Overcoming Mental Illness

“You’re useless,”
“You never do anything right,”

If I were to sit down with a friend, black eye on display, and tell them that my partner had been physically abusing me it would be hard for them to disagree. The evidence in all its black, red and purple glory would be staring them in the face.

If I were to sit down with a friend, looking just the way I normally do, and tell them that my partner had been emotionally abusing me it would be hard for them to agree. The evidence would be locked away inside my mind, hidden from their view.

Or would it?

When I was in the city a couple of week’s ago I was strolling around one of the bigger book shops checking out all the books I had missed and/or wanted to read if only I could summon the focus to get through more than a page and I stopped – dumb founded – in a section which I just couldn’t believe.

Tragic Life Stories!

“Your photos are so boring, so uninspiring, why do you even bother?”
“You’re just contaminating me with your negativity,”
“You never do anything to help anyone - ever,”

There was crime, science fiction and fantasy, teenage fiction, literature, classics, history, biography, art, politics, adult, photography and then right in front of me in prominent display – tragic life stories. What the hell? Since when did this become its own genre? There were literally dozens upon dozens upon dozens of books all about exactly the same topic. Which is important, don’t get me wrong, but when I hopped over to the psychology section (if you can call it that) I could not see one title which examined abuse of any kind; it was just all comic-esque books about how eating an apple on the 14th July can stop depression for life, or that coloured day book; a collection of cute animal pictures with semi-topical lines derived from self help books (another genre I can’t stand – they’re written for people who are going through a relationship breakdown, of course they’re going to say you can learn a lot from pain. Which you can. But they never say you can learn more from happiness do they? Of course not, as this is the last thing the hurt person reading it is going to want to hear. I can categorically say that I learnt more about life from my happy moments than from all of my painful moments combined - but we’ll get to that in my last post on Friday) Give me The Black Day Book or the wonderful novel Happiness any day; exactly the same thing but streaked through with brilliant irony which teaches far more than a jaunty little sentence of self-help bullshit.

But I digress.

Tragic Life Stories and the complete absence of psychology books about abuse. That’s where I was.

“You never take my feelings into account ever,”
“Your sex is so boring, it never excites me,”
“Get your back waxed, it’s horrible,”

There is absolutely nothing wrong with telling stories about abused childhoods, relationships or lives – especially if it’s about bringing this topic to the fore. Abuse destroys lives. Simple fact. As I browsed the titles, and every single cover looked exactly the same I should point out – virtually identical cover art, font, title, everything – they were all about sexual or physical abuse. It was as if emotional abuse doesn’t exist, as if we can all whole heartedly believe in every form of abuse under the sun except this, or perhaps because we can’t believe in something that doesn’t have any evidence to back up the claims. Both physical and sexual abuse can leave physical evidence that the abuse has taken place; emotional abuse, not a jot.

“It’s not that I find you physically repulsive, it’s more that you’re just not at all interesting,”
“If you were beaten as a child you wouldn’t think like that,”
“You’re such a pathetic retard,”

Hence why if you sit down to tell someone you’ve been emotionally abused chances are they’re not going to believe you. Surely they’re just words taken out of context and if you had a “thicker skin” it would be doing no damage at all? Nope, can’t agree with this at all. Emotional abuse is just as if not more damaging than all other forms of abuse and I’m sick of it continuing to be the Loch Ness Monster of the abuse debate. It causes life long potentially irreparable damage; just as physical and sexual abuse. In fact emotional abuse often (not always) leads directly into physical and sexual abuse.

“You never do anything to care about anyone - ever,”
“You’re always so selfish, it’s always about you!”
“No-one gives a shit about what you’re going through, why should they, it’s not important?”

So what evidence, what damage, does emotional abuse cause? Let’s use me as a case study (I mean, who else am I going to use, this is my insipid ramble here!) What are the consequences of emotional abuse?

(The quotes you are reading by the way, weren’t just said once, they were said on multiple occasions throughout and after my relationship. The reason it is so hard to get people to believe in emotional abuse is that it just looks like you’re not taking criticism well, but they just don’t seem to realize how frequent and repetitive this criticism is that’s being thrown at you.

No matter what you are doing. No matter how much of yourself you’re putting in. No matter how honest and open you’re being. No matter how deeply and positively you believe in something. No matter how you are saying something. No matter how it’s being done.
It
Will
Be
Attacked.
There is a list on this blog which I wrote in mid 2006; everything on that list was attacked and criticized by my abuser with the knowledge of everything that was on the list as I had told her about it and shared its content with her.

The other problem with simply retyping comments that were said to me throughout this post is that their context is lost, and with emotional abuse it is often the context in which something is said that elevates it from mere criticism into overtly abusive territory. Take for example the following:

“Yep, I made the right decision in breaking up with you,”

Fair enough. We’ve all thought this at some point in time and whether or not we actually decide to say it is up to the individual. But when taken in context, this sentence takes on a slightly different and – for me – more potently damaging aspect.

I was phoned on a Sunday afternoon by my ex-girlfriend asking if I wanted to come round for a cup of tea. We were trying at this stage to be friends, possibly the worst mistake of my life, but having nothing better to do, and valuing the friendship we once had (as I still do), I agreed.

