So as is probably clear, I’ve been on a decline in the last few days. And as I have spoken about, it’s all a bit weird to me. Especially the last several weeks with such wild changes and not you’re regular hourly or daily changes. I do feel like something is awry. But I don’t know what.

This morning I woke up and once again, I felt my mood and whole being just being rather flopped and still going downwards. It’s not like I can call it depression, even though it is depression, but more of what I am feeling is SADNESS. It’s like an overwhelming sadness about things. If you ask me what, then I would probably say ‘err’ before answering.

This morning I got up as regular and took my pills, had breakfast and opened up my laptop, and there it was, the tears.

I just sat with a constant stream of tears coming out. I was breathing calmly and I felt mostly calm. It’s difficult to explain what came over me. It’s like the last few days all getting too much and kind of piling up on each other until I guess this was bound to happen. And so it did.

I thought it was probably time to call my psychiatrist who I have been avoiding in calling in order to arrange to meet with him. I actually haven’t seen a psychiatrist since coming out of hospital I guess a month ago. My heightened mood and strangeness kind of made me want to avoid him and not see him. If I was feeling OK then I felt like I didn’t want to go and sit with him and what if I would open up those can of worms and crash again? I never felt rather decent like that mood-wise in this entire 4 years. I know I shouldn’t therefore think it’s OK to not see my psychiatrist, I should see him in any state that I am in. Not only sadness means something. Feeling happy can mean something too! And not that it is necessarily good!

So I called my psychiatrist and he was like ‘wow, A, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in a long time! Where did you disappear to?’. And I can’t say that I wanted to get in to it with him on the phone so I just said ‘finally, I am here’. He asked how I was and I drew a blank. I said I don’t know. So he said does that mean in a good way or a bad way or a really OK way? I said that it’s perhaps a bit more complicated to get in to now again on the phone so we will speak about it. And that’s about it. It’s not that I am avoiding talking about the 3 or so much better weeks I had, I will tell him that when I meet with him… It’s just kind of mixed up and like I’ve been writing, not so clear and whatnot.

I met with my care worker today and I also started streaming with tears. She asked why I was crying and I said I am sad. I feel sadness. What else can I say? I don’t know. But I have had a lot of things starting going around in my head like all the (actually) traumatic things that happened last year when I was hospitalised in the UK. And my friend ending her life a year ago and everything is coming back to me in pictures and things are playing out in my head as to what happened in the UK and playing out and thinking at which height did my friend jump to her death? I obviously don’t want to think about these things… They’re really intrusive thoughts.

So maybe that’s why I am sad. I can’t say it’s something in particular. I feel a simple sense of sadness over me that isn’t going away. Yet, at least.

Just weird

I’m in a rather weird state.

About 3 weeks ago I totally switched from daily craziness to virtually nothing. A little anxiety here and there and a little depression… But all of a sudden, a switch just went off.

It’s not that we need explanations for everything in life but it’s just so weird for me and I don’t understand why it happened as there was no trigger whatsoever that caused me to flip like that.

In having said that, it’s weird because I am still doing what I am normally doing. Nothing has changed there. I’ve not started anything new or something. I’ve been going to work a bit more than usual, but that’s just because I’ve been feeling better and I know it’s not that the going to work a but more would have changed things so much.

It makes me think it’s a chemical imbalance. Maybe a diagnosis that I have that hasn’t been recognised or looked in to. It really is that much of a difference I feel like it has to be something to do like that.

How can I have 4 years of constant depression and then seem to snap out of it all so quickly. And like I say, if I actually do start thinking about my life, I do have negative thoughts and I think what the hell am I doing with myself and I am not happy, I feel like I am missing many things in life. You know, I have no friends, I’m in rehabilitation work which pays a pittance and is at a very low level, money is a problem and I am back to getting food from a charity, I still have no direction/s to take in life, I have no plans, I feel like I am living for no real reason. Maybe just for my family.

I can’t explain this. It’s too strange to try and explain.

I’m still, after a month now, waking up during the night and am awake for a few hours and then mostly manage to get back to sleep for a while. But I don’t feel tired from it. In fact, I do have tiredness but it doesn’t seem that it’s from how I slept that specific night. I can sleep well one night and the next morning I can be on my laptop and I can hardly keep my eyes open.

Nothing makes sense. It really doesn’t. Like I’m pretty much a different person. But like I say, I do hold back on saying that I have ‘totally’ switched or am really a different person, because I’ve still have had a few times of difficult anxiety… But overall, still WEIRD!

What can I say?

I am carrying on and doing what I am doing and am putting all my effort in, but I’ve been doing that for 4 years. Nothing changed there either.

