Diary Of A Cutter – Part 1

“Impossible“ – James Arthur

Sunday 2^nd December 2012

Today I cut myself for the first time in around six years. I cut my arm, three times, during the evening. I’d been thinking about it so much since Friday, and had started to prepare what I’d need. I’d been very down all day, and feel that my family don’t understand the pain I’m experiencing. I realise that that’s probably untrue, but I think cutting might get me through, and then I can focus on leaving it behind again. I’m surprised at how much I’m not disappointed in myself. I thought I would be. No one knows that it’s happened, and I’m going to try really hard not to let it happen again. It did help me to feel better. I forgot how much it helped. I feel like I’ve let people down by turning to it again, but I don’t ever intend for anyone to know.

Monday 3^rd December 2012

I went to the doctors today to increase my medication, and talk to someone about the thoughts and actions of my self harming. The doctor was fairly practical, advising that I should not be so hard on myself. My parents are in complete disagreement. They both challenged me this evening about my worsening mood. They’re getting fed up of me. I’m getting too hard to be around, and they don’t feel like I’m helping myself to get better. Probably because I don’t know how to.

Wednesday 5^th December 2012

It’s been a few days since I cut. I’m still not disappointed in myself, but am finding it hard to hide it from my friends and family. I don’t mean emotionally, I mean actually hiding the cuts. I feel a lot better since Monday, but I’m not sure how long it will last.

Friday 7^th December 2012

Today is my work Christmas party, and I’ve had a mad panic trying to find a suitable cardigan for the event that will cover my cuts. I really don’t want Emma’s sister (Sweetpea*) (who now works with me and will be attending tonight’s function) to see as I think she’ll tell Emma, and I can’t deal with her reaction right now. What I’ve done has got nothing to do with her, but I fear that she would intervene, and cause trouble. I’m not telling my family about cutting because I don’t want to hurt them. I’m so cross at myself for choosing my arm. I should have known better, and will cut my legs next time.

Sunday 9^th December 2012

It been a week since I last cut. I’m feeling better about it. I still have to be careful around my family, but it’s Winter so the hoodies aren’t setting off any suspicions. I’m not sure if I’ll feel the need to do it again. If I do, I’ll do what I did last time and wait for as long as possible before acting on the impulse. My mood’s been pretty steady, but I’m still a little detached and down. I’m hoping that I’ll improve, as I feel that in a week I’ve come a long way. I just hope that my emotions are more stable from now on.

Tuesday 12^th December 2012

I had a really bad day today. I’ve been bored at work which has afforded me too much thinking time. I feel like I can’t really talk to my friends as they might get fed up of me being so down, and my Mom might get cross with me. I hate what I’ve become and feel like I’m only a shadow of my former self. I don’t understand what happened between me and Emma, and can only come to the conclusion that there must be something seriously wrong with me. She couldn’t get away from me fast enough and I think I’m starting to realise why. I’m an emotional wreck; why would anyone want to be with me. When I got home, I made the decision to cut again once I’d gone to bed, but then talked a little about the Emma stuff with my Mom, and my mood lifted slightly. I didn’t act on self harm today, and will be a little more resilient in the future, but I should try not to be so hard on myself about it. But I am hard on myself, because I just want to know what I did wrong. Am I that bad a person that she couldn’t wait to have me out of her life?

Wednesday 13^th December 2012

I didn’t have too bad a day. Less time to think at work, because I was a bit busier. However, I was in the house on my own after work, and although I wasn’t down, I felt the compulsion to cut, and didn’t even try to resist. I cut the top of my leg five times. And again, I didn’t really feel disappointed in myself. That’s probably what’s worrying me the most; that fact that I don’t seem to care that I’m cutting, because if I don’t care, how will I ever stop again?