We met in a park and being Easter I took along a couple of cream eggs, as really, cream eggs are just delicious. We chatted for a bit before ending up strolling down Smith Street and then journeying back to her house. She was peckish, I was peckish, and we were both bored so decided to cook up something to eat before going to the cinema. She was also tired, so went to have a nap whilst I wandered to the cinema for a schedule before coming back to her place and cooking a fairly simple pasta and sauce meal. Due to the timing of the cinema the dishes were left, and we went to watch the always enjoyable Audrey Tatou. Walking her home she invited me back in and we began a lengthy conversation touching on various subjects which at times became quite deep and meaningful and as the evening drew on she said how it would be easy for her to flirt with me in order to get me to spend the night.

I’d never hidden the fact from anyone that I was still in love with her, never did, never have, never will – as I even stated in my first post on emotional abuse how I still loved her. We talked about what she was saying and it resulted in the fact that because she was lonely and at times needed company it would be nice to spend the night with someone, to which she also added that she also understood how it would appear that she would be using me, knowing how I still felt about her. Fuelled by mild narcotics and love I agreed, and we spent the night.

It was actually rather miraculous I was able to get it up that night given the fact my body was pumped full of anti-depressants and diazepam, but I did, albeit a little awkwardly (not surprising when you take into account that impotency and reduction in sex drive are two of the most common side effects of this form of medication).
Anyhow, the following morning whilst we were both still dozing, she rolled herself on top of me with her head resting on my bare chest. Aside from underwear we were both wearing not much else. So as she rested her head on my chest and the rest of her body lying on top of mine, she played with my chest hair with one hand, opened her mouth and with a smile said: “Yep, I made the right decision in breaking up with you,”

And I suppose it’s probably just me thinking that maybe that wasn’t quite the nicest thing to say. Not quite able to believe those words had just been spoken I just lay there in shock, and it wasn’t for quite a while that she moved herself from on top of me and we both set about getting up, dressed and ready for the day. I gathered my bits together, threw them in a bag and wandered into the kitchen to bid farewell. To say I was hurt by her sentence was an understatement. I gave her a hug and left. A few minutes later I received a text message saying I had left a few bits at her place which she didn’t want, which I had, and so returned to get them and was met with a tirade of anger about how I hadn’t stuck around to do the dishes or help her with the laundry. Which, to be honest, just pissed me off!

I had made her dinner whilst she slept, had long emotional conversations with her, spent the night with someone who had ripped the heart from my chest only a couple of months before because she was lonely and needed company, and who had upon lying half naked on top me that morning told me she was happy she had broken up with me. And yet I was at fault because after being so obviously used I hadn’t stuck around to do the boyfriend thing of helping her with her laundry and her dishes.

Similarly with the context of:

“You and Grace aren’t friends, you never were, you never will be, she doesn’t care about you and she’s tired of being there to listen to all of your pathetic little problems. You’re on your own,”

After having had a nervous breakdown, a painful relationship breakup, being diagnosed with leukemia, falling back into self harm, depression, suicidal thoughts and still suffering from glandular fever (all of which – besides the leukemia - she knew) – the last thing I needed was to be told I was on my own. Whether what she said was true or not I always thought of Grace and myself as friends, and to be told this was not how she felt hurt like buggery, especially given the state my mind and physical health were in at the time.

“I have so much more respect now for a manager I never met than I have for you, she was a much better manager,”
 “You treated her so badly when she was at the hostel, she hated you,”
“Your hugs were suffocating; I never really liked them,”

Words alone though aren’t all the emotional abuser will use.

There were the with-holding and refusal to do anything which she knew I would like or wanted, such as:

• The information that she had a boyfriend was something she didn’t share with her mother and despite knowing how much I wanted to meet her family it was never to be – despite several opportunities when it could have happened.
• Or the utter refusal to do something sexual to me she knew I wanted, without ever explaining why. It was in a sense with-holding something from me she knew would bring me pleasure as a means to retain control over the relationship.

Then there were the dramatics:

• The “climbing of a construction site” and storming into my room at 10pm to make sure I was okay after she had broken up with me because she hadn’t been able to get in touch since breaking up with me. (i.e. because I had been in Port Fairy without a phone battery or charger)
• Or the storming out of the room at random intervals because I wasn’t doing what she wanted me to do and testing whether I’d chase after her or not, despite the fact she never really actually told me what she wanted to be doing. I was supposed to guess that.

Then there were the actions:

• Such as the throwing of a glass of water over my head in a relatively crowded restaurant on New Years Day because my preference of Bond actor differed from hers and she needed me to realize how stupid it was to prefer that actor over her own opinion.

Then there was the fact that my feelings never mattered:

• The apparent refusal to accept I was suffering from glandular fever; so was expected to wander around a town, go for a half hour horse riding session and then hike 6km to a bus stop whilst initiating in-depth emotional conversations without actually feeling any pain. Despite the fact that whilst she had glandular fever I was on the receiving end of an hour long tirade for suggesting we walk less than a kilometer from a train station to our destination in the city. (I wasn’t taking her health or how she was feeling into consideration)
• My mental illness was not under any circumstances to be discussed in detail ever. Whenever I tried to raise the topic of depression, self harm or social anxiety it was instantly rejected out of hand as depressing and not worth talking about in any way. So I learned to never even attempt to bring it up first.
• Or the fact that all of the above examples can be listed under this also. My feelings about what I wanted or desired were not a good enough reason to do something, the fact that her not introducing me to or telling her mother/family about me made me feel she was completely ashamed of me but that never mattered or that maybe throwing a glass of water over my head for no real reason made me feel completely humiliated and the fact that my physical illnesses were merely me being pathetic and weak for suffering from conditions such as glandular fever.

