Under – Poem

I’ve finally hit the wall of what I can take, I have no more strength to fight

Feel like I’ve raised my hands in the air, there’s nothing ahead in sight

No future to see where I’d be happy, no future to be even content

I’m done and finished, it’s over, I’m broken and I’m bent

A mirror, broken in to a million pieces, a reflection of myself broken

Impossible to put back together, as much that is constantly spoken

So sweep me up, and throw me away

I’m shards of glass that can cut so deep

And the last thing anyone wants to see, is an eternal weep

A weep of tears, to fill the ocean

A weep of blood, void of emotion

I’ve just said ‘fuck it’, ‘whatever’, another day has gone by

It rhymes once again, I reiterate, cry cry cry

I’m disgusted and feel nauseous as I write all of this down

I think I can be crowned as having the biggest frown in town

Each evening at around 6pm, I get in to my bed

This is what it’s come to; I lay there and feel dead

I need to pass the evening; the day has already been enough

Each day that passes by, it simply becomes more tough

Life is shredding me away, I’m becoming a rotten mound of hay

The only way to exist, is to hope for a better day

No reason to be writing, or sitting here right now

I know what you are thinking, ‘through this I have to plough’

Feeling more than worthless, it’s a shame on the oxygen I inhale

Someone else can use it, someone who is frail

Someone who actually wants to live and isn’t a waste of space

Someone that has gratitude and in this world has a place

It can’t meant to have been, I can no longer wonder

Just waiting for that day, the day I will go under

Losing it

I’m losing it.

The current trigger feels like the largest I have ever experienced. If I am breathing then that means I am succeeding.

Last week self-harmed, didn’t go to get stitches, wasn’t deep enough but it needed something like steri-strips. Healed OK.

Went to work last Sunday, walked in looking like a ghost with red eyes and black bags hanging underneath my eyes. (PTSD crazy, nightmares, flashbacks, triggers). I didn’t need to be asked how I was feeling. My manager called me to speak with her and we spoke. I said I’d self-harmed the night before (if I remember correctly). She asked me about suicidal stuff. I said the truth that it’s just a matter of WHEN and not IF. But now, I do not want to. I have no plans, really. I know how I’d do it but that doesn’t cause some spectacular concern. I don’t need medications or alcohol or rope etc. Just use my legs to get to a place and do what I would do.

10 minutes after finishing our conversation my manager comes over to me and says to take my stuff and go next door to the mental health centre to see my psychiatrist. She’d apparently walked there to speak with him and express her concerns.

So I went over and waited about an hour as I didn’t have an appointment. Walk in. DR is like ‘yeaaa, I see, please sit down A’. He starts reading a letter (half a page) written by the manager of my work, saying that she is very concerned about my state and things that have been happening and things she fears that she could happen. She wrote our conversation out pretty much word for word, the psychiatrist read out the letter and finished. He says ‘so..?’. I said that I first of all didn’t ask to come to see you and second of all, I didn’t know she’d written a typed up letter too. I said I am not angry at her just to say that first and clear that up. He said, of course, she’s doing her job.

We spoke about the self-harming that I had managed to not do for 6 months and then I did it and needed stitches and since then in the last month I have self-harmed another 4 times. None of these needed hospital visits. I said I’m trying my best to do the best I can and that’s all I can do. I told him as he can see as awful as I am feeling, I am functioning not entirely but I had gone to work this day for example. I’m not just putting my hands up and deciding to stay in bed all day and night.

We agreed that there is nothing else to do really… If I say that I want to kill myself now or a time and I have a plan then I need to go to the closed ward of the hospital. I said I’d rather die than go there, so I am never going to go there. He asked again then if I am going to do it then and I said again, I have thoughts, plenty, but no plans… All I can do is try my best. That is it.

Wednesday night I drank a full bottle of 12% wine within 40 minutes, just downed it. Didn’t do much to me (my body is ridiculous) so I took several Clonex and 800mg Seroquel instead of the 400mg dosage I would have that evening. Bit of this, bit of that. Just wanted to escape and still want to escape so that’s why I did that. Just to pass the evening and night. To ironically keep myself alive by doing this sh*t so it knocks me out.

