This is a word that has come up A LOT recently. I put SO much pressure on myself. Pressure to be useful, pressure to be there for people enough, pressure to not say/do the wrong things (to a point where I try to do nothing wrong. Impossible!), pressure to be a better person, pressure to get back to people, pressure to be as productive as my health allows (actually, more productive than my health allows!), pressure to be as good as others at things like blogging etc.
Blah. You get the picture. I put so so much on myself every single day & all it really achieves is me turning into a big ball of stress and worry.
I don't have many therapy sessions left, and I'm getting stressed out about this too. It turns out that I can request the same therapist next time. It's just the wait seems to be getting longer each time. The therapist I have at the moment seems to be the best one I've had so far. It helps that we have a lot in common too. I constantly explain myself because I feel I have to. I've never just unapologetically been me. I never feel like I'm *enough*. This therapist really does listen to me, and I'm finally beginning to let go because I'm beginning to trust her. In terms of functioning, I'm not seeing any improvements just yet, but I'm at least starting to believe that I don't need to apologise for absolutely everything, & I am allowed to do things I enjoy/take time out for myself.
The Sertraline seems to be suiting me (i.e. no nasty side effects) and sometimes I feel as if it's at least taking the edge off the Depression, sometimes I feel as if it is doing nothing. I've had the odd time where I've been quite hyper, although pain from the Fibromyalgia has masked that a bit. I had the odd day where I felt wonderful. It was like I could breathe again. I wanted to do so much, go to so many places, buy lots of new clothes, be spontaneous! If I'd been able to, I've no doubt that I would've. Another day, I'd gone outside to get some air. It was about 10.30pm, no one was around, & I got this huge urge to go on a walk. So I did. I didn't tell anyone (all I'd told my parents was that I would be round the back for 5 mins). I got this real rush of adrenaline, and it reminded me of how I felt at uni, when on a night out. The pain stopped me walking far & I had to stop so many times but it felt great to just go. Of course when I got back in, my parents were pretty worried about me because I'd disappeared. At the time I couldn't understand why they were worried, but I guess I should've at least told them first! Anyway, I've been on the Sertraline around 2 months now & I have my follow up psychiatrist appointment next month, so I'm guessing I'll be going up a dose if I'm still not finding any/not enough of an improvement.
I'm still getting bad paranoia, and feel I've been such a nightmare recently because of it. Not so long ago, I blocked a whole load of people. I'm not entirely sure why (apart from some didn't say anything & I thought they were spying on me?) but it's as if I couldn't trust anyone. I just don't know. I've lost friends, people have let me down, betrayed my trust, turned out to be prejudiced towards anyone without a job etc & it's making me isolate more.
Something happened recently that really knocked me sideways. I'm spending less time on social media, I've deleted a lot of accounts, ramped up internet security etc because of it. I won't go into detail on here because it involves someone else's experience and it's not my place to share other people's experiences without their consent. Basically, someone spread rumours about a friend. They'd accused my friend of lying about something. They were doing everything in their power (including creating multiple trolling accounts) to get people to listen to them and remove support from my friend. I'd stuck up for my friend (not as much as I wish I could, but I tried) and this resulted in this harasser turning on me, & trying to use my own mental illnesses against me. This made me panic a lot. The paranoia got a lot worse too. I'd noticed strange little things happening with my laptop, some of my accounts, friends on other accounts not replying etc and I actually started to think that someone was taking over my laptop, my accounts, and even controlling my friends. It was horrible. It didn't make sense. In my mind I knew that they couldn't control my friends, but I couldn't stop myself from worrying about it.
I'm still getting times where I start to think this even now, but I'm not as panicked as I was then. I had to take a complete break from places such as Twitter. As well as the paranoia, I was also finding all my mentions, messages, timeline etc very overwhelming. When I came back from my break, I felt incredibly guilty. I'd not been there for people, I'd missed so much, I expected either angry tweets and messages, or for no one to want to talk to me ever again. Even now, I think everyone hates me if they don't reply/straight away. I wish I could just let myself take time out without feeling guilty, unsupportive and selfish.
Back to the topic of pressure. This is probably partly due to the subject being brought up in so many political broadcasts, manifestos etc, but I'm still feeling the pressure to be well enough for work. My doctor, therapist etc all agree I won't be well enough for a while yet, and I'm in the Support Group for ESA, but that pressure is still there. In society, the government, media etc. I'm not surprised about it, but I'm not happy about it either. What about quality of life? social life? daily living? These are all vital. I barely ever see friends, I struggle to cook for myself, I only ever leave the house alone to post my sick notes. I can't predict when/if I'll get some symptoms under control enough to obtain and keep a job. First though, I'd need to be able to look after myself, have the energy/confidence to travel alone, be in busy places, be out of the house for longer.
I want to go onto the topics of disability, political parties' focus on people in work etc more, but may leave this for another blog post (when my head's a bit clearer, frankly!)
My therapy homework (although the therapist doesn't often use this term because it puts more pressure on me, something we're trying to do the opposite of!) is to just be me, do things I enjoy, notice the kind of thoughts and worries I have, and above all, put less pressure on myself! So this is what I'm trying to do.
On that note, I will finish the post here, otherwise I will pressure myself to write more!
Wednesday, 15 April 2015
Friday, 10 April 2015
*Waves*
This is just a quick post to let you know that I'm still here, and will update my blog soon. There's been a lot going on, (certain things which I may or may not speak about in my next post) & right now I've really needed to stop pushing myself too hard. I've felt the need to constantly be online, catching up with things, putting my views forward etc so much so that I was neglecting looking after myself, and giving myself time to rest.
I could say I have certain goals (stop explaining myself all the time, stop pushing myself so much, don't go online as much etc) but part of the problem is that I constantly set myself goals, write "to-do" lists (nearly every day) and even that increases the pressure to a ridiculous degree. I'd like to write a more in-depth blog post tomorrow, but I need to see how I feel first.
Anyway, I need to rest now, but I will say that I'm ok-ish & I'm safe right now.
I could say I have certain goals (stop explaining myself all the time, stop pushing myself so much, don't go online as much etc) but part of the problem is that I constantly set myself goals, write "to-do" lists (nearly every day) and even that increases the pressure to a ridiculous degree. I'd like to write a more in-depth blog post tomorrow, but I need to see how I feel first.
Anyway, I need to rest now, but I will say that I'm ok-ish & I'm safe right now.
Thursday, 5 February 2015
I'm trying. I'm really trying.
It's been a month since my last post. I've had so much going through my head, and I suppose a lot going on too. I've wanted to write, rather than just ranting on Twitter, but I guess I couldn't put it into words properly. This post will mainly be an updates one.
I did see my GP last month. I reminded her about the blood tests I needed to have (I'd finished my B12 and Folates meds and needed follow ups. I also needed my Vitamin D checking again, because it tends to get quite low this time of year & it was a while since I'd been on meds for it). I think I had to wait a week or two to get the tests done though, because of needing a lift from my dad. He had to finish work early just to get me to one of the clinics that provide a walk-in service for blood tests. I hate Agoraphobia so much. I had my results back this Monday. B12 and Folates within normal range & Vitamin D slightly low, so I'm on daily supplements for 3 months.