Then there was the always present never allowing me to forget the mistakes I had made in the past, with the constant use of lines beginning with:

“You know 12 months ago you did this…”
“Two weeks ago, you did this…”
“Why, 11 months and 2 weeks ago, when you did this…”

Before going into lengthy detail about incidents I had myself forgotten and/or overcome the regret in my mind, only to have the whole situation constantly resurrected in my head to feel the pain of them all over again.

Plus the fact that no matter what I was going through she had always been through something of equal nastiness or in most cases something far worse:

• You’ve had a breakdown? Well I was having a breakdown as well.
• You’re suffering from depression? When I was a teenager I also suffered from depression and I wanted to kill myself but I got through it so you should just get over it and that’s that.
• You’ve not got any money? Well neither have I, despite the fact that I’ve just bought a $300 pair of boots, have three jobs and am receiving a few hundred in benefits every couple of weeks, I have no money either.
• Or the all time classic! When I sat down with her one afternoon to tell her I’d been diagnosed with leukemia. Before I could even get out fully what my situation was: “I’ve been in exactly the same situation as you have so you’re not going to get any sympathy from me, so don’t even bother going into it, I don’t want to hear,”

And that’s just the tip of the ice-berg. Yet through everything, through all of the occasions that I tried to find out why she was saying these things, or why she was criticizing and hurting me so much, the answer was always the same. It was either: ‘I don’t know,’ or, something familiar with cases of emotional abuse, ‘I was just trying to change you,’

As a result of emotional abuse I have changed! As a result, I:

• have lost all sense of self belief, self esteem and confidence. I have been reduced to a scared, frightened wreck, unable to believe I am capable of doing or achieving anything. I think that’s fairly obvious from a lot of the posts on this blog.
• cannot trust anyone, anywhere, and doubt I will be able to again.
• do not believe a single word of praise which is given to me.
• have inflicted self-injury on several occasions as a direct consequence of the emotional abuse I suffered.
• am literally afraid to talk to anyone in fear of a repeat of what happened to me. My ability to communicate has been destroyed, and any chance of emotional, open and intimate conversation has been lost.
• suffer from flashbacks and daily replays of moments and quotes from that time.
• have ended up in hospital as a result of some instances of the self injury inflicted as a result of the abuse.
• lost my college course due to my problems, issues and circumstances being unimportant compared to hers.
• have found my depression and related mental illnesses relapse to the worst point in my life to the point I don’t believe I’ll be able to get over it.
• spent several hundred dollars that I couldn’t afford on psychologists and counselors in an effort to overcome the PTSD, anxiety, panic and related disorders which the abuse created.

That’s a fair whack of damage; internal, external, physical and financial – all with long reaching and devastating consequences on the rest of my life. So for my abuser, rejoice, because you definitely succeeded in changing me. And for those who think emotional abuse is merely friendly criticism that’s being taken in the wrong way.

WAKE UP!

There is so much more that needs to be done to make people realize that this is not acceptable behavior. It is almost impossible for both the abuser and abused to realize and understand what is happening during the relationship, even if this is the case the abused will often be unable to break up the relationship because their love of the person is far too strong to be able to do this. The abuser has control, which is what everything is about, which is why there is the criticism, the games, the tests and manipulation. They must at all times ascertain their control over their relationship and the people in their life, and most often, do not even realize this is what they are doing.

If you are being emotionally abused find a friend, find someone you trust and talk to them about what is going on. If they don’t believe you then find someone else. Emotional abuse exists, it is destroying lives, and more needs to be done. Those Tragic Life Stories littering the shops are not just books – they are lives – real human people who are never going to be the same and who will not be able to live the life they want. This is the damage of abuse. Physical, Sexual, Emotional, whatever – abuse should not be tolerated.

Every quote, every incident, every moment detailed on this page and thousands more replay in my head virtually all day every day. Nothing I do makes it go away, nothing I do seems to be able to make it stop. That’s what emotional abuse does. Is it any wonder I hate myself? Why I cut myself? Hit myself? Believe my hallucination so much? Abuse sucks, and until you’ve experienced it, I don’t think you’ll ever fully understand it’s long reaching soul destroying consequences.

“You should tape record your voice, it’ll make you realize how boring and monotonous it is, and so you should just kill yourself,”
“Your kisses were terrible, I never enjoyed them, my ex was the most perfect kisser in the world,”
“You never say anything interesting – ever,”

Related posts:

• Emotional Abuse
• Emotional Abuse: Resources and Information
• My Nervous Breakdown

Inverness, the site of so many memories and moments of my life was both a happy inducing tour-de-force and also a nostalgic kick in the groin. There are two videos of my time in Inverness, both rather reflective pieces, which draw this particular journey in Scotland to a close.

Part 1: Return

Part 2: Reflect

And this concludes this journey. It’s not been handled very well, but that’s kinda the thing with bipolar isn’t it! You get all these wonderful ideas of world domination and then - BAM - a vicious depressive episode hits for no reason and nothing ever gets done.