Saturday 15^th December 2012

I spent most of last night thinking about cutting myself. I’d confessed to Sweetpea in the car on the way home that I was cutting again; I needed to talk to someone. Needless to say, she tried to be as gentle as possible, but was worried about me, so made me promise that I’d book a doctor’s appointment and consider going back into counselling. I did make an appointment, but I really wanted to cut again. She was so disappointed in me. I know how much I’m letting people down. I only didn’t cut again as I thought, “It’s barely been two days”. I’ve got to try and space it out more. However, this morning I went shopping and bought a new “kit”. I’ve been using a blade from a disposable razor to cut, and tissue to cover the wounds, so today I bought a pack of double-edge razor blades, two packets of plasters, and some medical tape. I’ve put it all in a wooden box that I have so that everything’s in one place for when I feel the urge. I did have to try the kit out though. It’s like getting a new toy. I was excited about it, which I feel should be slightly worrying. I only cut once on my leg, but it still counts. I felt it relieved my internal pressure somewhat. I’ve also started photographing my injuries. Both when they’re fresh, and afterwards. I’m worried about how caught up in this I’m getting in self harm, as the eventual aim will be to break free of it again, but I’m not sure that I’m going to be able, or even want to.

Sunday 16^th December 2012

Today I started the Empty Chair Book. My first entry reads like this:

Dear Amy,

Although you’ve restarted your Blog, and are using it to record the daily trials of, not only your illness, but the effect of The Breakup on your mental stability, it seems that there are still things that need to be said. These things are not said, either due to them being too personal or emotionally painful, or, due to social convention or circumstances, cannot be said to the intended recipient. Therefore, there should be some sort of vent for these thoughts, which can be recorded here in the form of letters; never with the intention of being read, but purely so that they have been said. This may hopefully help you find your strength again, and to finally realise that it doesn’t lie within other people, but was there all along, if you’d only just had some faith. It’s not your fault. This is your empty chair.

I don’t know if it will help, but I do believe in the powers of finally letting go and saying what you really need to say. Maybe this is a healthier vent than cutting. But I’m not prepared to give up the latter just yet.

Tuesday 18^th December 2012

I cut again last night. Only three times, on my leg. It happened after I’d written a few entries in the Empty Chair Book. I was cross at myself, and felt completely worthless. Not too much different from other days.  The one person I thought would always care about me, doesn’t anymore, so maybe I am worthless.

Friday 21^st December 2012

The Empty Chair Book took a bashing today. So did my leg.

Monday 31^st December 2012

I’ve now cut on seven different occasions, the last being last night. But it’s okay. I’m getting better at hiding how much I hate myself, and how much I wish I was dead.

The Last Year: Illness And The Future

"Pain” –Three Days Grace

Needless to say that after The Breakup, I learned quickly that I was going to be fighting two wars; one to get over Emma and move on, and another against my Monster. I lost the battle against my Monster five days ago.

I’ve only cut just three times, during one incident, and hope that I won’t feel the necessity to repeat it, but it’s proved to me how shaky my mental stability is. However, I’m trying to turn around; I’ve upped my medication again, in line with doctor recommendation. I’m trying to be more cheerful, and like my usual self, but it’s very difficult to put a brave face on sometimes. Although I do have my moments when my smile shines through again. I’ve got to learn that Emma was only a small part of me, definitely not all, and that my life without her will eventually feel like it used to, I just have to let it.

So that’s all the catch-up. I’m now here, with a new Blog and a brand new me. With the same old Monster. 

The Last Year: Personal

"My Friend’s Over You ” –New Found Glory

So with the events of Emma, my life has been like a run-away train for the last year.

After leaving the old job, I quickly found out about a “Them and Us” atmosphere that’s often created when someone leaves a job, greatly enjoys their new job, whilst old friends still hate the old job. I’ve kept in touch with one or two people, but my friendships with even Peter and Lauryn have suffered. It probably didn’t help that after The Breakup, I avoided all old work colleagues as I didn’t have the heart to tell the few people that knew myself and Emma were a couple, that we were no longer a couple. It’s been done now, but I feel completely shut off from my old friends, as I’ve changed so much since leaving the old job, that I’m not sure they even know me that much anymore.  New chapters in life have always meant new friends to me, so although I miss my old friends, I am happy to just have fond memories of a time when life was somewhat simpler.