She asked me how my pains were, and how I was getting on with the Tramacet. I told her that I just couldn't get on with it. It made me feel so ill, and the Cyclizine just wasn't helping. It barely touched the pain, so I'd been trying to go without pain meds, even though I was really struggling. She seemed very concerned that I was trying to cope without it, so she had a look through the medication manual (I forgot the official name) and discussed other options for me. She decided to try me on Butrans (Buprenorphine) patches. Fast release opiates clearly weren't suiting me (especially with my stomach lining being damaged thanks to the Naproxen) so slow release patches might help. She also prescribed more Cyclizine as nausea was a common side effect of Butrans. I've been started on 5 mcg/hour and if I can tolerate that, then she'll try me on a higher dose. So far, the nausea has been manageable. The Cyclizine is actually helping a bit. You keep one patch on for a week, I find the 2nd day, I get a bit headachey. I still have some Ibuprofen at home, which helps with that. I also have some gel patches which sooth my headaches a bit too. The 3rd day is when the nausea seems to be at its worst. The Cyclizine helps a bit still, but wears off quite quickly. I'm only supposed to take it up to 3 times a day, but there have been days where I might've taken 4. I've had no pain relief yet, but it's still early days.
I didn't mention the hypermobility & subluxing this time. There was too much to talk about and I didn't have the energy for it. I've been having problems with my ribs recently too. I think the subluxed rib has popped back in place now though.
(Massive TW for suicide and self harm details)
Lastly, I spoke about my mental health. Since before Christmas I'd been struggling much more than usual. It is a stressful time of year, with lots to organise. I definitely pushed myself too much, & realising that my fibro's got worse, since the previous Christmas, didn't exactly help. I told the GP that even though my Psychiatrist appointment was less than a month away, I was feeling so awful (and not safe) that I needed something to last me until then. I'd run out of Diazepam, and found that this was the only med that at least calmed me down & kept me a bit safer. I really thought she'd refuse to give me any more. I get so nervous about asking for a specific med, if it has a reputation of being addictive. The GP had no problem prescribing more though (just for my worst days though) and even said she'd let me get it on repeat if I needed! She said the main aim was to keep me safe (so of course she didn't prescribe a lot of Diazepam at once) and if I do start becoming dependent on them, she would help to wean me off them. I told her about how I felt like I didn't have anywhere to turn when in crisis. I couldn't self refer to Crisis Team, the local A&E had a bad reputation when it came to treating mental health crises, and even if I do get an assessment, unless I've already attempted suicide or self harmed badly, they won't help me. I was waiting for a therapy appointment, but I wasn't feeling very optimistic about going through CBT for the third time. There was nothing else she could suggest unfortunately.
When I got home, my therapy appointment letter had arrived. Good news: I was allowed home visits. Bad news: It was the day after my psychiatrist appointment. Emotionally drained is an understatement!
Moving on...
Psychiatrist Appointment
This Monday, I had my psychiatrist appointment. I'd written so many pages of notes and got myself so worked up, that I was a complete nervous wreck on the day. I wanted to be as honest as possible, and I put so much pressure on myself to remember everything/write everything down, that I was already tearful and overwhelmed by the time I got there. This post explains most of the things I wanted to talk about. I recently began to realise that I actually did self harm from quite a young age (I used to bite and scratch my hands. Sometimes this was to distract myself, or release my frustration with being bullied. Sometimes it was to punish myself for 'letting' people bully me). For years, I've picked at my skin too. I'm not sure if this would be considered self harm, a compulsion, or a bit of both. If I see a spot, or bump, or dry patch of skin on myself, I get this huge urge to pick at it. The odd time I've managed to resist, but it's very rarely that I can resist. It will still be on my mind constantly. I've realised that even though I do it everyday, I do it a lot more often, and it gets a lot worse when I'm stressed out, nervous, or upset. I've started using safety pins too. It's still never been enough for A&E but I have damaged skin and caused a numb patch as well. The suicidal feelings have been stronger too, and I'm researching methods more often now.
Anyway, back to the appointment. The waiting room itself was fairly quiet (apart from a radio by reception playing Gnarls Barkley - Crazy, would you believe...) and I didn't have to wait nearly as long as I thought I would. It still felt like forever though, because I was so nervous and fidgety. I'd brought about 5 pages of notes, as well as a bag with all my medication in. The psychiatrist I saw, wasn't the one I was scheduled to see (he must've been busy or something). He seemed nice, although nervous. The appointment was a bit of a blur. I was extremely agitated, distressed and suicidal that day. I thought the psychiatrist would realise this, and realise that I needed more immediate help, but maybe he didn't notice? He didn't ask many questions. Mainly why I was there, what my diagnoses were/what problems I've had/for how long etc. He also asked about my past, friends, family, romantic/sexual relationships, were there any significant events that may have triggered mental health problems etc.
I forgot most of what I wanted to say, my mind kept going blank, I was so damn frustrated with myself, and I cried through the entire appointment. I was trying to explain to him how I thought my diagnoses (of Generalised Anxiety Disorder, and Depression) didn't fully cover the problems I had. I spoke about the bullying, the possible OCD with past behaviours, obsessions and rituals, as well as with the bladder based obsessions and strict routines now. He kept referring to these as OCD too, but when I asked him if he thought it actually was that, he said he didn't think it was, and that it was more attributed to the bullying I'd experienced, and the generalised Anxiety I have. Why did he keep referring to it as OCD, when he didn't think I had it though? It really confused me. I need some validation here.
(TW: Sexual Assault)
I also spoke about my possible Agoraphobia, and the kinds of things I thought might've triggered the start of it. Bullying and physical illness both played a big part, but something that happened at the bus station in town also played a bit of a part.
When I was around 16, 17, I was on my way back from a friend's birthday meal. I was waiting in the bus station (it was around 5pm on a weekday). A tall bulky middle aged man walked towards me and said hello. I was a very naive person at the time, and avoided confrontation as much as possible. I said a quick "hi" back then turned the other way to make it clear I was waiting for the bus, and was too busy to talk. He sat down next to me, and asked me to hug him. He was quite pushy to be honest, and I found him very intimidating. There was another person waiting for the same bus as me, but I don't think they noticed anything was up. I regret this so so much, but I did what the guy said, and hugged him. I honestly thought he'd just talk to me, or walk off or something. He tried to chat me up. I knew something was up, and I tried to ignore him. He started touching me and I flinched away. I wish I'd yelled out, or pushed him away or something, but all I did was freeze then flinch. Thankfully he stopped though, and walked away. I felt so sick. I cried when I got home. The next day I had to go into town. I saw him again, and he said "hi sexy" as he walked past me. It made me feel vulnerable. It made me feel as if he knew I was vulnerable, and he was mocking me for it. I didn't wait in the bus station any more after that, and I got a lot more nervous with catching buses. I'd get a taxi home if I could afford it.
Anyway, I think I may have a sort of Agoraphobia diagnosis? He didn't say for sure, but I guess he might've just attributed it to the generalised anxiety again.
After that, I spoke about the paranoia, and the fact that I've always been a bit clingy when it came to friendships and relationships. I'd think I was very close to someone, and find out further down the line that they didn't feel the same way. I was always terrified of being abandoned. I've always been really paranoid about what people think of me. It's like I always need reassurance, and I won't let myself be too sure just in case I've misjudged things (again). Maybe I hold on too tight? I don't know, but this is how I've been for most of my life, and I think I need help with it. I also mentioned about how impulsive I used to be at university, before I got physically ill, but he seemed to brush this off as nothing.
