Will get back to creativity soon, well as soon as I can.
First I want to say a few 'thank-yous'... they won't be read by the people concerning them probably but they need to go out into the void.
To the Doctor in the purple scrubs at Southport Infirmary... thank you for being kind and for getting me that referral so soon.
To the triage nurse... thanks for not making me roll up my sleeves for my obs.
To the on-call psych in the Bickerstaffe Ward... thanks for understanding, and not making me talk... for being thorough and increasing my meds.
To the man who showed me the way from the ward to the pharmacy... thanks for talking about nothing to do with mental health.
To Will... there aren't enough words to express how much I love you, and how thankful I am.
To my warrior K... thank you for sticking with me and messaging me.
To all of you bloggers... thank you for your kind messages.
Speak soon. x
Monday, February 23, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Stand Still
Taking a little time to stand still, to feel ill... to cry.
Thank you so much for the comments/e-mails/messages of wellbeing.
Look after yourselves, see you soon.
I hope.
Thank you so much for the comments/e-mails/messages of wellbeing.
Look after yourselves, see you soon.
I hope.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Not sure what has brought this post on. It's not one of the ones I promised myself I'd write, perhaps I'll save them for next week.
I was thinking about suicide, again, actually.
Possibly spurred on by my next psychiatric review on the 19th Feb. I was thinking what I would tell them about myself, my state of mind, my feelings...
It feels like something I am bound to. A path I can't get off of.
It feels like I will do it, definitely, one day. Feels like all the events that make up my life are just preparing me for it.
No worries, I won't do it now... I mean I'm not in danger.
It was just like a realisation. All those attempts which failed... were they a sign to tell me how to do it right?
The pills haven't made me better... because they know they're a short-term solution?
Oh well.
I was thinking about suicide, again, actually.
Possibly spurred on by my next psychiatric review on the 19th Feb. I was thinking what I would tell them about myself, my state of mind, my feelings...
It feels like something I am bound to. A path I can't get off of.
It feels like I will do it, definitely, one day. Feels like all the events that make up my life are just preparing me for it.
No worries, I won't do it now... I mean I'm not in danger.
It was just like a realisation. All those attempts which failed... were they a sign to tell me how to do it right?
The pills haven't made me better... because they know they're a short-term solution?
Oh well.
Friday, February 06, 2009
List
For once, I actually have a stockpile of posts to write... a poem inspired by a Springsteen lyric, as suggested by Dana... a poem based on the last post...
But today, I am going to do a short post about my 'list'.
I first wrote about the list back in 2007... believe it or not. It was my homework from my psychiatrist to think of five 'positive' words about myself and then put a big piece of paper on my bedroom door for other people to do the same... write things about my character which they thought to be good.
You might've noticed Dana being kind enough to give me words periodically.
Well, rather stupidly, I tore the list up in a particularly vitriolic fit sometime last week. When I received a new word the other day I decided to re-instate said task and make a new list.
So... I invite you to start your own self-development posters... make them beautiful, show them off and let's give each other a few gifts made of words.
But today, I am going to do a short post about my 'list'.
I first wrote about the list back in 2007... believe it or not. It was my homework from my psychiatrist to think of five 'positive' words about myself and then put a big piece of paper on my bedroom door for other people to do the same... write things about my character which they thought to be good.
You might've noticed Dana being kind enough to give me words periodically.
Well, rather stupidly, I tore the list up in a particularly vitriolic fit sometime last week. When I received a new word the other day I decided to re-instate said task and make a new list.
So... I invite you to start your own self-development posters... make them beautiful, show them off and let's give each other a few gifts made of words.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
What goes on inside that head of yours?
Did your Mother ever say that to you? I remember mine saying it to me... so often, even before she found out about the self-harming. Every time my siblings and I got into a fight, which - of course- was my doing as I was the oldest. Every time she said I had put on weight. Every time she thought I wasn't concentrating on school or college as much as I should be.
The last time though? That was the time which cut right through me.
I had been taken to hospital by my GP after an overdose. I was taken to the children's ward - even though I was 17. My Mum and my youngest sister followed in the car, they stopped at the shop downstairs to get me a toothbrush and some toothpaste then came up to the ward. They waited outside whilst my stomach was pumped and I was hooked up to monitors and IVs.
