Overcoming Mental Illness

The last four weeks have been somewhat action packed for me:

• Saying goodbye to my family once again.
• Saying goodbye to the UK once again.
• Returning to Melbourne; the place where everything in my life collapsed to the point that it cost me everything, including very nearly my life - on a few occasions.
• Working myself to exhaustion with no income, little funds and few meals to rebuild my life from scratch.
• Self harm reared it’s head.
• As did side effects from the medication, which was helping me focus, but still, who likes side effects?
• Few moments of pleasure interspersed between the constant work and interviews.
• Living in hostels, surrounded by people and little personal space, challenged my social anxiety and on many occasions panic ensued.
• A mixed episode saw several manic and severe depression phases which were tough to work through, affecting both physical and mental health somewhat.
• An overdose and night spent at the hospital.
• And all the other stuff which has appeared on the blog in various guises.

And let’s not even list everything I’ve been through over the last eighteen months - we’d be here til Christmas 2056!!

To say I am exhausted is an understatement. I’ve barely slept, my mind has raced with flashbacks and hallucinations. To say I am surprised I’m still standing is an understatement!

But then I think about something, something wonderful and something…interesting.

You won’t hear me say it often, perhaps it’s because I haven’t slept much…

…but here we go…

…I think about just how amazingly wonderfully intensely AWESOME I am!

Seriously, I don’t care if people think I’m useless and pathetic. I don’t care if they think I’m grotesque or not worthy of anything. I just don’t care at the moment. Over the last eighteen months I’ve had so much shit thrown at me, I’ve been to hell and back (many times) and have resided in places I hope none of you ever visit in your lifetime. I have done things I’ve never spoken of and witnessed things which I’ve never spoken of. I have dragged my reasonably cute butt out of the chasm on many many occasions and stood fast and fought hard against all the shit I’ve had thrown at me.

A useless, pathetic, unpassionate man would have curled up and died.

Me?

I kept fighting…kept working…kept battling…kept trying…kept doing everything I could.

Because I’m more passionate, more committed, more caring than most I’ve met.

I have a strength few people ever see, because I usually don’t let them. I will however let you in on a secret.

If you’re looking for strength - if you need some from yourself - all you have to do is find one thing just one thing; a place, person, object or emotion to focus on.
Focus on it with every ounce of your heart and soul and I guarantee the strength will come.

My something, it’s easy, it’s just: 
FIVE (SIMPLE) WORDS 
That’s what gives me strength, it’s what has given me strength for the last eighteen months and what will give me strength through the times ahead.

So for once, just this once, give me this moment.

Give me my modest bastard moment!

‘Cause I’m a bloody strong, amazing and awesome man who occasionally, very occasionally, is an inspiration and should be looked up to.

[PS...don't ask what the five (simple) words are. I can't tell you! I'm not being mysterious. I just can't tell you. There are only about three people I could tell in the RL who would 'get them' anyway, but seriously, I can't mention them here. Simply because they're something I just cannot talk about on the blog and if you knew the words you would understand why that was.]

So here we are, after nearly 6 months, over two hundred posts across three different web addresses, the end is here. So what better topic to write about than what is, in my opinion, the greatest treatment for depression. I should point out that all names in this post have been changed and may or may not reflect gender, aside from mine of course!)

For a moment I would like you imagine what it would be like to have no friends. Now I know there are people out there who already know what this feels like so I’m not trying to rub it in, but for those of you with friends, think for a moment about what life would be like without those special people in it.

Think about what it would be like to be completely by yourself.

No one to share smiles with.
No one to share laughs with.
No one to share happiness with.
No one to share drinks with.
No one to share moments with.
No on to share to share problems with.
No one to spend time with.

Are you imagining it yet? No? Try thinking about:

What it would be like to spend your birthday alone; no presents, no cards, no Happy Birthday.
What it would be like to spend Christmas alone; no presents, no cards, no Happy Christmas.
What it would be like to spend New Years alone; no drinks, no laughter, no midnight kisses.

Any closer?

Never any hugs.
Never any giggles.
Never any lunches.
Never any anything.

Just you
Yourself
Always
Alone

Living your life with no-one to share anything with. You get up for work alone and come home alone. You are excited and happy but have no-one to share it with. You receive bad news and have no one to talk to, no one to give you comforting hugs or words of advice or wisdom. You are by yourself, isolated and alone 100% of the time. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine what that might do to your mind? To spend day after week after month after year in complete isolated solitude? Well, let me tell you. It fucks you up.

Isolation. Loneliness. Solitude. Three of the most painful words in the human language. And to someone suffering from depression or another mental illness, they are potentially words which could be written on someone’s death certificate as cause of death.

Over the years I have tried everything I can think of to combat, control and overcome depression:

Alternative therapy
Chinese Remedies
Herbal remedies, such as St John’s Wort
Counseling and psychologists
Self Help books
Russian Therapy
‘Overcoming Depression’ workbooks and audio books
Relaxation therapy
Yoga and Alexander Technique
Massage
Meditation
Anti-Depressant medication
TV and movie therapy

None of them worked!

