Struggling with personality disorder

I am really silly, or rather that’s the only word I can use whilst being in the public domain. It’s 2.30 pm, and at this point, I should have been to a People & Planet meeting, a training session AND I should be in a lecture, in which we are doing presentations which count towards our final module mark. And guess what? I just woke up. This is the second time this week I’ve missed an afternoon lecture because I’ve been asleep. SECOND. I’ve attended all the morning ones, just the afternoon ones seem to be causing problems. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. I woke up, had breakfast, then ventured back under my duvet for some extra warmth. I woke up 6 hours later. Yes, I may be able to be thankful of the fact that I haven’t slept through my exam, which is at 6pm, but still the point remains. AAARGHHHH.

So, we went to the hospital. My mum decided to answer all the questions, instead of letting me do so. I forgot about that cause of antibiotics over a year ago, see, and how ill I was last year and 3 years ago. She said she wasn’t going to come in with me for all of it, so I was like yayy, but then she did come in, so a quick whisper at the end it was.

They’ve given me three of these slips:

3 viales a week for the next three weeks (after this one). I hope I will have some blood left, and that I won’t go dizzy like I have today. I hate having blood taken…

I think it’s a week or two I have left in counselling… I’m not sure whether the two included the one I just had or not.

We got talking about it all, and she asked me whether I felt I had a better relationship with anyone, in a ‘non-professional’ kind of situation. The answer is not really, I choose to keep things to myself most of the time because I don’t like upsetting people. Of course, they’re not upset, per se, or at least with me. They’re upset because of the emotion involved. So this is why I like the people that don’t burst into tears or leap onto me to give me a hug, the so- called ‘professionals’; counsellors, therapists. It helps me work through things more objectively because a) they’re not a part of my every day life and b) there isn’t the same amount of emotion involved: I can tell my side of the story and not feel guilty for having done so. My girlfriend knows quite a lot of things… and I’m okay with that providing she doesn’t have to know the here and now; she knows the past but I can pretend the present is fairly good… and that’s what I like. Non- intrusive people.

It’ll be weird to finish. It’s been practically a year since I started going. It’s become part of my schedule; tuesday nights are written off for anything social. I’ll be able to go to aquafit without having to do mad dashes, have time to do work…. but it’s still so weird. I think I’ll miss her. It’s like, in a way, having someone you see regularly… then all of a sudden they’re out of your life. It also happened to me recently. Someone I saw a lot of, that suddenly stopped communicating with me, for no reason I know of. This, I accept, is different, but it’s similar on so many levels because you get used to seeing, talking to that person. We’ve formed a relationship, and I feel comfortable talking about things to her.

I’ll miss it, hopefully not for long, and I hope to get on with my life… We’ll see.

D-Day tomorrow. Meh.

I’m really, really tired but I’ve had a really good weekend. I went to the conference, and some of my Brummie friends came up… Not only were the workshops interesting but I also got to show them around my city; they were surprisingly impressed so yay!

There’s not a huge amount going on at the moment, I’m hot footing it back to Birmingham in the morning for therapy then lectures… I can’t actually remember much of last week, apart from the fact that we were doing groundwork again. Wonder what tomorrow will bring…?

I’m going HOME. First time in 10 weeks. I’m excited.

It’s also an environmental/human rights conference, so some people from uni are coming up and I can’t wait to show them my city!

I may be a tad too excited, but no diazepam will be required. I’m cool, honest.

(I bucked up the courage and went to see my doc. She’s given me some diazepam to take as and when and reassured me I’m not bipolar. Cyclotymic maybe (but even then I concur, I don’t fit the criteria. I’m just normal as norman normal who is having a reaction to citalopram.))

I’m going to the hospital a week tomorrow, and am stopping the citalopram ahead of this. Am I being fecking stupid?

I want to because my mum’s coming along and I’m anticipating medication related questions, and seeing as she doesn’t know it could get sticky. However, I’m worried things will all go wrong.