I hope to God that my sister didn't see any of it. I didn't want her to come into the room but Mum said that it would make me guilty for what I had done. It did. Everyday I wonder whether E (my sister) had seen them working on me. I pray that she didn't.
Then they both came in with a consultant and a psychiatrist and a nurse. They gave me my homework journal from my bag and a red felt tip pen. They told me to write about my day, in detail. Then once I had done that they all left the room, my Mum only stopping to leave me a pile of 20p pieces for the phone.
I called her later, after my Dad had visited. His visit was short and he didn't look at me or talk to me. He got out his phone as his boss called... just to talk to me. To see if I was okay. MickMac from Romford... you got me through that night. I haven't spoken to him since.
In the morning the psychiatrist spoke to me, and then at lunch to my Dad who had just arrived. He said my Mum was too hurt to see me. Between them they arranged to let me home that afternoon.
I snuck into the bathroom to call my friend E from my mobile. I had done it last night too, to ask her to tell everyone at school I had tonsilitis and to speak to someone.
I got out of the nurses scrubs I had been given as pyjamas. Got back into my college clothes and got my bag. Dad drove me to a pub for dinner, and then home.
When I got home my Mum was there, having taken the day off work... because of me. She ran me a bath. I asked if she'd call my friend A to excuse me from my Young Enterprise final that evening at Specsavers... she said no, that I would go as normal and be back in college the next day.
So I went. I gave my speech, I got a lift home with A and I went to bed.
Then, as my Mum came in to turn the light out she thought I was asleep... she leant over to pull my sleeves back, to see my scars. I let her think I was asleep. She corrected my sleeves and whispered "What goes on inside that head of yours?"... then she went to bed. I heard her crying for at least an hour.
Why did I post this? I've never documented it before. Never let myself diarise any of my attempts.
But now, on the day I don't want it to happen ever again I am going to get it out. Catharsis, as they say.
Inside my head? Anything could be going on.
PS I spoke to an old friend from Primary School the other day and found she has just been told she suffers from a similar thing to me. I hope I can help her... now that our lives have brought us full circle.
The last time though? That was the time which cut right through me.
I had been taken to hospital by my GP after an overdose. I was taken to the children's ward - even though I was 17. My Mum and my youngest sister followed in the car, they stopped at the shop downstairs to get me a toothbrush and some toothpaste then came up to the ward. They waited outside whilst my stomach was pumped and I was hooked up to monitors and IVs.
I hope to God that my sister didn't see any of it. I didn't want her to come into the room but Mum said that it would make me guilty for what I had done. It did. Everyday I wonder whether E (my sister) had seen them working on me. I pray that she didn't.
Then they both came in with a consultant and a psychiatrist and a nurse. They gave me my homework journal from my bag and a red felt tip pen. They told me to write about my day, in detail. Then once I had done that they all left the room, my Mum only stopping to leave me a pile of 20p pieces for the phone.
I called her later, after my Dad had visited. His visit was short and he didn't look at me or talk to me. He got out his phone as his boss called... just to talk to me. To see if I was okay. MickMac from Romford... you got me through that night. I haven't spoken to him since.
In the morning the psychiatrist spoke to me, and then at lunch to my Dad who had just arrived. He said my Mum was too hurt to see me. Between them they arranged to let me home that afternoon.
I snuck into the bathroom to call my friend E from my mobile. I had done it last night too, to ask her to tell everyone at school I had tonsilitis and to speak to someone.
I got out of the nurses scrubs I had been given as pyjamas. Got back into my college clothes and got my bag. Dad drove me to a pub for dinner, and then home.
When I got home my Mum was there, having taken the day off work... because of me. She ran me a bath. I asked if she'd call my friend A to excuse me from my Young Enterprise final that evening at Specsavers... she said no, that I would go as normal and be back in college the next day.
So I went. I gave my speech, I got a lift home with A and I went to bed.
Then, as my Mum came in to turn the light out she thought I was asleep... she leant over to pull my sleeves back, to see my scars. I let her think I was asleep. She corrected my sleeves and whispered "What goes on inside that head of yours?"... then she went to bed. I heard her crying for at least an hour.