I'm not sure how clear I was with the psychiatrist. Most of the time he looked confused, or distracted. There was a person in the next room who was kicking off, throwing/kicking things (by the sound of it) and threatening to hurt the person they were talking to. My psychiatrist had to keep going out of the room in case he needed to help out. It couldn't have been helped, but of course it meant that I couldn't concentrate on what I wanted to say and honestly? I didn't feel like I was really being listened to. I felt horrible. I completely forgot to talk about the self harm too. Maybe he would've helped more if I'd remembered to mention it.
At the end, we discussed medication. I'm on 100mg Amitriptyline per day, and Diazepam as needed. He didn't talk about going off the Diazepam (I told him it helped a bit on the worst days, & I had nowhere else to turn), but he wants me to wean off the Amitriptyline and he will write to my GP and recommend I be prescribed Sertraline. He will also send me for a follow up appointment in 3 months time, and if the Sertraline is suiting me, but not doing enough, then he'll put me on something else on top of that. (He did mention Pregabalin, but I've already been on that before for pain and it didn't help anything at all). He also said that I should have therapy/CBT on a long term basis. Once the appointment was over, I couldn't wait to get out of there. I was glad that he was changing my medication, but I'd not been given any other answers, I felt like a lot of what I said wasn't listened to/taken seriously. I'd told him I didn't feel safe. I told him I'd researched methods and kept having plans, but he didn't say anything in response. I had a plan in my head when I started walking towards the main reception; where my dad was going to pick me up. I wanted to wander off, buy a drink from a local shop, find somewhere to hide and take all the pills I had on me. I was so close to doing it as well. The only reason I didn't was because dad was on his way to pick me up, and I wouldn't have been able to walk away fast enough.
Psychotherapist Appointment
The next day, I had my psychotherapy assessment/appointment. I'd tried to write my notes down in a clearer way, and I was so determined to talk about everything I needed to. I'd taken Diazepam in order to calm down the previous day, so I wasn't too worked up thankfully. I got a bit panicked when two therapists turned up; and I asked my mum to sit with me for the appointment. They explained that (because of risk etc) home visits always had to include two therapists. They were both very nice, and understanding though. It was the fact that it was unexpected. I do get very panicky if I don't expect something, or if there's a change. I like to be prepared all the time, even though that's impossible!
The main therapist asked me questions about diagnoses, problems, past, family history, suicidal thoughts, self harm etc. Similar questions to the psychiatrist, but asked in a clearer and much more understanding way. I managed to talk about everything too. I probably rambled quite a lot, but at least I talked about what I needed to. I also said that I wanted therapy to focus mainly on my anxiety (especially the strict rituals and obsessions I have, with my bladder/the toilet). I don't know what will help the depression. I honestly can't imagine my life free from it. I'm nervous about working on the various anxieties I have, but I think that maybe CBT might help that a bit. I don't want to feel like this anyway.
When talking about self harm and suicidal thoughts/urges, the therapist really tried to get me to agree to calling crisis team/going to A&E if I'm having plans/am about to carry them out. I did tell her about my experiences with crisis team, and how I felt they wouldn't do anything unless I'd already harmed myself/attempted suicide. I didn't think my self harm was serious enough to mention to crisis team either. In the end, I had to just say I would contact them. I doubt I will though. It's pointless, and every time crisis team assess me, then discharge me with a "we can't help you/you're not enough at risk" it only pushes me closer to doing something because it feels like no one wants to help anyway.
I guess I've just got to hope that the Sertraline will help me. The Diazepam and my parents may be keeping me safe, but it doesn't make things better. I'm still suffering and struggling. I feel trapped.
I did see my GP last month. I reminded her about the blood tests I needed to have (I'd finished my B12 and Folates meds and needed follow ups. I also needed my Vitamin D checking again, because it tends to get quite low this time of year & it was a while since I'd been on meds for it). I think I had to wait a week or two to get the tests done though, because of needing a lift from my dad. He had to finish work early just to get me to one of the clinics that provide a walk-in service for blood tests. I hate Agoraphobia so much. I had my results back this Monday. B12 and Folates within normal range & Vitamin D slightly low, so I'm on daily supplements for 3 months.
She asked me how my pains were, and how I was getting on with the Tramacet. I told her that I just couldn't get on with it. It made me feel so ill, and the Cyclizine just wasn't helping. It barely touched the pain, so I'd been trying to go without pain meds, even though I was really struggling. She seemed very concerned that I was trying to cope without it, so she had a look through the medication manual (I forgot the official name) and discussed other options for me. She decided to try me on Butrans (Buprenorphine) patches. Fast release opiates clearly weren't suiting me (especially with my stomach lining being damaged thanks to the Naproxen) so slow release patches might help. She also prescribed more Cyclizine as nausea was a common side effect of Butrans. I've been started on 5 mcg/hour and if I can tolerate that, then she'll try me on a higher dose. So far, the nausea has been manageable. The Cyclizine is actually helping a bit. You keep one patch on for a week, I find the 2nd day, I get a bit headachey. I still have some Ibuprofen at home, which helps with that. I also have some gel patches which sooth my headaches a bit too. The 3rd day is when the nausea seems to be at its worst. The Cyclizine helps a bit still, but wears off quite quickly. I'm only supposed to take it up to 3 times a day, but there have been days where I might've taken 4. I've had no pain relief yet, but it's still early days.
I didn't mention the hypermobility & subluxing this time. There was too much to talk about and I didn't have the energy for it. I've been having problems with my ribs recently too. I think the subluxed rib has popped back in place now though.
(Massive TW for suicide and self harm details)
Lastly, I spoke about my mental health. Since before Christmas I'd been struggling much more than usual. It is a stressful time of year, with lots to organise. I definitely pushed myself too much, & realising that my fibro's got worse, since the previous Christmas, didn't exactly help. I told the GP that even though my Psychiatrist appointment was less than a month away, I was feeling so awful (and not safe) that I needed something to last me until then. I'd run out of Diazepam, and found that this was the only med that at least calmed me down & kept me a bit safer. I really thought she'd refuse to give me any more. I get so nervous about asking for a specific med, if it has a reputation of being addictive. The GP had no problem prescribing more though (just for my worst days though) and even said she'd let me get it on repeat if I needed! She said the main aim was to keep me safe (so of course she didn't prescribe a lot of Diazepam at once) and if I do start becoming dependent on them, she would help to wean me off them. I told her about how I felt like I didn't have anywhere to turn when in crisis. I couldn't self refer to Crisis Team, the local A&E had a bad reputation when it came to treating mental health crises, and even if I do get an assessment, unless I've already attempted suicide or self harmed badly, they won't help me. I was waiting for a therapy appointment, but I wasn't feeling very optimistic about going through CBT for the third time. There was nothing else she could suggest unfortunately.
When I got home, my therapy appointment letter had arrived. Good news: I was allowed home visits. Bad news: It was the day after my psychiatrist appointment. Emotionally drained is an understatement!
Moving on...
