*possible trigger*

It's been a while since I posted a blog.

I haven't been back to see the psychiatrist since my skin graft. I knew my psychiatrist was leaving at the end of May, so it was a case of leaving before she left me. Then I didn't want to see the psychiatrist who replaced her, both because I'm not comfortable with a male psychiatrist and because I didn't want to start over.

My GP recently wrote to me and insisted I start seeing her again. That was just over a month ago. I went to see her, ended up breaking down in tears, and was put on trazodone. I feel less depressed, but I'm more impulsive and my mood changes more frequently.

I'm not cutting as much, and haven't burned myself since the skin graft. Been getting high a lot though, using various prescription medications (not prescribed for me, I get them from friends or online). My GP found out, and is now treating me like a drug addict. I'm not addicted though, and the main reason I often get high instead of self harming is that my self harm usually requires stitches and people freak out. Also, my haemoglobin is low, any lower and I'd need another transfusion, so I need to keep the blood loss under control.

Been seeing K again, the guy I've been sleeping with on and off for 3 or 4 years. We're not dating, but even meeting up with him once a week or so feels horribly overwhelming. He's a nice guy, and I get the feeling he might even like it if we were officially dating, but I'm too messed up to contemplate anything like a normal relationship. My therapist thinks seeing him is bad for me, especially because he's about 20 years older than me and I originally met him on a hook-up site.

I don't know. My life feels horribly complicated, even though to an outside observe it's probably not complicated at all.

*trigger*


It's funny, most of the time I end up having to "talk myself into" cutting. Thoughts of cutting are never far from my mind, but I almost have to force myself to go through with it a lot of the time. I hesitate before I do it, brace myself for how much it might hurt (I really don't like pain). My cutting doesn't even hurt that much after I break through the skin, yet because of that momentary pain and because I know it "should" hurt, I always dread it slightly. I know that once I start cutting, once I get caught up in it, I'll feel that wonderful sense of relief that makes it worth it, but I really wish I didn't have to feel even momentary pain. Then again, it probably wouldn't feel "right" if it didn't hurt. I've experimented with numbing my skin in the past, but it always sort of felt like cheating.

I cut this morning, and stitched it up myself. Not a new thing, just something I haven't done in a while. I'm actually quite good at self-stitching, better than some doctors I've had stitch me up in the past. Even my psychiatrist has commented on how well I stitch myself. I probably shouldn't be proud of this, but there's so little I actually feel like I'm good at, so it's nice to feel proud of myself, even if it's for a negative thing. I'm not stitching myself so I can hide my self harm, I do plan to tell my community psych nurse tomorrow, it's just better than waiting in A&E all night and being lectured on the dangers of self harm (which I already know and don't need to hear again).
I also stitch myself sometimes because I like to feel as though I'm "fixing" myself. I may not be able to fix myself mentally, but fixing a physical wound is almost as good, at least for a while.

*possible trigger*

It's been over a month since I wrote here. I ended up needing a skin graft for my burns. I was sort of forced to go to A&E, but nobody forced me to go ahead with the skin graft.

That was a week and a half ago, and I've cut once since then, but didn't need to go to A&E.
I've decided I'm not seeing my psychiatrist any more. Part of this is because she's leaving soon, and it hurts less if I quit first. Part of this is because I really see no point in continuing to see a psychiatrist. I'm not taking medication, and I have a therapist if I need to talk.

I'm still seeing my community psychiatric nurse once a week. I'm not going to continue with that for much longer either though. She really doesn't get me at all. She told me on Wednesday that I feel the way I do because I want to. Which I disagree with. I choose how I respond to my feelings, I choose my actions, but I don't choose my feelings.

Oh, I'm also still attending outpatients appointments to get the skin graft checked, and I have to go and get my dressing changed 3 times a week. I really shouldn't have burned myself so badly, even with a skin graft I was told it'll take months to heal, and that's if the skin graft takes properly (it didn't look so great today).

