Last week my dad pulled up my lemon verbena plant thinking it was a weed. I attempted to replant it, but it doesn’t look like it has taken. What little leaves were left on it have died. As I stare helplessly at what’s left of my favourite plant, I feel as though I am staring at a mirror. I too have been cut and uprooted. I too have been planted with something/someone new and expected to take to it. I have not taken to it. I am barely alive.
Yesterday I had a meeting with my new case worker and a doctor. The meeting had originally been scheduled by Jordan, my old case worker, before they changed my case worker. I still have the appointment card with his name and the doctor’s name on it. It felt wrong that he was not there. He cannot be replaced by anyone. I miss him so much. The worst part is I don’t know if he had any say in all this or was expecting this. Only a few days before he was removed as my case worker, he said he’d talk to me soon. He told me to call him if I get manic or psychotic again. Now he’s not allowed to speak with me on the phone anymore. Continue reading “Loss & sadness”
I am no longer screaming out loud but I am screaming on the inside. Why can’t anyone hear me? My dad’s phone rings and I hope it is someone calling because they’re concerned about me but it isn’t. No one is messaging me to ask how I am doing. Even if they do, however, I am impossible to console. There is only one person in the universe who can do that and he is gone.
I don’t enjoy anything. I just sit in front of the computer checking Facebook all day because I am addicted to it. I can’t even pass the time sleeping. I can’t sleep at night and am woken by the neighbour during the day. When I do sleep I dream of horrible things like war and torture.
I have tried countless antidepressants over the years and all they’ve done is left me even more damaged.
My friend has had a baby. While a new soul comes into the world, I plan my exit. I start shopping for the things I need to end my impoverished life here on planet earth. I don’t know if I will follow through with it, but I don’t know what else to do. The days are too hard to face. The pain, which is really just nature’s attempt to fill up the empty space, is too hard to bear. This is more than sadness. It is like a choked river; you want to cry but the tears don’t flow. It is like being gagged; you want to scream but there is something stopping you. It is the fear not of dying but of waking up alive; you have another day ahead of you with nothing to do and nothing you want to do. And it is the indescribable terror and grief which you feel watching a video like this. Maybe it is because it reminds you just how alone you are in the universe and how far away everyone you love are now. Or perhaps it is because you know you are standing on the edge of a cliff. You are standing on the edge of life and death, and you are not sure whether you’re going to fall, or fly.
Early this week there was a meeting with Richard the head psychiatrist (who is filling in for Nuala, the usual psychiatrist), my parents and I about the proposed discharge from the mental health service I’ve been with for years. The meeting was in response to a letter my dad wrote. I was dreading the meeting and wasn’t even sure if I’d be able to attend as my anxiety was just too debilitating. I knew if they insisted on discharging me in 6 months time I would not be able to hear it. The meeting, however, was even worse than I was expecting. Not only would they not back down about discharge, they announced they’re changing my case worker (Jordan) who I love and have been working with for years. They think the relationship has become unhealthy, that I idealise him and am even romantically attracted to him. While some of this is true, I don’t believe it warrants ripping apart the relationship and the trauma this brings. I once told my very first therapist that I was romantically attracted to her and she didn’t discharge me. These things can be worked through. When spoken about, they can be incredibly healing and facilitate greater self-exploration. I couldn’t believe someone who didn’t even know me had the nerve to waltz in and completely destabilise my world. As an autistic person, I do not like even the smallest of changes. And as someone with BPD and Complex PTSD, I need consistency in my relationships. I am extremely attached to Jordan. He is my “favourite person”. Losing him feels like losing a limb. I walked out of the meeting and tore apart the waiting room. Screaming and crying I ripped down their pamphlets about schizophrenia, drug abuse, mental illness etc. and threw them on the floor like confetti. I then picked up a chair and tried to throw it through the window but someone stopped me. An announcement was called and the police came. Apparently my parents heard it from the meeting room and asked the doctor “So what are you going to do now? Are you going to organise a hospital admission?” His response? “I’m not going to give her a hospital admission just because she is having a tantrum.” Continue reading “From bad to worse”
People tell us to seek professional help when we are so depressed, distraught and suicidal over losing someone. But what happens if the person we are losing IS a professional. This kind of disenfranchised grief is something I have been dealing with since I first started seeing a counsellor at the age of 19. I have gone from therapist to therapist, presenting to each one depressed and traumatised about losing the last one. I then lose them, and the cycle continues. I’m at the point where I’m well and truly sick of it. So I will not be vouching for therapy, or conventional therapy at least. But what other things can help? Continue reading “Healing the loss of your “favourite person””
Today I bought a rocking dragon for my best friend’s new baby (whom I am the godmother of). I found it second hand on Facebook Marketplace. I went to the lady’s house to pick it up. I met her two daughters who were about three or four now and too big for the rocking dragon. Their father was in the yard constructing a trampoline for them now. As I walked away with the rocking dragon one of the girls said “bye bye rocking dragon”. A great deal of sadness struck me like lighting. I know what it’s like to say goodbye to something you’ve loved, even when it’s no good for you anymore. Continue reading “The cycle of life”
I’ve been meaning to write a post about healing the loss of your favourite person, but I am so sick right now. I’m trying to fix a completely upside down sleep pattern where I’m awake all night then sleep all day until 6pm. If it was winter time here, I would literally be living in the dark. I am also very sick physically. I’m not sure why. It’s not covid. I can only put it down to my emotional state and how dysregulated I’ve become. I managed to sleep last night but woke up this afternoon nauseous and with a bad headache. I went back to bed this evening and felt dreadful. It felt like hormones were running riot in my body. I couldn’t work out if it was anxiety or a physical illness. I then started thinking about Jordan, my case worker who I’ve been writing about endlessly. He will be back on Wednesday. I have an appointment with him and I’ve been dreading it. He has been away for a few weeks and it’s actually been good to get some space from him. The fight to keep me on their books has been on pause because of the holidays. As I thought about him and the impending loss I felt really distressed again. I lay there wishing I would die. I even cried a bit, which I don’t usually do. It’s all so horrible, he is like the best and the worst thing to happen to me! I dream about him and I wish we were friends or partners. But I may not even be able to see him as a professional soon. Continue reading “Update and self-care”
“You,” he said, “are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain.” Emile Autumn
An unsent letter to my mental health worker…
I can’t just treat you and other mental health workers as items on a supermarket shelf, even though you get my money. Maybe that’s all I am to you. Maybe you are just a machine in our capitalist system and I’m just a cog, another client to churn through your service and then forget about. Maybe you can flick a switch and stop caring. Maybe your “care” was only manufactured in the first place. But I cannot just switch off my feelings. You will always be more than a service to me. You’re funny, intelligent, kind. You have seen me through so much. I love you. You are a snowflake, like all human beings are; I will never find someone exactly like you again. I can’t just find another mental health worker. I can’t just transfer my attachment. You may be a machine, but I am not.
I curl up in bed while my mum makes chai. Tears silently build up as I think about my case worker discharging me in the new year. My mum comes in and tells me the chai’s on the table. Often I wish she could sense what I need better and bring the chai to me. I am sick and sad and all I want to do is stay curled up in bed. I like being sick physically because then my mum will let me stay in bed. But when it comes to emotional stuff, I get little empathy or slack. She just complains that I shouldn’t be in bed at 4:30 in the afternoon. Continue reading “My family and early years”
hsphaven 