Psychiatrist Appointment
This Monday, I had my psychiatrist appointment. I'd written so many pages of notes and got myself so worked up, that I was a complete nervous wreck on the day. I wanted to be as honest as possible, and I put so much pressure on myself to remember everything/write everything down, that I was already tearful and overwhelmed by the time I got there. This post explains most of the things I wanted to talk about. I recently began to realise that I actually did self harm from quite a young age (I used to bite and scratch my hands. Sometimes this was to distract myself, or release my frustration with being bullied. Sometimes it was to punish myself for 'letting' people bully me). For years, I've picked at my skin too. I'm not sure if this would be considered self harm, a compulsion, or a bit of both. If I see a spot, or bump, or dry patch of skin on myself, I get this huge urge to pick at it. The odd time I've managed to resist, but it's very rarely that I can resist. It will still be on my mind constantly. I've realised that even though I do it everyday, I do it a lot more often, and it gets a lot worse when I'm stressed out, nervous, or upset. I've started using safety pins too. It's still never been enough for A&E but I have damaged skin and caused a numb patch as well. The suicidal feelings have been stronger too, and I'm researching methods more often now.
Anyway, back to the appointment. The waiting room itself was fairly quiet (apart from a radio by reception playing Gnarls Barkley - Crazy, would you believe...) and I didn't have to wait nearly as long as I thought I would. It still felt like forever though, because I was so nervous and fidgety. I'd brought about 5 pages of notes, as well as a bag with all my medication in. The psychiatrist I saw, wasn't the one I was scheduled to see (he must've been busy or something). He seemed nice, although nervous. The appointment was a bit of a blur. I was extremely agitated, distressed and suicidal that day. I thought the psychiatrist would realise this, and realise that I needed more immediate help, but maybe he didn't notice? He didn't ask many questions. Mainly why I was there, what my diagnoses were/what problems I've had/for how long etc. He also asked about my past, friends, family, romantic/sexual relationships, were there any significant events that may have triggered mental health problems etc.
I forgot most of what I wanted to say, my mind kept going blank, I was so damn frustrated with myself, and I cried through the entire appointment. I was trying to explain to him how I thought my diagnoses (of Generalised Anxiety Disorder, and Depression) didn't fully cover the problems I had. I spoke about the bullying, the possible OCD with past behaviours, obsessions and rituals, as well as with the bladder based obsessions and strict routines now. He kept referring to these as OCD too, but when I asked him if he thought it actually was that, he said he didn't think it was, and that it was more attributed to the bullying I'd experienced, and the generalised Anxiety I have. Why did he keep referring to it as OCD, when he didn't think I had it though? It really confused me. I need some validation here.
(TW: Sexual Assault)
I also spoke about my possible Agoraphobia, and the kinds of things I thought might've triggered the start of it. Bullying and physical illness both played a big part, but something that happened at the bus station in town also played a bit of a part.
When I was around 16, 17, I was on my way back from a friend's birthday meal. I was waiting in the bus station (it was around 5pm on a weekday). A tall bulky middle aged man walked towards me and said hello. I was a very naive person at the time, and avoided confrontation as much as possible. I said a quick "hi" back then turned the other way to make it clear I was waiting for the bus, and was too busy to talk. He sat down next to me, and asked me to hug him. He was quite pushy to be honest, and I found him very intimidating. There was another person waiting for the same bus as me, but I don't think they noticed anything was up. I regret this so so much, but I did what the guy said, and hugged him. I honestly thought he'd just talk to me, or walk off or something. He tried to chat me up. I knew something was up, and I tried to ignore him. He started touching me and I flinched away. I wish I'd yelled out, or pushed him away or something, but all I did was freeze then flinch. Thankfully he stopped though, and walked away. I felt so sick. I cried when I got home. The next day I had to go into town. I saw him again, and he said "hi sexy" as he walked past me. It made me feel vulnerable. It made me feel as if he knew I was vulnerable, and he was mocking me for it. I didn't wait in the bus station any more after that, and I got a lot more nervous with catching buses. I'd get a taxi home if I could afford it.
Anyway, I think I may have a sort of Agoraphobia diagnosis? He didn't say for sure, but I guess he might've just attributed it to the generalised anxiety again.
After that, I spoke about the paranoia, and the fact that I've always been a bit clingy when it came to friendships and relationships. I'd think I was very close to someone, and find out further down the line that they didn't feel the same way. I was always terrified of being abandoned. I've always been really paranoid about what people think of me. It's like I always need reassurance, and I won't let myself be too sure just in case I've misjudged things (again). Maybe I hold on too tight? I don't know, but this is how I've been for most of my life, and I think I need help with it. I also mentioned about how impulsive I used to be at university, before I got physically ill, but he seemed to brush this off as nothing.
I'm not sure how clear I was with the psychiatrist. Most of the time he looked confused, or distracted. There was a person in the next room who was kicking off, throwing/kicking things (by the sound of it) and threatening to hurt the person they were talking to. My psychiatrist had to keep going out of the room in case he needed to help out. It couldn't have been helped, but of course it meant that I couldn't concentrate on what I wanted to say and honestly? I didn't feel like I was really being listened to. I felt horrible. I completely forgot to talk about the self harm too. Maybe he would've helped more if I'd remembered to mention it.
At the end, we discussed medication. I'm on 100mg Amitriptyline per day, and Diazepam as needed. He didn't talk about going off the Diazepam (I told him it helped a bit on the worst days, & I had nowhere else to turn), but he wants me to wean off the Amitriptyline and he will write to my GP and recommend I be prescribed Sertraline. He will also send me for a follow up appointment in 3 months time, and if the Sertraline is suiting me, but not doing enough, then he'll put me on something else on top of that. (He did mention Pregabalin, but I've already been on that before for pain and it didn't help anything at all). He also said that I should have therapy/CBT on a long term basis. Once the appointment was over, I couldn't wait to get out of there. I was glad that he was changing my medication, but I'd not been given any other answers, I felt like a lot of what I said wasn't listened to/taken seriously. I'd told him I didn't feel safe. I told him I'd researched methods and kept having plans, but he didn't say anything in response. I had a plan in my head when I started walking towards the main reception; where my dad was going to pick me up. I wanted to wander off, buy a drink from a local shop, find somewhere to hide and take all the pills I had on me. I was so close to doing it as well. The only reason I didn't was because dad was on his way to pick me up, and I wouldn't have been able to walk away fast enough.
Psychotherapist Appointment
The next day, I had my psychotherapy assessment/appointment. I'd tried to write my notes down in a clearer way, and I was so determined to talk about everything I needed to. I'd taken Diazepam in order to calm down the previous day, so I wasn't too worked up thankfully. I got a bit panicked when two therapists turned up; and I asked my mum to sit with me for the appointment. They explained that (because of risk etc) home visits always had to include two therapists. They were both very nice, and understanding though. It was the fact that it was unexpected. I do get very panicky if I don't expect something, or if there's a change. I like to be prepared all the time, even though that's impossible!
The main therapist asked me questions about diagnoses, problems, past, family history, suicidal thoughts, self harm etc. Similar questions to the psychiatrist, but asked in a clearer and much more understanding way. I managed to talk about everything too. I probably rambled quite a lot, but at least I talked about what I needed to. I also said that I wanted therapy to focus mainly on my anxiety (especially the strict rituals and obsessions I have, with my bladder/the toilet). I don't know what will help the depression. I honestly can't imagine my life free from it. I'm nervous about working on the various anxieties I have, but I think that maybe CBT might help that a bit. I don't want to feel like this anyway.