Having said that, I have gained a multitude of new friends. I seem to give people a very different impression of myself, than the view I have. Apparently, I’m sociable, and kind, and considerate, and funny! Who knew! Of course, during the last couple of months, it has been proven to me the caliber of people I choose to keep company with. As the rose-tinted glasses came off in regards to Emma, I had new ones, more realistic to wear, about how supportive and kind the new people in my life are. I’m being very well looked after, and will never be able to thank them enough.

About a year ago, I stopped going to the Dog Rescue Centre. A couple of months before my departure, I lost one of the dogs that regularly worked with, and found it very difficult to move beyond this. Changing circumstances (Emma) did not help the situation, and I just stopped going. After The Breakup, I made my decision to return to things that I felt I had given up for my relationship with Emma. The volunteer work that I did with the charity had always made me feel so positive before, and I wanted to get that feeling back. Upon return, there were fears that a particularly difficult dog I had previously worked with would no longer remember my friendly influence, and I would have to start from scratch with her. Cuddles* remembered me completely, and greeted me by jumping into my lap and licking my face. Only two weeks ago, I was able to pick her up and carry her for the first time. I was incredibly proud. And so was my Dad. Whom Cuddles still bites at every available opportunity. So my work there will continue, and I won’t give it up for anyone but myself this time.

As you can see, I’m returning to my old interest of blogging. I feel that it’s a good way to work through whatever I’m experiencing at the moment, and I still love to write. I now have more free time, and want to use that time for good. Either for myself, or for you, the reader. In keeping with this attitude, I have also applied to volunteer for Samaritans, as a telephone listener. I know my own mental stability isn’t at its highest level right now, but the selection day for the start of training is a few months away yet, and I’m near enough positive that I’ll be able to return to my usual mindset by then. Volunteering for Samaritans is something I have always wanted to do. I want to use my version of crazy to help people. Nothing reaches someone more that someone who’s been there and can relate to your feelings. I relate a little closely for my liking at the moment, but time will straighten that out for me.

I’m finally retuning to reading. After almost a month of not being able to concentrate for longer than four minutes at a time, my love for reading is being renewed. I’m coming home to something I have truly missed over the last year, having only read a handful of books in the last year. An amount which I would usually fly through in less than a month. As a celebration, my lovely parents have decided to get me a Kindle for Christmas. I have finally succumbed to peer pressure and am going digital. It’s also going to save me so much money, and I will finally have in my possession a copy of the DSM, which in paperback version usually costs around £70, but in Kindle version cost a grand total of…..£0.77! This has allowed me to look forward to something for the first time since she walked out of my life, so a good step forward all round. I give it a week after Christmas before my Mom moans that I spend too much time reading.

And finally, I now have a new hobby too. Studying. Well, to be more accurate, studying HTML. When I started my new job, I hit it off with the design and web-team manger who happens to be Little One’s boyfriend. Lawrence* has tried to head-hunt me a few times from Daisy, to be part of his own team, but my boss will not let me go. A fact which I take as quite a big compliment. However, he has taken it upon himself to involve me rather a lot in his type if work, and seemed thrilled when I said that wanted to learn how to write and read code (HTML, PHP, and XTML). With his help, I’m now learning this invaluable skill in my spare time. It’s something that I feel is worth doing as it’s a skill I can use even if I leave my new job. Plus, whereas when I started learning, I was only able to give it about an hour a week, I now have a lot more time on my hands, which is best put to constructive use.

There are a few more details to how my personal life is shaping up, but I’ll fill you in as the Blog progresses. All you need to know right now is that, my life hasn’t hit a complete dead-end. I’m neither alone, nor bored.

The Last Year: Family

“Changes” – Kelly Osbourne Ft. Ozzy Osbourne

My family life has changed dramatically over the last year or so. My budding friendship and eventual relationship with Emma meant that I began to distance myself from everyone around me. I was so preoccupied with her, that I forgot the other people in my life. I rarely spent time with my Mom the way I used to, and even had a good few talking-tos from my Dad who felt I was neglecting the thing that used to be the dearest to me: Puppy. I would argue with my Mom and Dad on a frequent basis, and tended to feel like I should just keep my head down and get on with things. I didn’t take their feelings into account; something which I now sorely regret.

