So today is 11/11/11, a day that only comes about once every hundred years, but it is also rememberance day. A day to remember the courage our armed forces show on a daily basis, and for those who never made it home, for they were fighting in one war or another.
These people are heroes. They should be heroes to us all. I know someone who has just come back from his third tour of Afghanistan, he is only 23, and he now works in a call centre. He says he would love to go back to the front line, he says it is where he feels alive. How brave is that? Wanting to go back and fight for your country, even though seeing death is a weekly, if not more common event.
All I can say is that I wish I had 1/10 of their courage and bravery. If I did then I would be able to face this world without a quiver and stand up and just go, do what I like, be something, instead of nothing. So RIP brave people, and spare a thought for those families missing someone who didn't come home from war.
I wear my poppy proud.
Emma x
Friday, 11 November 2011
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
Lost My Identity - Everyone Knows Me, Except Me
I have no place, not here, not in the world, not even in my head. I am fit for nothing. I don't even know why I'm here. Why what's the point? I don't know who I am, what I feel, what I want to do or what my purpose is. Damn I know nothing. I've been left on auto-pilot for far too long, either I left myself on it when things got painful and just never remebered to take myself off it, or somebody else has me on it and won't let me go. I don't know. All I know, is that I have lost my identity and that everyone else seems to know who I am, except me.
I look at everyone else and they seem to know what they're doing, they do things with purpose. Like they have a goal, a direction, something to achieve. I see a normal person crying in public and my first thought is "how do you do that?" or like in the Johnny English movie where he says " Do you get paid extra for that?" It all seems so controlled. They'll cry for a couple of minutes until they're practically dehydrated and then they will be fine, and will get on with their day.
Don't get me wrong I do cry, a lot actually. But I do so in private, usually at night when things become a bit too much. I could never dream of crying in front of someone and getting sympathy from them. Like when my mum has been recently ill and I've sat beside her intensive care bed, I could feel myself getting tearful but I would not let myself cry. The thing is when I cry, I can't stop. I'm not a heartless bitch, I can relate to people who have problems, like me, and if I see them cry I think " they're having a rough time". I don't know why that is maybe because I see "other" people as threats and people with problems are kind of on my side, like we have to stick together to win the war.
Other people seem to accept their life. They conform to the reality that is life. That is to get married, have a couple of children and settle down and play nice happy families. Everybody does this, everyone I have ever known either has kids, is married or both. I don't get it. I can't do that. The thought of getting close with anyone and making myself vulnerable like that makes me feel quite unwell. After all even if I did get close to anyone, they would leave after a while anyway, just leaving me.
I don't know what I want to do with my life. My illness plays with my life. If I get on to something that I actually like, it lasts a few days, maybe a week, and then I have to stop because it all gets too much. Something inside me just tells me I have to stop because people are getting close, or will want to sooner or later. There are some things that I like to do with my time, writing is one of them but again I will write for a couple of days and then I lose interest and can't continue. I like animals, I tried dog walking at a local dog sanctuary a while ago but it didn't feel right, and I don't even know why.
Sometimes like now, I don't know what I want. I don't know how I feel. Then sometimes I will wake up in the morning and think I want to do something good today, but can't because I have no close friends anymore because I isolated myself. I don't have any other support. Even if I did, I could shy away from it because when I'm bad, I know I won't go. So I don't know!!!!!
Who knows who I am because I don't. LOST MY IDENTITY!!
I look at everyone else and they seem to know what they're doing, they do things with purpose. Like they have a goal, a direction, something to achieve. I see a normal person crying in public and my first thought is "how do you do that?" or like in the Johnny English movie where he says " Do you get paid extra for that?" It all seems so controlled. They'll cry for a couple of minutes until they're practically dehydrated and then they will be fine, and will get on with their day.
Don't get me wrong I do cry, a lot actually. But I do so in private, usually at night when things become a bit too much. I could never dream of crying in front of someone and getting sympathy from them. Like when my mum has been recently ill and I've sat beside her intensive care bed, I could feel myself getting tearful but I would not let myself cry. The thing is when I cry, I can't stop. I'm not a heartless bitch, I can relate to people who have problems, like me, and if I see them cry I think " they're having a rough time". I don't know why that is maybe because I see "other" people as threats and people with problems are kind of on my side, like we have to stick together to win the war.