Ah well.

There’s always next time!

Anyhow, hope you’ve enjoyed them at least a little - I had fun making them, so at least that’s something!

A recent comment on my post regarding Emotional Abuse had me delving into my old blog to pluck this list of resources and information from the internet ether.

This list was originally posted on my Blogspot blog on 13 December 2007 but as all information regarding emotional abuse is needed and warranted it is worth reposting here.

There are a lot of people out there who are either in, or think they are in an abusive relationship. It took me months and several hours spent in the Adelaide public library to work out that I had been the victim of emotional abuse.

Collected here are some resources and articles which you could use to better understand your situation and ways you can deal with it.

Emotional Abuse: Further Reading and Support I

(A lot of these articles have been written from the POV of abusive man/victimised woman which I find a little frustrating, as more needs to be done to bring the “abused man” into the spotlight - but if you are an emotionally abused man just swap the s/he’s around and you’ll be fine)

Articles of Interest…

Verbal Abuse Survivors Speak Out: On Relationship and Recovery
By Patricia Evans
An article which summarises a book on emotional abuse, very informative with insight from victims of abuse.

Emotional Abusers
By Natalie P.
An excellent “rant” on emotional abuse that made me laugh, made me angry and made me cry. It was like reading about my previous relationship (if you swap the he’s and the she’s!)

The Guilt of the Abused
By Sam Vaknin
An article about the how the abused often feel guilty or blame themselves for what is being done to them.

Emotional Abuse
By Steve Hein
An excellent resource of emotional abuse information, written predominantly from the perspective of abused teenagers/children from their parents but the information is equally relevant for the abuse in adult sexual/friend/work relationships.

Verbal Abuse
By Kerby Anderson
An article which includes a religious/biblical reflection on emotional abuse.

Responding to Emotional Abuse: How you can help someone you know
Includes some excellent information on how to help and support someone who is in an emotionally abusive relationship.

Facebook Groups…
These two Facebook groups offer information and support to victims of emotional abuse.
You will need a Facebook ID to access these groups.

STOP Emotional Abuse
Stop Psychological Abuse!!!

Recommended Reading…
Some books which deal with emotional abuse.

- Healing the Scars of Emotional Abuse [Gregory L. Jantz, Ann McMurray]
- Trauma and Recovery [J L Herman]
- Emotional Abuse: The Trauma and the Treatment [Marti Tamm Loring]
- Stalking the Soul: Emotional Abuse the Erosion of Identity [Marie-France Hirigoyen]

Then on 17 December 2007 a second follow up post appeared:

Emotional Abuse: Further Reading and Support II

It’s not that I’m obsessed or anything, but I’m really struggling to overcome the emotional abuse I suffered so have been spending as much time as I can afford trying to find new information and coping strategies to recover.So here are some excellent sites/blogs I have discovered regarding emotional and/or other abuse:Sanctuary for the Abused
A blog containing articles, links and support for survivors of verbal, emotional, online and psychological abuse. LOTS of information here I’ve only touched the surface of what they have to offer, but so far it is excellent, and come highly recommended.Abused No More
Emotional abuse recovery Coach Annie Kaszina enables women to understand and heal swiftly from the trauma of an abusive relationship.

And a couple more articles:

From the Abuser’s Point of View
An interesting insight of abuse as told from what the abuser may be feeling. Once again, the abuser is painted as a man; although in a lot of cases the abuser is male, it would be nice to occasionally find a sight which discusses the man as “victim” rather than “perpetrator”.

Eight Ways to Spot an Emotional Manipulator
Another great article on eight ways in which someone will act if they are emotionally abusive or have the potential to be emotionally abusive.

Effects of Emotional Abuse
A nice article on what the longer term effects of emotional abuse could be if not dealt with in any way.

And with that I think I’ll leave my emotional abuse series for a while. It’s opened up a lot of scars I had forgotten about and I need to work on finding ways to overcome these issues, but with everything will keep you posted on my progress/lack of progress.

To all who are trying to overcome and understand emotional abuse, either as a victim or abuser, I shall give you a hug and wish you the best of luck.

Read
Emotional Abuse: Words are Just as Powerful as the Fist

It’s been 64 months that I’ve been in Australia.It’s been 64 months of ups, downs,  highs, lows, excitement, misery, laughter and despair.

It’s been 64 months…wow…still can’t believe it’s nearly over.

It hasn’t really sunk in yet, even though it should’ve done. All the things I didn’t get to do are flying through my mind and joining up with all those things that I did do.

It’s been a long five years, it’s been an incredible five years, it’s been an emotional five years, and by fuck I’m gonna miss it here!

This is a month by month, memorable moment by memorable moment, account of my time in Australia.

This has been my 64 months in Australia…

A quick note on the links:
The links which are bolded will take you to a photograph taken by me.
The links which are italicized will take you to one of my blog posts on the subject.

