Looking up…

Well, after around 48 hours sitting in the same seat in the living room (with only the occasional short period of activity) I was beginning to think that I should hand in my notice at work, as I was clearly never going to be in a position to go back, suddenly things are looking up.

I started my swimming lessons this evening. I found it pretty difficult to get out, but I thought I only needed to be out of the house for a couple of hours, so it was no big. It was total hell on the bus going there – the general noise of people was not easy for me to deal with. But when I was actually in the lesson, things were a bit better. I’ve always found swimming kind of meditative (which is good, since when I actually try to meditate I get this horrible feeling like somebody has their hand around my throat and is choking me). So this wasn’t much of a surprise. But then I didn’t go back to feeling like shit when I got out. Suddenly, maybe, life will go on. I’m going to see about getting back to work when this sick note is over. And maybe try to use my time off to get on my feet, sort of.

I have a week and a half before I’m due back at work. So in that time, the big job I have is to tidy my room (you would not believe how messy it is – I have actually moved into the spare room because of how bad it is). So these are the things I’m going to do tomorrow:

• buy a notebook/exercise book so I can start keeping a journal (this is something my therapist wants me to do);
• laundry;
• phone the mobile people regarding changing my contract;
• look into getting a new bank account to aid my finances.

It seems like a lot, but I’ll skip a lot of the basic stuff like showering (I almost never have a proper wash except for when I’ve been swimming – disgusting, I know). Well, things are looking good.

My depression and my friends

As time goes on, I’m getting worse and worse. My problems with anxiety are increasing. I’d actually never really thought of myself as having problems with anxiety before, but now I definitely do. I’m struggling so hard with the basic stuff. Cooking isn’t something I’ve ever really done, but now it’s much worse. I’m waiting for my parents to put clothes pegs on my nose (they probably won’t actually, I have a shower every time I go swimming, which is at least once a week, so that’s good). But it is undoubtedly true to say that I am pretty disgusting.

I really really thought I’d be better by now. It’s over a year since I graduated, and I thought I was getting my life on track, but, in actual fact, I’m becoming a different person. The things I used to be passionate about – I wanted to change the world, even recently, but now, I don’t seem to be able to care sometimes. I never ever want to go back to work, not ever.

I spoke to one of my friends today, and she didn’t really understand why my doctor has accepted that I’m ill enough to be off work, but hasn’t looked into providing any more support. But to be honest I expect it’ll be a little while before anything like that is deemed necessary. I’ve found a good therapist, which is good. We’ve had two sessions so far, and they’ve been good.

I’ve been talking to an old friend and we had a falling out yesterday or the day before, I don’t remember. He doesn’t really understand depression, and he had a go at me and said I need to pull myself together, basically. Stupid wanker.
Bit random post, I know.

Nowhere to go

A few times, since I was diagnosed with depression, I have made spur of the moment decisions, and I have always felt this would be the thing – I’d get better. Well, I’m not. Most recently, of course, was the decision to move back to my parents house – I don’t worry so much about money, and I can afford to go swimming, both of which have probably helped, but I don’t think I’m noticeably better.

Just over a year ago I had a plan. I had just graduated from uni and I was going to take little step back with my life, get myself a job that I would enjoy, but that wouldn’t be something that would overwhelm me, and wouldn’t be anything too stressful. And, in my plan, after about a year, maybe, I would be coping. I would be able to do all the normal things. Get up in the morning, get to work on time, do my job well, leave, go out in the evenings, or relax, or do some domestic things. And after about a year, I would go into a more challenging job, the beginning of my career.

It hasn’t worked. I haven’t actually been to work for a couple of weeks, and I have another GP appointment tomorrow to hopefully get another sick note for god knows how long. I’m just not sure what to do about this; I don’t know where to go next. I really really don’t think I can handle going back there for any significant length of time. I expect when I do go back to work, I’ll hand in my notice on my first day back, and then work out the month. That is sort of my vague plan, and I’m saying that because I feel guilty about just leaving them. Of course, I’m saying that I feel guilty – I don’t really, I just wish I did, I guess. I feel like I should.

But then what? See what the GP says tomorrow, I guess.

Bizarrely, I wrote a poem

The last time I remember writing a poem was during Activities Week in Year 7. I was 12. I may well have written one since then, but definitely not after my 17th birthday.

For some reason, sitting in my office doodling on a post-it note, I wrote a poem. Only a little one. But I thought I’d post it here. I guess at the moment this is an expression of how I feel.

One day soon I will jump.