And when it all fell apart, who was there for me, picking up the pieces?

Mom and Dad and Puppy.

I’ve learnt my lesson, and am starting afresh with them. Working to build on old foundations, and have a new family dynamic. It’s all in baby steps, but I couldn’t have done without their support over the last couple of months. And Puppy’s. He knows when his Mommy is sad, and is sticking to me like glue, whenever I’m home. I feel terrible that even after the way I treated them for so long, they still want to help me over-come the most horrible thing to ever happen to me. When I pointed this out to my Dad, he replied with some of the wisest (and most undeserved, on my part) words I have ever heard him utter: “We’re your parents. It’s our job, mate.” Thank you Mom and Dad.

The Last Year: Complicated (Emma)

“Lego House” –Ed Sheeran

We’d grown closer and closer over the few months between visiting Brighton and the date this e-mail was sent, and occasionally Emma had begun to drop small hints that her feelings might be developing into something more than friendship. I already knew that I loved her, as an amazing friend, and had told her as much, but were my feelings growing to? Had I fallen in-love? I had to e-mail her.

Needles to say, she did reply to that e-mail, but as it was incredibly personal, I don’t want to reproduce it here. We discussed the finer details the next day, and officially became a couple on Sunday the 27^th of November 2011.

I can’t really go into much detail on this one as it’s far too painful. I’ll write a more thorough post at some point in the not-so-distant future, but at this time, I’ll keep it brief.

We were together for 11 months (some of the best in my life; being head-over-heels in love), and then on Saturday the 3^rd of November2012, my life came crashing down around me when Emma ended our relationship. She wanted to remain friends, but after putting me through so much pain for reasons that I still don’t fully understand, I felt I couldn’t be that for her, and have terminated all contact. And I still miss her every day, over a month later. I’ll never be the person I was in that relationship ever again. And so you now understand why I felt I had to re-start the Monster In Me Blog; because my monster is back…..with a vengeance.

The Last Year: Work

“Cubicles” – My Chemical Romance

On the first of November 2011 I got moved across office to sit next to my best friend. And we had the best of times. Amy and Emma land was open.

At the end of November, our relationship status changed (that will be explained in due course), and then on the 2^nd of December, my best friend was made redundant. The last shred of joy that I had whilst working within that company was lost. I was left with the terrible realization that although work had helped me through my troubles in the past; it was now the one major trouble that I had yet to conquer.

A few redundancies were occurring within the company, and I looked to another department (away from my slightly psychotic senior-manager) to find solace. I applied for one of the positions being brought about through redundancies, and I shone. I have never had such complimentary feed-back after an interview before. Although I didn’t get the position, the encouragement that I received boosted my esteem so much, that I believed I could finally escape the oppression that I was suffering in my current role.

I started to apply for every job that I could think of. In cities a distance from my home-town, in sectors I had no knowledge of, jobs below my rank. Absolutely anything; just to be free.

And I kept applying. And kept applying. And then. . . I applied for some more. Of the approximate 300 jobs I applied for, I got six interviews. Six!

After my first interview, having being turned down yet again, someone gave me an invaluable piece of advice: “You’re too good at the sector you work in to give it up and change career paths now. Go that way.” And that’s when I started applying to companies similar to the one I worked at. And I found my dream job.

I initially applied for the job believing that it was beyond my skill set, but so that I would be able to get my CV into the company for review. I was utterly shocked when they wanted to actually interview me for that role. I have never enjoyed an interview so much before. I felt confident, and like I had a real chance of getting the job. I eagerly awaited the decision, and was absolutely distraught when I was turned down for the job. The HR manager called me to let me know, but said that they (the HR manager and company MD) had really liked me, but they couldn’t offer me the position at that time, as an internal applicant had come up. They would keep my details on file, and would definitely think of me in the future. I began my job search again, but the problem was that I now knew where I wanted to work; I just had to get my foot in the door.

