow morning and then be expected to turn up at work and this no sleep followed by drug overdose thing probably shouldn’t be followed with another ‘no sleep’ night. So I took that like 2 hours ago, its now just gone 1am and I just now feel nauseous again and marginally tired, the food is repeating on me too. I should probably stop writing and go to bed, hopefully the other baclofen was out of my system enough for this shit to clear it by morning. In retrospect I probably shouldn’t have taken two pills so soon after but too late now. Sigh.

Im so sick of being a fuck up, TBH is too patient, he would be so much better off not having to put up with my shit all the time, as would the kids. I really want to just die, it’s what I have wanted for such a long time. Really I should wag work tomorrow, drive to the coast and swallow that bottle, I made plans for lunch with a friend on Tuesday, then the kids have a zoo thing on the weekend they are really looking forward to.

Planning suicide is like planning a baby, there is never really an ideal time, but at some point you have to just do it or you never will. The very end of April is the perfect time from a calander perspective, no birthdays, no plans and may is clear. Perfect. Now if only I can actually wait that long…. Blurg, feel pukey, im going back to bed.

 

Today

When I decided to write this blog, I had it in my mind that it would be a combination of narrative therapy, inspiration, education and eventually maybe something to live for. I have written blogs before, they have waxed and waned with my moods and sometimes given me a chance to explore and explain who I really am, but I have never been able to be truly honest. Until now.

I have discovered the need to vent, to say what your heart is thinking, it helps you survive. Unfortunately you can't always tell these things to the people you care about and you especially can't tell the people who care about you.

When your best friend and husband look you in they eye and ask how you are, and you simply fake a smile and say 'fine.' I mean, how can you possibly say to them that all you can really think about is how when and where to die?

How can you say how desperately hard it is to simply breath and exist in a world that you feel so isolated from, even though you are surrounded by people who love you and there is no reasonable reason to even be sad?

You can't.

So, instead I will tell the world, whine to you all out there how fucking awful it feels to have no control over your emotional self and how hard it is to even care enough to want to any more.

Today, I spent the day semi- paralytic in bed while my friends and family had a fun filled barbeque in my house without me. A day I had been planning and looking forward to for a week. Instead I spoke to nobody drifting in and out of consciousness, the guilty aftermath of a semi-intentional drug overdose.

 I wasn't trying to kill myself, I just wanted to sleep, NEEDED to sleep. So I took too many pills.

I told them I had a migraine and vertigo, passed it off as heat stroke from spending too much time in the sun the previous day.

They believed me.

After the nausea, dizziness and hallucinations finally dissipated at around 8pm this evening, my brain was unfortunately still completely wired and so I calmly took my meds again, and chose to simply double the dose instead of times it by 5 this time. I clearly don't learn. But alas, apart from some marginal nausea again and the vision in my right eye not being quite right its now 2am my brain is in overdrive and I'm not sleeping but sitting at the computer, still not even remotely tired.

A large part of me wants to go and swallow the rest of the bottle, a hundred or so tablets. Then I can sleep, and I never, ever have to wake up. A thought that fills me with such a sense of calm clarity that it takes every ounce of will power not to do it.

Tomorrow I have to go and see my psychologist (aka 'The Guru') and then I am expected to turn up at work, another normal day in paradise. I'm sick of lying to everyone, but I can't tell the truth either.

This, is fucked.