I have spent the majority of my life alone, in fact I can count on one hand the number of true friends I’ve had in my life.

When I was but a teenager I didn’t really have anyone to talk to. I knew people but I wouldn’t say I had many friends. Not friends I could talk to, not friends I could share my self-harm, depression and social anxiety with. Teenagers are some of the cruelest people in the world anyway, so the likelihood any would have understood any of these things was slim. Thus I was forced to fight all of these things alone, and through determination and at times painful agony, I was able to get the self harm under control. Nothing was working with the social anxiety and depression and I was falling ever further into the abyss.

Once I felt I had the self-harm under control I tried to find ways in which to combat the depression and social anxiety – and my option was to go backpacking. I had discovered hostels during my period as a runaway and wanted to travel Scotland, a country I could afford and loved passionately. The months I spent traveling the country is one of my fondest memories, but I would the evening sitting in the hostel lounge reading books or scribbling in my journal, too anxious to meet and talk to the people I was writing about, giving them obvious nicknames because I was too scared to even find out their names. The SSLWCB or the SFLWCB were, like most people in my life, untouchable and untalktoable – is that a word? When I arrived into Inverness I looked into getting a flat in the Castle Heather part of town where I could settle, find work, and live life alone. My self harm was kinda under control, despite some lapses in focus and frustration along the way, but I wasn’t really making any headway with the rest. So instead of moving into my own flat, I opted to stay at the hostel where I could try building my ability to talk to people alongside the SCLWCB. It kinda worked. Sure, things got heavy in the old mind from time to time, and it was here I began smoking full time as means to keep the self harm under control but the people I met during that period became the first “friends” I’d ever had, more than that, they became my family.

It felt good, but depression and social anxiety continued to infect my actions and I was unable to be – a continuing frustration in my life – the person I know deep down that I am. Episodes of deep depression struck, especially just before Christmas and in early February. A depression which lasted and threatened to debilitate back into self-harm but I kept on with the whole backpacking-to-combat-everything assault and traveled back and forth across Canada for three months. I caught up with a few people, the SCLWCB being one of them, and even met other people I for a while called a friend; Rachel being one of them, as well as another whom we shall but call the SALWCB.

Everyone I met during this time, especially three outstanding, could, given other circumstances, have become true friends. The SALWCB and I had an instant connection which has only been rivaled on two other occasions since, and the other faces of that era still burn bright in my memory.

This period helped me get my self harm under control to a point I wasn’t even committing it any more. Friendship.

Then along came Lucy, who without doubt was the first person who I can call whole heartedly a true friend. Not because others in my past weren’t true friends, but because she was the first person I ever told about my depression, suicide attempt and in a way, my social anxiety. Lucy would have such an impact on my life unrivalled by anyone else I’ve met. Our friendship grew as well as our relationship; I lost my virginity to her, she was my first proper kiss, she was my first everything really.

For the first time in my life I had someone in my life who I could talk to, share thoughts and feelings with, experience my life with. In the first twelve months of our relationship I learned more about life and who I was than I had through the six/seven years of pain, loneliness and frustration which had been my teenage years. Sure, talking to her was difficult, this was the social anxiety and I would often weave in and out of being able to communicate well and not knowing what to say but in a way Lucy understood and would support where needed or give a metaphorical slap on the ass if I needed a wee push.

Because of our friendship, our love was strong. My emigration to Australia was due to this relationship and I worked hard to continue battling my illnesses whilst setting myself up in a new country. Something not easy, let me tell you! As our relationship grew so did our trust, and as our trust grew, so did my confidence. I never told Lucy of my self harm though, still hesitant to the power of the stigma of mental illness. My last moment of self harm had come a month or so before I met Lucy, so after meeting her and through her friendship I had got it under control. The longer I went without self harm, the less I thought about it, and over time it never felt right to bring it up. If I had, it would have just got me thinking about it again, and that could have proved devastating to the progress I was making.

Throughout the six years I spent in Australia I never stopped trying to make new friends. I had dreamed of having close friends since I was a teenager, all of the stories I wrote were about friendship, and I craved it more than anything else on the planet. I never believed having friends would cure me completely, only I could do that, but having lived so long by myself, I was enjoying sharing my life with others.

With Lucy’s help, sometimes even unknown to her, I made huge leaps with both depression and social anxiety to the point that at times it wasn’t even an issue. I met new people and my new life was underway. Sure there were periods of depression and social anxiety, as mentioned here, but I was working my bloody arse off to overcome it all.

Four years after being in Australia I was actually starting to make new friends, and as time slid on I made three of the best friends I’d ever had (Lucy aside); Grace, Tara and Kathy. With them came a potential new social network which I was slowly starting to matriculate myself into. Unfortunately, at the time, things between Lucy and I were strained which – if you’ve all been keeping up – was around the time when everything fell apart and of my second suicide attempt in March 2006.

