emsy1988

I'm such a waste of space. I can't support my friend, I can't cope with anything either 'life' and the general 'being an adult' existance throws at me. I can't even deal with posting a simple letter or sending an email. I am barely getting dressed, and when I do it is generally only to go and get more alcohol or PRN med. I want to die. But then, if I actually wanted to die then I would not tell anyone I was feeling that way, I would just do it. So I guess I don't want to die, just more proof that I am an attention whoring waste of space. Why don't I just fucking DO IT??

I'm not talking to anyone from now on about it. Haven't told any professionals. I will just go ahead and do it. Fuck everyone else. It is what I deserve anyway.

First of all the non existance of any form of mental health support in this area at the moment, secondly the housing issue, thirdly the money issue, then the stuff with my mum/sister, my grandma's deteriorating health, the friend I am staying with going mental after a meeting that led to her taking herself off all meds yesterday, the uni stuff and NOW HE has started to phone me again?? How long until the verbally abusive emails and texts start again??

I have just totally had enough of this bullcrap.

K's Dad asked me for some of my med stock today. Still got a shit load but I am scared I won't have enough to do the job. Going to have to make an appointment to ask for some more before the end of the month.

Oh well....until then....might as well have some fun! Blades: check, alcohol: check, towels: check.

All sorted.


I am so tired though that it isn't even amusing anymore. I want to sleep for a year and never wake up.

As it is, I need to move upstairs in order to go to sleep and apparently I no longer have the energy for that. It's bizarre because all I can think of is how much I want to hurt myself....to tear apart the skin and watch it gape open and look inside it to gain the proof off the damage. To look at my limbs and see them covered with fresh wounds or stitches. All I fantasise about is maximising the damage and beating my stitches record. I need XXX stitches in once incident without including the internals or steris. I have to have it.

At the same time, all I want to do is pass out and sleep. So stupidly, stupidly tired. I would do almost anything to be unconcious for X time and wake up completely refreshed and awake.


Screw it. Drs rang wanting to make a double appointment to discuss my M.H needs....K's Mum and Dad were there so I made the next available appointment. Feel kind of bad because it is next friday. I don't want the doctor to be blamed for anything that happens in the days following that. Still....showered/dressed/presentable/ SMILES and may get some extra meds to make up for the ones K's Dad took off me. Still have a couple of months worth but need to boost it up to be sure.

Got my sister a little teddy bear and going to try to go into town and get her an engraved little bracelet next week as well just so she knows how much I love her and that regardless of what my Dad says or does that she is amazing. Couple of other things to get as well.

Ah well....till then lets make some more craters in my arms and legs....always a worthwhile activity!

Now I am fucked off. Yes, that ranting and venting post was about her BUT it hardly identifies her by name. If the moderators thought it was about her then why the HELL have they not said something to her about her behaviour. The only way they could have thought it was about her would be if they thought she was making up lies (which she is), which breaks the RYL rules (which it does). Logic says that she should get the official warning not me. Or at the very least a paper bag so nobody has to look at her anymore.

Also....its HER going round sending nasty PM's about me to people I get on with and apparently that is absolutely fine. Fuck knows, shes posted about me on her 'secret' facebook account enough times. I would also point out that she had previously commented on a post of mine I had made when I was upset in her R+V. The same night that I wrote the post I just got the snotty PM about.

I am sure plenty of people use r+v to let out their frustrations about other members, hell I know a couple of people whose rants have been as blatently about Helen as mine and have not been removed.

Just posted in r+v basically about that post being removed. Was half tempted to use my prefix I have written to the post just now and then repost the deleted bit I got the warning for. I don't actually want to get banned from RYL though. I will wait and see if anything comes from Ally's report of Helen or if despite the first bit of my post, it gets deleted. Hmmmm.

I feel like fucking shit. I feel so anxious and low. I have so much stuff I need to sort out and yet my brain just can't comprehend it. My self harm just keeps getting worse and worse. Every a+e visit the number of stitches increases. I am currently staying with a friend temporarily until I find somewhere to live permanently. How is someone supposed to sort out housing etc when they can barely motivate themselves to eat/smoke/get dressed/brush hair, go out etc etc, let alone motivate to visit people or be productive? I just can't do it. I actually can't.

