Winter

At least the first day leading to many of cold and bleakness was nice.

I wish I could wander through pretty gardens and pretty places forever. For the tranquility found to stay with me and the beaming part of me to shine out. All good things must come to an end, and so many things are.

I don’t handle the changing clocks very well.

Ineptitude- a rant

The CMHT are completely and utterly useless. I went today, as I had an appointment… or so I thought. I gave my name etc and the guy said it’d been cancelled and he’d found out why. He comes back ten minutes later saying I should have received a letter telling me this. I asked which address he had on file and he said the one from Uni last year, the one that I rang up to change 3 months ago, changed on a data sheet in August and phoned up at least twice to check they had the right one. Riiiight.

So I asked why I wasn’t told last week that it was cancelled when I tried to rearrange it. He said they automatically cancel appointments when people ring up, even though I rang up twice to try and change it and someone was supposed to ring me back but didn’t. I didn’t ask for it to be cancelled, and I expected someone to ring me back… who didn’t so I didn’t have a clue that this had happened.

I missed a good lecture through all of this, I rang up wanting to rearrange because of this lecture but I still ended up missing it due to the fact that they can’t deal with any kind of data at all.

So what now? I’m waiting for them to ring me (again) to see if I can have one of the emergency appointments, as they don’t have any regular ones for a while. I am also frothing and foaming and being generally very angry. I am not impressed, and this isn’t the first time they have screwed up, either. Considering asking for discharge…

Ooer- Tomorrow

I have my assessment for Psychology tomorrow. At the moment, I’m unsure as to whether I actually need it, or not. See, by many peoples’ standards I’m ‘better’ and surely their resources could be used much better on someone more deserving? I’m no longer constantly suicidal, eating strangely and self harming… so compared to say, this time last year, I hardly need it anymore. Yes there is something I would like to work through, if I got the chance, but I’m not sure if I’m totally deserving.

I don’t know what to say, whether to go in and say everything, or not. See my sheer hate of myself varies so much it may be hard to tackle; a lot of the time I can’t look in the mirror, some days I struggle to get out of bed, I can’t stand myself that much; some days are better and I can look in the mirror. Just the fluctuation means that perhaps continuity would be hard.

I wanted to work on this with the therapist from the PCMHT I’ve been seeing, but she’s just been doing ‘tiding me over’ stuff from well, about february… I’ve asked her so many times to just do the work with her instead of waiting around for Psychology, but no, here I am… I wanted to be well by now, soon I want to be thinking about disengaging from services in preparation for my year abroad. Maybe you aren’t supposed to rush things, but I want to be confident with going out on my own for a year and to have no support whatsoever. I will enquire about support systems as a matter of course, just in case, but I think the reality is becoming clear: it’s all down to me. We’ll see how tomorrow goes.

Teetering

On the brink, like a skydiver waiting to fall.

My demons have returned.

And in other news, I have my psychology assessment on wednesday… Bah! To make the week even better, I see the psychiatrist on thursday…

Relative and Absolute

In Absolute terms, I’m good, better than I’ve been for a while, most definitely better than a year ago.

In Relative terms, I’m not doing so great. I don’t know what it is, maybe it’s university pressure but I can see old ways coming back; blowing off friends to hide under my duvet or “work”, locking myself away… Just because I’ve not the negative thoughts. The sexuality thing is on my mind quite a lot, and I’ve began to wonder if I joined LGBT too early. I mean it’s inevitable people would find out, and that people would talk, and ask me, but I’m not taking it too well. Every time someone tells me that I don’t look like a lesbian or that they’d never guess, it feels more like a nail in the coffin than anything else. I didn’t want to be like this, I just wanted some form of, well, normalcy, I guess. I don’t handle all this talk too well, I put on a smile and tell the truth; what more can people ask for? But I don’t see why people need to talk, or have to ask me if the rumours are true. If it’s not such a big deal, then why does this happen, or why were people giving us dirty looks when we came out of the meeting room today? I don’t want to feel any more of an outsider than I already do, but this, this I feel estranges me further from people. My close friends have all been fine with it, so are the gossipers once they get clarification, but I’m still unsettled.