(It was friendship that saved me. As I explained here, a singular text message reminded me of people who may miss me.)

The collapse of Lucy and I’s relationship and friendship was painful, but after months working hard to rebuild what we’d once had we knew that it was over. There was nothing we hadn’t tried. I blame myself for the breakup of our connection and knew in my heart that it was my depression, which had been severe throughout this year, which had made it so difficult to reconnect. I’ve never blamed Lucy for anything. I’m not afraid of admitting to my mistakes; my depression, self harm and social anxiety cost me the greatest friend I ever had. I think of her often and hope she is happy now, something I was never able to bring to her.

(The last time I thought of Lucy in depth was in fact last night. Whilst taking a stroll along the River Ness, through the islands where we shared so many walks, moments and memories I witnessed something I knew she had always wanted to see. Otters ran through our relationship and I’d always hoped to see one in the wild with her, however it was never to be. As I stared out over the fast flowing river thinking off those days I glimpsed something which I first thought was a duck – but on closer viewed was an otter; in the very river we spent so much time walking along. It made me wish she was still in my life, as I desperately wanted to tell her of this moment. Something I know would have brought a smile to her wonderful face.)

As a result of losing this friendship I was determined, once and for all, to beat all that I’d been fighting. Things were tough though, with the relapse into self harm and my social anxiety taking a thrashing because of the collapse of this friendship.

Moving in with my new housemates I made every effort to be more social; attending parties, heading to pubs and clubs, chatting in the lounge – all things I would never normally have been able to do, and this helped so much in keeping myself under control and though I was still self harming out of addiction was finding it much easier coping with everything else. I was rarely out of contact with people, which was a whole new experience for me. I even organized my own party, for the first time ever! I was slowly but surely overcoming something I’d been fighting since my teens!

My friendship with Grace and Kathy, so often mentioned on this blog, were also strengthening and I was becoming much better at talking to them. Actually sharing information without an interrogation taking place, and this was such a lift for me. Just being able to spend time with people, having other souls to talk to and have fun with, was key.

Grace and Kathy, the slow building acquaintanceship with Sally, and my continuing connection with my housemates and Tara – in addition to the whole new network which was opening up through college and the people I was getting to know through all of the above is what helped me kick depression and social anxiety squarely in the ass! This is how I was able to overcome depression; this is how I was able to beat something I had spent years fighting.

All those smiles, hugs, laughter, tears, times, moments, quizzes, conversations and so so much more is what finally helped me overcome everything. I wasn’t alone, I had people in my life, the solitude and loneliness I knew so intimately was no longer an issue. When I needed to talk there were people there, when they needed to talk, I was there, we hung out, laughed, smiled, had fun; and my confidence was increasing every single day.

Then came the earthquake of February 2007 and my life was never the same.

It was losing all those friendships which hit me the hardest, which made it so very difficult fighting the glandular fever, breakdown, depression and CLL. It was losing my new networks which fucked up the work I’d done with my social anxiety. It was the solitude, isolation and loneliness which I found myself drowning in once more that made everything so much harder to fight.

All those quizzes which I had to avoid, all those sing-a-longs I couldn’t partake in, all those conversations I now couldn’t have…the solitude consumed my mind, bringing back the hallucinations and self harm on a vicious level. It’s what solitude does, you need someone; so Meadhbh made her comeback and everything was lost. I couldn’t hold on or pretend I was sane any longer. Solitude, then loneliness then isolation. All that work for nothing. The abuse was the nail in the coffin.

All those smiles and laughs, drinks and lunches, parties and drunken nights – all of the times I shared – all of those friends and acquaintances. They inspired me. The strength they gave me from just touching and sharing their lives with me. They are what helped me to finally overcome my depression.

So many people take friendship for granted.

You have all your Facebook friends, your MySpace friends, your Bebo friends…you have all your uni, school and pub mates…if you lose one or two along the way it’s chalked up to just being life. Even if that person is someone with whom you have a huge connection with, few people work hard on friendships in today’s society. It’s kinda the same with relationships, if there’s a problem, chuck ‘em, plenty more fish in the sea. Maybe because I’ve experienced true isolation I have come to appreciate friendship, the joy of having someone in your life to share all those good times and bad times with, how important it is to have people there. I appreciate friendship with as much passion as I appreciate all that I have.

But as I’ve written in the past, depression also destroys friendships because of the burden – so I blame only myself for losing my friendships with those five true friends. If only depression wasn’t such a destructive force, if only it were understood as the illness that it is. If only people could have seen past the symptoms at who I am. If only, two of the most powerful words in the English language.

So, for the love of all things sacred, never forget what it means to have a friend. Just pick up the phone RIGHT NOW and call one of them for a chat, don’t take them for granted, don’t think they’ll always be there, because trust me – when they’re gone, you will miss them more than anything in the world!

