Video

My latest YouTube video is on a topic close to my heart as it has affected my Dad and several of my friends, I have seen the devastation from both angles. Check it out :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCYXTOhQIh0

I binged yesterday, First time in weeks, I feel gutted and unfortunately have felt the need to punish myself for my failings.

My self harm is getting extremely out of hand, I hate to be graphic, but one of the wounds I made even shocked me. The trouble is I am completely obsessed and by obsessed I mean unbelievably completely and utterly obsessed with wanting to cut deep into my wrist again, we all no what that means for me, when I get obsessed with this thought it normally ends in extensive tendon damage requiring surgical repair, which is not what I want. But I cannot stop obsessing about it. I want to feel that pain, that suffering, I want to be repulsed by what I have done. I scare myself sometimes, if you could see the images I have in my head, the day dreams I go into, if you just new the true extent of what I want to do to myself.

I truly am sick in the head. 

Therapy with the Mother

Today was therapy with my Mother. Well lets just say she showed her true colours. It started with how bad I made her feel after last weeks appointment with the whole family. Apparently I made out like my Dad was perfect and that she was rubbish, she went away feeling like the whole meeting was to have a dig at her. She started telling me all of the ways my Dad has let her down as she wants me to see that my Dad isn't perfect.

Then she moved on to the fact that I should except that she will always love my older brother more than me as he is special. My psychologist asked if she meant because he was her first born and is that what she means. My Mother proceeded to say that it wasn't because he is her first born, it is because he is special, apparently the love she feels for him hurts, that when my Dad used to tell him off it was like a knife through her heart, but it didn't feel the same for the rest of us.  She then went on to say that there are some things about her children that she loves and some things about them that she doesn't like, it just so happens to be that there are a lot more things about me that she doesn't like and I should accept that.

Then we moved on to the wetting myself thing. Apparently that whole thing was caused by my Dad, apparently he wanted to start toilet training me when I wasn't ready, so that was why I had so many problems in that area, so it wasn't in any way my Mothers fault, it was my Dads.

Now we get to the present day, apparently I am unfair to her as when ever I ring the house I ask to speak to my Dad and not her, that makes her feel left out and upsets her.

Oh well, I guess next week will be just as productive.

Feeling good

Yes that is right, I am feeling good. I have been busy the last few days, well busy for me any ways, I am shattered, but feel like I have been achieving something the last few days. I have not self harmed for nearly a week, I have have not been doing too good food wise, have been eating about 800 calories, but have been purging several times a day. I need to break this habit.

I am already getting anxious about the therapy with my Mother on Friday, each day that goes by feels me with dread as I know it is a day closer to being Friday. She was creepily nice to me last night, calling me 'pudding', if you no my Mother you would no that that is just weird. My Dad has said that her mood has been a lot better this week, apparently she has been nicer to everyone. Is this because she has realised how badly she has treated us all of these years and is genuinely trying to make up for it or is this because she is trying to show that she is a good mother so that in my appointment on Friday she can go on about how wonderful she has been all week. Excuse me for being so sceptical but I am expecting it to be the latter of the two, I have lived with her mind games all of my life and just don't trust her.

Now that I have seen my new flat inside I am finding the wait almost unbearable. I can't really remember what it looked like inside any more (my shit memory) only that it has black work tops in the kitchen. Should hopefully be the 10th of June that I move still.

Bob is doing really well with his new behaviour plan, he has stopped trying to wake me up in the mornings, has started using his litter tray really well and has stopped whining all of the time for attention. Betty is as good as gold as always.

I am enjoying being more stable in my mood and am going to try and make the most of it for now. I actually had this weird foreign thought earlier that maybe I do deserve to be happy.

Viewed my new flat :)

I went to see my new flat today, I am speechless, I nearly cried. It is beautiful, I cannot believe it is for me. You go in the main door and up 2 flights of stairs to the top floor, you go in my front door in to a square hall way, coming off the hall way are the 2 bedrooms, lounge and bathroom and a huge storage cupboard, you go through the lounge to get to the kitchen. They are in the process of fitting the new kitchen and bathroom, the kitchen is a modern kitchen with black worktops and modern cupboards with silver handles. I am picturing it now, walking through it in my mind. It doesn't shake like my flat does and best of all it doesn't have rats :)

You don't have to love your mother

When I first started therapy with my psychologist I was a very angry person. I was angry for a lot of reasons, but mainly I was angry at myself, I was angry because I didn't love my mother and I thought that this made me a bad person. I thought that no matter what you should love your mother, than it was something that shouldn't ever be questioned, every one should love their mother, I didn't.

