Honesty

I'd like to thank Patricia at 'In Case You Were Wondering' for this award. I am honestly so thrilled - I've never gotten one of these before! We've not known each other for a great amount of time but I value very highly her comments on my posts - and her patience at my lack of comments back!

So here's the drill: I have to list 10 totally honest things about me, and then pass this award onto 7 other blogs that I think are brilliant and well worth a visit. Hope you enjoy it!

1. Sometimes I test people. I ask them questions to which I already know the answer - just to make sure they're concentrating. It might sound like a rotten thing to do but they mainly know what I'm doing and (I hope) I've never offended someone with this little 'game'.

2. I've only just started enjoying having a dog. We got Baby last August and since then it's been a long time filled with her mess and worst of all, her bark. A few days ago we decided to walk her further - everyday. And these past few days have been fabulous! She sleeps all the time on her new bed!

3. I will often try to convince myself that I don't want something, when really I want it more than anything. If there's something I want or something I want to do - you can be sure I'll convince myself it's stupid, and not worth doing.

4. I've never really thought of myself as a good person. I know that I'm not bad - but that doesn't automatically make me good, does it?

5. I am embarassed to have bipolar. If I am asked on a form or in person to declare any health issues I will avoid it for as long as possible. I will list anything else I can think of - relevant or not - and try to see if I can neglect to explain bipolar affective disorder. My personality disorder? No-one gets told about that!

6. I wish I'd seen my Aunty Helen one last time before she died. Her throat cancer was left far too long before she sought help, and once she found out her plight she turned everyone away. No-one was allowed to visit her, and I wish she hadn't felt that way. I need to visit Uncle Roy more often, but I'm ashamed that only he saw her last days - that he had to cope alone.

7. It's been almost a year since I last had a haircut. I am petrified of them. I can't stand sitting in that chair faced with a huge mirror. Hence my split-ends are fed with moisturising shampoo for as long as I can avoid a visit. (One is planned when I'm in Guernsey)

8. Some of my best friends are people that I have never met, and may never meet.

9. I can cook. I just tell myself that I can't. I let Will cook, only helping when he asks - and even then I get scared I'll do something wrong.

10. I've always wanted a library. With all the books I buy (5 for £2) we're well on the way - unfortunately our one bed flat doesn't have room!

So there you have it.

Here are my chosen blogs...

Rainbow Dreams (Katie) has become a firm friend and our friendship has extended beyond this blog and onto Facebook and even phone. She is full of beautiful thoughts and feelings - she doesn't claim to always be right, but she's often closer than she thinks.

Misty La Vrangue is a girl I know from when we were very little in Primary school. We lost touch in year 6 and recently found each other again through our bipolar diagnosis. She is finding her way one day at a time, it's a hard journey but her blog never fails to make me smile.

Broken Mannequin (Charli) has become a friend also - we've not known each other a long while and I know I am not alone in being an admirer of her blog and indeed her words. She is a fantastically raw poet and it's because of her that I venture to call myself a writer. Sometimes ;)

Faith In The Margins (Jules) is a lady who taught me that I don't have to decide my religion, I can admire aspects of christianity - but we both know that attending church doesn't necessarily make you a christian. Her journey with God is beautiful reading and I wish her every bit of love in her ongoing quest.

Karyne's Kronicles (Karyne) is a lady who I don't even claim to know very well - but I enjoy her blog a great deal and value her comments here. I'd love to get to know her better and hence I am loving her blog!

Awareness (Dana) - this blog is fantastic also. I never fail to learn something and as such I have no doubts about giving her this award - keep on keepin' on Dana!

Paul Chambers is one of the first bloggers I began to follow. Writing from my homeland, Guernsey, he never fails to make me think and I just love the beautiful photography that match his entrancing words.

Thanks Patricia!

Don't like it

Still I have not got back to commenting on your blogs... I am sorry. I read them, honest I do. But none of my words seem to fit, they wiggle around until they make no sense and all I can do is send out thoughts into cyberspace and pray that they reach you well.

I realised last night that I have slipped into the persona of someone I just don't like. I've always been a bit on edge with myself, and never exactly practised much self-worth. But last night I felt I had fallen into a game-player. A selfish girl who wants nothing more than to stay with her partner forever, but who feels the need to test him. To push him to his limits, just to make sure he knows what he's in for.

I met a new mental health worker yesterday, his name is Alex. I liked him very much, but for some reason he made me feel I should talk correctly and hence I told him little of how I am feeling. I did complain about the great Dr D though and he promises to shed some light on her seemingly child-like therapy.

You don't all know yet... but I was offered an interview back home for the MH nursing course I want to do. It's on the 15th April. I can't really say much because all it seems to be bringing is stress.

*sigh*

So there you go.

Why

A little poem, folks.

Why didn't you care
About me
Or her
Or her...
Us?
Your eyes didn't register
Success
Struggle
Love Pain
Your family.
You walked away
Over
And over again
We welcomed you back
Each time
Until
We gave up.
I may not be perfect
Perhaps I'm bound
For hell.
But I know
For sure
I'll see you there.
Meet you there.

Hi

I felt I should update this, though without any particular reason or point to make I accept that this is a plan with a flaw.

Either way I wanted to let you all know that I'm thinking about you and hoping you are all okay.

I promise to get a better grip on life (one day) and visit and comment on all of your blogs.

Until then... hang in there.

x

It's an odd feeling

Today, it seems apparent that there is a lot of anger in the world.

But when this anger is directed against oneself... when you wish pain upon your very self and find every decision revolving around a sick 'live or die' game you play in your own head...

It sends a chill, it sparks a tear.

Then you get a hold of yourself, despise your own selfishness.

And get on with it.

How I'm Feeling

I STILL have new poems to post, but today this poem by John Masefield sums up the thoughts in my head...

...enjoy.

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

Thank You

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

I can't talk
About
What's been
Happening
What's been
Going on.
I won't mention
The Ward
The Psych
The Place.
I shan't utter
The thoughts
The images
The pain.
For you
And for me
Or not.
No looking back
No reminiscing.
Just
More pills
More changes.
Just
Another chance...

Hello all.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I love this place

You know?

With the pictures and all of you reading and everything.

It's good.

Unlike me.

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

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?

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.

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...

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.

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.

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?