Why did I post this? I've never documented it before. Never let myself diarise any of my attempts.
But now, on the day I don't want it to happen ever again I am going to get it out. Catharsis, as they say.
Inside my head? Anything could be going on.
PS I spoke to an old friend from Primary School the other day and found she has just been told she suffers from a similar thing to me. I hope I can help her... now that our lives have brought us full circle.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
I love this place
You know?
With the pictures and all of you reading and everything.
It's good.
Unlike me.
With the pictures and all of you reading and everything.
It's good.
Unlike me.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Hesitant
I find it a little laughable... updating you all on my current mood. Since it changes so often.
But - right now - at 00:00am GMT - I am alright. Ok.
It makes me laugh because earlier on we got stopped by the Police (routine vehice stop... plus we have GSY plates) and I had a panic attack. I reached for the keys *of all things* to hurt myself and I did. I stopped breathing properly. I relished in the pain.
But, having moved on from that, I'm not doing do bad.
Uploaded snow pictures onto Facebook, and it cheered me up looking at them.
So yes. Right now... Nikita is ok.
I hope you all are too. x
But - right now - at 00:00am GMT - I am alright. Ok.
It makes me laugh because earlier on we got stopped by the Police (routine vehice stop... plus we have GSY plates) and I had a panic attack. I reached for the keys *of all things* to hurt myself and I did. I stopped breathing properly. I relished in the pain.
But, having moved on from that, I'm not doing do bad.
Uploaded snow pictures onto Facebook, and it cheered me up looking at them.
So yes. Right now... Nikita is ok.
I hope you all are too. x
Go Away
This is me, turning my head away.. away from the camera, away from people, away from reality.
In myself, I feel good. I had a good day... snow, IKEA, tidying... can't go wrong.
But in my head? In my head are dark thoughts. Thoughts which tell me to run away. To look away. To push people away.
I find myself doing it automatically. Not returning the calls from a friendship I am so desperately trying to cultivate. Being moody with Will. Worrying about things which don't need to be worried about.
An episode is on the horizon... but will my awareness of this be enough to push it away?
Monday, February 02, 2009
Slipping away
I've been having thoughts recently, almost lonely thoughts.
Wondering what will happen when one day you can't even see my scars. Everyday I notice that one or another of them has slipped away... never to be seen again. For some reason it feels like when I don't have them anymore, or they can't be seen, the bipolar and borderline will be meaningless. Like I'll have no 'proof' of my suffering.
I know how terrible this sounds. Missing scars that I put there myself. It sounds like I want attention, and can only get it subliminally... read like a code on my arms.
This evening I sent a horribly bitchy e-mail to Will at work, I know when he reads it he'll be so upset.
But I haven't sent another to apologise. I haven't called him to say sorry.
It's like I feel better in myself, but now that I do I am pushing away the person who makes me feel best.
I feel like I'm mourning the scars of years ago. Just like a loved-one they can't be replaced, not even with new ones.
Wondering what will happen when one day you can't even see my scars. Everyday I notice that one or another of them has slipped away... never to be seen again. For some reason it feels like when I don't have them anymore, or they can't be seen, the bipolar and borderline will be meaningless. Like I'll have no 'proof' of my suffering.
I know how terrible this sounds. Missing scars that I put there myself. It sounds like I want attention, and can only get it subliminally... read like a code on my arms.
This evening I sent a horribly bitchy e-mail to Will at work, I know when he reads it he'll be so upset.
But I haven't sent another to apologise. I haven't called him to say sorry.
It's like I feel better in myself, but now that I do I am pushing away the person who makes me feel best.
I feel like I'm mourning the scars of years ago. Just like a loved-one they can't be replaced, not even with new ones.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Simplicity
This weekend... is about simplicity.
We spend the day having a roast lunch in Southport... followed by a lovely amble around a new garden center, with a delicious cake.
Doesn't sound like much... perhaps an average Sunday in the life of my Grandparents.
I spent a little bit of the day wrapped up in the voices and skeletons of my own head.
But then, I shook it off (for once) and sat back to enjoy the ride.
When did you last do that? Take a look out of the car window...
