Falling apart to make progress

TRIGGER WARNING suicidal thoughts

Yesterday was one of the worst days I’ve experienced in a long time. I just didn’t know what to do with myself. These horrible voices telling me that I am a loser, a waste of space, worthless and a freak. They were screaming at me that I shouldn’t be here any more and that I should just take my pills and wash them down with a bottle of cheap rum.

I listened, took some pills but avoided drinking. I felt overwhelmed by the voices but figured that a couple of co-codamol and doing something to distance and distract myself from these thoughts was the better thing to do. I tried to carry through with this plan, but the noise in my head was unrelenting. I called my care co-cordinator because I knew I needed help. She asked if i wanted to go to hospital. The thought was appealing but I can’t just go, my kids and husband need to be considered.

My husband and I have discussed the idea of my going to rehab to detox from cocodamol and zopiclone. I don’t want to do this at home as I think it would be far too much in front of the children. They don’t need to see me like that. One of the options we have is for my hubby to ask his work to move all his holiday to make it so he can take it all in one go so I can go away. I relayed this thought to my cc who suggested a local residential rehab facility. However if i want to be referred there I have to attend the same drug and alcohol service which caused so many issues last summer. It’s a place I never want to see again but I know I can’t carry on as I am. I’m an addict, if i give up one thing I am searching for another. It’s not healthy and I need to understand why I do this. Why I have to have drugs, alcohol or cigarettes to manage.

On finishing the call I took a few minutes just to mull things over. I vaguely recall feeling relieved having talked to someone but then this enormous sense of pressure swept over me. I had to go back to a place I feel unsafe and which is going to take away my coping strategy. I suddenly felt scared.

I went into my kitchen and started to make myself some tea. I opened the fridge door and there it was, this bottle of rum which I had got at Christmas. I hadn’t touched it. I got the milk out, shut the door and walked away but this voice kept telling me to drink it. Eventually I gave in and I had some. I drank it neat from the bottle. Just a couple of mouthfuls. I told myself that it was ok, I wasn’t drunk and I would be fine when the kids came home.

I phoned the drug and alcohol place to get some help. I spoke to the receptionist who said she would get the duty worker to call me when he was finished on the phone.

I was somewhat relieved but I felt anxious and the thoughts in my head were racing around. I don’t know what happened but I suddenly I burst into tears. They just fell hard and fast, I couldn’t breathe. I just felt myself falling apart and the only thing I wanted was the cocodamol and the booze. So I took two more and swallowed them down with the rum. I put it back in the fridge, seconds later I went back for more…I couldn’t put it down. The feeling it gave me as I felt it go down was somehow comforting. I don’t know if that makes any sense. I drank about a 3rd of the bottle in less than 10 minutes. I hadn’t eaten anything plus I had codeine and paracetamol in my system, the effect was I got drunk really quickly. But I wanted to keep drinking and to take more pills. Inside I knew this was a mistake and that I would end up overdosing and whilst I was feeling suicidal this wasn’t what I wanted, this wasn’t my plan….I became more freaked out and I was frightened that I couldn’t control the urge to drink and take more…I didn’t know what to do: I could tweet or blog but I couldn’t focus. Make tea or, go to bed or watch TV. None of these seemed to be enough, so I called one friend and then another and then another.

I have made some amazing friends on twitter and I am really grateful to them for being there yesterday. I talked with one of them for four and a half hours. She helped distract me so that i didn’t drink or take any more. I’m not sure I’d be here blogging if it hadn’t have been for these friends.

Telling my husband when he got home was something I knew that I had to do. He was angry but in a worried way. I hate hurting him. Trying to ensure that he understands that he and the kids have done nothing wrong and that I want to be here for them is really hard work. How can he believe that I’m being honest when I do stupid things like getting myself drunk and taking too many pills? I wouldn’t believe me either.

In the lead up to the breakdown I had almost two years ago and the following months, I had flashbacks and hallucinations of things which happened in the past. The drinking, drugs, self harm and suicidal thoughts could be explained by the past trauma. My diagnosis of bpd made sense. My symptoms fit, the trauma from the past and how it’s effected me suddenly had a place to belong. It no longer had to be something which I had to keep quiet about. It was ok to talk about it and for the first time in my life I could.