Forget all your therapies; if you want to beat depression, you need to beat the isolation.

Friendship; the best cure for depression I know, and from personal experience, it works. If only a GP could prescribe it.

For Lucy, Grace, Kathy, Anna and Tara;
Thank you for all the good times,
I think of you all often and hope you’ve all found happiness.

“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

There really is nothing funny about social phobia/social anxiety disorder, it’s a bloody debilitating condition that makes it immensely difficult to forge relationships, have meaningful friendships or even buy a pint of milk…

…but that doesn’t mean we’re not allowed to laugh about it from time to time :)

Welcome one and all to the Carnival of Mental Illness, so let’s wait not a minute longer…

—–ISSUE V—–

Articles and Discussion

Deb Serani presents
Chemical Signature of Bipolar Disorder posted at Dr.Deb
This post looks at the chemical signature of Bipolar disorder, and how mental illness is often neurobiological in origin. 

Isabella Mori presents
An Interview with writer Laurie R. King posted at change therapy
An interview with the mystery/thriller writer whose characters are often dealing with mental health problems.

Doc presents
Depression: A disordered mind, body and soul posted at Mind, Soul and Body

Romeo Vitelli presents
Saving Ezra Pound posted at Providentia

Jose DeJesus MD presents
Physician Rating System Supported by Governer Cuomo posted at Physician Entrepreneur

Shaheen Lakhan presents
The Top Ten Secrets of the Mental Health Field: Part I
and
The Top Ten Secrets of the Mental Health Field: Part II
posted at GNIF Brain Blogger 

Personal Stories

Doc presents
Depression: My Story posted at Mind, Soul and Body

Society Stigma

Peter Jones presents
Alcoholism and Bipolar Disorder: New Book posted at Great New Books

Shaheen Lakhan presents
Brain Damage: In the Clinical Dark Ages posted at GNIF Brain Blogger

The Suicide Taboo

Carole Gold presents
A Message for the Children posted at McKay Today

and my own personal favorite this month

Therapy Doc presents
Choosing a Therapy Doc, or is that a Dodo bird? posted at Everyone Needs Therapy

—–

The sixth edition will be released on:
26th March 2008.

Submission Deadline:
25th March 2008.

SUBMIT ARTICLE ¤ BLOG CARNIVAL HOME ¤ CONTACT ME

—1—
Strip naked (yep, get it ALL off!)
Go stand in front of a full length mirror.
Now, instead of focusing on all those moles, hair patches and love handles…
…concentrate on all the drop dead gorgeous things about yourself.
Yep, it’s bloody hard, but you can do it!
Try three things to start with.
Say them out loud to yourself - and mean it! Things like:
“Addy - my god - you have the cutest smile you’ve ever seen!”
“Look at those nipples, they’re damned awesome, how could anyone not like those?”
“And good god, look at that adorably spankable ass? Absolutely mind blowing,”
See, you’re starting to see yourself differently already…
…now do this everyday, every-single-day!
Adding one more thing each time.
Within a few weeks there’ll be nothing left you don’t love.
—————

REMEMBER YOURSELF WHEN YOU WERE IN HIGH SCHOOL SERIOUSLY
AREN’T YOU JUST SO MUCH MORE FANTABULOUS NOW?

—3—
Single?
Lonely?
Sick of all those couples pashing, snogging and fondling in the street?
Beat them at their own game.
Go on a date with the person you love - YOU!
Cook your favourite meal (or order take-away), light some candles, throw on your favourite movie.
It sounds silly…
…but enjoy it…this is you time…anyway…
…the fun parts still to come!
What do all those sickening couples do at the end of their dates?
Yep!
So get nekkid!
And get that butt to the bedroom for some naughty fun and games!
It’s purrfectly natural.
So don’t go feeling all guilty about it.
Remember his is ‘you’ time - so love yourself in every way that you want to.
Your mind and body will adore you for it!
—————

—4—
It’s dead easy to beat yourself up about being wrong.
We’ve all been there.
Sitting there alone, bemoaning to ourselves about all our mistakes…
…whilst spanking our inner moppet for all those silly things we’ve cocked up.
Stop.
It’ll take time, but start catching yourself doing things right.
Instead of smacking yourself for messing up…
…hug yourself for doing something awesome.
You didn’t burn the cheese sandwich this time? HHHUUUUGGGGGG :)
Yay! You’ve remembered to take the garbage out! HHUUUGGGG:)
Bugger…forgot to sign the report…but hey, it was a damn well written report. HUUGGG :)
Get the idea?
—————