We spend the day having a roast lunch in Southport... followed by a lovely amble around a new garden center, with a delicious cake.
Doesn't sound like much... perhaps an average Sunday in the life of my Grandparents.
I spent a little bit of the day wrapped up in the voices and skeletons of my own head.
But then, I shook it off (for once) and sat back to enjoy the ride.
When did you last do that? Take a look out of the car window...
Friday, January 30, 2009
Forever
So much frustration... so many things I want to say... but can't.
All I can try, is poetry.... and all I can produce... is this.
Forever
Forever is how long people claim to love you for
It's how long you live with your past
Forever is 'for' and 'ever' stuck together
Crudely
Like a picture
From Year One.
Forever is a lover's word
A liar's word
A mourner's word.
It starts tomorrow
But no-one knows
When it began
Or when it will end...
... If it will end.
An eternal promise
An eternal curse
A loving bind
A suffocation.
The quagmire of forever.
Forever.
Forever.
Forever.
All I can try, is poetry.... and all I can produce... is this.
Forever
Forever is how long people claim to love you for
It's how long you live with your past
Forever is 'for' and 'ever' stuck together
Crudely
Like a picture
From Year One.
Forever is a lover's word
A liar's word
A mourner's word.
It starts tomorrow
But no-one knows
When it began
Or when it will end...
... If it will end.
An eternal promise
An eternal curse
A loving bind
A suffocation.
The quagmire of forever.
Forever.
Forever.
Forever.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
My name's Nikita...
... and I am 19 years old.
I am here because I think I am fat and ugly and inherently bad.
I try to make myself better by taking sharp objects to my skin.
Sometimes...
... All you can do is be honest.
I am here because I think I am fat and ugly and inherently bad.
I try to make myself better by taking sharp objects to my skin.
Sometimes...
... All you can do is be honest.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Still no
Thanks for all the kind comments on the last post... I was a little fearful that it would be ill-received. But my fears were unfounded, thanks.
However... things are still not good.
The self-harm? Worse than in a long time.
The crying? Could fill my bathtub.
I thought I had repaired the relationship with my Mother, now her words seem to scream it is worse than ever. My time to make a decision has come... get close to my family, or run. Again?
However... things are still not good.
The self-harm? Worse than in a long time.
The crying? Could fill my bathtub.
I thought I had repaired the relationship with my Mother, now her words seem to scream it is worse than ever. My time to make a decision has come... get close to my family, or run. Again?
Thursday, January 22, 2009
A New Person...Again
For the first few weeks, and days, after an episode...
...I am fearful
I am unsure
I am not confident...
I walk along a tightrope every day. I scratch my cuts. I try to rise early. I lose weight.
I emerge... again.
I cannot stand the sound of my own voice.
I use 'I' far too often.
So before I make myself cry, I'll leave you.
Until the next post...
PS I found out that a friend has been reading from afar... thank you to him. x
...I am fearful
I am unsure
I am not confident...
I walk along a tightrope every day. I scratch my cuts. I try to rise early. I lose weight.
I emerge... again.
I cannot stand the sound of my own voice.
I use 'I' far too often.
So before I make myself cry, I'll leave you.
Until the next post...
PS I found out that a friend has been reading from afar... thank you to him. x
Monday, January 19, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Back on the Doorstep
I had a feeling it wouldn't be too long until I ended up on all of your doorsteps... in fact I mentioned it to Charli just the other day on her blog. I try to convince myself that I am strong in solidarity, and capable of taking care of myself.
But the truth? We all need each other, sometimes. Yet no matter how many times I repeat that in my head... a little bit of me still feels not good enough. Not worthy.
In times past I may have just sat here all evening, crying my eyes out... shouting at the dog and hurting myself. Now, I am trying... desperately, to confide in you all. To reach out to you. To try to grab onto something to stop me falling.
Not easy, when your self-worth is practically through the floor.
The poem below is one I wrote as a stubborn 14 year old, I have taken it and tried to mature it. I wrote it about my relationship with my Dad, but have reworked it so that the controlling figure is bipolar disorder.
Only You
I am screaming
You do not flinch
Cannot move
I yell until
I just can't
Anymore.
You do not want to hear
Cannot hear
I need everyone to know
Someone to see
I want a way out.
