Reeling a bit still from my previous blog. I have thought many times about what to do about it - whether to delete it or not. I was very open and that is something I sometimes find difficult. But I decided it is good to be honest and it is good t work on being open so I am going to leave it there despite the fact it feels uncomfortable.

I am in my snug living room watching the last Harry Potter atm - it is nice. Went for lunch at my Granny's which was also nice.

Not much else to say really - struggling a bit from a cutting pov but not caved yet.

Hope you are all well

Hugs

Cracked

Trigger

I grew up in Nigeria where my parents we missionaries. Two teenagers/young men abused and tortured me and a further man abused me too. I was also physically abused and neglected by my parents who were very busy. I used to have to find my own food and look after my sister even when I was very young. I also had to babysit other kids on the compound I got so hungry that I used to pretend that my lego was food and I was cooking it. I think this might have contributed to my eating issues.

I started self harming when I was about 5. I accidently put fertiliser in my eye and it felt good tho bad and I kept doing it. I also started adding the contents of my chemistry set to my milk and drinking it.

We left there because we got attacked and our house set on fire with us in it. It was a mud house and smoke came up from below like an oven. We managed to get out but it was difficult to breath. I have bad asthma and my therapist thinks this may have something to do with that.

When we got back to the UK one year later my Dad died of melanoma when I was 8. I loved him very much and I held his hand after he had died to say goodbye. Some ppl think that is why I became a Dr tho I am not sure. I think I might have become a Dr because of my Grandpa

I went to boarding school a year later and hated it. I returned to self harming by taking large amounts of paracetamol to try and make myself sick so I did not have to go as you were not allowed to be sad. I dont know how I have a liver left. Except maybe because it made me sick I threw them up.

Because of my asthma I was put on oral steroids and I became Cushingnoid in appearence. So I became very hung up about my weight and stopped eating. This then turned into binge purging. I got followed by a teacher and accused and sent to the school Dr. They told me they were going to tell my Mum half an hour before my English GCSE.

Around this time my moods became unstable and I started acting out too with alcohol and smoking. I also had my first episode of being high where I put on a school concert and organised the whole thing and wanted to invite Princess Diana. I was around 16 at this point. No one noticed.

I carried on struggling with SH by hitting myself, binge purging and also having mood disturbance but I got through my A Levels and got into Med School. There I went off the rails with drugs, alcohol and mood disruption plus unprotected sex. I still managed to do my studiese somehow - I am lucky I remember things easily. I got into a relationship and the guy hit me and used to anally rape me. When we broke up I thought I could not live without him.

I started taking overdoses, and cutting myself and my ED got worse. I saw my GP who referred me to therapy and courtesy of one of the ODs I also ended up under a psych. He did not diagnose me with bipolar despite episodes of obvious mood disturbance and I carried on as I was.

I graduated and started work. I stole some drugs from a ward and overdosed and was found by someone who I knew was going to come to my room as I was sleeping with him. This had started when I was high and by this point I was getting a bit of a reputation.

I was put on the poisons unit I worked on and visited by the clinical director. He told me to go off work and I was referred to the GMC which is where that all started.

For the next few years my mood was up and down including overdosing on an airliner after being high and going to meet some adult missionary kids who had been abused in the States and crashing due to being triggered on the flight home. The airplane had to land and I wound up in an Icelandic hospital and subsequently loony bin.

The GMC were not pleased with this and my case was sent to a hearing. I was discharged but rereferred when I got done for drink driving whilst high and abusing drugs and alcohol.

I became and anaesthetist and ended up working with my ex who hit me and raped me. Between that and everything else I decided to end my life for proper this...

[ Continued ]

Trigger

I am sitting here looking at my arms and legs and I can see all the new cuts on them and I realise that my lapse appears to have turned into a relapse as I have many new ones and they are getting worse. The old addictive behaviour seems to be back again. And I soothe them with baby wipes. Why cant I just soothe my skin with baby wipes without having to throw cutting into the mix?

I know i should practise what I preach but I am struggling to do so atm. And I cant tell irl because the consequences of it will be bad, meaning I have to defer important medical tests. Despite knowing this I keep cutting.

My therapist asked me where the pain was. It made me cry but I did not have an answer. I am not sure where this has come from. I thought it was because I have been low, now I am not sure. Whatever it is, it is making me sad but I cant seem to find the willpower to stop it.

Hope you are OK

Hugs

Cracked

I heard the news about Gary Speed and it made me really sad. How someone feels that bad, esp when they seem to have all to live for. Then i thought that I have been in a similar position but it did not work. At the time I had all to live for and appeared to be a happy and successful person but was not underneath the facade. It is only now I am in a place where I have less to live for I am trying harder to live for it - which is weird.

RIP Gary Speed.

Cracked

I found some blades the other day and I could not stop myself from using them despite using distress tolerance and calling the samaritans and writing down the consequences. I have been using them the last few days and could tell I was getting addicted again.

Just now I decided to get up and throw them in the bin. I am not going to get them out. I am not going to go down this road again. They are in the bin (safely disposed of).

This is a lapse not a relapse and there is a difference. I am going to make sure of that.

I hope you are all OK

Hugs

Cracked