Met with my psychologist on Thursday morning. Was feeling pretty nauseous and out of it but I hadn’t been sick because of the alcohol and medications I took. Told her what happened. As truthful, nothing more, nothing less, than usual. I told her. She said it was a ‘suicidal gesture’. She’s never said this to me before. I don’t understand to be honest what a ‘suicidal gesture’ is. It’s the same rubbish I’ve been doing since the age of 13. Alcohol, weed, now medications minus the weed. She then listed all the reasons as to why I am a serious suicide risk right now. More self-harming, back to alcohol (after not drinking for 6 months too), isolating myself gradually more and more, previous attempts, agitation, trigger coming up (already present). So I said OK. OK. She asked if I have plans to kill myself, do I want to do it now. I said no. And that was that meeting over.

Then had a meeting with the psychiatrist straight after. Same thing. I wasn’t expecting anything. I know it’s not in the hands of those around me, it’s all in my hands when it comes down to it. He asked what the trigger was. I said it’s my birthday and I’m turning 30 (today). Some may say it’s just a number. But I am seriously fu**ed up, my life is a mess, I’m just feeling the same or worse. Never better. Day to day suffering. Hopelessness. Helplessness. The more this is going on, the worse it gets. Day by day. I’ve been sick since I was 25 years old (big breakdown I’m still in) so that means I’ve been doing this day in day out for 5 YEARS. Half a decade. I’ve already lost half of my 20’s and that’s upsetting enough and then just to put the cherry on the cake is that I am entering my 30’s in a very bad state with no hope for the future.

Then I don’t remember, I maybe self-harmed on Friday again. Was at my sister’s later on and they made such an effort in to trying to make my birthday nice… I am really thankful and I can’t say anything negative there, it was all lovely gestures to the max. But I felt guilty and depressed. Extremely depressed. Like usual. I tried to just take the best from it and tell myself that I have people that love me so stop with the whole death wish/prediction. Went in and out of that in between crying and then feeling nothing. Back and forth.

Sunday, yesterday, I self-harmed. Met with my care worker today. Informed her about the self-harming and what happened in the previous week as she didn’t know all that had happened. She says that even though I’m upset about my birthday, she will come at 10am tomorrow morning (Monday) in her car and she will take me to a museum, and it’s ‘on her’ and hugged me and lovely stuff. And I feel guilt and horribleness once again.

Today was at the mental health group I go to twice a week. I’ve never seen a birthday celebrated there like that. I’ve been going for a year and a half, about that. They all know how tough things are for me so once again, they lovingly put in an even bigger effort to try and make it special for me. They cooked a meal I chose, had 2 birthday cakes with candles, balloons, sat in a circle for an intimate 30 minutes and went around in a circle and person by person wished me different things for my birthday and I saw tears in people’s eyes. Guilt. Yes I feel guilty. Once again, I can’t be any more thankful for such loveliness. But all that was going around in my head is ‘it’s a shame they have done this because I won’t make it to the age of 31, and so I feel guilt for that’. Of course, self-hatred because I have all of these people doing these truly wonderful things for me and I want to kill myself. Not only that. It couldn’t go further than that. Just the fact that I can only take from all of these events and people’s words that all seem sincere, that PEOPLE CARE MORE ABOUT ME THAN I CARE ABOUT MYSELF. I don’t care about myself. It’s gone that far. I try and shake the thoughts of, again, I’ve been in and out of tearing up and crying, then agitation, rage, not knowing how to calm myself down, and that’s been all this evening.

Now, decided to lay in bed and put my nice fleece blanket on me and just lay there and pass the time. I couldn’t manage to watch videos on YouTube or anything. It must have been about three minutes that I laid there for and (here we go), as the title of this post, I feel like I am losing it. I am really losing it. Without thinking about it at all, I smacked myself very hard on my face several times. I was getting built up more and more and I couldn’t stop and just disconnect.

A split second decision is that I obviously need to do something…. SO what now? Cut myself? Burn myself? Scream? Cry? Cried and that didn’t work. Prayed. Cried even more. Medications? They do nothing even if I take a lot so it’s just pointless… So I guess this is what it comes down to…. Run to the shop, buy the things and so here is my evening ‘feast’ for my birthday. Celebrating like f***….

Trigger Happy Birthday

Trigger Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday to me, a f***ing loser and failure.