Surely
I can break away
Now grown up
Matured
I am sure...
Until you walk by.
Trampling me
Crushing my spirit
Cutting my soul
I am silenced
Put away for another day.
Only you allow me to see
To be
To try -
Without you I'm unable to move
Unable to explain
Cannot move
Cannot explain.
I am controlled
Only
By you.
Please
Please
Don't forget me
Because only you
Can set me
Free.
But the truth? We all need each other, sometimes. Yet no matter how many times I repeat that in my head... a little bit of me still feels not good enough. Not worthy.
In times past I may have just sat here all evening, crying my eyes out... shouting at the dog and hurting myself. Now, I am trying... desperately, to confide in you all. To reach out to you. To try to grab onto something to stop me falling.
Not easy, when your self-worth is practically through the floor.
The poem below is one I wrote as a stubborn 14 year old, I have taken it and tried to mature it. I wrote it about my relationship with my Dad, but have reworked it so that the controlling figure is bipolar disorder.
Only You
I am screaming
You do not flinch
Cannot move
I yell until
I just can't
Anymore.
You do not want to hear
Cannot hear
I need everyone to know
Someone to see
I want a way out.
Surely
I can break away
Now grown up
Matured
I am sure...
Until you walk by.
Trampling me
Crushing my spirit
Cutting my soul
I am silenced
Put away for another day.
Only you allow me to see
To be
To try -
Without you I'm unable to move
Unable to explain
Cannot move
Cannot explain.
I am controlled
Only
By you.
Please
Please
Don't forget me
Because only you
Can set me
Free.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Brush with Beyond
I've been back there
Back to beyond
I got pulled back there
Back beyond.
Readers/observers of my Facebook page will notice that I had a pretty rough weekend... and I don't mean re. alcohol consumption.
The (boring) story behind it is I rang up on Friday to get a repeat script of my anti-psychotics, totally forgetting it was the weekend I planned to collect them on Saturday... long story short I couldn't collect them until Tuesday, so I was reduced to cutting up my last 150mg to make it last. I was not an advert for prescription drug addiction.
I found myself dragged back into a place where it was dark, yet I felt blinded. The place where voices and shadowy figures tried to swamp me, tried to take me away from reality... tried to convince me that all goodness is a lie.
And when I was back on them? My chest was tight, my balance a thing of the past... my vision all but a blurred mess.
Perhaps this post has no point, perhaps I vowed to write about my life... and this is it.
Back to beyond
I got pulled back there
Back beyond.
Readers/observers of my Facebook page will notice that I had a pretty rough weekend... and I don't mean re. alcohol consumption.
The (boring) story behind it is I rang up on Friday to get a repeat script of my anti-psychotics, totally forgetting it was the weekend I planned to collect them on Saturday... long story short I couldn't collect them until Tuesday, so I was reduced to cutting up my last 150mg to make it last. I was not an advert for prescription drug addiction.
I found myself dragged back into a place where it was dark, yet I felt blinded. The place where voices and shadowy figures tried to swamp me, tried to take me away from reality... tried to convince me that all goodness is a lie.
And when I was back on them? My chest was tight, my balance a thing of the past... my vision all but a blurred mess.
Perhaps this post has no point, perhaps I vowed to write about my life... and this is it.
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Interview Game
Thanks to Charli, here are my answers to her Interview Game - check out the rules at the bottom and let me know if you want to play... even if you've played already I'm sure I can sort out a few new questions.
PS I'm not doing it in poems like Charli, having such a rough day. Sorry.
1. If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one ability or quality,what would it be?
I would be able to tell the truth, first time and everytime someone asked it of me. I have a tendency to drip-feed the truth to people, or tell them what they want to hear.
2. Would you be willing to murder an innocent person if it would end hunger in the world?
I don't know the answer to this question. On the one hand, famine in any area of the world is a travesty beyond words... but on the other I don't think I could sacrifice one life for another. At the end of the day I believe in a plan - and far be it from my right to intefere with this scheme.
3. What is your most treasured memory?
The day I met the man who was to teach me to be beautiful; in spirit - in soul - and in life. That man is my fiancé.