I am scared. That's the truth. Because I moved two days ago I am not currently under any mental health services down here. Last time I saw a psych two months ago I was told I was not ready or stable enough for therapy. My social worker said he had not even heard of the new diagnosis the psych added after the meeting. I am now under nobody's 'care'. I am thrilled about that....it's a rush. I can do whatever the hell I want. My brain is racing with ideas and 'self harm experiments'. I actually almost feel alive thinking about it. But part of me is scared. I am not sure what is a dream and what is actually happening.

At the same time I am worried that I am wrong. I know I need to harm but I am not sure if I think like that because somebody is influencing and manipulating my thoughts. Maybe someone is controlling me. I don't feel real, everything I remember, even supposedly just several minutes later seems completely disconnected. I need to know what's happening. I need to be right. I can't have someone getting control over me and tricking me. I don't care who they are. Maybe they are an evil spirit, or maybe even the government trying to control me. Maybe it's both. There is something different about me...something not quite right.

I am already wanting to delete this just in case.

I need help though. I don't feel right. I have been collecting prescription sedatives for months now just in case. I want to take them. I can't deal with being like this. Ever since I moved in two days ago, I found out my friends father owns a shot gun. My head is stupidly excited about this. I need to find it. I MUST.

It's perfect. I need that shot gun and the sleeping pills and the blades. I need all of it. I need something. I can't deal with being like this. I'm trapped. I just can't do it.

Another day of feeling crappy. I smile for people, I try and make conversation, so why is it that a bunch of psych patients I don't even know can take one look at me and tell I don't feel good?

Stayed in bed all day today until gone 6pm. Got dressed, went to see Jodie, walked in and said hi to a couple of patients I have seen around. Suzie and Patrick are friendly with Jodie on the ward and I have spoken to them briefly when having a fag in the garden before. They asked how I was, I smiled and said fine and they said I was lying. They would be right.

Stayed less than an hour at the ward today, just couldn't deal with it. Drove back and stopped off at tesco and bought some tablets. Stupid self service machines, one button and you can override the max sale as many times as you like, just keep clicking no when it asks. Member of staff looked at me strangely as I walked out, she knew. Got back and have spent the last few hours lying on the sofa and trying to distract myself on the internet/watching tv.

I don't feel safe. Got off the sofa, changed the cat litter, put the washing in, washed up, washed my hair and shaved and wrote a quick note explaining where my letter and instructions can be found. They are under my pillow at the other flat but I can't face Ross so I can't go and get them. Trying to keep distracted but I need some quiet from my head. I need to figure things out.

Don't want to be one of those people. I don't want to be a Helen, ODing and going to a+e but I don't want Jodie to find me and I don't want to die alone and in loads of pain. It's a lose lose situation. I just need a break for a little while.

Such a loser.

I have to seriously harm. I can't cut. Too much energy. I can see the picture in my head. I know what it needs to look like but when I put the blade to skin, pressed down....I couldn't do it. I DON'T GET IT. The wounds from last week/10 days ago were much worse than this one and yet I can't match the picture.

FUCKING FAILURE. I need to harm. I need to hurt myself. The first thought that came to my head was that it didn't matter. If I didn't cut then I could make up for it by ODing. I DON'T WANT TO BE THAT PERSON though. I don't want to be someone that OD's and takes myself straight to a+e. At the same time I HAVE to do this. I can see all the tablets, the sleeping meds, the paracetamol, the quitiapine. God, I just want the destructive part of my brain to shut up for a while. I don't want to die in agony and alone of liver failure. I just want to be able to press a button and die quietly and peacefully.

I need quiet whilst I decide on the best course of action. The favourite plan at the moment is to buy one of tesco's £10 value hosepipes and drive to a certain location in Warwick at night and take the stored up sleeping meds and complete the plan there. I just need a break for now though. Everything is too noisy atm for me to sort out everything that needs to be sorted. I need to suffer and just silent the little Emma who is getting impatient and just wants something to happen.