My closest friend lost her mother to breast cancer, they were very close, she was devastated. I felt an intense feelings of guilt that I still had a mother, I just didn't love her. My psychologist spent a lot of time explaining to me that she lost a mother that deserved her love, I should not feel guilty for not loving mine.

The truth is I feel sorry for my mother, she really has problems, more than was explained in my blog post yesterday. I mentioned at the beginning of yesterdays post that she has mental health problems too, well obviously postnatal depression is a mental health problems in its self, but my psychologist is convinced my mother has an undiagnosed personality disorder, I agree.

We grew up under the constant threat that she was going to leave, sometimes she would, she would get up and take the youngest baby with her and go. I remember one night she and my Dad argued and she left taking one of the babies with her, I was scared, not because she had left, but scared because it was thundering and lightening outside and I thought my baby brother was going to get struck by lightening. I didn't mind when she left, infact I liked it, it meant my Dad had to stay at home, it meant that I could relax. But she would always come back.

My Mother very much bullied my Dad, my Dad is a very passive kind of person, he would rarely argue back, he would do as much as possible to keep the peace. My Mother was cruel to my dad, especially in front of us. She would talk about him in front of us to her friends, she would tall them how pathetic he was, useless he was, how much she hated him. She could get where she wanted with him and if she didn't she would threaten to leave.

After the birth of her 5th baby my mother wanted my Dad to get the snip, my Dad didn't want to, they didn't want more children, but my Dad didn't want to have an operation. My Mother would taunt him about it, say how weak he was. We would be in town with my mother and she would bump into a friend, she would tell her friend about her weak pathetic husband who was too scared to get the snip. After a year of this taunting my Dad agreed to get it done. When you want the snip in the UK you have to sign the consent with your wife, you cannot do it without your wife's permission. My mother had bullied my Dad into getting it done, they went together to see the doctor, they both signed the consent forms. On the morning of the operation my Mother told my Dad that if he went ahead and got it done she would divorce him. Feeling very confused my Dad went ahead and got it done, when he got home my Mother had already packed his bags, she had sat us all down and told us that Dad was leaving, we all cried. I remember my Dad saying good bye on the drive way, I remember my Mother sitting in the house, refusing to tell us why our Dad was leaving.

My Dad was allowed back a month later after he had had the vasectomy reversed. It was never mentioned again.

I developed an almost obsession with protecting my Dad. I felt I needed to take the pain for him, protect him from the stress of my Mother, so this became my aim and still happens a lot today. I adore my Dad and my psychologist says I sometimes idolise him too much.

Through out the years my Mother has done other things to manipulate the family and people around her. She has had several cancer scares, she has smoked 20 a day for most of her life. When she started having trouble with her voice and the doctor found a lump on her vocal cords, my Mother sat us all down and told us that she had cancer. Now I no that every one always tends to think the worst in these kind of situations, you find a lump and think the worst, but she told us, her children, that she had cancer, not that it could be cancer or their was a chance she had cancer, she told us she HAD cancer. For two weeks our house was a living hell, my Mother used this to her full advantage. I remember scrubbing the bathroom for her, wanting to please her, my Mother was dying and I hadn't loved her. It had to be my fault, it was my fault and I had to make up for it, I had to make up for killing my Mother. It turned out to be scaring on her vocal cords, probably caused by shouting to much.

A few years later we went through another cancer scare, my Mother started having trouble with her bowels, she had an endoscopy, they found some polyps. This time we were told cancer was a possibility, rather than 'I have cancer'. The results came back that they were benign, my Dad went with her to get the results. My Mother did not tell people the truth, she continued to tell the people at work she had cancer. Cards and gifts would arrive my sick Mother. But the worst was still to come, 4 months after finding out she did not have cancer my sister came to me, she was very upset and said she had something to tell me. She told me how our Mother had been lying to the family all of this time and that she was the only on that new the truth and that after 4 months of being the only one our Mother had been able to trust with the information that she just couldn't cope with it alone. She told me that our Mother did have cancer and that she had been keeping it from us because she didn't want to hurt us. I new this wasn't true, my Dad had been with my Mother when she got the results, she had had no treatment, she just didn't have cancer I new she didn't. I pointed these facts out to my sister and as soon as I did my sister new too that my Mother has been lying. My sister and I spent days deciding what to do, should we confront her, should we tell my Dad, should we just stay quiet. We decided on the last option, we did not want to hurt my Dad, there was no point in confronting my Mother, she would just lie her way out of it. Still to this day my sister and I have just left it. My psychologist wanted to bring it up in the meeting the other day, I said it was off limits, I do not ever want to hurt my Dad with this information. Maybe we will discuss it in the appointments my Mother is going to be coming to over the month, maybe not. I still do not no if I could bare to see her try and explain it.