4. When were you last in a fight? Who won?
William and I fight on a weekly basis, but all that comes out of it are words which cut and linger... nobody ever wins one of those fights. Physical fights... that would be in the 9th year of Secondary School, my friend and I were in the packed cafeteria - only one chair was in sight, and we both wanted it. We pushed and giggled and rolled around on the floor, only to look up and find the chair was gone and nobody at the table had even noticed our absense...
5. How do you react when people sing "Happy Birthday" to you in a restaurant?
The last time someone did that to me was my 18th birthday in an Indian restaurant in Guernsey. My first reaction? I got ridiculously angry through my embarassment... my second? I just ate the ice cream that came with the song and candle :) Nobody has yet admitted culpability for that stunt...
So there you have it... here are the rules.
•Leave me a comment requesting an interview.
•I will e-mail you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
•You then answer the questions on your blog.
•You should also post these rules along with an offer to interview anyone else who e-mails you wanting to be interviewed.
•Anyone who asks to be interviewed should be sent 5 questions to answer on their blog.
•It would be nice if the questions were individualized for each blogger.
Thank you Charli.
PS I'm not doing it in poems like Charli, having such a rough day. Sorry.
1. If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one ability or quality,what would it be?
I would be able to tell the truth, first time and everytime someone asked it of me. I have a tendency to drip-feed the truth to people, or tell them what they want to hear.
2. Would you be willing to murder an innocent person if it would end hunger in the world?
I don't know the answer to this question. On the one hand, famine in any area of the world is a travesty beyond words... but on the other I don't think I could sacrifice one life for another. At the end of the day I believe in a plan - and far be it from my right to intefere with this scheme.
3. What is your most treasured memory?
The day I met the man who was to teach me to be beautiful; in spirit - in soul - and in life. That man is my fiancé.
4. When were you last in a fight? Who won?
William and I fight on a weekly basis, but all that comes out of it are words which cut and linger... nobody ever wins one of those fights. Physical fights... that would be in the 9th year of Secondary School, my friend and I were in the packed cafeteria - only one chair was in sight, and we both wanted it. We pushed and giggled and rolled around on the floor, only to look up and find the chair was gone and nobody at the table had even noticed our absense...
5. How do you react when people sing "Happy Birthday" to you in a restaurant?
The last time someone did that to me was my 18th birthday in an Indian restaurant in Guernsey. My first reaction? I got ridiculously angry through my embarassment... my second? I just ate the ice cream that came with the song and candle :) Nobody has yet admitted culpability for that stunt...
So there you have it... here are the rules.
•Leave me a comment requesting an interview.
•I will e-mail you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
•You then answer the questions on your blog.
•You should also post these rules along with an offer to interview anyone else who e-mails you wanting to be interviewed.
•Anyone who asks to be interviewed should be sent 5 questions to answer on their blog.
•It would be nice if the questions were individualized for each blogger.
Thank you Charli.
Suicide
It's 5:30am - I haven't slept, and I'm not going to.
A topic never far from my mind, the topic of a conversation I just had with the love of my life - perhaps a topic I touch on too much.
They say that everyone has thought about it, or will think about it in their lives. I've lost dear friends, and the world has lost beautiful souls. I nearly lost myself, a few times.
I think Will's new job is the best thing that could've happened... for the first time in my life I'm vulnerable and frightened and alone - but I know I don't have to be anymore. I'm not stuck in a pit whose only bottom was final.
I don't have a lot to say, I just like to post what I think lately.
I wanted to say that suicide is not painless, and if any one of your are in that mindset - anytime - please come to me. Go to anyone you know, anyone. Please.
A topic never far from my mind, the topic of a conversation I just had with the love of my life - perhaps a topic I touch on too much.
They say that everyone has thought about it, or will think about it in their lives. I've lost dear friends, and the world has lost beautiful souls. I nearly lost myself, a few times.
I think Will's new job is the best thing that could've happened... for the first time in my life I'm vulnerable and frightened and alone - but I know I don't have to be anymore. I'm not stuck in a pit whose only bottom was final.
I don't have a lot to say, I just like to post what I think lately.
I wanted to say that suicide is not painless, and if any one of your are in that mindset - anytime - please come to me. Go to anyone you know, anyone. Please.
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