Fast forward to now and things seem to have just disintegrated, not slowly either. It’s taken less than 3 weeks to be in such a bad way. Last week the suicidal thoughts came out of nowhere. And they haven’t stopped. They have just got louder and louder, the urge just has got stronger. It’s horrible. I’ve got things I want to do. I’m 35, I’ve got kids and a husband, I want to go to uni and make something of myself. I want to see my children grow up and I want to see my grandchildren etc. But despite all these desires, I can’t imagine getting there or achieving anything close to this. My head contradicts itself and whilst I fight like mad to stay in control it’s not that simple. And actually I’m at a point in time where control seems to just slip through my fingers like water. I have it, I do what I can to keep it but it’s slowly draining away.

I’ve mentioned before how my medication isn’t working. It’s not like I’m on the highest dose of prozac, I’m not. I’m on the highest dose of venlafaxine that you’re able to get in the community, I take quetiapine and citalopram. At night I also take zopiclone. Throw in my addiction to co-codamol and I’m on a lot of meds. BUT THEY DON’T HELP!!!!

On Tuesday I went to counselling. I was scared of going because I had missed last weeks session and thought she would be pissed at me. She wasn’t pissed off with me at all, she was happy that I had gone even though I was nervous. I hadn’t seen her since I started feeling suicidal so there was a lot to talk about.

Today I went along to dbt. It was a hard session as I really didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be at home. I was really agitated and found that the noise of their talking and laughter just made all my nerves feel like they were on fire. I wanted to get out and not be with anyone. I didn’t want to hear about their problems or their thoughts about how to deal with being in crisis. I don’t hate myself for what happened to me as a kid right now or in my first marriage. I don’t think about it. I don’t dream about it so much. When I do I use the dbt skills to get through it. But it’s not all consuming me at this moment. Nothing has happened to make me feel so depressed. I struggle like crazy to make any sense of why I feel like this. I don’t fucking know. I wish I did because then maybe I could do something to make myself feel better.

I stuck with the dbt today and straight after I met with my care co-cordinator. It’s the second time I’ve met her and I was a little nervous but she was brilliant, talking to her on the phone yesterday definitely helped. She emailed the manager after we finished talking yesterday to say we had spoken, we were meeting and to find out what was happening with the new psychiatrist, if one had been allocated to me yet.

I told her what happened yesterday, how bad I got etc. She would have seen me next week but it’s half term and I’m hoping I’ll be ok. If I’m not then she will come and see me at my home and if I’m in really bad shape she will arrange for the home treatment team to come and check on me. Something which I think will be of some reassurance to my husband.

The best news is that the manager told her this morning that I have a psychiatrist and that we can arrange an appointment for next week. I am hopeful that this will be the right person to work with. There is also a recognised sense of urgency for a med review. It’s apparently all over my notes. I have called the mht a lot over the past two weeks. More than I ever have before because I am trying really hard to battle all of this and keep myself going.

This evening I am really tired. My head is aching and I feel very overwhelmed at all that has happened. The kids broke up this afternoon for half term, I feel agitated but glad that they are home. I feel they keep me grounded and safe.

I am going to call the drug place again tomorrow and sort getting help with my addiction. I’m ashamed of myself for being dependent on pills and the fact that I would take anything if it means I don’t have to think. Perhaps with the new turn of events and a second opinion I will get the help and support that I need. I’ve never once given up and have continued to fight hard even when I have been at my lowest. These suicidal thoughts I have right now are hideous, I recognise that it’s not a rational way to be, but it’s very hard to ignore the strong urges and at times I seem powerless to prevent the crazy things I do.

I wish it were a case of snapping my fingers and making it all disappear, but if that was possible then I wouldn’t need help and support. I wouldn’t be ill.

One thing which is quite a big deal for me is that since the first little low feeling I have had this time, I have communicated with everyone that I have needed to. I have sought help and done my best to distance and challenge things. I have bpd, but from all that I am doing and the way I am feeling, this isn’t bpd related…the triggers they look for haven’t happened. I wish my previous psychiatrist had listened to me when I’ve been feeling strange but nothing has happened. She didn’t listen.

It makes me feel sad that I have had to get to this state to be taken seriously and for there to be some progress made finally. Having some support makes me feel less isolated and like I’m not a hypercondriac. Today, that knowledge has been such a massive help in not doing anything stupid. I can’t promise I won’t do anything because I don’t know. But I can promise I will seek help and support and keep fighting as best as I can.

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