Oct-02	My arrival in this sun burnt land of beaches, cricket and mad (wo)men!
Nov-02	My first live concert (‘My Friend the Chocolate Cake’ & ‘Archie Roach’) culminates a month spent adjusting and re-acclimatsing to this new country. I find the weather brutal, and it takes me about a week to realize I shouldn’t go to the beach in a leather jacket and woolen jumper in 30+ temperatures…as this is no longer the UK!
Dec-02	My first Christmas in the summer and I’m feeling bloody homesick, quitting smoking is affecting my self-harm urges and I occasionally consider it but never actually do anything. I am however loving Melbourne!
Jan-03	My partner and I move into her flat and start setting up our life together in Australia. I continue adjusting to the heat and rebuilding my life here.
Feb-03	My new job as a charity collector and trip down the Great Ocean Road follows my first live viewing of Colin Hay (yay!)
Mar-03	My new job as receptionist at Chapman Gardens YHA gets me back into the hostel world and I love it; I describe the hostel as the little hostel that could due to it’s potential. My application for temporary residency is in full swing and taking up a lot of time.
Apr-03	My application for residency is sent after weeks of work and I begin working on several photography projects in my spare time.
May-03	My medical tests for temporary residence are marred by the slightly embarrassing moment of being unable to provide a urine sample under such pressure and result in downing a 2litre bottle of water which makes it easy to provide the test but results in me dashing from public loo to public loo for the next couple of hours.
Jun-03	My job at Chapman Gardens YHA ends due to the three month stipulation of my working visa and I am thrown once again into the job market.
Jul-03	My stress at being unemployed and waiting to see if I’m accepted as a resident is taking it’s toll and I begin to notice depression signals but fight hard to keep it under control.
Aug-03	My acceptance as a temporary resident of Australia is a weight off my mind and bloody exciting!
Sep-03	My return to work at Chapman Gardens YHA gets me an income again.
Oct-03	My first viewing of those cute and cuddly penguins on Phillip Island coincides with a co-manager job becoming available at the hostel. I am successful in my application, and this coincides with my anniversary in being in Australia: my partner tells me she’s never seen me happier.
Nov-03	My new job as co-manager of Chapman Gardens YHA begins and I start to settle into the new position. My time becomes taken over with the hostel.
Dec-03	My time this year was primarily spent working and I did a lot of work on my social anxiety. Although there were specific events which occurred that I remember this year by the events are not common knowledge, and also include another person, so I am not wishing to divulge them in a public forum. If they were merely about me I would do so. Things which did happen for the first time in 2004 however included: seeing ‘Shooglenifty’ for the first time, meeting someone I desperately wanted to work behind reception for the first time, my continuing love of local Australian music, and falling deeper in love with Melbourne and this country.
Jan-04
Feb-04
Mar-04
Apr-04
May-04
Jun-04
Jul-04
Aug-04
Sep-04
Oct-04	My anticipation over my parent’s arrival starts to overwhelm me.
Nov-04	My parents arrive for their first visit to Australia and I’m told later I have never looked so happy. I visit the Grampians for the first time and then on the 29th begin a three month period of work with only one day off until February 2005!
Dec-04	My workload is intense, stressful and ridiculous and it leads to my first self-harm in Australia (and first self harm in 5 years; the box of matches) This goes unrecognized by everyone in my life (both at home and at work) as the pressures of work overwhelm me.
Jan-05	My depression returns and I find self harm beginning to dominate my thoughts again as work starts to get ridiculous. My boss however is a gem and tries to help in whatever way he can.
Feb-05	My first day off in three months is spent at a doctor’s - a much needed visit.
Mar-05	My first trip to the Port Fairy Folk Festival is a highlight of Australia and I get to see ‘Capercaillie’ play live, a fantastic experience, and I have a much needed holiday following my three months of work.
Apr-05	My co-manager leaves and I am promoted to Manager of Chapman Gardens YHA. I also begin work on my photography website which goes live and I’m proud of it. The decision is made to rename the hostel and I put forward Melbourne Oasis YHA, which is later chosen as the new name.
May-05	My workload as Manager is higher than before but no-where near as bad as during the summer. The new team I hire is (IMHO) the best hostel team in Melbourne and I still believe three of them to be the best hostel receptionists I’ve ever met in my long and illustrious career (including the person I had met in 2004 who I finally got behind reception) My application for permanent residency begins.
Jun-05	My time is dominated with a new computer system and the beginning of the renaming process at work.
Jul-05	My acceptance as a permanent resident of Australia thrills me and I feel the happiest I’ve felt in ages.
Aug-05	My time continues to be dominated by work, the renaming process and the computer system.
Sep-05	My time, again, continues to be dominated by work and I start to think about self harm again…and think it’s time for a holiday.
Oct-05	My first trip to Wilson’s Prom and my first viewing of a wombat in the wild is an awesome experience marred by the onset of a nasty flu virus, and I go to Port Fairy to recover from this. My work at renaming the hostel Melbourne Oasis YHA ends when the name officially changes.
Nov-05	My summer kicks off in okay fashion but work is still stressful and starts getting to me about how much effort I do and how little money, respect and recognition I get from my employers. My stress levels are once again on the rise and I continue to fight social anxiety hard; inklings of self harm are on the horizon.
Dec-05	My self harm urges peak but I continue to pretend all is well and good in the world for the staff and guests as I try to make it an excellent summer for the people at the hostel. I am feeling very homesick after so long away and am becoming increasingly angry at my social anxiety and how it’s affecting my life.
Jan-06	My mind starts to consider resignation as stress levels reach new highs at work. My relationship is being severely affected by this, and I am thinking of self harm again and wanting to beat the crap out of social anxiety. I am however making headway with finally making friends with people in Australia.