Back at the end of last summer my Mother turned up at my flat, she told me that she was leaving my Dad, I had heard this so many times before, I just switch off to it. But this time seemed different, she seemed so sure, she told me that she was going to leave when my youngest brother turned 16, which is this summer. I felt happy, happy because this time I thought she was finally going to do it and although I new it would hurt my Dad I new I would be strong enough now to help him, to protect him the best I could. I have been counting down the months, weeks, days.

About an hour ago I found out that on Friday her work colleges bought her a bunch of flowers as she had been so upset the day before after my appointment that she attended, I can only imagine what she told them, probably how upset she is as she has a sick daughter, how it breaks her heart to see me struggle so much.

My Mother shows classic symptoms of having a personality disorder, my biggest fear is that I will become her, maybe that is why I have taken such a long time to accept I have mental health problems. I almost feel a huge sense of pity towards my Mother, she had it tough as a child, she blatantly is ill. But she has hurt me so much, she has hurt my whole family.

My mother and I

So a lot of you will have picked up and the 'strained' relationship between my mother and I , maybe it is time to explain why. Please don't think that I consider myself hard done by, I have a wonderful Dad and siblings, yes I am going to moan about my mother and yes I am lucky to have a mother, I am just explaining the reasons why the relationship between the two of us was so strained and the affect it had and continues to have on me.

My mother suffers from mental health problems herself, she was the victim of sexual abuse as a child, she was made to look after her younger siblings from a young age whilst her mother worked to provide for the family as a single mother. My Mum didn't really have a childhood, this has had a huge impact on her. She suffered from postnatal depression after 2 out of 5 of her pregnancies, one of them being me. When I was born my parents had just put every penny they had into buying their first house, the house I grew up in, the house my parents and siblings still live in today. My Dad was a train driver and would often work 36 hours straight, when he was home he would be sleeping due to his shift patterns. My elder brother was 2 years old, I came along, my parents had no money, they struggled, my Mother struggled. Depression set in very early on after my birth, my Mother to this day says I never liked her from birth, I hated her, I was out to annoy her, I was a evil baby. She never got any treatment for the postnatal depression, so it went on and on, we NEVER bonded. Just under 3 years later she gave birth to my sister, my Mother adored my sister, she wasn't an evil baby who liked to 'get at' her like I was. My sister became toilet trained before I was able to go a day without wetting myself, my sister was dry through the night before I had ever had my first dry night. I was already showing significant signs of stress, I was painfully anxious as a child, but I was punished for it. The more I tried not to have accidents of wetting myself the more it happened. When I started school at the age of 4 I wasn't ready. I couldn't cope, I strongly believe that some children are just not ready for school at that age, I used to have to have afternoon naps in the quiet corner as I couldn't go through the whole day. At least 2 times a week for the first year of primary school I would be sent home as 'I didn't feel well' really I just wasn't coping. This angered my mother more, by this point she was pregnant with her 4th child, the last thing she wanted was the annoying little thing at home again. I was still wetting myself several times through the day, I was having to be woken up and taken to the toilet several times through out the night and still managing to wet the bed. Of course this was as far as my mother was concerned me trying to get at her. She now will openly say that she hated me at this point. She was trying to bring up the others, the ones she loved, the nice ones,  I was doing these things to 'get at her' still.

When I moved into the second year of school I remember my Mother taking me in to see my new teacher. My mother told her about all of the things I did, being sent home all the time, the wetting myself. I can remember the teacher saying "she wont get away with these things her" "we wont have things like that in this class". But what everybody failed to realise was that I was trying so hard not to do these things, I wanted more than anything to go through the day with dry knickers, to go through the night with a dry bed. I wanted to make my Mother love me. But I couldn't, I was a child struggling to cope. I felt taunted by this teacher, the grin she had on her face when she would stand up in the middle of the class and in front of all of my class mates and tell me I needed to go to the toilet, she would have a grin and so would my class mates.