Shortly after this interview, my current senior manager (demented) had started to move a large bulk of my workload to other people within the department. Then came the news that three of us, including myself, would receive “risk of redundancy” letters, but that all three jobs would be amalgamated into two positions, and that all three of us would instantly be entered into the running for these two jobs. So of three, only one of us would actually lose our job. My general feeling, due to the movement of workload, was that the decision had already been made.

I spoke to our HR manager, who was next to useless, but the legal advice bureau that I spoke to about the situation wasn’t. I was being made redundant unlawfully. I finally had all the ammunition that I needed. I walked into a meeting with my crazy boss, head held high, and strangely enough, the redundancy proceedings stopped there. But it was too late; I was already lost.

I’d kept an eye on any other jobs being advertised by the new company, and rang the HR manager about a temporary admin job being advertised. I was told by her, that I was too good for that role, but that she’d be in touch with me soon about another role that may become available (and that was suitable) within the near future. Little did I know that the internal applicant for my initially interviewed role, was definitely not working out, and was soon to get the chop.

On the 27^th of April, at three o’clock, I received that call that I’d been waiting for four months to hear. “We’d like to offer you the role of Publishing Co-Ordinator. Are you happy to accept?” Happy! I was overjoyed. The role meant that I’d be working for a small firm, which publishes self-help titles on everything from mental illness, to surfing. I’d be overseeing all editing of the books, would be commissioning new titles of my choice, would be reading and reviewing manuscripts, and picking authors. My job’s expanded a little since I started, and I still love every single day that I get to go to work.

I left my old job, two weeks later, with a two week holiday in front of me, renewed confidence, and a sense that my career was finally going where I wanted it to go. My last day at the old job, was heart-breaking after six years of service, but I left it with fond memories of everyone that I had met there. My first day at the new job, after getting a huge pay-rise, was terrifying, but I got through it, and have never been so happy to go to work in my life. The people are great. I’ve made some fantastic friends, one of which is Peaches*. In the department we work in, which is only a small division of a much larger company, there is the boss, Daisy*, who works upstairs, and then an office with Peaches and me. She’s a good old girl, and has proven herself to be an awesome colleague and exceptional friend. I was given no choice but to like her, although it’s pretty hard not to. Sometimes, she can be a little black-and-white, and has a severe lack of empathy, but she makes me smile, has taught me that I can be a good friend to, and I enjoy all eight hours a day that I spend in her company.

My new boss was just as easy to take to. A diamond in the rough, she’s built up, along with her sister, an amazing company, which was handed down from her parents. Two years my junior, she’s accomplished so much in her life, whilst remaining down-to-earth (common) and hilarious to boot. I’ve never had a manager ask to progress me before, or had them be impressed by my skills. It’s all very new to me, but I’m learning to take a compliment better every day, as I seem to get a whole bunch here. This new feeling allowed me to halve my medication dose within the space of two months. A very positive move indeed. And one that I was proud of.

I met some amazing people at my new job, people that I really depend on. Including the very same HR manager that offered me the job. She went through an experience similar to Lauryn’s childhood abuse, and I showed my true colours the evening that we were all out together. Knowing how I’d want someone to act, when she was confronted by her abuser, my instinctive reaction was to defend her, and step in between the two of them, until her boyfriend had been summoned to the rescue. For this, what was to me, a small act of kindness of my part, I’ve made a very strong friend, and I began to feel that I could actually talk about my craziness without fear of judgment. I am completely accepted, which, in turn, has helped me to accept myself more. I’m not all bad! Unfortunately, Little One*has now left the company, but her legend lives on, and we’re still in close contact; the three of us (Peaches, me, and Little One) becoming almost akin to the three musketeers. And we cause about the same amount of trouble.

N.B. This post is the first, except for “The New Introduction” post, of the new writings.