Other people seem to accept their life. They conform to the reality that is life. That is to get married, have a couple of children and settle down and play nice happy families. Everybody does this, everyone I have ever known either has kids, is married or both. I don't get it. I can't do that. The thought of getting close with anyone and making myself vulnerable like that makes me feel quite unwell. After all even if I did get close to anyone, they would leave after a while anyway, just leaving me.
I don't know what I want to do with my life. My illness plays with my life. If I get on to something that I actually like, it lasts a few days, maybe a week, and then I have to stop because it all gets too much. Something inside me just tells me I have to stop because people are getting close, or will want to sooner or later. There are some things that I like to do with my time, writing is one of them but again I will write for a couple of days and then I lose interest and can't continue. I like animals, I tried dog walking at a local dog sanctuary a while ago but it didn't feel right, and I don't even know why.
Sometimes like now, I don't know what I want. I don't know how I feel. Then sometimes I will wake up in the morning and think I want to do something good today, but can't because I have no close friends anymore because I isolated myself. I don't have any other support. Even if I did, I could shy away from it because when I'm bad, I know I won't go. So I don't know!!!!!
Who knows who I am because I don't. LOST MY IDENTITY!!
Tuesday, 8 November 2011
Have People Doing Community Payback Outside My House!... Frightening
I live on an estate in West Sussex, a nice privately owned one which is a fairly low crime area at the moment. Over the past few weeks I have noticed mini buses of young people turning up and doing things like cutting trees back, making footpaths easier to walk on etc, and at first I wondered what they were doing. The other day I found out that they were doing community payback - which is where people convicted of crime and ordered to do unpaid work have to do it through. Believe it or not, I am actually all for this.
However.... today the people are right outside my house, and I am the only one in out of our row of three houses. I am sure the people doing the community payback are nice enough people, I wouldn't want to tar people with the same brush, but there must be 10-12 young people doing this payback - which is digging up a public footpath over the road, with only 1 person supervising them... or should I say talking on the phone.
I keep looking out of the window and the paybackers aren't really doing much work, instead smoking most of the time, checking out the houses. Call me cynical, but surely this gives these people future targets if some of them are into robbery etc. There's nobody really watching them and they don't look suspicious because they are doing this community payback thing.
Like I said, I am all for it but I think it should be done in more populated areas, like town centres. Gee is not like town centres round here don't need a good tidy up. I don't know maybe I am just paranoid today, because can't help feeling frightened, but I am probably just worrying about nothing. I just need to keep telling myself that these people are doing a good job.
Emma x
However.... today the people are right outside my house, and I am the only one in out of our row of three houses. I am sure the people doing the community payback are nice enough people, I wouldn't want to tar people with the same brush, but there must be 10-12 young people doing this payback - which is digging up a public footpath over the road, with only 1 person supervising them... or should I say talking on the phone.
I keep looking out of the window and the paybackers aren't really doing much work, instead smoking most of the time, checking out the houses. Call me cynical, but surely this gives these people future targets if some of them are into robbery etc. There's nobody really watching them and they don't look suspicious because they are doing this community payback thing.
Like I said, I am all for it but I think it should be done in more populated areas, like town centres. Gee is not like town centres round here don't need a good tidy up. I don't know maybe I am just paranoid today, because can't help feeling frightened, but I am probably just worrying about nothing. I just need to keep telling myself that these people are doing a good job.
Emma x
Sunday, 6 November 2011
I Tried To Commit Suicide... Now I'm Back... For What I Don't Know
The last month has been a long drawn out roller coaster ride, one that just keeps going around the loops, gathering momentum and refusing to stop, no matter how hard I try to make it. It's chucked me off now, with all my possessions, of which nothing is of great value, but it has taken with it something very important to me, something I don't think will ever come back. So yes I tried to commit suicide, but I failed. But that was just the beginning of the story.