My Dad continued to work extremely long hours, we would hardly see him, but when we did I would cling to him and not want him to go. It was a family joke and still is to this day that I would follow him around like there was a piece of string attaching us together, I couldn't bare to be apart from him.

By the time my sister had started school I had fallen extremely behind. Throughout school I was a year behind with the level of work I was doing. My older brother and my sister are very intelligent, I am not. When I left primary school at the age of 10 my sister was doing a higher level of work than me as I had moved behind and she had been moved to the year ahead. Already I was failing. I was considered lazy by my mother, I didn't try like the others, I was not a succeeder in life.

When I was about 7 my Mother took me to see a behaviour lady, I am to this day not sure what her job tittle was. I was taken to see her as I was still yet to have any more than the occasional dry day or night. I remember playing in the waiting room with some blocks while my Mother went in and spoke to the lady, then after a while I joined them in the room. I remember the lady telling me that I needed to be a big girl now and that I surely don't want to be wearing nappies like my little brother. It was decided that I was jealous of my younger brother and that was why I was displaying this 'challenging' behaviour. We made a chart, every day I had to draw a sun if I was dry, a cloud if I was a little bit damp and a cloud with rain and lightening if I was wet. I can remember the unbearable sense of failure at the end of every day when I would have to draw the cloud with rain and lightening. I can remember my Mother taunting me and telling me how stupid, awkward and horrible I was. I remember her telling me that she new I was doing it to get at her. I remember when she put me in a traditional terry towling nappy, I remember when she made me sleep on the bare rubber mattress protector as she was fed up with washing sheets, I remember when she dug a hole in the garden and told me that I was no longer allowed to use the toilet as I was disgusting.

One of the strongest memories I have is when I was in the garden playing with my siblings, I believe I was about 9, I had a denim skirt on. I wet myself, my Mother was in the lounge sat to the table chatting to her friend. I needed to get past them to get to the hallway and up the stairs so that I could get changed. I crept in through the kitchen, I tried to go through the lounge with my back against the wall, so they wouldn't see the wet patch on my skirt. I got almost to the hallway door, I almost got away with it, then my Mother noticed me, she asked what I was doing, I tired to say nothing, but she new, I jumped back as she charged towards me, she grabbed my arm and spun me around, they laughed, they kept laughing, they told me how dirty I was, how pathetic I was. I just wanted to hide.

My Mother was still convinced that I was put on this earth to get at her, so any thing I did was for that reason. If I was ill, obviously I had made myself ill to annoy her. If I fell over and grazed my knee it was to ruin whatever it was she was doing. She dismissed me, she wanted me out of the way.

Our next door neighbours were foster parents, they fostered 'naughty' teens, teens that could not live at home any more due to their behaviour. My Mum used this as a threat to me, she would constantly tell me that I would be sent to live next door. I was terrified.

Two days after my 11th birthday my youngest brother was born, baby number 5. I fell in love, my Mother didn't, her second bout of postnatal depression kicked in. My Mother didn't cope, but I did. I was in my element, I became his second mum, his cot was in my bedroom, I changed him, dressed him, fed him, I did everything for him. My mother got over this period of postnatal depression a lot quicker, she got treatment early on and recovered. I was on a roll though, I had found something I was good at. When I started secondary school that September I could not wait to come home from school each day, get my brother in his pram and go back into town and meet my friends, my little brother in tow. On Sundays I used to take my baby brother, my 4 year old brother and my sister across to the other side of town to rent a video from the rentals shop. I loved the responsibly, I was never good at school, I was very behind intellectually, but I was great at being a mummy. But I was still very young, I made mistakes, which were pounced on. My Mother asked me to get some sugar from the shop once on one of my trips to the video shop with my siblings, I was 12. I got home with the sugar, only to find I had picked up a bag with a hole in it, we had been leaking sugar all of the way home. My Mother was angry, how could I have been so stupid, surely I had noticed the bag was leaking? I was punished.

The last time I wet myself during the day was on my first day at secondary school at the age of 11, the bed wetting cut down a lot, although I would have the odd accident up until my late teens. I was still very anxious, painfully shy and very exhausted throughout my early secondary school years. I was still an underachiever at school, but I was still in love with the idea of being my youngest brothers mummy.