When talking about self harm and suicidal thoughts/urges, the therapist really tried to get me to agree to calling crisis team/going to A&E if I'm having plans/am about to carry them out. I did tell her about my experiences with crisis team, and how I felt they wouldn't do anything unless I'd already harmed myself/attempted suicide. I didn't think my self harm was serious enough to mention to crisis team either. In the end, I had to just say I would contact them. I doubt I will though. It's pointless, and every time crisis team assess me, then discharge me with a "we can't help you/you're not enough at risk" it only pushes me closer to doing something because it feels like no one wants to help anyway.
I guess I've just got to hope that the Sertraline will help me. The Diazepam and my parents may be keeping me safe, but it doesn't make things better. I'm still suffering and struggling. I feel trapped.
Tuesday, 6 January 2015
I lied, I'm not coping.
I'm trying to be a better writer, but this post will be a sort of rambly journal entry I'm afraid.
(TW: Suicide mention)
I seem to be struggling more than usual at the moment (mental health & physical health-wise). Maybe it's the colder weather or the time of year or something (it's been a lot worse since December, so maybe the Christmas period/New Year?).
The colder weather has definitely made my symptoms flare up; pain more than anything else. My legs hurt a lot more than usual & it's really affecting my mobility. I don't have a wheelchair, so I'm leaving the house even less now. On the subject of wheelchairs, when getting the last bits of food shopping for Christmas last month, my parents and I visited a supermarket that'd recently opened. It had lots of facilities, large car park etc, and it also had spare wheelchairs. I was really struggling with pain & was considering using one. There was only one left though, so I tried to just carry on walking. I thought that if I took the last one, then there might be someone who needed it more who then didn't have one to use. I guess I also thought, for some reason, that someone would say I didn't really need it (internalised ableism of course). After a couple of minutes though, I realised there was just no way I could carry on in so much pain. Even though I was still exhausted and in pain, using the wheelchair was definitely a better idea than not using one. It also turned out that when I did decide to get one, another one was free so at least there was still a spare one for someone to use.
I've been trying so hard to keep a smile on my face and not worry my family. It's hard to be totally honest with them, about how I've been feeling. I'm constantly teetering on the edge of a mental health crisis, but there's nowhere to turn. I feel like I need some immediate help, but I can't even attempt to get any unless I know what specific help I need, and there just doesn't seem to be any available regardless. I don't want to worry my family; partly because I don't like worrying/bringing down people, partly because there's nothing they could do anyway. I need to make an appointment with my GP soon (and I so wish the surgery had an online booking system) to remind her about me needing my vitamin d, b12, & folates checking, (& also about the fact that my knee and shoulders still like to sublux, although I doubt this will be listened to at all, so it's probably a waste of time even mentioning it). I also feel like I should talk about my mental health more. I've run out of the Diazepam now. I tried to make it last as long as possible, but honestly I think I need to be on it fairly regularly for now. It seems to be the only thing that helps calm me down a little. I'm nervous about asking for it specifically though; because doctors always seem to mention that it can be addictive. My one-off Psychiatrist appointment is next month, but I'm finding it so hard to cope at the moment, that I feel as if I need something to last until then at least.
I'm getting more mood swings at the moment. I can go from really low, to paranoid, to snappy, random days when I want to do everything (but chronic illness means I can't) to panicky & agitated, and then feel completely numb the next day. I'm also having days where I get this real urge to confess every bad thing I ever said or did. It's as if I think of myself as this absolutely horrible person, who is putting on a show of being nice, and sooner or later people will realise what I'm *really* like.
I've had very vivid dreams recently. I won't say what they've been about, but last night's was horrible, really messed up. I've had very intrusive thoughts that I've found almost impossible to ignore. I was sure other people could read my thoughts, so I've been really awkward and edgy round my parents in particular. It's like I need to get away from everyone, so they don't have to deal with me anymore.
I had some strong suicidal urges earlier. I couldn't distract myself & there were times I really thought I'd have carried through with the urges. Again, I won't give details.
I did want to sleep a lot better tonight, but with so much on my mind, I think I'm just going to have to try and distract myself as much as possible, and hope I'll wear myself out enough to sleep soon.
(TW: Suicide mention)
I seem to be struggling more than usual at the moment (mental health & physical health-wise). Maybe it's the colder weather or the time of year or something (it's been a lot worse since December, so maybe the Christmas period/New Year?).
The colder weather has definitely made my symptoms flare up; pain more than anything else. My legs hurt a lot more than usual & it's really affecting my mobility. I don't have a wheelchair, so I'm leaving the house even less now. On the subject of wheelchairs, when getting the last bits of food shopping for Christmas last month, my parents and I visited a supermarket that'd recently opened. It had lots of facilities, large car park etc, and it also had spare wheelchairs. I was really struggling with pain & was considering using one. There was only one left though, so I tried to just carry on walking. I thought that if I took the last one, then there might be someone who needed it more who then didn't have one to use. I guess I also thought, for some reason, that someone would say I didn't really need it (internalised ableism of course). After a couple of minutes though, I realised there was just no way I could carry on in so much pain. Even though I was still exhausted and in pain, using the wheelchair was definitely a better idea than not using one. It also turned out that when I did decide to get one, another one was free so at least there was still a spare one for someone to use.
I've been trying so hard to keep a smile on my face and not worry my family. It's hard to be totally honest with them, about how I've been feeling. I'm constantly teetering on the edge of a mental health crisis, but there's nowhere to turn. I feel like I need some immediate help, but I can't even attempt to get any unless I know what specific help I need, and there just doesn't seem to be any available regardless. I don't want to worry my family; partly because I don't like worrying/bringing down people, partly because there's nothing they could do anyway. I need to make an appointment with my GP soon (and I so wish the surgery had an online booking system) to remind her about me needing my vitamin d, b12, & folates checking, (& also about the fact that my knee and shoulders still like to sublux, although I doubt this will be listened to at all, so it's probably a waste of time even mentioning it). I also feel like I should talk about my mental health more. I've run out of the Diazepam now. I tried to make it last as long as possible, but honestly I think I need to be on it fairly regularly for now. It seems to be the only thing that helps calm me down a little. I'm nervous about asking for it specifically though; because doctors always seem to mention that it can be addictive. My one-off Psychiatrist appointment is next month, but I'm finding it so hard to cope at the moment, that I feel as if I need something to last until then at least.
I'm getting more mood swings at the moment. I can go from really low, to paranoid, to snappy, random days when I want to do everything (but chronic illness means I can't) to panicky & agitated, and then feel completely numb the next day. I'm also having days where I get this real urge to confess every bad thing I ever said or did. It's as if I think of myself as this absolutely horrible person, who is putting on a show of being nice, and sooner or later people will realise what I'm *really* like.
I've had very vivid dreams recently. I won't say what they've been about, but last night's was horrible, really messed up. I've had very intrusive thoughts that I've found almost impossible to ignore. I was sure other people could read my thoughts, so I've been really awkward and edgy round my parents in particular. It's like I need to get away from everyone, so they don't have to deal with me anymore.