I don't really know why i tried to, in fact I can't even remember how it happened. I have dissociation. It is where I disconnect from myself and don't know how I feel etc and cannot remember the things I do during those times. When I think back on it now, I must have been pretty worried, for usually I just cut myself to pieces without the suicidal intent and then go to sleep, wake up the next morning and it hurts like hell. It must have been different, for me to think Fuck this I'm getting out of here. It's something I have always told myself I would never do. For me it would be the worst sin possible, leaving my family with that pain, guilt and unanswered questions.
I'm not religious, not really. I believe in god. I believe that there is something after life. I believe there is some kind of heaven but that its anything you want it to be. I believe there isn't a hell after death because living is hell. I am spiritual. I believe that those closest to me who have passed are always watching over me, guiding me. I believe that things happen for a reason, for better or for worse. But I don't go to church and I only pray when I am desperate for help. As for suicide I can see both sides of the coin. I can see it from the illness point of view that living like this is hell and I would at times do anything to be able to be in peace. On the other hand, it would kill my family and to me it is a sin, but I understand everyone's point of view, because after all, everyone is different.
I think I came quite close to committing suicide as when I came back into myself - I think it must have been the not being able to breathe part that made me come back, I was really struggling to breathe and the mark around my neck was quite deep and nasty. Yes I tried to hang myself. Even though I have said that suicide to me is like a sin, I have had a safety plan if I needed to escape or really couldn't take anymore, but hanging myself was really at the bottom of my plans. So for me to think, hey I'm going to go and hang myself, I must have been pretty bad.
When I got into bed that night, I actually breathed a sigh of relief that I hadn't succeeded. I was glad to be alive. I sat talking and praying to god for ages, saying how sorry I was and also thanking him for keeping me alive. The week after that, I felt as if I had a new lease of life, I realized that in actual fact it isn't hard to die.
But... that joy has turned to despair and anger again, for my mum has become increasingly unwell to the point where she is now in an intensive care ward and she doesn't even know who I am. She began having seizures a couple of weeks ago every night, and becoming confused, walking funny, not being able to talk or go to the toilet. Then one night, about a week ago, she had a fit whilst she was asleep and choked while trying to vomit, and some of it when into her lungs. Luckily I heard her and managed to help her enough until the ambulance arrived. She was on a ventilator for a couple of days, but she is brain damaged now. Her eyesight has gone, and she isn't really interested in having us there.
For a while now my mum has had a do not resuscitate wish, and when my mum looks at me now she looks at me like she thinks I told them to resuscitate her even though she wasn't. If she does crash, they know not to resuscitate but that doesn't stop her thinking that we told them to bring her back. It has always been her worst nightmare to live like a vegetable, with us caring for her and being how she is. At this point she probably wants to die, and it pains me because I was selfish when I tried and now there is nothing I can do for my mum. It's like I got away with my life but in return they didn't just kill my mum, they have kept her alive to live like she is now.
I don't know what is going to happen with my mum. I don't know whether she will be coming home or not, or whether she will have to go into a special brain unit. I'm just so sorry and I pray to god that she makes a dramatic recovery because I love her so much.
xxx
I don't really know why i tried to, in fact I can't even remember how it happened. I have dissociation. It is where I disconnect from myself and don't know how I feel etc and cannot remember the things I do during those times. When I think back on it now, I must have been pretty worried, for usually I just cut myself to pieces without the suicidal intent and then go to sleep, wake up the next morning and it hurts like hell. It must have been different, for me to think Fuck this I'm getting out of here. It's something I have always told myself I would never do. For me it would be the worst sin possible, leaving my family with that pain, guilt and unanswered questions.
I'm not religious, not really. I believe in god. I believe that there is something after life. I believe there is some kind of heaven but that its anything you want it to be. I believe there isn't a hell after death because living is hell. I am spiritual. I believe that those closest to me who have passed are always watching over me, guiding me. I believe that things happen for a reason, for better or for worse. But I don't go to church and I only pray when I am desperate for help. As for suicide I can see both sides of the coin. I can see it from the illness point of view that living like this is hell and I would at times do anything to be able to be in peace. On the other hand, it would kill my family and to me it is a sin, but I understand everyone's point of view, because after all, everyone is different.