I wish there was an explanation for this.

The only thing that I can explain quite easily is that I feel very paranoid about the guy who raped me. He works 5 minutes from where I live and as I live on ground level, I fear that he will come to my window and do God knows what. If he has the potential to rape someone, then most likely he has the potential for other things. It’s been bothering me a lot.  But I don’t think this is paranoia that doesn’t make sense. It’s obviously a real and possible one. The only paranoia I have is about insects now. Here, we can get big cockroaches and they are BIG. I’ve only had one in my apartment and that was a few months ago. It was at night and I had the light off and outside was totally quiet. I actually heard the cockroach walking over the edge of my mirror because they are so big and I turned the light on and low and behold, it was a cockroach. I’m talking like 2 inches long. So I’m in constant paranoia about insects too, but hey, once again, it’s not like it’s actually an irrational thing to be scared about. I HATE those cockroaches. They are so big and fast, you have to hunt them down for an hour or so before being able to get it out of your apartment. But maybe my paranoia is too much? I don’t know.

I know that I’ll get a telling off here perhaps but at least I am not doing this when I am feeling BAD. I should really have been in touch with my psychiatrist after I left the hospital last, which I guess was a month ago. I’m meant to see him every 2 weeks. But because how weird things are and how better they are, I’ve not been in touch with him because I guess I am afraid we’ll do a ‘wow’ type meeting and I’m scared of falling down again. I’m not sure if I can express to him how I have been feeling. I’ve hardly managed to here, really. So I’ve been wanting to leave it with him for now because I haven’t felt the need to see him. In the end, if something changes, I can still go to him and tell him what happened then and now. But this strangeness is continuing and it’s not that I WANT it to be something, like another diagnosis or something, but I have a fear that it could be unidentified or not even questioned. Anyway, I’ll call him tomorrow because it’s just going on for too long now and I know that even if I am feeling better that I should see him. He needs to see me in all situations. But this is certainly a FIRST.

I hurt

I’ve been walking in slow motion all day. Sound has been muffled. Vision blurred. Using my hands like they aren’t my hands. They are moving around and I do not feel like that is me moving them. Someone is doing it for me. Someone is helping me to look normal on the outside so that I look normal on the inside. But nobody knows.

Inside of me is me. Outside of me is not me. I smiled like nothing could phase me. Nothing phases me. I am doing so well, I get all the ‘well dones’ and I wonder what the fuck the people are talking about. It really got to this? Surely they are talking to another person. And you know what? They are talking to another person. They are talking to the person who is doing well, getting and feeling better and progressing. But that isn’t me. They are talking to my walking skin and bones.

I have been out of it all day. The ceiling has been tilting, making me feel dizzy and nauseous. I have to close my eyes tightly so that I snap out of it otherwise I will literally fall off of my chair. Nobody will notice a good heavy blink I hope. I have to come back somehow. Somehow the inside and the outside of me, the walking skin and bones have to connect. As much as I can get them in to sync, the better.

Arrive home. Put music on. Ground me. Please help ground me. Let me focus on each beat of the music. Every little sound. I need to come back to myself. Wherever I have been all day, I don’t know. It’s all a blur. But I made it home and I made it with my fake shitty smiles and regular quietness and people just think I am more of a thinker than a talker. Wow, they couldn’t be any more right. But I have gone beyond the normal levels of thinking. Constantly questioning, worrying, deciding, terrified, what may be? What may not be? What is? What not is? The list could go on. It is endless.

The music. Back to the music. I am listening to a song that I have heard one hundred times. But what is going on now? It’s literally in slow motion and I am surely not even hearing what I normally hear. Why? I’m thinking what the hell, this song it going so much slower than usual. Weird. Just weird. Perhaps the skin and bones are defected. Maybe they are causing this?

Nothing outside of me is really real. Maybe I’m not even real. This is not even real. It’s all a game. The whole thing is a game and we are gullible enough to be playing it. Well, maybe I don’t want to play the game? Maybe I see the truth of it all and everyone around me is being totally fooled. We are all fools.

Why can’t I press a control that will cause me to cease to exist? Why do I have to think about tall buildings and how many floors they have, how many cigarettes you need until it’s a toxic enough liquid, the fact that hanging is not so simple, I need to do the maths and work out that I in fact need a jump before that of about 8 foot. That should do it. Why do I need to think about the strength of gravity like that and how it pulls us downward. And why have I got to listen to this dog barking outside for an hour non-stop so I can try to fucking concentrate on what I am trying to write?

Things bother me. I want a silent room. I want to be still and not move an inch. I want to breathe silently, calm and tranquil. But havoc and chaos is going around in my head. My soul. I should correct that there.