I alternate between feeling detached, and feeling completely overwhelmed. I feel like it's only a matter of time until I do something drastic. My CPN and therapist keep pointing out how well I'm functioning. I manage to turn up for appointments, true, but that's about all I manage to do. They don't see me when I'm alone, panicking and in tears, wanting to destroy myself, desperate for anything to make me feel better. I try so hard to make it look like I'm coping, like I have everything together. The reality is so much different, but I can't bring myself to drop the pretence. And even when I do try to drop it, when I try to be honest, when I try to say that, no, I'm actually not really functioning, others try to make out like I'm lying.

*trigger*

I haven't taken antihistamines in almost 2 weeks. This is good, right? Maybe, maybe not. I've been making it up for it in other ways.

I ended up in A&E again last week, needing internal stitches. That was a horrible experience (not the internal stitches, that's nothing new, the way I was treated). I was ignored when I said I couldn't straighten my fingers, The doctor didn't even clean the cut before stitching. After waiting 12 hours for a psychiatrist, I walked out. Security made me go back. I tried to sign myself out against medical advice, wasn't allowed. I was left sobbing and hyperventilating for an hour while everyone ignored me. The psychiatrist was ok. She spoke to me, called my psychiatrist, and let me leave.

I haven't cut since then, but I burned myself last night and the night before. I won't go into detail about how, but they weren't heat burns. The first one is either bad second degree or minor 3rd degree, and I was stupid enough to do it on my wrist, so my wrist won't bend at the moment (it wasn't bending properly anyway after the last cutting episode, but now it's worse). The second one is, without a doubt, 3rd degree. I'm not going to describe how it looks, but all the layers of skin have been burned through. It doesn't hurt either.

I considered A&E, but I didn't want a repeat of last week. Also, the last time I went with a 3rd degree burn (which they themselves agreed was 3rd degree), they asked why I felt the need to get medical attention for it, and just gave me a clean dressing and antibiotics (a couple of weeks later in the psych ward, it was seen by a plastic surgeon, who said if it was even a tiny bit bigger or wasn't healing as well, I'd have needed a skin graft). I have clean dressings, and I'm taking some antibiotics I found in my cupboard (they're still in date). I considered seeing my GP, but she'll either freak out and section me, or simply tell me to continue the antibiotics. I'll show my psychiatrist on Tuesday and see what she says (I know she's a psychiatrist, and doesn't practice general medicine, but she does have a medical degree, right? At the very least she'll know if she should refer to me to someone else to get it seen to).

My little sister got out of the psych ward about a week ago, only to end up back in yesterday because she was "depressed". At least she didn't attempt anything this time.

I stayed with my best friend for a few days. I was meant to go visit her again this weekend,but it seemed like way too much effort, and I sort of wanted to stay at home so I could hurt myself.

This isn't even about feeling better (not completely anyway). It's about destroying myself, doing as much damage as I possibly can. Erasing my existence one injury at a time. Punishing myself for existing. You might wonder why I hate myself so much. I don't even know the answer to that.

My last entry, from Saturday, still hasn't been approved. So I'm not sure why I'm even bothering to post again.

*possible trigger*

I ended up in A&E today after seeing my psychiatrist. I'd taken antihistamines, and my blood pressure and pulse were high when my psychiatrist checked them. I then got an ECG done, and it was abnormal, so I was forced to go to A&E (psychiatrist said she'd section me if I didn't go to A&E)

They did some blood tests and repeated the ECG a few hours later. Everything was normal, but they wanted me to stay overnight and see the cardiologist in the morning. I refused, so I signed an AMA (against medical advice) form and went home.

I'm disappointed everything turned out ok. I wanted there to be something wrong. I feel like I've failed somehow. It seems no matter what I do, I end up ok. I can cut deeply and hit arteries (as well as causing nerve and tendon damage). I can lose large amounts of blood. I can get my haemoglobin down to a dangerous level. I can take so-called lethal doses of medication. I can overdose every day for weeks. By all rights, I should be dead. I've never even passed out (unless you count drifting in and out of consciousness in an ambulance one of the times I got my haemoglobin really low).
I am trying to destroy myself. I don't do the things I do "in spite" of the dangers, I do them "because" of the dangers.