Feb-06	My life implodes as everything at work, home and play reaches crisis point. On one day at work alone I nearly; self harm in front of staff, hit a guest and come within a heart beat of smashing every glass in the kitchen! Suffice to say I don’t and am unable to tell my colleague about what I’m feeling despite her concern; a few days later I take sick leave and head to Port Fairy so I can try and get everything under control.
Mar-06	My decision to end my job is emotional and affected by depression and anxiety but eventually taken. I leave, and as per plan, attempt suicide following the folk festival in Port Fairy. I don’t go through with it and return to Melbourne. I see Colin Hay again and get my photo taken with him, in which I unfortunately look like a psychopath, but on the plus side, a deliriously happy psychopath.
Apr-06	My counselor and I continue to work on my issues and I move out of my flat for a few weeks. I self harm for the second time in Australia and a friend nearly discovers this by accident on a night out karaokeing.
May-06	My partner and I continue attempting to rebuild our relationship whilst I continue to control and fight the return of my depression and self harm urges.
Jun-06	My depression continues to worsen and the counseling sessions aren’t helping too much. My partner and I begin joint sessions and I find self harm urges difficult to control.
Jul-06	My social anxiety is being affected drastically by my depression and begins to seriously affect friendships, employment and my relationship.
Aug-06	My relationship ends. Everything goes black.
Sep-06	My new home is pretty shocking but it’s a place to live and I do my best to make it look homely. I self harm for the first time since April, and repeat frequently throughout the month. Despite a terribly low mood continue my attempts to overcome depression and social anxiety and start making some headway. My second best day of the year takes place.
Oct-06	My housewarming party is held (and I dress as a sexy pirate), my best day of the year takes place, my work overcoming depression is starting to payoff but I continue to self harm out of addiction until I get it under control by the end of the month, my social anxiety is on the wane and I start seeing my new girlfriend.
Nov-06	My girlfriend is diagnosed with glandular fever, I spend the month working part time and being a pseudo-nurse to her. I get the idea for my novel and begin writing it. My depression is now all but overcome.
Dec-06	My parent’s second visit to Australia is awesome, exciting and a grand time. New job, acceptance into college and getting my depression under control continue to excite and the stirrings of glandular fever don’t get in the way too much - but social anxiety continues to annoy.
Jan-07	My happiness of overcoming depression is muted because of the full onset of glandular fever which completely knocks me on my ass making it almost impossible to do anything - my new job ends - but I do take some of the best photos of my life.
Feb-07	My glandular fever rolls on in crippling fashion and it’s depression symptoms kick in a mite, but I fight them. My college course starts, am closer to overcoming social anxiety, my first novel is completed which makes me feel awesome and I begin work on another…then…CLL diagnosis, dumped by my girlfriend by text message a week later (unbeknownst to the CLL), kicked out of college, lose study benefits. Glandular fever starts getting worse because of the emotional strain and the depressive symptoms consume me. I self harm for the first time since October.
Mar-07	My nervous breakdown! Depression inevitably returns, self harm inevitably returns, my social anxiety work amounts to nothing, my social network begins to collapse and I resort to selling everything to survive. I start taking medication and the side effects are brutal; my body and mind are so weak I can’t think straight in any way.
Apr-07	My ex continues her emotional abuse, my hallucination returns, my self harm becomes the worst it’s been since my late teens, trips to hospital and GPs become regular and I continue to sell all my possessions.
May-07	My second suicide attempt in Australia sees me unconscious but survive, my ex continues her emotional abuse and tells me I should kill myself (unbeknownst to the suicide attempt), my social network is now one person and I’ve now lost pretty much everything. I do however finish the first draft of my second novel.
Jun-07	My decision to leave Melbourne is swift, goodbyes swifter, I end up in Adelaide and have 75% of my belongings and clothes stolen, I start researching both emotional abuse and leukemia and attempt to come to terms with all that’s happening.
Jul-07	My ex continues her abuse by email, that same week; a family member is in hospital following an overdose, I am having tests for my leukemia as well as a painful polynoidal sinus and have to go to hospital several times, my self harm worsens to it’s worst point of the year thus far and I experience my first “manic” phase of the year which scares the living daylights out of me. I return to Melbourne as the manic phase weakens and hope I don’t bump into my ex.
Aug-07	My attempts to continue rebuilding my life continue to fall apart, my application for Australian citizenship is sent, and I have to return to hospital for an operation for my polynoidal sinus and am virtually couch bound for two weeks. I find the manic phase ending and enter a nasty depressive phase and begin to seriously consider bipolar with my psychologist and GP.
Sep-07	My depressive phase gets in the way of job hunting and I find myself thinking about self harm again, my interviews for citizenship take place and I’m not successful, my depressive phase worsens and I realize my ‘deadline’ is close.
Oct-07	My deadline is reached and I decide to kill myself; which I attempt but fail and go to hospital, where I am sent home after 30 minutes. I spend a week in shock and disarray and begin work on a blog, titled All that I am, all that I ever was which goes live on the 21st.
Nov-07	My bipolar diagnosis is confirmed and I realize my future will never be what I dreamed of it being despite what I do to control the illness, my episode becomes a mixed state and the transitions from mania/depression become impossible for me to control as well as being incredibly scary. I consider suicide again, have returned to self harm on a regular basis, and end up in hospital because of it. My birthday comes and goes as it does for most homeless people.
Dec-07	My mixed episode worsens and my self harm is now hard to control, I have to leave Australia but a vicious anxiety/panic attack makes it impossible to get on the plane and I am forced to reschedule and go onto the waiting list. My Christmas is a nasty period of depression, fear, panic, anxiety and self-harm and this remains until the New Year. The decision however is made to move my blog to Wordpress.
Jan-08	My final month in Australia. So far, not much to report aside from melancholy, depression, self harm, anxiety and a return to suicidal feelings. My mixed state continues it’s ridiculously long running time!

