Put me on your life support

I think some people who have been (and are) in my life have had (and have) some misconceptions about what I mean when I say I want support. A lot of the time, all I hear is "how can we support what you're doing to yourself?"

That's not what I mean. I don't want anyone to support my slow and meticulous self-destruction. I want support to get better - to recover. I just want someone to hug me and tell me everything is going to be okay, and even if I under most circumstances wouldn't believe a word of it, I still would because I needed to. I want someone to hold me when I'm scared and keep me safe. I want someone to just let me cry in their arms and tell me that they love me, and that even though they're worried about me, they won't leave because they care so much about me. I want encouragement and praise when I make progress, and reassurance that everyone can make mistakes and that it's okay to fall down when I relapse. I want to be taken seriously and to have my problems acknowledged, not belittled. I want acknowledgement for trying my best. I want someone to see past my problems and love the person behind these illnesses. I don't want to be seen as a disorder, I want to be seen as someone who has a disorder but who shouldn't be defined by it and is a real person nonetheless. I want help to get through all of this and to recover and find some sort of normalcy and stability in my life. I want to get help to get back on the track of life and to reach the finish line and actually start living.

An update, I suppose

I hardly ever post here. I don't know, there are many things I want to say, things I need to get off my chest... but when I try to write, it always ends up as an inconsistent mess; it makes no sense. Pretty much like me, I guess.

I've been given a one month break from my internship. It's been too hard lately. My mind's been too preoccupied with other things, and I've felt like such a failure even there, a place that's supposed to be therapeutic. My caseworker assured me that they're not supposed to have to rely on me there, that I'm not supposed to answer to them, which actually is a huge relief. I feel like I'm not doing enough and that I'm disappointing everyone, and hearing that, and not having to worry about it and feel so guilty for a while is nice.

I saw my doctor on Thursday. She upped the dosage of my medication again. I don't notice any difference. I told her that I really want to see my medical files and read the notes all the people whom I've met while being a psychiatric patient have written. I've wanted to read it for a long time, but it kind of terrifies me. I'm scared of seeing what they've said about me because what if they've said lots of negative stuff? Maybe they've said that I'm exaggerating or lying... maybe they think I'm stupid... but I want to know what it says. Some of the things in my discharge papers from the last time I was inpatient upset me, but I liked reading it anyway. I especially want to see the notes and discharge papers from the times I've been in the emergency ward, and the notes taken by my most recent male psychologist. I really liked him. I really miss him as my therapist.

I finally got to meet and talk to the guy I like this week, too. I don't really know what to do about that. I feel a bit better now, though, and have managed to keep my insecurities and fears at bay since then (which is only a few days, but that's still a huge accomplishment). I'm still confused, though. Confused, scared, conflicted. About... pretty much everything. I really like him, though. I think I might be falling in love with him... shit. That's not good at all. Everything is so confusing.

Voices

Picture // Unknown

"Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you think you're actually worth something? Do you actually think someone cares about you? That's funny. Everyone hates you, you stupid cow."

"Do you really think they like you? Why on Earth would they? You're stupid. You're ugly. You're fat. You're pathetic. You're boring. You're immature. You're repulsive. You're worthless. You're useless. You're the most pathetic waste of space. You have no redeeming qualities whatsoever."

"They'll be better off without you, and you know it."

"Cut yourself. Do it. DO IT! NOW!"

"DO WHAT I TELL YOU TO DO, OR I'LL CONTINUE TO TORTURE YOU UNTIL YOU'RE CRYING AND SCREAMING FOR THE PAIN TO STOP!"

"Just look... they're all ignoring you. They're all avoiding you. They're weak and pathetic, too, they're too cowardly to tell you the truth. They should tell you the truth. It would break your heart. Wait... that's right, your heart is already broken. You know why? Because you're an idiot. You brought it on yourself. It's your own fucking fault."

"They're gonna leave you just like everyone else has in the past. You're not even worthy of a goodbye or an explanation."

"HOW THE FUCK CAN YOU BE SO STUPID? YOU'RE THE STUPIDEST LITTLE SHIT EVER, NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE YOU! IT'S BETTER THAT YOU REALIZE IT NOW!"

"Why are you such an idiot?! Protect your heart, dammit, what's left of it! They're gonna hurt you! Remember what happened the last time! No one will ever love you, no one will ever find you worthy of being loved! Get away from them!"

"They're all gonna leave, you know... I'm your only friend, and you know it."

"You're not meant to be happy. You might as well just end it now. There are no other fucking options!"

"They're just lying. No one's ever going to be truthful to you, you're not worth it. Nobody will ever love you or care for you. They just want to abuse you and take advantage of you, why can't you see that?!"

"IT'S ALL LIES! YOU CAN'T TRUST ANYONE! THEY'RE ALL OUT TO GET YOU!"

"You don't deserve to live. End it."

"You think you can be fixed? That's a laugh. No one can fix you. No one can help you. All people will do is hurt you and break you. That's all you are; a broken, inconsistent mess. No one will ever love someone as broken and fucked up as you. You're a piece of shit. You're not worth all the effort it would take to be with you."

Please, for once, just leave me alone...