I had some strong suicidal urges earlier. I couldn't distract myself & there were times I really thought I'd have carried through with the urges. Again, I won't give details.
I did want to sleep a lot better tonight, but with so much on my mind, I think I'm just going to have to try and distract myself as much as possible, and hope I'll wear myself out enough to sleep soon.
Thursday, 1 January 2015
A Mental Health Emergency is still an Emergency
I've been reading through this Guardian article today. The title was originally "Mental Health 'emergencies' expected to reach highest figures this winter" but was quickly changed to "Mental Health patient admissions to A&E set to reach record levels" after complaints on Twitter.
Not much better is it?
I'd love to know why they felt they had to put "emergencies" in single quotation marks. It feels as if they believe Mental Health emergencies are not real emergencies. If that is the case, then clearly they need to start listening more. Just looking through the Twitter hashtags #mentalwish and #crisisteamfail would be a start.
I've been tempted to add "what if physical illnesses were treated like mental illnesses" but the fact is we shouldn't have to compare this in order for people to care enough to make mental health a priority.
"emergency doctors warned that overstretched A&E departments are the wrong place for people in mental distress." I agree that A&E is an extremely poorly designed place for people going through mental health crises, but it is actually where we are advised to go. Often, it's the only option available when someone is in crisis. From my own experiences, every medical professional (who I have been in contact with about my mental health) has told me to go to A&E if I feel I am at risk of harming myself, or have already harmed myself. The option of contacting Crisis Team is still there, but I have to be referred to them (through my GP, a psychotherapist etc) and I don't know about anyone else, but my crises don't always like to happen within office hours.
I've written more information about my own experiences (when in crisis) in my posts Last Night and Crisis (Trigger Warning for details of self harm and suicide in both posts)
I don't have all the answers (believe me, I'd be shouting them from the rooftops if I did!) but something needs to be done. A lot more funding, better education and training, some service that a person can access directly and quickly with well trained staff, more accessible and flexible services. The list goes on.
Not much better is it?
I'd love to know why they felt they had to put "emergencies" in single quotation marks. It feels as if they believe Mental Health emergencies are not real emergencies. If that is the case, then clearly they need to start listening more. Just looking through the Twitter hashtags #mentalwish and #crisisteamfail would be a start.
I've been tempted to add "what if physical illnesses were treated like mental illnesses" but the fact is we shouldn't have to compare this in order for people to care enough to make mental health a priority.
"emergency doctors warned that overstretched A&E departments are the wrong place for people in mental distress." I agree that A&E is an extremely poorly designed place for people going through mental health crises, but it is actually where we are advised to go. Often, it's the only option available when someone is in crisis. From my own experiences, every medical professional (who I have been in contact with about my mental health) has told me to go to A&E if I feel I am at risk of harming myself, or have already harmed myself. The option of contacting Crisis Team is still there, but I have to be referred to them (through my GP, a psychotherapist etc) and I don't know about anyone else, but my crises don't always like to happen within office hours.
I've written more information about my own experiences (when in crisis) in my posts Last Night and Crisis (Trigger Warning for details of self harm and suicide in both posts)
I don't have all the answers (believe me, I'd be shouting them from the rooftops if I did!) but something needs to be done. A lot more funding, better education and training, some service that a person can access directly and quickly with well trained staff, more accessible and flexible services. The list goes on.
Monday, 22 December 2014
An untitled poem
I recently sorted through some paperwork, old music sheets etc, and came across a poem I wrote when I was around 14, 15. It's not exactly a cheerful read, but I think in a way, it can be linked to the bullying I experienced at the time.
Since I was around 8 years old, I loved writing poetry and songs. Granted, they were probably terrible, but they gave me that opportunity to create something from my own thoughts and feelings. In the same way that music (I played flute, keyboard, guitar, and I sang in choirs) helped me to express myself, so did writing. I kept a lot of my songs quiet. This was partly due to how much I criticised myself, but was also due to the fact that I once brought to school a print out of a song I wrote about bullying and self harm. Clearly I showed this to the wrong person, and it was spread around the school. The words (that I had so honestly poured out onto paper) were suddenly exposed, and ridiculed; which made me even less likely to share something so personal to myself.
I'm very critical of my own writing, and think the point of the poem should've been a little clearer, but as it is relevant to my previous post (Where it all started) I felt that I should post it here.
(TW: Suicidal thoughts, bullying)
Since I was around 8 years old, I loved writing poetry and songs. Granted, they were probably terrible, but they gave me that opportunity to create something from my own thoughts and feelings. In the same way that music (I played flute, keyboard, guitar, and I sang in choirs) helped me to express myself, so did writing. I kept a lot of my songs quiet. This was partly due to how much I criticised myself, but was also due to the fact that I once brought to school a print out of a song I wrote about bullying and self harm. Clearly I showed this to the wrong person, and it was spread around the school. The words (that I had so honestly poured out onto paper) were suddenly exposed, and ridiculed; which made me even less likely to share something so personal to myself.
I'm very critical of my own writing, and think the point of the poem should've been a little clearer, but as it is relevant to my previous post (Where it all started) I felt that I should post it here.
(TW: Suicidal thoughts, bullying)
The people in the street
They whisper about her as she goes by
They can't know the hurt inside
The pain they cause
She won't speak,
Because you don't listen
She can't love,
Because she's been hurt too many times before
She doesn't cry,
Because it hurts too much
To say goodbye.
And she goes home and cries at night
Because she's too tired to fight
She's given up,
Because there's nothing left but tears,
Because it hurts too much
To say goodbye
Living in nothing
Worst nightmares come to life
You'll never know what you did to this girl
Because it hurts her too much to say goodbye
The people in the street
They whisper about her as she goes by
They can't know the hurt inside
The pain they cause
She'd never tell you
Just how much you hurt her
She'd never tell you
How the whispers cut so deep
She'd never tell you
Because it hurts too much to say goodbye
She won't speak
Because you don't listen
She can't love,
Because she's been hurt too many times before
She doesn't cry,
Because it hurts too much
To say goodbye
And the people in the street
They whisper about her as she goes by
They can't know the hurt inside
The pain they cause
Because it hurts too much to tell them why.
Monday, 8 December 2014
Where it all started
I'm not sure what brought me to think about the bullying I experienced throughout my childhood, but it's a big topic and I suppose right now I finally feel ready to speak about it more openly. There's a lot to it, and I still find it very hard to explain, but I'll try not to ramble too much.
Disclaimer: I'm simply speaking about some of my experiences, thoughts and opinions here. I'm not particularly aiming to give advice.
TRIGGER WARNING: Details of self harm, bullying, and violence.
I was always quite a chatty, friendly child right up to primary school. I thought that if I was nice to other people, then they'd be nice to me. I tried to get involved and make the first move when it came to getting to know people. I'd always been told to be polite too.
I can't pinpoint exactly when I started getting bullied, or even why. I made friends fairly easily, but there were also classmates who decided to boss me around. I wasn't very assertive, & usually if someone told me to do something, then I'd do it as I didn't want to argue or anger them. I was in the infants at that time, so it was all very childish & none of it physically violent thankfully. I had a best friend at the time, who was quite quiet but lovely. The bullies would tell me that I had to hang around with them, and not her. They were very pushy. I don't remember ever knowing what they'd do if I stood up for myself, but I must've found them pretty intimidating. I don't think this lasted the entire year, but I remember a couple of girls from a few years above me. They also bossed me around, cornered me in the playground etc. I remember a time I was late for my afternoon class, as one of the girls had locked me in the mobile toilets outside (the building was very old, so some of the classes and the toilets were in mobile blocks). They'd done this because I'd refused to deliberately hit a girl from my class, with a conker. They didn't say why, but I knew they didn't like her and obviously wanted me to be the one to get into trouble.