My Mother still considered me to be evil, horrible, useless. I was still regularly threatened with being sent around to my neighbours to live as a form of punishment. So on my Mothers birthday when I was 13 my Mother sent me around there as I was annoying her and of course she shouldn't have to put up with me annoying her on her birthday. I finally found out the true extent of how much my Mother hated me. I was raped. Being young, scared, confused, alone, I believed that this was my punishment, I believed that my Mother had arranged this. When it happened again and again, I new my mother wanted it to happen, I deserved it, I was evil and my mother was punishing me. She was punishing me in the most horrible of ways.

From that day on I switched myself off from my Mother, I started punishing myself, the way a dirty, evil, horrible girl deserved to be punished. Self harm became my way of escaping my Mother, if I punished myself then it didn't matter how much my Mother punished me. Also it was the start of years and years of eating disordered behaviour. Obviously now as an adult I no that my Mother never arranged it, she never new what was truly happening around there, but as a child I believed it and never questioned that it could not have been arranged by her.

My Mother still believes I am constantly trying to get at her, every overdose, every operation I have needed due to self harm, every time I have been sectioned. She wants to no why I love my Dad more than her. In my appointment the other day she cried as I have never loved her.

So over the next few weeks my Mother and I are going to be having therapy together. Will it help? I have no idea.

Turn it into a possitive

That is what my Dad said to me today. My Dad very much lives in a little dream world, I love him to pieces, in fact I adore him. BUT he is still very nieve (sp?) in his way of thinking when it comes to mental illness. When I first got really ill he was desperate to take me on holiday, he was so sure that getting away for a week would help me so much, but as we all no, it just isn't that simple, your mind has to come with you and it is your mind that is the problem. So when I told him I had been allocated a new flat he was over the moon, he is so convinced that a fresh start is what I need, it is, it will be great, but it wont fix me. Now we have all excepted that I am being discharged, he is now trying to tell me that it is a blessing in disguise, moving and being discharged around the same time means that I can start afresh, leave this chapter of my life behind. Now this is partly true, I am trying to turn this into a positive and look upon it this way, but it does not fix everything. I wish it could, I could move into my new flat and BAM I am better, no more anorexia, no more depression, no more self harm, no more obsessing about suicide etc. But that would be to easy.

Any ways, I am going to view my new flat for the first time on Monday, the move date is still set for the 10th of June (as long as the builders complete on time). I would move tomorrow if I could, seeing my new flat out of my lounge window every day is like torture, I keep imagining what it is going to look like inside, how it is going to feel. It has proper solid floors, unlike here, it wont shake when lorries and buses go past, I won't hear my neighbours arguing, beating each other up, having the loudest make up sex and of course the joy I hear every night the bloke below snoring. I will be able to drink tap water again, I am not allowed due to the rats (it is a health hazard), I wont have to rinse every cup, mug, plate etc in boiling water before I use it in case the rats have been touching them. I will have a shower, I have a bath here, but no shower, I love having a bath, but it takes a long time rather than jumping in the shower, but the main thing about having to have a bath is I hate the amount of water it wastes, it just seems a shame to waist so much water every day, a shower will use a small percentage of the water I currently use.

I will be leaving a lot behind here, memories that I wish could leave behind here and never think of them again. I could be here all day going through them, so I will share a few.

 I have nearly died here so many times after overdoses, I have self harmed and had arterial spray hit the ceiling, I remember once when my boyfriend at the time was living with me here, I got up in the middle of the night, went into the kitchen and cut deep into my wrist, I didn't even attempt to stop the bleeding, I just walked in a daze back into the bedroom and got back into bed and went back to sleep. Suddenly my boyfriend started shouting and turned the light on, he was shouting "what have you done, what have you done" over and over, he had woken up because the bed was soaking wet, I was pumping blood everywhere, when he turned the light on and made me get up (I kept saying we will sort it in the morning), he grabbed something to tie around my wrist and made me hold my hand in air, it was only then that I realised how much I had been bleeding, it was all over the curtains, my cream coloured canvas wardrobe, the floor and of course the bed, me and him. There is no doubt if he hadn't have woken I would have bleed to death. I have had to phone my sister in the middle of the night and tell her I once again need to go to the hospital as I have cut through tendons.