LAUGH YOUR ASS OFF AT LEAST ONCE A DAY

—5—
If S.A.D is making you feel crappy what can you do?
(those not in the know - S.A.D is this case being Social Anxiety Disorder)
Talking is so hard isn’t it?
I know.
Been there.
Done that.
Always coming up with that awesome story or wit-tastic one liner about three days too late. Well, there are things you can do…
Start small!
Don’t aim for that big conversation first time out. Build up to it and you’ll be feeling so much more positive about yourself in no time. So to prepare yourself for that potential panic attack at the big night out with your mates on Friday, start earlier in the week.
a) On Monday, ask a stranger for the time.
b) On Tuesday, ask a shop-keeper about the weather. It’s a cheesy way to start but a small conversation will follow.
c) On Wednesday, do both Monday & Tuesday’s things for practice
d) On Thursday we need to up the anti - try start a conversation with a complete stranger. Make it about something you like so as not to throw yourself into the deep end.
e) On Friday, have your absolute favourite food for lunch. You want to feel really positive for that big night out - no chickening out now with excuses about being sck just ’cause you don’t want a panic attack in front of everyone.
And then by the time you hit the pub with your mates you’ve got several spontanious conversations with complete strangers under your belt.
YOU’RE AWESOME!
So starting a conversation with people who actually know you should be much easier,
Take your time until you’re comfortable,
Then start a conversation with the person you are most comfortable with.
This will ripple on to bring someone else in.
And another.
Soon, everyone there will be chatting because of you.
How awesome is that!
No panic attack.
So then all you need to do is try and have a fantabulous evening…because next week, you’re gonna do it all over agian - upping the anti each time. By the end of the year you’ll be feeling so much better about yourself.
:)

More ideas will be posted soon…so keep loving yourself until then…you are awesome :-)

[digg=http://digg.com/health/Self_Help_Tips_to_control_Panic_and_Anxiety] 

There are numerous things I have tried and attempted in the past in order to gain control over my anxiety. They don’t always work as sometimes the power of the anxiety is too great, but more often than not a combination of the following do help to alleviate the oncoming storm of a PaNiC aTtAcK.

Some important things to bear in mind when feeling stressed of anxious are:

• NEVER and I mean NEVER make a major life decision when feeling stressed or anxious. Although it seems like the perfect thing to do at the time, in reflection it is not. Leave any major decision until you feel more in control of your anxiety.
• In a similar vein to the above, try to avoid sending emails, text messages or make phone calls whilst feeling stressed or anxious. You will regret these as often what you are writing is felt only during that moment of stress and anxiety.
• Take control of work: don’t take on additional hours or workload when beginning to or feeling stressed/anxious as this will result you feeling overwhelmed and adding to your anxiety.
• Reduce alcohol/drug intake. This can help but you’ll find only on a temporary basis and can lead to longer term problems of addiction and dependence.
• RESEARCH. Such an important thing, the more you learn about your condition, the more you understand you are not alone, the easier it will be to fight it.

So, here are seven basic things you can do to help control your anxiety:

1. TALK.
   As with all things in life talking about them with someone you trust and who you know won’t judge or demean you will help. This could be a family member, a kind and wonderful friend or a psychologist/counselor. Talking about your feelings with someone can help lift the weight of stress from your soul and also help you see other options which you cannot see yourself because of the anxiety.
2. PERSONAL CONFLICTS
   Many people find personal conflicts - both at work and at home - add to their overall and stress. If you are having problems at work, or in a relationship, or a friendship, work at resolving these issues. This can be difficult to do but is possible; perhaps seek help from a counselor in order to gain advice. Remember, the quote I have on the front page of this blog (top left hand corner): Never give up on someone that you can’t go a day without thinking about. Learn to let go of anger and forgive people their indiscretions else you will only find your stress and anxiety increasing.
3. ENJOY LIFE!
   The problem with stress and anxiety is that it always seems so hard to enjoy life when you’re feeling stressed - what with all those problems, concerns, worries and tears weighing you down. Try to do at least one thing a day which you enjoy! Go watch a movie, treat yourself to some ice-cream, have lunch with friends, listen to music, meditate, exercise…whatever floats your boat, get to it. Create and maintain a healthy balance between work and play.
4. EXERCISE
   Regular exercise can help alleviate stress and anxiety - there’s nothing like a good walk or run to help clear the cobwebs away. So throw on those lycra shorts and jump on a bike or strip down to your togs and jump in a pool, get your body working to get your mind all cleaned out.
5. MAKE NOTES
   When living with anxiety it can sometimes be hard keeping yourself focused on everything that you need to do. Often with me I find the anxiety seizing control as the day progresses so I lose focus on all the things which I need to get done. Having a simple list of actions which you need to complete can help with this. The trick with this is to keep it simple. If you set yourself a list of complicated and unachievable things to complete you will only end up adding to your stress.
6. SLEEP
   This can be very difficult when suffering from anxiety disorders, especially PTSD when the symptoms often come about at night, but a regular sleep pattern and a good night’s sleep can help alleviate your stress and anxiety.
7. ESTABLISH A DAILY REGULAR ROUTINE
   Another thing which can be tricky, but can help. I wrote a post about how to get through a day whilst dealing with depression which may also be relevant here. You can read this at my sister blog Eliminate the Stigma of Mental Health.