…rather a hectic 64 months really! :-p

And so 2007 is slowly drawing to a close…as my clock goes (AEST) there is a mere 25 and a 1/2 hours left as I begin this post…and as with most people at this time I am thinking of three things:

1. So, what are my chances of a New Year’s pash…
2. Blimey, better get cracking on making some resolutions…
3. The internal-analysis of the last twelve months…

Well I can categorically tell you that my chance of a New Year’s pash are zilch (zero, nada, nought) unless I somehow manage to enter a manic phase in the next 25 hours 27 minutes - the chances of which are pretty slim! And what exactly is the point of making resolutions anyway?

My mind however has been mulling over the last object on this list with a kind of exasperated urgency. Voices, songs, screams and agonised yelps are haunting my every waking moment. The thing I find hard with my bipolar is getting all the ghosts to shut up, they’re just there, constantly, bickering away at my soul until I am nothing but a cowering wreck on the floor.

So let’s for a moment, just a moment (allow me that) forget that the events of the last eleven months happened. Let’s rewind the clock and take a peek at the year that wasn’t, a year that this time twelve months ago was going to be one of the best of my life, instead of the bitch year from hell it became!

[NOTE: From this point on everything not in italics is what could have happened if 2007 had gone the way I had hoped/whereas everything in italics is what actually happened]

…click here if you’d like to read more about my year that WASN’T/WAS…

I mentioned in my post yesterday that I phoned the suicide helpline…

…it is not the first time I have ever called them. The very first time I dialled this number was in April 2006 as I was having an incredibly bad day and didn’t know who else to phone. I was having relationship problems, my best friend had just celebrated her 21st birthday and I didn’t want to upset her, and my other friends…I just didn’t want to burden them.

So I dialled the helpline, which I had on speed dial since my suicide moment the month before. It rang…and it rang…and I cried…and I cried…and it rang…and it rang…and I threw the phone across the room because the bloody thing just kept on ringing and ringing and ringing and nobody answered! There must have been a lot of suicidal people that night! Suffice to say I was able to remain safe and well until those urges had passed, but not before resorting to self-harm for the first time in over a year.

The other most memorable being a moment in March of this year when I was incredibly close from slashing my wrists following my breakdown but was able to be talked down from my mood with their assistance and that of a friendly conversation with a friend.

I have phoned them on several occasions since then, not however before my attempts in May and October because on those occasions I just needed the pain to stop and was not willing to phone for help.

Things however got incredibly bad yesterday. After my atrocious Christmas Day and self-harm session that night (Ouch! Is all I can really say about that, still smarting) I wasn’t coping either Boxing Day or yesterday so after more self-harm which wasn’t achieving the desirable outcome of relief and oh-so-very nearly phoning someone I haven’t spoken to for months I pulled up the hotline’s number on the phone and dialled.

I knew the drill, would no doubt hit an automated queue first, so logged onto YouTube to download a video guaranteed to make me smile and have doubts, and waited for them to answer. It did take a wee while, but eventually I was chatting to a calming lady who listened to me through fitful sobs and occasional caterwauling as I explained my plans. She told me to get rid of the knives (which I didn’t do) and remove myself from the balcony area (which I did).

Once retreated inside I just sat on the floor and waited for the inevitable question. The one I dread and fear in equal heart pounding measure:

Do you have anyone you can call? A friend who can come and be with you?

NO!

I DO NOT!

I have no-one in my life. There is not a soul who could come and be with me to distract my mind from it’s suicidal urges! I fracked up you see and lost everyone!

Frack! I hate that question. I really do. It just serves to remind me how lonely and useless I am, how worthless and forgotten, which just doesn’t help the whole ‘maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if I stayed alive’ argument my head was racing through.

You see this has been the problem this year, this is what caused everything to go wrong.

When my relationship ended in February it basically isolated me. Even though I could still contact some people I knew I couldn’t really talk to them because they were friends of my ex. As I had made the decision to not tell my ex what had happened (i.e. being kicked out of college as an indirect consequence of a text message she sent and also being diagnosed with CLL) out of a desire to protect her from any guilt, I was unable to talk to my friends about these things because I did not want her finding out indirectly. I also didn’t want to bitch to these same friends about my ex because I didn’t want to affect or influence their friendship with her. Does any of this make sense? Seriously, nothing makes sense to me any more! But then it didn’t really then either because Mulholland Drive makes more sense after a breakdown than anything going on in your head! The problem that I was (and still am) in love with my ex didn’t help either!