I'd not long started in the juniors (Year 3) when my parents and I moved house. Dad started work early and Mum couldn't drive, so she and I used to take two buses to my school. It got very difficult to get there in time, and she wasn't happy at my headteacher's failure to deal with the bullies (it basically involved a sit down meeting with me and the bullies, where they denied everything that had been reported, and I was too scared to speak up) so I moved schools to one just a couple of streets away.
Being the "new girl" was a bit of a novelty, and I did get a fair amount of attention, mainly from people in the year above me. There were a few people who made it very clear they didn't want to talk to me. I didn't know what I'd done, but then again you can't please everyone! I also joined choir, gymnastics and the local Brownies group, in order to socialise. I did make a few friends and really thought that my time at this new school would be much happier than at the old one. One person I thought I was close friends with started to boss me around and tease me. Anything I thought I was good at (singing etc) she judged me for. I had a fairly small, flat nose at that age. I wasn't aware that people saw this as a bad thing, until she tried to imitate it. She would pretty much humiliate me in front of most of my class. I still wasn't very good at sticking up for myself, so I guess she saw me as an easy target. The odd times where I lost my temper at her & we'd fall out, she'd make sure that she kept very close to my friends, so I'd end up on my own at break-times. I felt like it was better to keep quiet & put up with the bullying, than to alienate everybody. I won't go into detail, but there were times when she would try to make me believe certain upsetting things about my family. I didn't believe her at all, but it did mess with my head quite a lot. She lived very near me, so it's not as if I could escape the bullying away from school. It got to a point where I didn't feel safe on my own street (and sometimes my own home). I never used to get physically ill, but I would wish for this so I could at least stay at home and have a day or two away from the bullying. When I felt really upset/stressed out at home, I would bite, scratch or pinch my hands. It was never to a point where it was very noticeable the next day (only my parents noticed a few times) but it was enough to cause enough pain to distract me. It's not something I've spoken in depth to therapists about, but I guess this was a form of self harm.
I looked forward to secondary school. Only a couple of classmates went to the same one as me, and they were both friends. I started to be a little more chatty again, although I did get some teasing. I'd not tried to fit in when it came to fashion or music taste. I was ridiculously polite as well, and honestly I think a lot of people just thought I was weird. Year 7 wasn't too bad. A girl in our year was seen as a bit of an outcast. She was picked on quite badly. I wish I'd stuck up for her instead of being so selfish, but I felt as if I had to do what I could to fit in; especially when I started being teased. Year 8 was my absolute worst year for bullying. The girl from the previous year had left (due to the bullying she'd received. I wish so much that I'd been a better friend to her). Everything I said, or did, or wore was judged. I felt as if I couldn't do anything right, so decided it would be better if I stayed quiet. Of course then, I was targeted for being the "shy, quiet one". The friends I'd made in the same year as me, weren't in the same classes (we had to stay in our forms) and, due to staggered lunchtimes (big school with a small canteen), I didn't see them very often.
Around this time, I used to have extremely violent dreams about the classmates who had bullied me. I think this happened because I was so frustrated with myself for not standing up to them. I thought that it was my fault that I'd "let" myself be bullied again. In the dreams, I'd be kicking and punching them until they fell unconscious. I don't know if I could call these intrusive thoughts, but these dreams would be on my mind most days, and I'd worry so much that I'd act on them.
I had the odd outburst where I just couldn't put up with things that had been said/done that day. It usually involved me yelling a bunch of obscenities at the person though. I only ever once did anything physical, and it was in response to seeing a friend being teased/pushed around by one of the bullies. She had started tugging my friend's hair, and then went on to tug mine when I spoke up. I remember grabbing her fingers and bending them right back. I really did want to hurt her, but stopped when a teacher walked past. As far as I remember, she didn't give me any trouble after that. I'm not sure what the right thing to do would've been, but I definitely wouldn't advise doing that!
I used to be so worried that I was allowing the bullying to happen, that it was my fault, and that I'd humiliate myself in some way, that I'd start rituals of checking, and repeating (something I only realised recently). In year 9, myself and a few of my close friends began reading up on Paganism and Wicca. We didn't go into any real depth, & I don't know enough about it to consider myself pagan right now, but we learnt about blessings. I can't remember which ones exactly, but I used to recite a couple of blessings each night, and I became obsessed with repeating them three times at exactly midnight. I started to believe that if I did this every night, three times, and in the "right" order, that my next day at school wouldn't go too badly. I also started becoming interested in divination, and would keep certain "lucky charms" in each pocket of my blazer. If I didn't have them all on me, in the "right" pockets, then I believed I would have a very bad day. This carried on right through to 6th form. I started to get more confident in 6th form. I still had the odd bit of trouble, which I'm not sure even qualifies as bullying (just people being assholes!), but I found it a bit easier to brush off.
This is the first time I've described my experiences in such detail. I bottled a lot of it up. The only advice I ever received about bullying was to "tell the teacher/your parents". I did that a couple of times, but only ever found it made matters worse. I remember confiding in a friend as well, but they decided that telling my bullies would be the best course of action. They meant well, but this really wasn't helpful & I didn't feel as if I could speak to any other friends about this, in case they did the same.
Schools I've attended have claimed to have a "zero tolerance policy" on bullying, but no other details other than that. I'd be really interested to know the types of things that teachers & parents are told to look out for, as well as protocol when they find out that someone is being bullied. I don't think a "one size fits all" approach would be the best course of action, as bullying is a lot more complicated than we are led to believe. It isn't just about physical violence or name-calling. It can include teasing/putting someone down & making them feel bad about themself, exclusion/isolation from friendship groups, and other subtle but still very damaging methods.
Throughout school, I desperately needed to have someone to talk to about these things. Even though my friends were amazing, I worried so much about word getting to the bullies that I simply didn't talk to them about it, and preferred to distract myself. The school nurse was lovely, but only dealt with physical problems (as far as I was aware anyway). You had to approach a teacher before being allowed to see the nurse, so of course I didn't even try to see her about this. I wish that there had been a school counsellor that I could see in confidence.
I also wish that we'd learnt about mental health in school. I'm pretty sure that I experienced anxiety and depression even as a young child/young teenager. At the time, however, I saw the symptoms I had as my own personality flaws, rather than things that I experienced, that were triggered/exacerbated by the bullying. Maybe I could've at least learnt some healthier coping mechanisms, if I'd had that support available.
Disclaimer: I'm simply speaking about some of my experiences, thoughts and opinions here. I'm not particularly aiming to give advice.
TRIGGER WARNING: Details of self harm, bullying, and violence.
I was always quite a chatty, friendly child right up to primary school. I thought that if I was nice to other people, then they'd be nice to me. I tried to get involved and make the first move when it came to getting to know people. I'd always been told to be polite too.