An OD would silence her/me/whatever you want to call that part of my head. It is so hard to focus on what has to be done, I know what that is but it is really hard to muster the energy to sort out relevant affairs whilst trying to block out the urgent destructive urges. This would shut them up, at least for a little bit.

I am supposed to be seeing my psych on Friday. Originally I thought I was just seeing his junior but apparently he is back from his holiday tomorrow, not next monday. That pretty much makes the appt useless. I know EXACTLY what he will say..... he will up my sertraline and tell me to wait for Olive Tree (therapy) to begin. Everything I say to him is always passed off as being a symptom or consequence of my 'BPD' that only he is sure that I have. I could tell him that I can't wait over new year to continue the assesment process and get things under way but all he will do is ask what I want him to do and tell me inpatient and the crisis team are not suitable for people with PD's. Then next time I see my SW or GP or Sarah then they would disagree and tell me to speak to the crisis team if I was really struggling. I absolutely LOATHE the crisis team and I do NOT want to go IP again.

My SW tells me Olive tree probably isn't the place for me, Sarah even doubts that BPD is my main issue anymore, she thinks Depression has overtaken it, my GP (who is a fucking useless and ignorant twat) also thinks my moods are the main issue. Willow View (the day hospital I was at May- July) also told me I most likely didn't have a PD but rather had a different mood disorder of some kind. In short, this tosser psychiatrist (and his juniors) who I have seen a grand total of six or seven times over nearly two years(INCLUDING the times I saw him (or one of his team) during my month or so as an inpatient(once a week for ward round)) for about 15 minutes each time, has decided that I have BPD. I think I have only seen him twice as an outpatient. Once in April 2008, once in August 2009. I may be wrong though but that is all I can remember. It certainly isn't much more than those two occasions, it may have been three occasions.

I was so relieved earlier when I heard that I had an outpatients appointment and that my therapy referral appt had finally come through. Now I just can't see the point. I know I am lucky to be even offered therapy but even if it would be of any use (which my team are split on), the first assessment appt is in a months time and can take up to six months worth of appointments before they accept or deny you and if you are accepted, put you on the waiting list. That means upto 7 months before anything happens....if I am lucky. That is on top of the 8 months since it was first mentioned again when I was IP and on top of the 5 months since the 'urgent' rereferral was supposed to be done after Willow View.


I can't do it. I don't want to do it. I just want peace and quiet for a while. I want my head to shut up. I just want a fucking break from everything. I hate dealing with this. Why can't I just have a break??

I'm surviving, I'm existing so what is the problem?

I can't deal with the continuous suicidal thoughts. I know the theory that if I wanted to do it then I would have done it by now but that just makes me hate myself even more for being too weak.

I don't like being like this. I don't like the fact it is all I ever think about or write about anymore. Depression, obsessing about hurting myself, hurting myself, obsessing about killing myself have taken over my life. I don't know if I should tell someone. Part of me says yes but I don't want to be in a position where they take all control away from me.

At the same time I don't feel very safe or in control. I know things won't change. I know that for a fact. It is fated. It can't change. It's been going on for too long. I don't want to live like this anymore. The second I tell someone they will just say it is part of my BPD traits and tell me to get on with it or pump me full of drugs.

I hate the mental arguments. Struggling not to OD just to shut off the mental noise for a while but I don't want to end up in hospital on some stupid drip which is what would happen because I have no where private to do it. I also don't want Jodie to come back to the flat on leave and find me semi concious which is what tends to happen when I OD. I just need some serious harm to shut up the noise and confusion. Maybe it will help rewire my brain.

Such a stupid attention seeker. I say I want help and yet I can't drag myself to a+e. It's pathetic but I keep crying every time I even think about walking into that waiting room, waiting for hours and then showing my arms to them. If I really wanted help then I would just go, get it over with and ask to see a psych, but no. Apparently I am that pathetic that I can't even do that. It's not just going to the a+e, it's what will happen when I'm there. What if they admit me? What if they say there is nothing wrong and I can cope fine at home? I don't know which one I would prefer to happen. I don't want to be in their stupid hospital. I don't want to be admitted, I don't want the crisis team but I just don't know how much longer I can cope with feeling like this.