I have been raped in my flat, that is something I would like to forget. It is hard to live some where where you have been violated like that.

 I have sat on my own drinking litres of vodka night after night. most of the time not remembering dragging myself into to bed (if I managed to make it that far).

 I have brought man after man back to my flat, had sex with them and then kicked them out, most of the time even knowing their names, some would have stayed the night due to the fact I would have passed out, but would not get any conversation out of me in the morning, just would have been asked to leave as I wake up and realise what I have once again done.

There are some good things, this was my first sense of independence away from my parents, my first break away from the damaging relationship with my Mum.

It is Bob and Bettys first home, they have spent time at my parents when I have been in hospital  and we stayed with my sister for a month when I was really poorly and couldn't look after myself, but this is their home.

It was here that I gave up alcohol, I have been sober for 3 years on the 21st of June and I have never looked back. Alcohol nearly killed me and played a huge part in some of my earlier suicide attempts.

It was also here that I decided to never again put myself in the position where I would have to have sex. I have not had sex for 3 years in August. Sex brings me so much trauma, it takes me back to the sexual abuse I suffered as a child, it reminds me of the situations I put myself in time after time as an adult trying to 'get over' my fear of sex and of course it reminds me of being raped as an adult. Sex is not something I want as part of my life and I will always remember the time I was sat here in this flat and empowered myself with that decision.

So good and bad memories, but new memories can be made in my new flat and you never no, maybe my Dad could be right, maybe I will be move and never look back :)

Bob and Betty :)

Bob and Betty update

http://thebobandbettydiaries.blogspot.com/2011/05/bobs-new-plan.html

Dreaded meeting

This morning was the dreaded meeting between my CMHT and family. I have been feeling sick and so anxious about it, but it had to happen.

To start with my psychiatrist couldn't make it in the end, but had passed on to my psychologist all that he needed to say, great start. The meeting quickly became about my Mum, she cried a lot about the fact that I don't love her like I love my Dad and that she has always been pushed out. She suggested that she and I should go away for a few days so we have to chat and bond. My psychologist jumped quickly in there and said that would be to much for me, instead we have agreed that a few of my last sessions with my psychologist with be with my Mum and I, to work on things.

I am being discharged still, it was going to be on the 10th of June, but now that we want to have some sessions with my Mum and also because that is the day I should be moving, it has been pushed back to probably the end of June. I will be back under the care of my GP, my psychologist said that I am all therapied out, I have been having therapy with her for 3 years, I have been taught the skills, I just need to put them in place.

My official diagnosis is now Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder, no longer bipolar, my new psychiatrist believes my mood disturbances are to rapid for bipolar.

So that is that, my Discharge CPA will be at the end of June time. One of my parents said that they were concerned as it was easy for the CMHT to just discharge me and they don't need to live with it every day like my family do, my psychologist said that that wasn't the case. She said it is easy to discharge someone when they are well and are safe, but it was actually a really hard decision to discharge someone who is still living the way I am and are still a massive risk to themselves. Says it all really.

Not doing good at all

I am seriously fucked up, what the hell is wrong with me? I am all over the place, I decided last night I wasn't going to go to ballet today, in fact I decided I wasn't going to get out of bed today as I spent most of the day yesterday in hospital, I went there to get stitches and then they wanted me to stay as they were concerned about my behaviour. I woke up this morning all full of life again, so found myself up dressed and on the bus heading to Bath city 2 hours early for ballet. I wondered around wasting time for ages then walked up to ballet, I stayed at ballet for 5 mins, then burst into tears and walked out, I sat in the changing rooms for about 15 mins, threw up and then got changed and came home and slept all afternoon.

I feel racing and happy one minute, then deeply depressed and suicidal the next. I have just had a bath, I spent over an hour in it, the water was cold when I got out, although I don't really remember what I did or what I was thinking about for that hour, it is just a blank.

I am going to go back to bed now, I don't really no what else to do with myself.

Things to be discussed

I have an appointment with my psychologist, psychiatrist, Mum, Dad and sister on Thursday, shitting myself. Over the years I have been subjected to many similar meetings, I should be used to it, but I am not, I hate them.