Isolation is a killer. It seriously fracks you up! With my social circle, network and group in tatters I had to seek out new friends - which after a breakdown is nigh on impossible, let alone for someone who suffers from social anxiety disorder and who’s had a breakdown.

So I have been without any real major human contact since March.

Anyone who has spent several months alone and isolated will know what I mean. You go nuts! You end up talking to yourself to keep yourself sane, or in my case, I talk to myself and Meadhbh which is seriously weird at times. I believe profoundly that had things been different in February and I not been isolated, then what I’ve been going through this year would not have happened…

Anyway.

So I don’t have anyone to call, so the woman chats with me for a while. Asks about my Christmas…self harm, loneliness and desperation. Asks about me…I’m a worthless lunatic, what’s there to say? Until we eventually agree to make a spoken contract, whereby I promise to phone her back tomorrow - i.e. today - which I am just about to do.

Whether or not I will speak to the same woman I don’t know, but she did seriously help yesterday. Which I guess brings me to a kindof point to this somewhat bizarre and rambling post: they are called helplines for a reason.

They help! Use them! If like me you don’t have anyone to talk to or there is no-one to be there with you to help you get through a bad moment - call a helpline!

Simple as that.

I‘ve been trying for the last four days, been through countless versions, drafted so many different options and yet even now - three hours before the clock strikes midnight, I still can’t get the words out.

I know why - usually the Christmas spirit bites me with all the kinky fondness of a lover deliciously nibbling into the juicy flesh of their partner’s pert backside. One of those goose bump electrifying bites of extreme pleasure and excitement! (You know what I mean!)

This year, it feels like Rudolph has been mutated by comic book radioactive slime into a ravenous killer reindeer and has decided my arse is the appetiser!

So many children are getting excited right about now the world over. Impatiently waiting for the ticking down of the clocks so they can leap up the next morning and get stuck into their Wiis and bikes and iPods and Barbies. So many adults are gathering around getting slowly inebriated as they laugh over the joys and times of the months gone. So many friends are gathering in pubs and clubs drinking heavily and partaking in the knees up to end all knees up (well, at least until the 31st that is!) Wives, husbands, boyfriends and girlfriends are relishing the thought of their Christmas Day shag, and just how awesome that nibble is going to feel this year.

So many people are sitting alone in their respective bedsits, flats, rooms, houses, gardens, outhouses, park benches and hostels wishing that all the above was happening to them. Instead, they get to pull out their knives, or check to see how many pills they have left, or whether they have enough blankets to get through the night.

The problem I am having with Christmas this year is that this is the time of year when empathy, compassion and the human spirit goes out the window. It’s a bit messed up, because really this should be the time of year when these things happen in abundance! People seem to be focused on all the fun they are having to realise what they can be doing for other people, their gestures of warmth and love feel somehow forced - committed out of necessity of the time of year, rather than out of love or friendship.

Everyone’s too interested in making their Christmas that bit more wonderful than thinking of what they can do to make someone else’s Christmas more exciting.

I sound like the grinch, I know, but I’m sure it’s not just me. There are so many people in the world who will be spending tomorrow alone. All the lost souls the world has forgotten and left to rot. Will anyone be thinking of those people when they tuck into their turkey’s, beach side BBQs or partner’s posterior?

I will be.

Ever since I first read it last week I have been thinking about a particular blogpost I read. It touched me in ways many blog posts don’t. It was about a man who killed himself, a man who was suffering from depression, a man who felt so alone and forgotten in the world that he had no other choice but to kill himself.

How many of the alone and forgotten will be thinking about this tomorrow? How many of the lost souls left to rot will feel they will have no other choice but to get out their noose?

How many family members and friends will be left wishing they had picked up the phone and had a friendly conversation rather than sending an email or instant message?

I know the feelings of desperation and loneliness only too well. I have attempted suicide twice this year, and have been on the verge too many times to count. Tomorrow, I get to wake up in the morning and face the day alone; no presents, no turkey (or tofurkey), no friends, no family, no warmth or love or compassion.

Just like so many who will be doing the same thing.

Christmas, one of the loneliest times of the year even when you are surrounded by friends and family. So when you’re tucking into your piping hot dinner tomorrow surrounded by family, or heading off down the pub to sing a song and be merry with all your friends, and thinking about how lonely you feel - think about all those lost, alone, depressed and forgotten souls who are spending Christmas actually alone.

(You do realise by the way that the song a lot of you happy smiley friend-surrounded people will be singing tomorrow in that merry pub is about a Christmas through the eyes of a lonely bitter alcoholic drug addict reflecting on his lost chances and ruined life)

Instead of just thinking about them, or planning to phone them and forgetting out of tipsy merriment, make the effort to let them know how much you care. Make the effort to tell them because you want to, not because you feel you have to just because ‘it’s Christmas’.

No-one should be alone at Christmas, but for some people, it’s a sad reality.

So, if you suffer from depression, bipolar, BPD, self harm or any mental illness…
Or if you are homeless and have no-where to go…

If your family and friends are on the other side of the world…
Or you are stuck working in that dead-end job…

If this is your first Christmas following the death of a loved one…
Or your first Christmas after a relationship break up…

I wish you all a very Merry Christmas, which may sound hopeless, but I will be thinking of you all, promise. Please be kind to yourself and remember that you are not alone.