There is also a breathing and muscle relaxation exercise you can try:

Breathing and muscle relaxation:

These are two things which are very effective in coping with stress and anxiety. A combination of controlled breathing and muscle relaxation does wonders for your stress level so it is important to allow yourself time to do these. Try the following:

• Wearing whatever you like (Eskimo suit, underwear, absolutely nothing…just whatever helps you feel more comfortable) lie on the floor and raise your head a little with a pillow or couple of books. Your arms should be stretched out on either side and make yourself feel as comfortable as possible before continuing.
• When you are comfortable take a breath in through your nose, hold it for five seconds, and then breath it slowly out through your mouth. Repeat this procedure and keep breathing in this slow steady manner throughout the duration of the technique.
• Whilst taking a breath in, squeeze your feet as tightly as possible, hold them with your breath, and then release as you are breathing out. Repeat this three times, remembering to breathe with each squeeze.
• Then, continuing to breathe, repeat this procedure working up your body. The object is to relax each muscle in sequence whilst breathing slowly and steadily. A good order is: legs, butt, stomach, chest, hands, arms, shoulders, neck, and face. As with the feet repeat each body part three times, remembering to hold each squeeze with your breath and release as you breathe out.
• After finishing do not immediately get up, allow yourself to lie there and continue breathing. You should be feeling a little less stressed by this point, so just lying there shouldn’t be too difficult!
• As you lie there start thinking about something or someone which makes you happy; fill your mind with positive energy and allow yourself to enjoy these thoughts.
• You can lie here for as long as you like, fall asleep if you want (and can) and permit yourself to feel relaxed.
• (BONUS TIP: If you have someone in your life (partner, boyfriend, girlfriend etc…) have them “talk you through” this technique. Whilst you are lying there they can, in a calming voice, tell you to “breath in, and then hold, and then release” and help set the pattern of breathing for you. They can then speak you through each body part, soothingly telling you to squeeze each part and reminding you to breathe. This can help SO much in relaxing you, especially if your partner’s voice is a calming and enjoyable thing to you. Having someone slowly telling you to breathe and squeeze your butt and then breathe is actually a joyfully relaxing experience.)

Now, the first couple of times you do this you may not be too successful as with all things in life it can take practice to get yourself into the right mood, and find your own order and sequence which you find most relaxing. It is good to practice this regularly, maybe every couple of days, to allow yourself a routine of relaxation which will assist in establishing yourself a routine (as mentioned above.)

It can be hard to do this though if you have a busy and hectic life, but remember you can control your breathing in every walk of life. You can also perform muscle relaxation at work (when you’re sitting at your computer just do the squeezing bits above in combination with your breathing and you’ll find yourself feeling a little more relaxed.)

And remember,

• Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s all too easy to end up giving yourself a spanking for failing to achieve one of your plans or attempted to control anxiety. Please remember that trying to control your symptoms is difficult, and not succeeding from time to time is not a problem. Instead of slapping yourself on the ass, pat yourself on the back for at least trying.
• Involve other people. Anxiety and stress can be a very isolating disorder so it’s important to involve people you care about. Merely planning a night at the theatre with a friend or lunch with a family member can give you something to look forward to through that anxious week of yours.
• Start slowly, however you decide to try and control your anxiety don’t leap in at the deep end. This will only increase your anxiety and do more damage. If you start small and slowly build you’ll find yourself achieving more each day.
• And please reward yourself, it will be hard work trying to overcome your anxiety (as with all mental illnesses) so treat yourself to a nice slice of cheesecake, a cinema trip, DVD, CD, trip to the beach…whatever floats your boat…every once in a while.

These are just a few of the basic things you can do to try and help control panic and anxiety. They can be hard things to deal with, but in time they can be controlled. Remember to keep working on it, and don’t give up.

If you have any other ideas or trips on controlling anxiety throw them in a comment and share them with everyone else :-)

PaNiC aTtAcK…

…an ominous phrase if ever I heard one.

If you’ve never had a PaNiC aTtAcK be very thankful! They are one of the most painful, frightening and grueling experiences you can ever have. It is not overstating the fact that you honest to god think you are dying. Seriously. Your mind and body become overcome by a crippling pain which convinces you that death is about to touch his boney little finger against your shoulder and zap you off this mortal coil.

I’ve had so many PaNiC aTtAcKs in my life that I couldn’t even give you a rough estimated figure of how many there’s been. I can tell you the first I ever had, which was when I was 16 and walking down the street near my old high school. I spied out the corner of my eye a small group of people, including a girl I had a wee crush on, and the very thought of them seeing me was enough to send my mind into a downward spiral of eventual defeat.

