Over the weekend my OCD was bad. I was upset that I couldn’t find some items of clothing, some of which had sentimental value to me. I couldn’t let it go. I paced around the house until I was delirious. My dad and I talk about there being a “black hole” in the house. Things just disappear. But my weekend was still a bit better than I was expecting. I discovered a term for the “attacks” I’ve been getting (such as the one I wrote about here): dissociative seizures. On Sunday I took some dexamphetamine, which gave me a little high and a push to go out. The drug wears off quickly, but still I will take any break in the clouds there is. Over the weekend my suicidal urges settled down a bit too. But they came back in full force last night. I woke up in the night after having a dream about my old case worker. I was so sad that I wanted to kill myself. This is what I feared most when I was discharged from hospital…. the dreams, the reminders, the waves of grief/trauma that keep on crashing over me at all hours and not having the support of the hospital. In the end I got back to sleep but had to get up this morning to see my new case worker. I don’t know why I agreed to see her in the morning. I was drunk when I agreed to this! At least she was willing to see me in a café as I cannot step foot in the clinic without being triggered now. My dad kind of hijacked the meeting and went on about how they should change my diagnosis from BPD to Complex PTSD. I’m just so over it all. I felt absolutely dreadful this morning and just wanted to cry. I went back to bed the minute I got home. I was going to see a friend today. It’s her last day farm-sitting and she invited me to see the animals. Unfortunately I missed out.

This evening I was on the fence about playing badminton. I haven’t played since my case worker, Jordan, was changed. I get extremely sad at the thought of “moving on” with my life without Jordan. That is just one of the complicated ways my grief is affecting me. I pushed myself to go, but I felt really off. I felt like I was going to have a panic attack. I was in shock, I couldn’t believe Jordan is gone. I feel like a little child who’s fallen over. Their first instinct is to go to a parent for consolation, but they find their parent is gone. Dead. I can’t stop thinking about suicide. Today I started looking up poems to include in a suicide note, and thinking about where I would kill myself. It would be easiest to do it at home, but I don’t want my dad to find my dead body. It would traumatise him. My suicidal ideation has never been this nuanced. I just couldn’t enjoy badminton like I usually do. The others commented that I dressed differently. Usually I wear a rainbow t-shirt but today I wore all black. It was not a deliberate decision but it does happen to reflect how I feel. I left early and on the way home I missed my turn. I was not paying attention and have been on auto pilot all evening.

I think I have to get out of town for a bit. Get away from this area. Get away from the clinic. Go back to the beach where I found refuge that time the doctor tried to section me. It was nice to leave this life behind and start over in a new location. That’s what I’ve done all my life to cope. I have a duel life, a duel identity there, which is calling me.