I think I came quite close to committing suicide as when I came back into myself - I think it must have been the not being able to breathe part that made me come back, I was really struggling to breathe and the mark around my neck was quite deep and nasty. Yes I tried to hang myself. Even though I have said that suicide to me is like a sin, I have had a safety plan if I needed to escape or really couldn't take anymore, but hanging myself was really at the bottom of my plans. So for me to think, hey I'm going to go and hang myself, I must have been pretty bad.
When I got into bed that night, I actually breathed a sigh of relief that I hadn't succeeded. I was glad to be alive. I sat talking and praying to god for ages, saying how sorry I was and also thanking him for keeping me alive. The week after that, I felt as if I had a new lease of life, I realized that in actual fact it isn't hard to die.
But... that joy has turned to despair and anger again, for my mum has become increasingly unwell to the point where she is now in an intensive care ward and she doesn't even know who I am. She began having seizures a couple of weeks ago every night, and becoming confused, walking funny, not being able to talk or go to the toilet. Then one night, about a week ago, she had a fit whilst she was asleep and choked while trying to vomit, and some of it when into her lungs. Luckily I heard her and managed to help her enough until the ambulance arrived. She was on a ventilator for a couple of days, but she is brain damaged now. Her eyesight has gone, and she isn't really interested in having us there.
For a while now my mum has had a do not resuscitate wish, and when my mum looks at me now she looks at me like she thinks I told them to resuscitate her even though she wasn't. If she does crash, they know not to resuscitate but that doesn't stop her thinking that we told them to bring her back. It has always been her worst nightmare to live like a vegetable, with us caring for her and being how she is. At this point she probably wants to die, and it pains me because I was selfish when I tried and now there is nothing I can do for my mum. It's like I got away with my life but in return they didn't just kill my mum, they have kept her alive to live like she is now.
I don't know what is going to happen with my mum. I don't know whether she will be coming home or not, or whether she will have to go into a special brain unit. I'm just so sorry and I pray to god that she makes a dramatic recovery because I love her so much.
xxx
Tuesday, 20 September 2011
Full Of Creativity- Spent A Night Writing Poems
Hey! :)
I'm feeling quite positive today which makes a change - and I didn't sleep a wink, which kind of gets you wondering whether sleep is totally overrated. Me thinks. Anyway if I carry on like this I could have hundreds of poems by the end of the week, and my poetry making is usually sparse, if I'm putting it nice!
Anyway, I'm full of creativity right now, or at least I was last night when I spent all night writing some poems. I just had this buzz and belief that I could write poetry and I don't know never felt like that before. I'm usually so straightforward and "simple", but last night was a real buzz, and I felt good.
In one hour I think I managed to write about 12 poems- that's one every 5 minutes. My pen literally did not leave the paper, but the words just came to be so elegantly and easily. I didn't have to think about what I was writing because it was all at the forefront of my brain.
God thinking I'm still buzzing from the huge thrill it gave me, though my meeting this morning with my care co-coordinator and my psychotherapist has sent me spinning back down to earth again. We got on the subject of going back into employment and it is something that I would love to be able to do. But.... and this is a big but, the moods I have and the destructiveness that I harbour make it near impossible. You know, like today I feel I could literally take on the world and win which would be fine if I were working, but then like some days I feel like throwing myself off a bridge and the self harm, the disappearing for hours, sometimes days at a time. My head is a mess most of the time, but I will never rule out going back to work because I don't want this mental illness bring me to my knees forever.
I'm a determined person, after all I used to play women's football and was the captain, and I didn't give up on nothing. I may be ill but I don't think you lose your core abilities like determination, it's just having the know how and capacity to be able to do something about it. But I'm still in my 20's and there's plenty of time left for me.
Sorry for going off on something else! I will post some of those poems over the next few days, let me know what you think of them, and I'll try my best to keep writing and feeling positive and GOOD! :)
Love Emmie x
I'm feeling quite positive today which makes a change - and I didn't sleep a wink, which kind of gets you wondering whether sleep is totally overrated. Me thinks. Anyway if I carry on like this I could have hundreds of poems by the end of the week, and my poetry making is usually sparse, if I'm putting it nice!
Anyway, I'm full of creativity right now, or at least I was last night when I spent all night writing some poems. I just had this buzz and belief that I could write poetry and I don't know never felt like that before. I'm usually so straightforward and "simple", but last night was a real buzz, and I felt good.