My sister is the best in these situations, My Dad goes to pieces and tends to hold my hand and rub it like he is in Aladin and rubbing the genies lamp. My Mum does my nut in, she normally gives the big speech which I can normally quote as follows 

 "We are so proud of Amy, she has had to work harder than the others (meaning my 3 brothers and my sister), things don't come naturally to her like they do to everyone else, everything she has ever done she hasn't found simple, the others can just do things, it comes naturally to them, not to Amy" blah blah blah

This big speech goes on and on, she thinks it makes me feel better, like she is letting me no that it doesn't matter that I am not like everyone else. This speech has been rolled out at any and every opportunity. I dread it. It just confirms the fact that I have so far managed to fuck up everything I have ever tried to do and probably will continue to.

My sister on the other hand is great, she listens carefully, understands what is being said and most of all sticks up for me. She is the one that counts in these meetings.

Things that need to be discussed, lithium (or I am wanting to look at other mood stabilisers) my psychologist didn't realise I hadn't been taking them, whoops, my bad. Just shows the excellent communication between my psychologist and psychiatrist!

My planed discharge, I am definitely not going to be seeing my psychologist after June, due to my lack of wanting to change, lack of co-operation and the fact I am a waist of space. Options are full discharge from CMHT, full discharge with rapid re-entry plan or partial discharge with a CPN. 

Apparently the role of the CMHT has changed, where as you used to stay under them for years and years being monitored, now they are only there to support you whilst you are engaging in therapy, then it is bye bye to you, see you later, off you go. All good fun :)

Any ways, I am full of beans today, haven't been able to sit still. I was chatting away to my little bother on the phone and he said "are you heading for another manic, you are acting a bit odd again", I guess the answer to that appears to be yes. I decided at half 2 this afternoon I would hop on the train and head to Bath city, why not aye. I had no idea what to do whilst there, I wasn't really thinking ahead, had no money (apart from some money I was meant to be holding for my sister), I just needed to be moving, be around busyness. I walked around for a bit, considered doing a bit of shoplifting, but decided against that, ended up spending my sisters money on binge food and then purging in the train station toilets, classy! 

Up down up down

That is what my mood is like at the moment, my arms are a mess, actually a mess is an understatement, they are hideous. Food is going great, well great in my eyes, even though today is Friday and historically is the day I allow myself to binge, I didn't really fancy it, I have eaten a bit more today than all week, probably just shy of 1000 calories today, I have the strong urge to go back to 200 calories tomorrow and stick to that for a while, as it has been almost to easy to stick at about 400 all week. Sometimes I feel I need to feel the challenge and enjoy the discomfort of starving.

I had a appointment with my psychologist today, we have arranged for an appointment with my CMHT, my parents and my sister on Thursday. Scary business, also a bit humiliating that I need my younger sister and my parents involved in my care planning even though I am nearly 27 years old. I am hoping that this is going to be a very productive meeting though, it better bloody be with all of the stress it is going to cause me.

Bob has been a night mare and needed a trip to the vets, money I do not have, but at least I know he is ok, they have confirmed his latest problem is behavioural rather than medical. His behaviour team have written a new behaviour plan, I have to be really strict and follow it to the letter and hopefully this will get all of his behaviour under control as he is once again relying on me to take him to the toilet, is causing bold patches and
scabs on his face from scratching along with the usual stuff and it is all for attention. I will write in more detail about this in Bob and Bettys blog.

I  met up with someone I met on a ED support forum today, we walked our dogs in the woods at shear water. It was really lovely to meet her, we have a lot in common, have both been through periods of anorexia and bulimia. We chatted about all sorts and are definitely going to meet up again. Our dogs enjoyed it, Molly now has a boy friend! Both of our dogs have slept all afternoon from exhaustion. Molly isn't in my parents good books at the moment as she ran all the way home when my Mum let her off the lead at the park the other day and nearly got run over. She can be very strong minded at times!

Any ways, I am going to focus all of my energies this weekend on not self harming, my arms badly need to heal, could you all do me a favour and send your positive vibes my way, I am going to need them.

Exhausted

I am exhausted, I have done three things in one day, that is a lot for me. I meet Laura May in Bath for a coffee. My bus was 25 mins late, so that wasn't the best start, I thought it wasn't going to turn up and was starting to panic, then it came around the corner, thank god. It was really nice to meet Laura, we didn't have much time as she had to go to work and I had to head off to ballet, but it was nice to meet someone who has similar problems to me and was able to relate to everything I said.