My mood’s also been quite uppy, which is a reason for my reduction to 20mg temporarily, but I’m wondering whether I should just come off. I want to speak to my doctor about this, but feel so unwilling to go; I don’t want to be seen as attention seeking because everything’s meant to be okay, but it really isn’t. I’m sitting in a bus shelter crying at the moment, I feel like I’m losing grip on the whole world. It’s all too colourful and overwhelming and unstoppable, everything keeps flying by. Then there are lulls. Lulls that knock everything out of me. This is my realisation that there’s nothing wrong and I should stop trying to make a mountain out of a molehill. I feel trapped in a dilemma, where all the questions are too big to be answered… I’m just feeling like a city dwelling ant: about to be stamped on.

The medics ruled out it being something serious, but what will the hospital find?

I am becoming increasingly frustrated with myself, and how I manage to do a lot of things wrongly, and end up upsetting people. I may just be feeling overly guilty, but I doubt not.

Who on earth manages to keep letting other down time after time, without any good excuse? I’m either late, or like last night fell asleep for 12 hours by accident, instead of going to the pub. I’m disappointed in myself for being this person; for being the one who manages to insert her mentalness into the conversation and ruin the moment. How I feel guilty and burdening for talking about what’s going on, when I’m having fun. Me and the girl were chatting, and I was denying my prettyness pretty adamently when it all slipped up. It kinda killed the conversation, as you may imagine. And now, I feel pretty guilty for it. I feel like I’m being watched now, I know she cares and that’s why she asks, but I still hate being asked. Being asked by someone who doesn’t understand the mindset, doesn’t understand that I’m fat, that keeps telling me I’m not isn’t helping. I am fat, I know this… I don’t need to have people denying it to me. She asked about therapy, what happens there… maybe I’m just not ready to tell about that kind of thing, but I don’t like telling. I wish for everything to remain normal; because otherwise people don’t guess.

Telling people, not taking my medication and not eating will not get me anywhere, I know this and I’ve been through it enough times. But just another time I’ll go through it, it’ll be last I swear. But it won’t be, it never will.

I am frustrated because I’m turning into everything I hate.

That and citalopram kills my sex drive, which may start causing problems round about now. She’s getting upset because she thinks it’s her causing the problems, but it’s just me. And it always will be.

My personal tutor also lectures me for one of my modules and today, I was exceptionally early, as I needed to speak to another friend who is normally very early too. Except she wasn’t there yet, which left me and the lecturer, and questions pertaining to how I was getting on; after all I did tell him about things last year. He asked about whether I felt that my academic potential was being affected- of course it is. He commented on the fact that I was doing well in coming to lecturers and my ‘good’ grades last year, but he doesn’t understand. At all. I hate how I’m affected. How a simple piece of work can cause so many problems; how working hard enough can drain me so much I have to rest the next few days. He just doesn’t understand- I may not resemble on appearance what I’m feeling, but that doesn’t stop what’s happening inside… What am I even meant to say in situations like that?! Brush it off or be truthful? I’ve never been so glad to see another lecturer come in the room…

It’s there to remind me. That I’m getting thinner, that it didn’t used to slide around up and down my arm so freely in times past.

I love my sziget band, probably as much as I loved the festival.

Noting the fact that this isn’t good, and not something I really want to happen, I’ve voluntarily started a food diary to take to therapy with me, I’m trying to go for the shock tactic. I’m not much good with calories, but what I do know is that I’m not eating enough, especially considering how much of the time I’m on the go. I really need to get this nailed, to get this sorted once and for all. I feel I lack the knowledge of food; the knowledge of how to eat more. Some people just don’t eat much, I may be one of those now, as I’ve trained myself; there is, however, a line. A line between not eating much and being healthy, and not eating much but neglecting yourself too. I really don’t know where I stand. My thought processes may not be healthy, but am I physically healthy eating the amount I do?