And then I will be falling;

It will feel like I am falling forever,

And everything will be black.

My heart will be heavy;

It is this that is pulling me down.

Towards something, I guess.

What? I don’t know.

Sometimes things will be light

But I will have to close my eyes.

They will hurt if there is light.

Even the light from some distant stars

Or the moon will be too much.

It will hurt my eyes.

So I will continue falling,

Blind.

 

Edited to add: I feel like one of those cliched teenagers who thinks they’re in so much pain. The thing people should remember is that they probably are.

My relationship with alcohol

It is nine and a half weeks since I have had any alcohol (with the exception of a taste of a friend’s cocktail the first week or so after I stopped drinking). I eventually made the decision to stop drinking after talking to some mental health professionals.

Alcohol has done some pretty strange things to me over the years. I imagine it’s pretty much common knowledge that alcohol is a depressant, and it has frequently had that effect on me. The last weekend in June, which was the last time I drank, I drank on the Friday evening and on the Saturday evening. On the Friday I had been out, got really really drunk (to the extent that I actually pissed myself when I got off the night bus!) and then after I got home I began my most recent suicide attempt*. Eventually, to be honest, I got bored and went to sleep. I had some more to drink on the Saturday evening, and it was at this point that I told my flatmate what I had done.

On another occasion, some time before that, I had had a really bad day and I got home and started drinking a lot. Later that evening I had a massive argument with my ex-girlfriend, and in the end I hit her. I don’t remember doing it, but it happened. As a feminist, I’m a bit nervous about admitting that, but it’s what happened – it’s something I did, and the only way I can take responsibility for what I did is by admitting to it. I did take responsibility for what I had done – I spoke to some people about the bad day I had had, and made sure I had some support in place in case of something happening again. Also, I cut back on my drinking for some time. I didn’t cut it out altogether, but for a while I made sure that I didn’t drink if I was feeling particularly bad, and that I didn’t ever drink heavily.

Of course, after a few months, the alcohol I was consuming began to increase, and once again, I wasn’t really in control of what I was drinking. This was actually part of the reason for my attempt: I figured if I was dead I couldn’t hurt anyone. As it is, since I’ve stopped drinking (and actually since that incident with my ex-girlfriend) I haven’t been violent towards anybody. Of course that’s not to say I’ve been totally blameless in every interaction I’ve had with another human being.

The thing that really concerns me, though, is that I kind of think drinking is really not something I can control, so ideally I should probably never drink again. I’m clearly not an alcoholic (I had a look at problem drinking on this site), but I would say I am (or was) a problem drinker. I really don’t think I could stop at 1. And that concerns me – a life without alcohol is not something I think I would enjoy.

*I say most recent suicide attempt not because I’m planning anything, but because, simply, there may be another one. Who can say? Whatever promises I make, if things get bad enough they won’t mean a thing.

Help

All I want to do is curl up in a ball and die, and nobody will even help me do that.

I’m in total self-destruct mode, things are not good. I think I’m just going to keep doing stupid things until one day my life will be totally ruined. But no one will help me.

It would be so much easier if I actually believed all my beliefs (weird sentence, I know). In particular, where I’m worth something even if men don’t want to fuck me. But the other day I actually told this guy I wasn’t sure I was gay because I really really really wanted to feel like someone wanted me.

I am worth something, regardless of how attractive people (read: men) find me. I am worth something. I am worth something.

Challenging my first Negative Automatic Thought

I was reading something on the way to the tube this morning. It didn’t contain reference to anything particularly misogynistic, homophobic, racist, anything that took the piss out of disabled people, people who aren’t middle class (or whatever), people who may not be conventionally attractive…

It just reminded me how big the world is. How there’s so much to consider. And my heart sank. So my Negative Automatic Thought (NAT – something I have been told I should recognise in my CBT) was, “I can’t deal with all of this – there’s too much.”

I feel like to change the world (see previous post) I need to understand human nature perfectly. But how can I do that? I mentioned before that thinking about free will gives me a headache, and I avoid it as much as possible. The thing is, now I feel like I can’t continue to avoid it – I need to work it out.

Of course I don’t need to know everything. Things like free will, and everything else, aren’t known. In particular, still nobody knows, really, whether or not women are biologically different to men, or whether it is socially conditioned. Women still won the vote, we still have the legal right to the same pay for the same work.

Masculinity and suicide

I’ve been a bit behind on reading some of the longer posts on my blogroll, but had a look today. This feature is just awesome. We really need more mothers who are willing to let their sons do what they want, however “feminine” that might be. I seriously recommend you take a look.