The most memorable panic attack I ever had was also the most embarrassing. It was the one I talked about in this post and I have never forgotten either the pain I was in or the look of utter disgust and degradation on my “friend’s” face as she formulated in her mind her opinion of me as a weak and useless individual. That panic attack changed our relationship forever, and is what finally made me realize that people just do not understand panic or anxiety.

Anxiety is something that is often confused with stress. We all feel stressed from time to time, we’ve all sat exams or had job interviews that have freaked us out and set the butterflies a flitting in our stomachs. This isn’t technically anxiety. On many levels it could be conceived as being so, but really it is just stress, for as soon as the exam/interview is underway/over those butterflies quickly fly away.

Feeling anxious or suffering from an anxiety disorder is different. It is not merely the event which makes people anxious; it is everything to do with the event. It’s build-up, occurrence, aftermath, aftermath of the aftermath - anything to do with that event creates an unstable feeling in the brain which can, if left unattended, result in the most dreaded of things - a PaNiC aTtAcK!

Take for example this somewhat innocuous event from my life:

Last year I was invited to a trivia night at the Sherlock Holmes pub in Melbourne. Now I love trivia nights, always have, even though I’m not the smartest card in the deck (or is that what I want people to think *wink*?) I try to attend them whenever I can.

Unfortunately the night was cancelled due to the sudden business of everyone involved which left two people still able to attend, however as our combined knowledge would have meant the utter thrashing of everyone else in the pub we decided to spare them the humiliation of defeat and instead I was invited to go for a few drinks with her friends.

This is when the anxiety really kicked in!

I had been a little anxious about trivia, it’s all part and parcel of the social anxiety, but as I knew the majority of people who would be attending that gathering I was able to control the anxiety somewhat. Now that the plans had changed, and I was going out with people I had never really met before let alone had any conversations with, the anxiety threw itself up a few notches and eventually the panic began taking over me.

The smartest thing to have done would have been to phone and cancel, for the closer I got to the event, the more anxious I became - the whole vicious circle state of affairs - but as I was working hard to overcome the social anxiety and expand my social circle, knew it was something that I needed to do.

The mere thought of being in a social situation with people I didn’t know was enough to trigger intense anxiety. It really makes no logical sense, which is why it’s so hard for people to understand it. The anxiety was beyond stress it was beyond mere shyness it was a crippling state of fear about being “judged” by these people and in someway humiliated, be it by something they would say to me, or something they merely left unsaid and I caught in a look or backward glance.

[What made it harder was that one of these people I didn't know was Sally, who, if you've read back on the history of my life through this blog, you may recognize as being the lost friend of my life; i.e. the person I desperately wanted to call my friend but due to various conflicting circumstances (some anxiety related, others not) this never came to pass.]

The mere thought of being in a social situation with people I didn’t know, yet wanted to get to know, was enough to nearly trigger a PaNiC aTtAcK.

On this occasion it didn’t, I was able to suppress it long enough for it not to occur, but in suppressing it ended up doing what I always do; managed to convince people I was a snob (a common misjudgment for people who are shy or who suffer from social anxiety, merely because we do not say as much as other people, and are therefore assumed to think ourselves above them, that they are not worthy enough for us to talk to…either that or gay, both of which I had frequently in my life! And c’mon people, anyone who’s had even a cursory glance at this blog will realize how much I adore, cherish and worship the enigmatically curious gender that is woman.

Anyway, like with all forms of mental illness, those people suffering from anxiety disorder are often treated unfairly and unjustly by society merely because people just do not understand - nor it seems want to understand - exactly what it is we are feeling.

People are too quick to throw judgment and pass sentence before digesting all of the facts.

It’s the same as some of the high profile trials we see on TV: we as society have a quick read of the papers and automatically pass judgment of guilty beyond shadow of a doubt or completely fracking innocent! We seem to forget these “facts” we are hearing or seeing are being fed to us by the often sided-media as the reporter is weighing the story with her/his own beliefs. We don’t take into account any of the smaller details which we don’t get told, nor do we seem interested in finding these out. Just take a look at the public and community reaction to the West Memphis Three or Madeleine McCann cases for examples of this quick judgment call by the not willing to understand majority.

Mental illness, depression, panic, anxiety all works on the same level. People assume a weakness of character is to blame - whereas more often than not the person is one of the strongest on earth - but as soon as that label (or snob or gay or shy or whatever) is slapped on, it is done so with superglue and will never be torn off.

Living with a panic/anxiety disorder is a confusing, demeaning and painful thing. There are so many things I can’t do without being overcome with anxiety, things other people take for granted; getting on planes, having conversations with potential new friends, walking down the street, talking to the shopkeeper, drinks with friends…it takes a great deal of strength for me to do any of theses things, even knowing that when I do, all that’s going to happen is people will make a snap judgment as to who I am and that is all I will ever be to them.

In all honesty, it’s bollox! And by gum that word should be used in far more countries than the UK! There is nothing quite like saying that word, nor giving someone a good bollocking! So to all of you prejudiced against those with panic and anxiety disorders, consider yourself bollocked, because you are quite honestly, talking utter bollocks.