Our First Holiday

“One Armed Scissor” - At The Drive-In

I mentioned in my very first Blog entry about a diabetic forum that Emma belongs to, and whom inspired her to start her own Blog. A few times a year there are “diabetic meets”,r where people who belong to the forum have a social gathering to share experiences and stories, and of course, some laughs. Emma, being relatively new to diabetes, only really stated attending earlier this year. Nervous about her first meet, as she can be a little shy, and although she knows many people through the forum, she’d never actually met them, she asked me to go with her to her first meet. Now, I’m not diabetic, but the forum organisers assured her that friends and family were welcome to join, so I tagged along for moral support. We both had a really fun time. Everyone was so friendly, and despite a few awkward moments where I explained to people that my pancreas did in fact work, and that I was an honouree diabetic for the day, we shared a lot of laughs. I’ve always been hugely grateful to the members of the forum for how much they have helped and supported Emma through her adaption to diabetes, and it was a real joy to meet these people in person.

A few months ago, she mentioned that there was to be another meet, and that I again, had an invitation. This time, rather than London, the meet would be held in Brighton. Well, cogs started turning, and before long I asked Emma if she fancied making it into a weekend away. Brighton is a massively long journey for just a day trip, and I haven’t been on holiday since before my puppy came into my life, due to the probable separation anxiety. My anxiety, not his, I hasten to add. But a weekend away with my bestie seemed like a great idea. She jumped at the opportunity, so after many weeks of careful planning (involving constant list making on my part), we were off on our first holiday together. Two nights away at the sea-side.

We has a bit of a “two birds with one stone” situation with Brighton. I have never in my life been to a gay bar! I’ve known about my wandering sexuality since I was in my mid-teens, and although a minor few of my closest and oldest friends are aware of the situation, I only came-out into the open at the beginning of last year. I found this process terrifying, but also exhilarating. I’d always hidden my sexuality so closely, and now I could be honest and frank about it. However, there is very little chance for me to actually putting this now available information into practice; I come from a small-rural town, where gay still means happy! And I’m pretty closed about meeting new people. But going to Brighton, the gay capital of the UK, led the most surprising of people to suggest that I “check out the scene”.

On the first night we had in Brighton, myself and Emma waltzed into my very first gay bar. And I might as well have worn a sign say “Newbie”! I was shaking from head to toe; both with mild excitement, and intense fear. I needn’t’ have worried; the bar tender was lovely, and could obviously sense my nervousness. After all, I suppose every gay/bisexual person goes through the same thing at some point in their lives. Emma gave me some really good advice once we had sat down; “Don’t think about the fact it’s a gay bar, just pretend it’s a bar”. And so I did. And although I didn’t “make any new friends”, I slowly relaxed and grew more comfortable with my surroundings. By the end of the night, I’d completely forgotten that I should have been exercising my pulling skills, and was just having a really fun time people watching and chatting away with Emz.

So thanks to Emma’s support and encouragement, I’m no longer a gay bar virgin, and we had an awsome weekend. The diabetes meet went really well, with Emma being a bit more out-going now that she knew a few more people. We had an amazing time on the pier, and a thoroughly memorable weekend. I think Emma’s highlight was doing her evening insulin injection in a deck chair on the end of Brighton Pier. Hopefully there‘ll be plenty more holidays to come.

N.B. This post was written in August 2011, so therefore belongs to the previous set of Blog writings, but was not posted previously.

Symptoms

“I Don’t Care” - The Blackout

Although I have suffered with Clinical Depression for a number of years, I feel relatively lucky in terms of my illness. I’m very high-functioning, having been able to keep my depression symptoms to an almost unnoticeable level for a long time, and I am excruciatingly self-aware. This has allowed me to spot the usual symptoms and signs of an approaching “down” period with relative ease. Depression often manifests itself in very physical ways. These symptoms or side-effects may mean very little on their own, but added together, they can be a true indication of where in the depression scale you’re currently sitting. Many of these symptoms vary within each individual, and may not even be contributed to depression.

Some of the physical symptoms of depression are as below, along with, how and if I have suffered with them:

Ÿ  Irregular/disturbed sleeping patterns - this is my first and most severe symptom. When I am distressed, my sleep is always the first thing that will be affected, hence, my certain brand of medication. I suffer insomnia, difficulties getting to and staying asleep, frequent wake-ups during the night, and nightmares, leading me to be infuriatingly tired for all normal waking hours. However, some people’s depression can be seen by exactly the opposite; they will sleep during the day, for a massive amount of time (which can be sometimes seen as an escape mechanism).