In one hour I think I managed to write about 12 poems- that's one every 5 minutes. My pen literally did not leave the paper, but the words just came to be so elegantly and easily. I didn't have to think about what I was writing because it was all at the forefront of my brain.
God thinking I'm still buzzing from the huge thrill it gave me, though my meeting this morning with my care co-coordinator and my psychotherapist has sent me spinning back down to earth again. We got on the subject of going back into employment and it is something that I would love to be able to do. But.... and this is a big but, the moods I have and the destructiveness that I harbour make it near impossible. You know, like today I feel I could literally take on the world and win which would be fine if I were working, but then like some days I feel like throwing myself off a bridge and the self harm, the disappearing for hours, sometimes days at a time. My head is a mess most of the time, but I will never rule out going back to work because I don't want this mental illness bring me to my knees forever.
I'm a determined person, after all I used to play women's football and was the captain, and I didn't give up on nothing. I may be ill but I don't think you lose your core abilities like determination, it's just having the know how and capacity to be able to do something about it. But I'm still in my 20's and there's plenty of time left for me.
Sorry for going off on something else! I will post some of those poems over the next few days, let me know what you think of them, and I'll try my best to keep writing and feeling positive and GOOD! :)
Love Emmie x
Monday, 19 September 2011
Seroquel Experiences: Here's Mine - It Plays With Your Head
So last week I had my Quetiapine increased by 100mg by my Psychiatrist at a medical review. I've been taking the increased dose now for a week and have felt totally out of it, in fact it has played with my head. I've been on a few forums looking at other people's Seroquel experiences and most seem to favour the drug saying that it helps them sleep and keep a stable-ish mood.
For me it makes me sleep like 18 hours of the day, so I'm like what the hell. At the moment I am literally getting about 6 hours of the day where I am awake, and in that time I have to help my ill mum do things around the house that she cannot do, take her shopping, walk the dog twice and cook dinner. By the time I have done that, I have just enough time to have a bath and add a post on here before I'm gone.
It's not just the tiredness I am having to deal with but the increased seroquel has made me really irritable to the point where you ask me something and I go on a massive long rant about things unrelated. My poor mum has been copping most of the moodiness and once I've calmed down I can only apologize. It's not my illness causing this either because despite feeling very depressed and suicidal before the increased dose, I was not irritable and ripping people's heads off.
There is of course the weight gain associated with Quetiapine and so far, since being on Quetiapine for over 2 years now, it hasn't affected me, yet. I do though watch what I eat, and do practically starve myself some days. I haven't got an eating disorder I don't think anyway, but I would be worried about gaining weight.
Then there's the other things associated with Quetiapine, for instance it has raised my blood pressure to hypertensive again, and I feel like a zombie. I walk around like I've just been hit around the head with a brick, and my speech has got awful. I now, apparently, mutter what I say or start saying something only to not finish what I'm saying.
However, in regards to my mood it has stopped me feeling so depressed and suicidal, so i guess it is a game of pros vs cons. But why should I have to choose between my physical and mental health? The thing is I have to keep taking them because I was very close to the edge a few weeks ago and I don't want to go down that route.
So as for seroquel experiences - yes it's good mentally but it plays with the rest of your head and body. But like I've said we have to choose. Maybe some day there will be drugs that don't make us zombies.....
Emmie x
For me it makes me sleep like 18 hours of the day, so I'm like what the hell. At the moment I am literally getting about 6 hours of the day where I am awake, and in that time I have to help my ill mum do things around the house that she cannot do, take her shopping, walk the dog twice and cook dinner. By the time I have done that, I have just enough time to have a bath and add a post on here before I'm gone.
It's not just the tiredness I am having to deal with but the increased seroquel has made me really irritable to the point where you ask me something and I go on a massive long rant about things unrelated. My poor mum has been copping most of the moodiness and once I've calmed down I can only apologize. It's not my illness causing this either because despite feeling very depressed and suicidal before the increased dose, I was not irritable and ripping people's heads off.
There is of course the weight gain associated with Quetiapine and so far, since being on Quetiapine for over 2 years now, it hasn't affected me, yet. I do though watch what I eat, and do practically starve myself some days. I haven't got an eating disorder I don't think anyway, but I would be worried about gaining weight.