I sit with my psychologist and there is a table in between us. On the table is a jar of some sort, something else I can’t remember and then in the centre of the table, are several stones. Most of them are so smooth that they really piss me off. All I need it a stone wall and to throw them with all of my might against the stone wall and break them apart. Why are they smooth and complete? Why is a fucking stone perfect and I, neither nobody else can be. We are so far away from it. Yet, some non-talking and non-moving thing can be like that. I want to become that stone. My exterior can seem smooth and complete, but the truth only comes out when I am thrown against a stone wall and I break, fragmented, shards breaking off. I don’t bleed blood. I bleed nothing. Because my exterior is nothing. In truth, I am nothing. But this stone is the closest thing that I am or what I want to be. Sit silently, not move, not think, not eat, not sleep, not be bothered by this fucking dog barking that is absolutely doing my head in.

I hurt.

Whatever that means.

Silent cries. You can’t even see.

The evening creeps in and I feel it starting to crawl in my skin.

Something rotten on the outside, this time, crawling inside. This time it’s inside out.

What triggered me? I honestly don’t know.

This time it is different.

Within a matter of minutes, it’s all too much to take. No, I am not so impulsive. I have been feeling like this for an hour or so and I have not self-harmed or done anything to hurt myself. Do I want to? Yes.

Once again, swallowed in my own head, my entire being. I feel like my soul has temporarily left me and all that is left is this inside out body of mine, vile and rotten.

My soul detached from me. It is somewhere else. It is said that our souls leave our bodies when we are sleeping at night. But it’s 8.30pm and I have not gone to bed or have been sleeping.

My soul is like puffs of smoke, white and pure. Not toxic. It surrounds me and when it is with me I feel light and calm and surrounded by pureness. Like I can float along as light as a feather. I am so light. I am so calm. I drift and it doesn’t matter where I drift. I exist. And that is enough. I am calm. I drift and it doesn’t matter where I drift. I exist. And that is enough.

But I sit here without it and I don’t know where it has gone. It’s like my soul is the good part of me and the animal physical side is the devil in this case.

Fighting off a roaring devil, most of the time, unfortunately ends up in failure. The devil beats me. Brings me in further and I’m like a puppet on a string. I can not control what is happening with me. Like I have been given a full muscle relaxant whilst anaesthetised. I may be able to hear and feel, but I can’t move. I have no power over it. The strings are pulled.

Silent cries. You can’t even see.

I am faced now with a pool of fire. Slowly coming to the edge of the pool and being enticed in to it.

Silent cries. You can’t even see.

I am inside out and the physical animal inside of me wants bad things. It doesn’t care. Nothing matters now. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been feeling better the last couple of weeks and I haven’t self-harmed or drank alcohol in the last month at least.

Now it is time. The time is coming and I am trying to resist. There is something within me, I know, that is screaming so badly and so loudly.

But they are silent screams.

I feared this.

The fall back down.

The pit. I do not want to go back there. I’ve been there too many times and for way too long.

I am scared.

I am crawling in my skin. But my skin is on the inside and my guts and all the gore is on the outside.


This is not true.

I am a vessel. Empty inside. I can only shed tears. That is better than nothing. But it is not enough.

It just came over me, like a bird flew over my head and a switch went off. As simple as that.

Crumbling walls.

I look at the mirror hanging on the wall. I want to throw an object at it and smash it in to a million pieces.

To represent myself.

Broke in to a million pieces.

Perhaps it’s possible to put it all back together. But it is an extremely challenging task. Virtually impossible.

Silent cries. You can’t even see.

I can not explain the feelings. They are unexplainable. I can try my best, but it sounds like bull.

Silent cries. You can’t even see.

Desperate. Needing. Wanting.

Where? How? And why?

I don’t want answers. I don’t want to ask such questions. I sit and now I sit and my mouth is sealed. Nothing really to say. Don’t talk about the past. The past is the past. I don’t want to deal with it either and it seems like others don’t want to either.

I am trying. Crying.

Silent cries. You can’t even see.

Now… What to do? How can I escape from within myself? My entire being has been gobbled up inside of my mouth. How can I get it out? Regurgitate it? Say words…

Say magical words. Meaningful words. Have those moments where I receive clarity. The cogs start to turn again. I think I am on a roll.

The light is neither bright, nor dim. But in an instant that all has changed. Curled up inside a ball, literally inside of myself. Get out you freak. Why are you like that? What are you doing?

Vision. I see. I am back. But what is back? Back to…? Sometimes it’s better to be turned inside out and cry those awful screams of desperation. Nobody can hear. And that doesn’t matter.

Silent cries. You can’t even see.