I am fucking crazy, but I am free

...at least in terms of being home vs. being institutionalized.

Picture // private

I was discharged from the psych ward I spent almost three months in in December. Diagnosis: "avoidant personality disorder", and "emotionally unstable personality disorder, borderline type". It makes a lot of sense to me. I wish it made sense to other people. It's hard to explain an illness that makes interactions and relations to other people so difficult and exhausting. It's hard to explain exactly how debilitating it is. It's hard to say "it's because I have this and this illness", because a lot of people will say that I have to take responsibility for my actions and stop blaming it on an illness (an illness that in their minds doesn't even exist).

If I was injured, like when I fell/was pushed down a flight of stairs and injured my leg almost three years ago, and said I couldn't walk, no one would tell me to suck it up and stop blaming my injured leg. No one would say I was just exaggerating or acting out or that I was just being lazy. Mental illness is just as bad as physical illness, but that's a whole different entry.

Emotionally unstable personality disorder (BPD) is something I've known that I probably had for a long time (and my previous psychologist said I had it, but I was too young to be officially diagnosed with it), but I hadn't even looked into avoidant personality disorder (AvPD). It caught me off-guard, but at least my mom can't say that I trick myself into believing I have a mental illness by reading about it now. I didn't even know what the symptoms and hallmarks of avoidant personality disorder were.

The diagnoses make me feel less alone. Enough people struggle with the same problems as me for it to be a diagnosis. Other people have the exact same problems as me. It's comforting because I always thought I was all alone about feeling like I do and being like I am.

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I'm being referred to an outpatient treatment center where they treat personality disorders. I have to fill out the application myself (above), and I'm almost done, but it's really hard to name and put down my three biggest issues. I've been thinking a lot about it. One is to deal with relations, especially close relations. My fear of rejection and abandonment makes me get way too intense, or makes me reject people (before they get the chance to leave me). Another major issue is to trust others and believe what people tell me. The third is to regulate and control my emotions. I feel like the end is nigh and have catastrophe thoughts over very minor things. I get irrationally angry for nothing. I get upset and hurt and suicidally depressed for nothing. People don't get that, and I try to keep it inside me, but then it becomes too much and I'll just blurt everything out and become hysteric.

It'll probably take a few months before I know if I get treatment there or not, but at least it's something. It's better than DPS, the district psychiatric center. They can usually only treat people for half a year at the most, and I need something stable and longterm. The personality clinic's program is up to three years and is both group therapy and individual therapy. Everyone agrees that would be more beneficial for me. Fingers crossed.

2012 and today

So, 2012... what can I say? My psychologist quit, my dad died, my boyfriend dumped me after one and a half year, and I was committed to, and discharged from, an adolescent psychiatric ward. That's the sequential order of... major events, my dad's death being the biggest one. The only thing I achieved was, well, to not kill myself. I didn't even attempt, although I was very close. There's been a couple of visits to the emergency room and my doctor's office to get stitches, but that's it. No overdose (as that's my usual method when I attempt), no ambulance, no hospital, no gastric lavage, no observation or lying unconscious in the ICU. Is it sad if I say that that's an accomplishment?

Seriously, how messed up is that? Yay, I didn't try to kill myself last year. Amazing. When I looked forward to becoming a teenager and growing up, this really wasn't what I imagined. Y'know, self harm, suicide attempts, hospitals, psych wards, years of therapy, countless emergency appointments, medications. Severe depression with psychotic features (in my case, those are auditory hallucinations, paranoia, and delusions), personality disorders, an eating disorder, generalized anxiety, panic attacks brought on by the personality disorders and generalized anxiety. Wanting to die rather than staying alive 'cause it's less frightening, yet being too scared of dying. Being so unstable that I mess up every relation I have.

I'm 18, and I'm still as sad and stuck as I was when I was 13-14. I'm worse. I'll admit I haven't always been very... receptive of treatment, but a lot of the time, I've been trying my best. Yet, here I am; worse. I haven't tried to kill myself in over a year, but I'm still at my worst so far.

My emotions are all over the place. They fluctuate from euphoric heights to uncontrollable rage to the depths of depression to crippling anxiety within hours/minutes/seconds. I don't know how to control it. I can't control it. It happens so quickly that I don't get the time to react. It's never been this bad before. I don't know how to cope with it. I want to explain it, but it's difficult. It's complex and hard to convey how debilitating it is. Maybe I'll make a post about it.

2013 has been shitty so far. It's only been eight days, but I've spent the most part in my room; blinds shut, lights off, lying in bed, listening to music, crying, cutting... a couple of days ago, I just couldn't sleep at all, so I tried taking some of the meds I took to be able to sleep before. Turns out that if you take 100mg of Truxal when you've been off of it for a while, you'll wet yourself in your sleep and pass out whenever you try to get out of bed when you wake up (and then you have to sleep some more to feel better), even though you've taken higher dosages daily before. Fantastic. Well, at least I got some deep sleep. I don't have much of a reason to stay awake anymore.

I honestly don't think I'll live through this year. That's not a threat. It's more of a realization. I know I'll be the end of me. It's both terrifying, and somewhat a relief.

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