Unravelling

A couple of weeks ago my counsellor wrote a letter to my GP explaining her concern about my cutting and my use of quetiapine in a haphazard manner. I tried myself to reach my GP but kept being told that there was nothing available, blah blah….Well on Monday, I was told the same thing only to be called a little later in the morning to be told there had been a cancellation and would I like the appointment.

So off I went at 9.30am to see the GP. Initially she took that the appointment was just regarding the chronic insomnia, but as the appointment went on she picked up on little things in the letter my counsellor had written.

First, the cutting. Did I still have urges to cut? Yes, although I haven’t for a couple of weeks or so.

Quetiapine, who had originally prescribed it to me? – The psychiatrist

My GP informed me that she was going to refer me back to the mental health team and the psychiatrist because of my self-harming.

FUCK – SHIT – BOLLOCKS – FUCK – I really didn’t want to be refered back. Shit.

She told me she was going to refer me that day and that I should have an appointment within two weeks. I think I slumped in the chair. There wasn’t much to say.

Then I asked if she could print out a prescription for the meds I am currently on. She told me she was only prescribing me two weeks worth of my anti-depressants because she was concerened about my self-harming and didn’t want to risk me overdosing. I’M NOT FUCKING SUICIDAL AND ITS CHRISTMAS – FUCK FUCK FUCK

I tried to argue the point but she was adamant that this was the safest option for me and that she had a responsibility to ensure that I was safe with the meds. BOLLOCKS…

So, with my pathetic two weeks worth of venlafaxine I left the surgery and came home. As I got in I felt this big black cloud settle around me. I am disappointed, frustrated, angry, and just so fucking pissed off with everything right now.

I am the furthest from being ready for christmas that I have ever been. I would like for it to just fuck off. I am  feeling very bah humbug. Nothing has been done, the tree still isn’t up, no presents have been bought, I have no money and I would much rather disappear into a stoned fog and not have to think about anything.

On top of the crap to do with christmas I have a load of work for uni to do. I have put in for extensions, but they all fall on the 6th Jan and there is no way I can do the work in the time frame. My brain just isn’t functioning too well.

I mentioned a little while ago that I had disclosed some information to my counsellor about some of the abuse I endured, I shared it on here too. It was a FUCKING mistake to share it at all. Not because she wasn’t great, she was. But because it was too soon and pushed myself to hard. I wasn’t ready for all the feelings it would leave me with, the emotions and thoughts that would take over. Nor was I ready for the hideous nightmares and chronic insomnia that would re-establish itself into my life.

I feel gutted that despite all the hard work of pushing through everything last year and making headway to feeling ‘normal’ I am just taking step after step backwards. I feel weak and pathetic. I feel so much anger towards myself for the inability to just be able to move on. I want nothing more than to move on from the past, no one wants to have the past effect their future. No one sits around brooding about things gone by. We learn, we change and adapt and we move forward. Isn’t that how it’s meant to be???

Over the course of the last week or so I have felt like I have been reaching the end of what I can cope with. My head is a mess, uni is a mess, normal daily living is a mess. I feel like I have lost all hope and reached a constant flow of despair. Being refered back to the psychiatrist is like the icing on the cake. It is like a signpost that says, “yep lib, you’re totally and utterly fucking screwed. Welcome to your reality.”

I have been drinking a little more than usual because I felt like I needed to take the edge off and I also know that it enhances the effects of temazepam and quetiapine. I just want to sleep, mindless boring sleep. However, although I have been sleeping thanks to the quetiapine, the nightmares have been hideous and I am constantly exhausted and feel like my mood has got gradually lower and lower as the days have gone by.

If you read my last post you will know that I found some extra quetiapine and 3 co-codamol tablets. Well, I still have some of those quetiapine tablets but I took all 3 of the co-codamol. Not all together but over the course of 3 days or something like that.

Following seeing the GP I had to go to uni to see a lecturer about some coursework. It was eerily quiet at the campus but it was nice to be there. I do love uni, I just wish I didn’t have this ridiculous fear about being there when it’s busy.

Driving home I remembered that I had to get dinner. I didn’t have my cash card so had to a clever thing with the bank and my phone and took out emergency cash. I don’t carry cash or my card at the moment because it means I am less likely to go to the pharmacy. Anyway, I had to get dinner and I couldn’t be bothered to come home just to have to go back out again.

I bought dinner, got back in my car and headed home. BUT, I took a detour up the local high street to where the pharmacy is. I went in and bought a box of co-codamol. I took 2 when I got back in the car, another 2 about 3 hours later and a further 2 another couple of hours later. I spent the evening chilling out with my son watching movies. It was great. I felt great.

Tuesday arrived, I slept until quiet late thanks to the quetiapine. At 3 pm I called my counsellor to update her about the GP. We have been speaking on the phone on Tuesdays for about 8 weeks or so. I really struggle a lot so having a brief chat can help. I told her that I was being referred back to the stupid psychiatrist because of the cutting and that my meds had been reduced in quantity because of the fear of my suddenly becoming suicidal. She asked me how I felt about it. I was honest and told her I was pissed off. That I was angry and disappointed.

I also told her about the co-codamol. She sounded angry, but I am learning that what I take as someone being angry is more likely to be worry. I get very confused sometimes. I had originally planned not to tell her, but she is the one person that I feel I can be truthful with. I do get frightened that she’s going to get angry with me, think that I am waste of space and send me on my way. That terrifies me.

So, I am a pathetic piece of shit because Ive been clean for a year and now I am taking those pills again. I have not taken any today, although I want one. I am trying to stay in control, not take them everyday. But it’s really hard and I am not sure that I can keep to that. I don’t want to be addicted again, but right now I don’t know what else to do. I don’t feel like I can handle the shit that’s going on in my life. For a few hours since taking the co-codamol I have interacted with my son, I have managed to do some work and I have for a little while not had noisy, horrible thoughts or feelings. It has been better just for a couple of hours. Right now I would rather have a couple of happy hours than have to sit with these feelings and get to the point where I feel suicidal.