Now you can head to ‘Self Help tips to help control Panic and Anxiety

Or skip along to learn all about Anxiety Disorders (if you didn’t at the start of this ramble)

**Trigger Warning**
This post deals with self-harm. If you are close to self harm and/or need to distract yourself from inflicting please head to the game zone to have some fun for a while.

I started self-harming when I was in High School as a way to deal with bullying, low self-esteem, social anxiety and an onsetting depression. I was able to get it under control in mid 1999, and after a brief relapse in 2001, had it under control until 2007. I have self harmed on/off since my breakdown in March 2007 and am not yet in the space to get it under control again at this time.

It has always been hard for me to talk about my past, and more specifically the reasons why I do self-harm. In this post I will answer some questions regarding self harm, it’s an interview with myself basically.

If you have any questions of your own, please feel free to ask them.

Why do I feel I need to hurt myself?

It’s a whole cavalcade of things really. It’s the voices in my head mainly, ghosts of times past and the future that was never to be. Meadhbh, my hallucination chips in, and in no time they’re singing a hearty chorus of anti-Addy anthems which I just need to stop. It’s not that they tell me to do it, Meadhbh does sometimes, but it’s because what they’re saying hurts so much I need to do something to cope with the pain they are dealing me. Externalising this emotional pain into something physical and visible tends to help.

What has brought me to this point?

I worked so hard for so long, threw so much energy and dedication into becoming the person I wanted to be. I didn’t want to be perpetually dealing with self-harm, social anxiety, depression; I knew what I wanted in my life and I worked my ass off to get there. I came within weeks of seeing the light, and then everything fell apart in the space of ten days; I lost everything. All that work was for nothing…and I know I will never be the person I wanted to be again; he is gone. When I remember how close I came, and to have touched my dreams on this furtive plane…it just fills me with desperation, anger and pain.

Have I been here before?

Oh, many times, over many months, over many years. I couldn’t tell you exactly how many times I’ve self-harmed or wanted to self-harm; but I know the feelings which overwhelm me when I want to.

What did I do to deal with it?

When I feel them coming I do anything I can to push them aside. Listen to music, sing, dance, phone people, go for a walk or a ride. I’ll try anything to make the feelings go away.

How did I feel then?

It varies, sometimes what I do will distract me enough to get through that moment, others, no matter what I do I always feel the urge to self-injue.

What else can I do that won’t hurt me?

There are lots of things I can do which won’t hurt me. I’ve written a few blog posts in the past of things and distractions that I have tried. I quite often surf the net, stumble some pages or play online games. Take a shower, read a book, go for a walk (depending on the agoraphobia), phone friends, smoke, cry…the list is endless really, but sometimes nothing I do is ever enough. Sometimes no matter what I try it never takes those ghosts away.

How do I feel right now?

I’ve been having a rough day; so writing a post on self-injury is probably not the smartest idea I’ve ever had! It’s kinda triggering a little but I’m listening to music at the same time and stopping if I need to. The urge is quite high at this particular moment.

How will I feel when I am hurting myself?

Depending on what I’m doing it will hurt - which is good - and then I will be overwhelmed with a tremendous feeling of bliss. The best way I can describe how I feel when I self-injure is “orgasmic”; it is the closest feeling to an orgasm I know, and is sometimes stronger and more potently enjoyable than the real thing.

How will I feel after hurting myself?

Guilty, sad, angry, frustrated but calmer and quieter than I had before. The simple act of self-harming will be enough to chase the ghosts away enough for me to focus, clear my head, and regroup before their next assault.

How will I feel tomorrow morning?

Again, depending on how I self injure, I may be in a great deal of pain - but as the “relief” of the initial infliction will have gone I will just be feeling it as pain, rather than orgasmic. I’ll no doubt get angrier with myself for relapsing again, and then start mulling things over, which will only make everything worse - and no doubt bring back the voice - and then the desire to self harm. It’s a vicious circle which is frequently hard to beat.

Can I avoid this stressor, or deal with it better in the future?

My stressor right now is my head; my memories, my pain of something I lost. Some things trigger these memories, and I avoid them with a passion, other times my mind just brings it all up and I have no way to avoid it as it’s just THERE - and there’s nothing I can do about it. if I could avoid them I would, or if I knew how to deal with them (like I used to do before I lost everything), I would.

I could talk to people, try and make them understand what it is, what’s going on, why I do these things. Thing is, I’ve no-one to talk to besides the voices and the hallucination, and this reminder of the isolation only serves to fuel the initial stressors in the first place.

Do I need to hurt myself?
I shouldn’t need to, but sometimes I have to as it is the only thing I can do to make the pain go away. I wish it wasn’t like this, but sometimes I must hurt myself; I just don’t have a choice. It’s either that or death.

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…