Then there's the other things associated with Quetiapine, for instance it has raised my blood pressure to hypertensive again, and I feel like a zombie. I walk around like I've just been hit around the head with a brick, and my speech has got awful. I now, apparently, mutter what I say or start saying something only to not finish what I'm saying.
However, in regards to my mood it has stopped me feeling so depressed and suicidal, so i guess it is a game of pros vs cons. But why should I have to choose between my physical and mental health? The thing is I have to keep taking them because I was very close to the edge a few weeks ago and I don't want to go down that route.
So as for seroquel experiences - yes it's good mentally but it plays with the rest of your head and body. But like I've said we have to choose. Maybe some day there will be drugs that don't make us zombies.....
Emmie x
Sunday, 18 September 2011
Why I Self Harm - Poem By Emmie Gillingham
Feeling in a somewhat creative mood tonight, and would like to get down what I'm thinking and feeling. My hand is still sore and not a pretty sight, and every time I have walked past someone today they have looked at it, and it just makes me feel so worthless and stupid. So I have written a poem about why I self harm.
Why I Self Harm
Everywhere I look, everywhere I turn, people ask why?
Why I self harm, do I want to hurt myself or even die?
I tell them all they have it wrong, alas they do not believe me,
So I no longer tell them, I keep it a secret, and that's how it has to be.
I don't feel angry at the people who don't understand,
After all it's not their fault I'm hurting, I just need a gentle helping hand.
For I find it difficult to open up and tell people what I'm feeling,
So just being there and listening would put me on my way to steady healing.
As for why it's because I need to feel something, anything will do,
It's not because I want to kill myself because in fact it keeps me alive, I swear that's true.
I feel no pain when I cut, sometimes I go deep and end up in a right mess,
But I just pick myself up, clean up and try to do it less and less.
It's a wicked circle and once you're in, you're in, there's no way out,
You can cut more and more, fight the urges or even scream and shout.
The only way out is when you change the thing in your head, before then there will be no end,
Until then you've got to be nice to self harm and accept it for it is your only friend.
So no I'm not trying to die, in fact I want to stay very much alive,
I would like to stop, I really would, but I lack the energy and drive.
Every time I look at one of my scars I look back and remember what caused it,
Yes I write stories on my body, to tell the truth when I can't, bit by bit.
It is probably correct to say I'm addicted to self harm, I could even be called a lifer,
but addictions are ways in which people cope with a problem that they can't decipher.
I guess I'm going to have to learn some good mathematics to work things out some day,
Otherwise my worst nightmare could be real in that I'll always stay this way.
Emmie x
Why I Self Harm
Everywhere I look, everywhere I turn, people ask why?
Why I self harm, do I want to hurt myself or even die?
I tell them all they have it wrong, alas they do not believe me,
So I no longer tell them, I keep it a secret, and that's how it has to be.
I don't feel angry at the people who don't understand,
After all it's not their fault I'm hurting, I just need a gentle helping hand.
For I find it difficult to open up and tell people what I'm feeling,
So just being there and listening would put me on my way to steady healing.
As for why it's because I need to feel something, anything will do,
It's not because I want to kill myself because in fact it keeps me alive, I swear that's true.
I feel no pain when I cut, sometimes I go deep and end up in a right mess,
But I just pick myself up, clean up and try to do it less and less.
It's a wicked circle and once you're in, you're in, there's no way out,
You can cut more and more, fight the urges or even scream and shout.
The only way out is when you change the thing in your head, before then there will be no end,
Until then you've got to be nice to self harm and accept it for it is your only friend.
So no I'm not trying to die, in fact I want to stay very much alive,
I would like to stop, I really would, but I lack the energy and drive.
Every time I look at one of my scars I look back and remember what caused it,
Yes I write stories on my body, to tell the truth when I can't, bit by bit.
It is probably correct to say I'm addicted to self harm, I could even be called a lifer,
but addictions are ways in which people cope with a problem that they can't decipher.
I guess I'm going to have to learn some good mathematics to work things out some day,
Otherwise my worst nightmare could be real in that I'll always stay this way.
Emmie x
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