Ÿ  Irregular appetite - I already eat slightly out of sync, as I don’t eat breakfast (unless you count coffee and cigarettes), and whilst I am at work, I rarely have anything to eat at lunch-time. But when I do eat, I have a very healthy appetite. However, if I’m feeling a little depressed, or if I’m experiencing any anxiety, I won’t eat. I just won’t be hungry. Again, as with sleep, the polar-opposite can be true of some people, where they will comfort eat (usually alot more than they would usually eat) as a way to make themselves feel better.

Ÿ  Lack of concentration - I love to read; I’ll read anything I can get my hands on. But if I’m depressed, I will become restless, and will not be able to concentrate enough to read at all. I won’t be able to watch television, or anything that requires me sitting still and thinking for more than two minutes. My work tends to suffer, as I go into automatic mode, because I can’t concentrate, and will then make mistakes (that can often be quite costly in my job-role).

Ÿ  Lack of motivation/interest - When I’m down, I have no motivation to do anything, and very little interest in any external activity that may actually make me feel better.

Ÿ  Severe headaches - I suffer with headaches a great deal when I am depressed or stressed. This could be due to the lack of sleep, or just one of those things, but it can be quite awful.

Ÿ  Social withdrawal - I am constantly on my Blackberry normally, either bbm-ing the BFF or on Twitter, but when I’m depressed, I have been known to actually turn my phone off (shock-horror). I start trying to avoid being with people and that’s the first thing I do to withdraw. I’ll spend the majority of my time alone (by choice), and find it difficult to even communicate with my family.

Ÿ  Nausea/shakes - I mainly experience these symptoms when my depression is anxiety caused, but I’ll feel sick constantly, and get very shaky, possibly due to high adrenaline levels.

Ÿ  Hot flushes - my temperature gradually rises when I am depressed, until it’s quite obvious that I’m boiling hot, as I usually go bright red in the face, and start trying to blow over my upper lip onto my face.

Ÿ  High blood-pressure - this can be caused by extreme stress, and something I’m only just starting my fight against. I mainly blame my depression, but the way you run your average day when depressed (no sleep, no food) could be a major contributing factor.

Ÿ  Tearfulness - I think this is pretty self-explanatory, but it can be very severe, and rather embarrassing at times. No-one wants to be seen bursting into tears in the middle of a supermarket, but it has happened to me many times.

Ÿ  Stuttering - When extremely anxious, or depressed, I do stutter. Not too severely, but, again, it can be quite an embarrassing symptom. However, the people that know why it’s happening, just tend to ignore it.

Ÿ  Poor personal care - I won’t even brush my hair for days on end. This can be more severe, but I try to keep on top of this symptom, as it can be a large give-away to the fact that you are suffering.

Ÿ  Nervous skin picking - this is probably my most destructive symptom. My particular patterns involves biting/picking at the skin on my fingers, to the point of bleeding, picking/biting the skin on my lip, again, until it bleeds, picking at the skin on my face, and my all-time favourite, scratching at my scalp, again, to the point of bleeding (which has the great effect of making people think I have nits).

Ÿ  Suicidal/self-harm thoughts/actions - I haven’t self-harmed for about six years now, but it’s almost instinctive for me to have these thoughts when I am down: I just choose not to act on them anymore. I have experienced suicidal thoughts (and even actions) before, and it’s probably the most dangerous thing caused by depression

So those, for me, are the major symptoms of depression but there are many others that I may never have experienced. Being aware of what these symptoms are can mean that you can pre-empt the depression, and beat it before it gets too unruly.

N.B. This post was written in August 2011, so therefore belongs to the previous set of Blog writings, but was not posted previously.

Sometimes I Get Real Lonely

"Summertime” - My Chemical Romance

Sometimes I get real lonely. There, I said it. Sometimes, being single, sucks. There, I said that too.