I can't pinpoint exactly when I started getting bullied, or even why. I made friends fairly easily, but there were also classmates who decided to boss me around. I wasn't very assertive, & usually if someone told me to do something, then I'd do it as I didn't want to argue or anger them. I was in the infants at that time, so it was all very childish & none of it physically violent thankfully. I had a best friend at the time, who was quite quiet but lovely. The bullies would tell me that I had to hang around with them, and not her. They were very pushy. I don't remember ever knowing what they'd do if I stood up for myself, but I must've found them pretty intimidating. I don't think this lasted the entire year, but I remember a couple of girls from a few years above me. They also bossed me around, cornered me in the playground etc. I remember a time I was late for my afternoon class, as one of the girls had locked me in the mobile toilets outside (the building was very old, so some of the classes and the toilets were in mobile blocks). They'd done this because I'd refused to deliberately hit a girl from my class, with a conker. They didn't say why, but I knew they didn't like her and obviously wanted me to be the one to get into trouble.
I'd not long started in the juniors (Year 3) when my parents and I moved house. Dad started work early and Mum couldn't drive, so she and I used to take two buses to my school. It got very difficult to get there in time, and she wasn't happy at my headteacher's failure to deal with the bullies (it basically involved a sit down meeting with me and the bullies, where they denied everything that had been reported, and I was too scared to speak up) so I moved schools to one just a couple of streets away.
Being the "new girl" was a bit of a novelty, and I did get a fair amount of attention, mainly from people in the year above me. There were a few people who made it very clear they didn't want to talk to me. I didn't know what I'd done, but then again you can't please everyone! I also joined choir, gymnastics and the local Brownies group, in order to socialise. I did make a few friends and really thought that my time at this new school would be much happier than at the old one. One person I thought I was close friends with started to boss me around and tease me. Anything I thought I was good at (singing etc) she judged me for. I had a fairly small, flat nose at that age. I wasn't aware that people saw this as a bad thing, until she tried to imitate it. She would pretty much humiliate me in front of most of my class. I still wasn't very good at sticking up for myself, so I guess she saw me as an easy target. The odd times where I lost my temper at her & we'd fall out, she'd make sure that she kept very close to my friends, so I'd end up on my own at break-times. I felt like it was better to keep quiet & put up with the bullying, than to alienate everybody. I won't go into detail, but there were times when she would try to make me believe certain upsetting things about my family. I didn't believe her at all, but it did mess with my head quite a lot. She lived very near me, so it's not as if I could escape the bullying away from school. It got to a point where I didn't feel safe on my own street (and sometimes my own home). I never used to get physically ill, but I would wish for this so I could at least stay at home and have a day or two away from the bullying. When I felt really upset/stressed out at home, I would bite, scratch or pinch my hands. It was never to a point where it was very noticeable the next day (only my parents noticed a few times) but it was enough to cause enough pain to distract me. It's not something I've spoken in depth to therapists about, but I guess this was a form of self harm.
I looked forward to secondary school. Only a couple of classmates went to the same one as me, and they were both friends. I started to be a little more chatty again, although I did get some teasing. I'd not tried to fit in when it came to fashion or music taste. I was ridiculously polite as well, and honestly I think a lot of people just thought I was weird. Year 7 wasn't too bad. A girl in our year was seen as a bit of an outcast. She was picked on quite badly. I wish I'd stuck up for her instead of being so selfish, but I felt as if I had to do what I could to fit in; especially when I started being teased. Year 8 was my absolute worst year for bullying. The girl from the previous year had left (due to the bullying she'd received. I wish so much that I'd been a better friend to her). Everything I said, or did, or wore was judged. I felt as if I couldn't do anything right, so decided it would be better if I stayed quiet. Of course then, I was targeted for being the "shy, quiet one". The friends I'd made in the same year as me, weren't in the same classes (we had to stay in our forms) and, due to staggered lunchtimes (big school with a small canteen), I didn't see them very often.
Around this time, I used to have extremely violent dreams about the classmates who had bullied me. I think this happened because I was so frustrated with myself for not standing up to them. I thought that it was my fault that I'd "let" myself be bullied again. In the dreams, I'd be kicking and punching them until they fell unconscious. I don't know if I could call these intrusive thoughts, but these dreams would be on my mind most days, and I'd worry so much that I'd act on them.
I had the odd outburst where I just couldn't put up with things that had been said/done that day. It usually involved me yelling a bunch of obscenities at the person though. I only ever once did anything physical, and it was in response to seeing a friend being teased/pushed around by one of the bullies. She had started tugging my friend's hair, and then went on to tug mine when I spoke up. I remember grabbing her fingers and bending them right back. I really did want to hurt her, but stopped when a teacher walked past. As far as I remember, she didn't give me any trouble after that. I'm not sure what the right thing to do would've been, but I definitely wouldn't advise doing that!
I used to be so worried that I was allowing the bullying to happen, that it was my fault, and that I'd humiliate myself in some way, that I'd start rituals of checking, and repeating (something I only realised recently). In year 9, myself and a few of my close friends began reading up on Paganism and Wicca. We didn't go into any real depth, & I don't know enough about it to consider myself pagan right now, but we learnt about blessings. I can't remember which ones exactly, but I used to recite a couple of blessings each night, and I became obsessed with repeating them three times at exactly midnight. I started to believe that if I did this every night, three times, and in the "right" order, that my next day at school wouldn't go too badly. I also started becoming interested in divination, and would keep certain "lucky charms" in each pocket of my blazer. If I didn't have them all on me, in the "right" pockets, then I believed I would have a very bad day. This carried on right through to 6th form. I started to get more confident in 6th form. I still had the odd bit of trouble, which I'm not sure even qualifies as bullying (just people being assholes!), but I found it a bit easier to brush off.
This is the first time I've described my experiences in such detail. I bottled a lot of it up. The only advice I ever received about bullying was to "tell the teacher/your parents". I did that a couple of times, but only ever found it made matters worse. I remember confiding in a friend as well, but they decided that telling my bullies would be the best course of action. They meant well, but this really wasn't helpful & I didn't feel as if I could speak to any other friends about this, in case they did the same.
Schools I've attended have claimed to have a "zero tolerance policy" on bullying, but no other details other than that. I'd be really interested to know the types of things that teachers & parents are told to look out for, as well as protocol when they find out that someone is being bullied. I don't think a "one size fits all" approach would be the best course of action, as bullying is a lot more complicated than we are led to believe. It isn't just about physical violence or name-calling. It can include teasing/putting someone down & making them feel bad about themself, exclusion/isolation from friendship groups, and other subtle but still very damaging methods.
Throughout school, I desperately needed to have someone to talk to about these things. Even though my friends were amazing, I worried so much about word getting to the bullies that I simply didn't talk to them about it, and preferred to distract myself. The school nurse was lovely, but only dealt with physical problems (as far as I was aware anyway). You had to approach a teacher before being allowed to see the nurse, so of course I didn't even try to see her about this. I wish that there had been a school counsellor that I could see in confidence.
I also wish that we'd learnt about mental health in school. I'm pretty sure that I experienced anxiety and depression even as a young child/young teenager. At the time, however, I saw the symptoms I had as my own personality flaws, rather than things that I experienced, that were triggered/exacerbated by the bullying. Maybe I could've at least learnt some healthier coping mechanisms, if I'd had that support available.
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