If I insist on cutting this badly then it is my responsibility to get it checked out and treated so why can't I just do it? Such a loser. I hate myself.

Maybe I can just make an appointment with the nurse tomorrow. I know she can't stitch but at least it would be dressed properly and she will give me some antibiotics to prevent infection. Sort of a compromise.

*SERIOUS SELF HARM TRIGGER WARNING*

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*Contains measurements of wounds etc*
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Sorry for the random pause warnings. I don't want to be responsible for anybody getting triggered un necessarily.

I cut. Worse than I have for quite some time. Normally the wounds would be between 1cm and 1.5cm in width and 6-9cm in length. I don't tend to bother to get them looked at any more because if I did then I would spend half my life in a+e. Today's wound may be the exception. I don't quite know what to do with it and there are no FAA online on RYL and I refuse to call NHS Direct since this is not an emergency. Basically I am going to use my journal (as normal) to just rant in. I like to keep a self harm journal as it were. It makes things seem more grounded and more real.

I went to tesco tonight after I visited Jodie. It's weird, I walked into the shop and like auto pilot, headed straight for the painkillers. I stopped myself, Just but then felt like complete crap as soon as I drove away from the shop. It was seriously hard for me to do that today.

Got home, poured myself a glass of wine and then self harmed.


*FINAL SELF HARM TRIGGER WARNING*







It's weird, it's at the top of my forearm near my elbow, sort of on the side so it is easily viewable. There is a hell of a lot of scar tissue on that forearm but when left alone it gapes about 1.3cm, is about 8 to 11cm long and between 1.3 and 1.6cm deep. This wouldn't normally be too bad apart from the depth. The cuts are 98% of the time down to the subcutaneous fat layer but not usually quite so deep. However, when I pull the edges apart on this cut it measures almost 3cm in width, not joking. So basically, at it's worst I have a cut which is about 10cm long, 1.4cm deep and just under 3cm wide.

I think a+e may be a good move in the morning. Bollocks.

My hand and wrist have that 'just after pins and needles' feeling, you know, the 'not quite numbness but still not quite right' feeling? I can move all my fingers and my wrist, albeit stiffly but nevertheless enough so that I know there is no serious nerve or tendon damage. I could leave the wound I guess but I feel slightly uneasy doing so because of the width and depth.

Fuck I HATE hospital. I really do and as pathetic as it sounds I am petrified of the local anaesthetic. It hurts. I know how weird that sounds but I have a genuine and fairly extreme fear of needles and pain. I suspect they may want to put a few internal stitches in the wound before the normal ones and there is no way in hell I will cope well with that.

*insert any expletives here*

Crap.

I tend to become incredibly whiney and self obsessed when I have drunk. Even more so than normal so I am sorry for being a pain in the arse.

I'm just finding things so difficult. I did go and see Jodie today but I had to leave after just a little while because I couldn't cope with that ward. I don't want to be back there. I feel so stuck. I don't have the energy for uni, I don't have the energy to sort out leaving uni. If I do leave uni again then I will lose Sarah's support once more and she is the only person on my 'team' that helps. I will be even more fucked than I am now. I will be left with my dick head of a social worker, seeing my psychiatrist twice a year and waiting for the psychotherapy referral may never come.

I have about five or six hours of reading for uni tomorrow but I can't see it happening. I am exhausted. Dad gave me some cash when I saw him so have just ordered Dominos as an incentive to try and do something productive. I am so sick of this. I don't want to talk to anyone. I want to be left alone. I am so sick of fighting. It is getting harder and harder to stay grounded and rational. I need a break.

I don't feel well.

I have a GP appointment tomorrow which will probably be a waste of time. I don't even know what the point of it is. I don't need another prescription or anything but she insisted on seeing me every two weeks at the moment. I barely know her for God's sake and I wouldn't say I like her. I don't dislike her but she is quite straight talking and I find it very hard to open up anyway, let alone in a 10 minute appointment.