You wouldn’t know I get lonely. I have amazing friends, and an awesome family, and I probably couldn’t be more loved. I know I’m lucky, and I really don’t want to sound ungrateful. Some people never have a true friend in their whole life, and I have plenty. Some people will always feel like the odd one out of the family, when I rarely do. But some people also find love, and I haven’t.

I’m not sure weather it’s my age (I recently turned 25 years old) that’s making me feel this part of my life so heavily, or whether it’s that I’m actually ready to re-start this part of my life, but I’m starting to feel like my time is running out. The little things in life tell me that I’m not as young as I used to be. I get achy first thing in the morning. Walking, let alone running, up the stairs leaves me slightly out of breathe (although this could be largely due to the twenty cigarettes a day I huff on). Painting my toe nails is now a half-hour of groaning and moaning whilst I try to reach my feet. And yet, despite all these intricate changes, I’m still alone.

I haven’t dated since I got my head straight (yeah, it‘s been a while), so I feel incredibly out of touch. I was never great at dating, but more at getting drunk and then falling into bed with people, but I miss that initial spark; the excitement of meeting someone new that you connect with. It doesn’t help that, due to my teetotalness, I no longer socialise in pubs, and when I do, I probably wouldn’t be comfortable with meeting someone this way. I’m not up for a drunken fumble; I’d like to spend time with someone that makes me laugh, and that I share things in common with. A Friday or Saturday night in the pub is unlikely to find me such a person.

I have some really awesome friends that allow me a vast amount of companionship, and affection (once you’re in the personal space bubble you get a free pass, and a hug for every occasion), but occasionally I feel something might be missing. Not from me, because I’m pretty happy as a whole, but there’s just a space where something (although I’m not sure what) should be.

The massive problem is…..that I’m actually really scared.

Although my confidence is at the highest it has been since I was about thirteen years old, it’s till thoroughly fragile. I’m still fragile. I haven’t been the person that I now am for very long. I’m still getting used to this new, and sometimes odd, emotion of being relatively happy and contented. And I’m terrified that “getting back on the scene” might mean rejection, and pain. Pain and rejection that I’m not sure I can handle. Sometimes I under-estimate myself, and I know that I could probably cope with anything these days (sometimes you have no choice but to carry on, and eventually the pain will lessen), but that’s part of my worry. Everything concerning this subject is pretty much brand new to me, so I don’t have any idea of how I would act; or even how I’m supposed to.

I’m also frightened to admit to myself, and the people that I care about, that I feel this way because, if I want something, but haven’t got it, I’m loosing at something. And if I admit that I want something, and then get completely crushed, it will hurt so much to have to acknowledge this. I guess it’s really complicated, and I’m sure as hell being inarticulate, but I still feel that this is the one area of my life that my illness holds me back in.

I’m prone to over-analysis, I’m astoundingly socially awkward, but I wish that I could find someone that saw past those neurotic parts of me, and saw only a person with a lot of love to share.

N.B. This post was written in August 2011, so therefore belongs to the previous set of Blog writings, but was not posted previously.

The New Introduction

I started a Blog around eighteen months ago (www.fallenangelkilljoy86-monsterinme.blogspot.co.uk), and then, due to changing circumstances, I didn’t really keep it going. However, these circumstances have now changed again, for the worse I may add, so I’m returning to something that I found of huge benefit to me. It’s cathartic for me to put my thoughts out there, so I’ve decided to put pen to paper (or hand to keyboard) again.

All of these events that have led me to write again will be explained in the section of the blog that will be entitled “The Last Year”. Everything until that entry was written previously, so although some of it is no longer applicable, it seems furtive to post it here. It tells a long story which cumulates with the post mentioned above, which, apart from this introduction, is the first of my new writings.

From there on it’s all fresh, and is probably going to be very hard for me to write, but although I feel this points out my spiral downwards, it must be done, if nothing more than to give people an insight into the mind of a crazy person. Crazy isn’t fun. Crazy means that you’ll always be alone. But I’ll get to that.....