After meeting Laura I walked up to ballet, it was really good, but my concentration was not there today, I felt all over the place and to be honest could easily of left after 10 mins. It is a shame as I normally love ballet. I hope next week my concentration will be better.

By the time I got back to my town on the bus I was truly cream crackered. I had to have a nap, I felt like I was going to cry just from being so tired. Just as I was nodding off there was a knock at the door, it was the people that run the launderette that I live above wanting to look at the holes in my floor boards and my rat holes as FINALLY my landlord wants to do something about it. Too bloody late, after 6 years of living in this dump, they want to fix it now that I am moving out.

I had pilates this evening, again my concentration just wasn't there, at one point the instructor asked if I was OK in front of everyone, I was so embarrassed as I thought I had been doing a good job at keeping up appearances. I kind of wish I hadn't gone, but I guess my day was not busy at all compared to most peoples standards, but to me it was exhausting.

I have struggled to keep my calories up today, I have had 374 and 84 for those were almost forced as I thought I had better have something else. I will try really hard to get to 500 tomorrow.

A little better

I am feeling a little brighter today, have been to town to meet 2 of my friends for a coffee. I have been trying to do a bit more the last few days and it seems to be helping.

I have been given a move date, the 11th of June, the only thing that would delay that is if the builders that are repairing the roof run behind again. I want to get out of this place, I need to get out of this place, but I have to confess I am getting anxious about it. I have lived here for a long time, the fear of the unknown is daunting.

Food is going really well, no binging, I have been eating an average of 500 calories a day, I am trying really hard not to go lower, as I no my ED voice would not let me go back up again and I do not want to go back to 200 calories a day.

Self harm is rapidly getting out of control again, it is actually scaring me at the moment as I am doing more and more damage again, when I get into this cycle it normally ends in one way, cutting so deep that I cut through tendons. I have no idea why I let it go that far, it seems to be that I get so caught up in it and I just need to take it that bit farther each time, then there is only so far you can take it and then the damage is once again done. I have actually lost count of how many times this has happened, I think I have had 8 tendon repair operations, why can't I learn my lesson?

This is a video I made after the last time I required surgery to repair tendons I cut in my wrist.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=35N4d5dApHo

Why the hell can't I learn my lesson????

Bobs behaviour has taken a turn for the worst, last night he weed on me, I woke up in the middle of the night and had to change the bedding,went back to sleep and then at 5:15am woke up to a poo and me, so had to change the bedding again. He pood and the carpet the other day, has weed in one of the cat beds, basically his behaviour has gone right back to the beginning. But as we all no, I will put up with anything from Bob as he is so special, so is Betty, but Bob has been so ill and I have to remember that is why he has these problems.

New video

My latest YouTube video :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgjufsu0_KY

Forced myself to go out

I have forced myself to go to pilates this evening, I have been avoiding the world for long enough, depression needs to take a step back and let me get back to the things I enjoy doing. Lets hope I can keep it up this time.

Anti-social me

As a lot of you will have realised I tend to get very anti social when things are bad, this has always been my way of dealing with things, I don't do it to be rude, it just kind of happens and I suddenly realise I have ignored my online friends like people on twitter YouTube etc. I also do it in real life world too. It is something I used to do a lot more, about 3 years ago I actually stopped speaking all together for a few months, during that period of time the only words I uttered were to tell my Mum not to call me by my name as I was dead when she sat on my bed and begged me to talk. Everyone has different ways of coming, some people talk more when they are low, I talk less.

Please bare with me! Thank you to everyone who has been so lovely :)

My aunty is dying

I aunty was diagnosed with liver cancer last week, we have now been told it is terminal, she has a maximum of 6 months if she has chemotherapy to prolong her life, but that will make her really sick and that time will be spent in hospital. Having no treatment will mean less time, but the time will be time that she does have will be more quality.

Nobody deserves to get cancer, but it breaks my heart that it is her. My uncle is distraught, they have been married for over 40 years. It is so unfair.

A lot of you will be aware of Oscar, he is my aunties parrot, I made him a YouTube channel, he is amazing, he hasn't coped well at all with my aunty being in hospital, he stopped eating and kept saying "Pam coming home" over and over again. I know in these circumstances the last thing I should be worrying about is a parrot, but my aunty is Oscars world and he is very intelligent and isn't going to understand where his beloved 'Pam' has gone and I know that is going to hurt my aunty so knowing that.

Cancer is cruel and heartless.