The Itch Within

The Itch wasn’t due to my badness, it was due to a reaction to a side effect… The medication has been duly stopped and I’m now being fed off anti-histamines and have been given something topical instead of tablets.

I still think it was my badness, my badness that caused it though.

The Itchy Badness

I know what the itch is. It’s the badness within me. When the itch is worse, it’s because I’ve been more of a bad person than usual. I want to scratch the itch out, all over me. claw in deep and pull it out, right out from the centre of me. Pull me skin off and find the badness. I want to be a good person. For this punishing itch to go away. It’s been here for a week, a week that’s shown up my flaws and badness in full scale. I just wish this all consuming itchy badness would go away, because I’m trying to be good. But my good isn’t good enough. Not good enough for the itch to go away, for the branding to be taken off me and lifted away. I can scream out how I’m trying, I can follow the advice, I can try and be a good person, but the itch raises the bar. A forever moving goal of frustration, and the itch gets worse as I become an even worse person. It won’t leave me alone, I will forever be branded a failure by the itch.

Time goes by, so slowly

Time is dragging. I’ve been awake since 3am, it’s now nearly 5. I went to bed early to catch up with sleep, but got caught up with the inevitable noise of people going out/coming back. Now, all is quiet and I still can’t sleep. Why? Because something is lurking in my headspace. It’s my critic. Having not slept so well in a while, things are catching up with me. Just y’know, like over analysis of something completely inane and pointless. Or going over how I handled a situation, or whether I will do well tomorrow. Tomorrow is the first meeting that I’m chairing of my society. On sunday, around 25 people signed up, so it’s a fair crowd for a society that was so small. I’m scared of it not being what they want, or that I can’t answer questions, or just, well, I don’t know… failing.

I’m sick of grinning through the facade that’s cracking. I’m pretending all is well, all is good, that my brain isn’t veering off course and I’m thinking bad, naughty thoughts. Thoughts that I’m not supposed to carry out, thoughts that could stop me from pretending all is well: if you can convince medics et al that all is well, they leave you alone. It’s kind of nice to have the least loosened, but it’s harder to ask for help. If I go in grinning and sit upright, they assume that all is well, yet if I go in unwashed and badly dressed, they know something is wrong. But what if behind the grinning, things aren’t good? They’re not awful, but they’re not good either. Just a quiet wish to die and silently made plans that no-one would fathom from looking at me.

Him

Him. Bearing down on top of me, pushing me down, smoothering my attempts to get away. Pushing his hand down my trousers, trying to get to the all elusive spot. His hands dancing all over me, from top to toe, boob to bum, whilst ensuring that I couldn’t move away, couldn’t get away, couldn’t grab anyone’s attention. His mouth coming closer to mine whilst I try to arch away, to bend over backwards to ensure an escape, even though it’s painful. Trying to get away, whilst he ensures that I can’t, that the memories will be forever entwined in my head. Him calling me a tease and me trying to run away, for him to run after me. The times he thought he could try, and the times he didn’t succeed.

The time it took to get over this, the time it took for me to even be able to let anyone touch me.

I hate this guy, yet he still seems to think he did nothing wrong.

And then now, now. Now. A friend (male) kissed me on thursday night, and I recoiled in shock. My friend, like the first guy, a friend. A good friend. He’s wanting more, he’s really into me, like the first guy was. But, he won’t get anywhere, I’m a lesbian, but even so I don’t go for random feelings. We were having fun, we laughing and joking, as friends do. But males and females can never be friends, can they? Hours later, coming home and being unable to sleep. Being too shocked and having flashbacks of what happened 3 years ago with the first guy. Being too scared to move, to numb to realise what had happened.

It took me ages to trust anyone male again, to even let anyone male close to me. I, I, I wish it had never happened, wish that I could live my life without the flashbacks and being scared of people getting close to me, of touching me.

Bright City Lights

The bright city light trails left behind are so pretty to the eye. Walking in the dark is so beautiful, for this reason.

This city brings back so many memories, exacerbated by facebook and being able to hear people seshing, something I remember from freshers’ week last year. Cor blimey.

And now, the responsibility returns. My return from Germany has piled it all on: food shopping, freshers fair, post to collect from the delivery office, commitments.

There’s all too many memories coming back