I have had major depression for over ten years now, interspersed only by very brief bursts of mania. I have had absolutely no periods of being stable. I keep wondering how long can someone suffer for? I feel like I’m going to collapse or die or something but I never do. My depression is extremely debilitating. I can barely do anything. Even closing the curtain is too much. I need something to change, but it’s like everything I try makes me even worse. I am still sore from the massage I had a week ago.

For weeks I have been awake all night. I toss and turn for hours, then start to get a physical kind of anxiety where my heart races. I get very distressed at night. I implode, silently screaming and crying on the inside. I send an onslaught of miserable emails to my poor psychologist at night. She has been away for a few weeks and I must have left her over 100 emails during this time. She’s going to have fun when she gets back tomorrow.

I thought maybe my old case worker Jordan was holding me back. I wondered whether, subconsciously, I didn’t want to get better because then I’d be discharged from their service and never see Jordan again. But even now I don’t have that issue anymore I’m still in a horrific way. I’m not getting better. They were wrong about me. They should have kept me with Jordan. Taking Jordan away was one of the worst things anyone’s done to me, and that is really saying something. It’s up there with rape. It actually feels like a kind of rape in a way. Over years I was stripped back emotionally. All my defenses that I normally have- to keep my distance from people and never get attached- were worn away. Then once I was completely bare and attached he was ripped away. Then the doctor wanted to dump me in the trenches completely destroyed. There was talk of discharging me in June. I don’t know if I’m still with the service or not. I tried calling my new case worker the other week. She was in a meeting and was apparently going to call me back but she never did. I get so sick of this world and wish I could finally end my time here. I would stick a song called “Goodbye Cruel World” by Anathema on a USB, leave it with Jordan’s service, and then kill myself. I’m too gutless to actually do it though. I just sit in my room during the early hours of the morning praying to a god that doesn’t exist that I’ll die peacefully in my sleep. That is what I want. I ask my psychologist to pray with me. Pray that I’ll be relinquished from this slow, agonising death. I feel like I’m degenerating. A lifetime of severe chronic stress has been wearing me down mentally and physically. Maybe that is why something as benign as a massage has triggered this neuropathic pain now. I don’t know if it’s going to go away. I have become so sensitive to everything. I recently bought a really nice vintage desk second hand. I brought it back to my room and found it stinks of perfume. Other people don’t notice the smell but it drives me mad.

Trust-

I want to be able to trust a person to help me. I long for someone to really see me, to see just how bad and advanced my issues are. I’ve grown up with trauma that I could not talk about. I never got any help. I dealt with it all on my own…. becoming a workaholic, becoming a people pleaser, escaping into video games, amnesia. We are told God does not test us beyond what we can handle, and what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. It does not make us stronger. What doesn’t kill us has us wishing that it did. What doesn’t kill us fucks us up mentally. When it’s too severe or when it continues for too long that is how people end up with dissociative disorders. I am so fucking tired, and I don’t mean sleepy (I wish!). I’m tired of life. I feel like emotionally I’m running a marathon and I’m ready to collapse. I like being in the emergency department of a hospital because it feels like people are finally listening to me and acknowledging how serious this is. I long for people to want to keep me in hospital, rather than want to kick me out all the time because I have BPD. I actually found a good psychiatrist recently and when he saw me the other week he said I don’t look good and we have to do something. I felt seen and heard. It was a breath of fresh air from my public case management service who I’m beginning to think are just a supplementary form of social control. They only really cared when I was “manic” (too happy) and “psychotic” (too spiritual). They are there to deal with the people disrupting and challenging society in a way the police cannot prosecute them for. That is when they roll in the big guns, come banging on the door of your house and send police after you to take you to hospital. The private system is better, offering people who are suffering quietly hospital admissions. The psychiatrist I saw said he really wants to look after me, but I don’t think there’s much psychiatry can do for me unfortunately. He wants me to try a new sort of TMS which apparently helps people who don’t respond to the older kind. But I’m not convinced. There is no proof there is anything wrong with that part of my brain. I believe Johann Hari, who wrote the book “Lost Connections: Uncovering the Real Causes of Depression- and the Unexpected Solutions”, has better insight into what causes depression. I only really saw the shrink because I wanted more sleeping pills.

Dissociation-

I’ve got to the point where my brain can’t cope anymore and mentally I leave. Frequently I find evidence that I did something or moved something, but I have no memory of doing it. I look everywhere for something I bought, then find it has been put away (which I do not remember doing). Internal Family Systems asserts that we have different subpersonalities, or “parts”. Trauma causes separation between these subpersonalities. When I found my soap the other day I just thanked the part of me, whoever it was, for putting it away.

Zara-

Lately I’ve been so weighed down by all my issues I’ve found myself begging for another part of my personality to take over. Zara came forth one evening during a meditation. She is sort of like the phoenix rising from the ashes. Her/my energy is very different. She is a very powerful Shamanic medicine woman. She feels like more than a part to me, more like what spiritualists call your “Higher Self”, “Spirit”, “Soul”, “True Nature”, even “Christ-consciousness”. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, because no part is more real than the others. The child parts, the teenager parts, the emo parts, the guy parts etc. I think they’re protesting a bit because they feel like I favour Zara and think she’s closer to my real self than they are. I am very naughty. Most of my parts don’t seem to have names, except for Zara.

A close friend of mine used to be a different person with a different name. Her old soul got to the end of her journey here and left. Then the new soul came in. In our spiritual community we call her a “walk in”. I’m hoping something like this happens with me. I’m rooting for Zara, I hope she takes over leadership of this system. My friend is already calling me Zara. But right now Zara just flits in and out like all the different parts.

Kindness-

I thought I’d end this post with something more positive. A few weeks ago I had lunch at a cafe, just me. I had been taking Dexamphetamine and I wasn’t feeling right. It was making my anxiety worse. I rocked up at the café and the waitress asked me how I was. I told her my mood had dropped and I had bad anxiety. She shared that she was having a hard time too. She had her period, was late to work and had been crying. It was so refreshing to have such a genuine conversation with someone out in public as opposed to the “How are you?” “I’m good, how are you?” “Good” bullshit. When I left she asked how I was again. I still had pretty bad anxiety. She asked if I would like a hug, and I decided yes I would accept a hug from her. She was so kind to me. I said I hope I see her again, and she said she’d be around. I haven’t gone back on a Saturday since. When I like someone I avoid them when I actually do want to see them again. I get really anxious and it’s also hard with my face blindness, I often don’t recognise people. I’m also incredibly unwell, not sleeping at night then trying to sleep during the day. By the time I get up these days the café is closed. But I hope I see her again.

Moving forward-

Last night I took Olanzapine again, the medication I spent six months weaning off of. I felt defeated. I want to be able to sleep without any drugs, like I could when I stayed in the countryside. But I think for the time being I will accept anything that will help me to sleep. I am so miserable being awake. I took 10mg, the dose my case management service wanted me on. I had been taking 5mg but it was still taking me hours to fall asleep. That is when I decided to come off the drug because I thought it didn’t work.

I was finally able to sleep last night, though I was woken up at 1:30am by my alarm, which I meant to set for 1:30PM. Thankfully I got back to sleep. I had some trippy dreams as though I was on psychedelics, dreams where tree hollows were vaginas. But at least I slept. I hope to sleep again tonight. So I am going to end this post here, take the Olanzapine and try to wind down for the night.