Penni (the author of the feature) has implied a really important point, too: given that society teaches that “masculinity” (whatever that is) is more valuable, any boy or man who displays any feminine characteristics is going to be looked down upon. The patriarchy hurts everyone: men and women are expected to live up to certain gender roles, which is, quite simply, limiting. And it is true, I believe, most definitely, that men are expected not to express emotions, or whatever. Obviously there are certain times and places where this isn’t the case – but these are far more limited than those times and places for women, who are, let’s face it, walking balls of hormones.

However, it is sometimes said that men are worse off than women, which is shown by the often quoted fact that men are more likely to commit suicide than women. I think a lot of the time this is used to dismiss the claim of feminists that women have it bad! Penni didn’t suggest this one bit, but she did say the following:

I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that it is teenage boys who have the highest suicide rate. They’re conditioned to believe that they can’t ask for help because it is ‘unmanly’.

I’ve said above that I totally agree with the second sentence of this quote. However I’d like to offer an alternative explanation for the fact that more young men (and in fact men in general) commit suicide: quite simply, men are more likely to succeed. More young men commit suicide, but more young women attempt it. This is not only true for young people, but at all age groups. There are a number of explanations for this. Firstly, men tend to use more violent methods. A woman is more likely to take an overdose or similar, which is actually incredibly ineffective. This might well be due to the fact that men are conditioned to be more violent.

There are other considerations, of course. It’s possible that a woman might take an overdose as a “cry for help,” whereas you’re a lot less likely to shoot yourself, or hang yourself for that purpose. And of course, that does tie in with Penni’s comment that I quoted above: men can’t ask for help. Although, I would like to make this point. The first time I took an overdose, I wasn’t certain I would die, I wasn’t even certain that I wanted to – but I thought it was a possibility, and I thought that it would definitely cause problems. I really did not understand how ineffective overdoses were.

Penni’s post deals with a really important issue. As I said above, the patriarchy hurts everyone. I can’t emphasise that enough! But the issue of suicide is often oversimplified.

CBT

Well, I had my second session on the CBT thing today. It was quite good, I think. There were goals to be set and such things.

One of the things that I sort of worked out is that I get low mood-y when I get pissed off about the state of the world. I do think there’s more to it than that, obviously. But I’m beginning to agree with what my mum said – maybe getting angry about the state of things is bad for me. I don’t think it necessarily is, though, but I think it’s related. What’s happening is that I am at a point where I’m feeling like there’s no hope. So then I get depressed.

I was pretty worried that the result of the CBT would be that I wouldn’t be allowed to campaign on things, wouldn’t be allowed to read the paper, wouldn’t be able to just be aware of everything that is going on. However, one of the goals I set is that four times out of five (I think – something like that) to talk to someone about/write about what in particular is upsetting me about it. I think it would be good if I was able to do this. The other day I was reading something or other about rape, and I was at work, and I was totally unable to do any work after that. I just sat at my desk in tears. Writing it down would hopefully help me to put it behind me, or, even better, work out something that can be done to improve it, write all that down, and then put it behind me.

Another thing I want to do, more generally, is read about people who have made a difference. I want to be one of them, one day. I couldn’t be if I was told not to campaign on things because it depresses me. So I really hope this works better.

Yesterday

Well, it was a bit weird. I typed that post, then of course forgot to publish it, which is why it didn’t come up till about midnight, or whenever. I would have posted something else, but as I was on the internet, I had one of the music channels on, and my dad came in. Then that song “I kissed a girl” came on. Luckily it is quite a while before the chorus starts so I managed to shut down what I was doing and go to bed! I couldn’t handle him thinking things. I imagine he must think that when I hear that song I feel the way they used to when they heard that song by Mary, Mary. Well, I would, except that the song is crap. It’s just so shit! It’s just about two women making out to appeal to their boyfriends! I would not have liked to explain that to him.

In other things, I started my CBT programme. I’m a bit nervous about it. I’ve been asked to monitor my problems, which of which I put down as, “Feeling completely hopeless. As in, nothing will work for me, or for anyone else ever.” I’m paranoid that the result will be I have to stop reading the paper, or thinking about anything that happens in the world ever! But I’ll see how it goes.

Also, my GP changed my medication, which is good. Basically, I went in and said, “I feel like I’m waiting to die. I’m not going to live into old age, so I just think that every moment I’m not planning on how to kill myself, is time wasted.” Hopefully things will look up.

Sam