Mighty, Falling

Wow.
Today was a tour de force.

This morning I was doing ok, on the verge of something great.
By this evening I'm psychotic and on the verge of something bad.

How the mighty fall.

I do get paranoid. I know that.
For ages now I've thought that my next door neighbours were spying on me through the bathroom wall. It's not been too much of a problem -- I just keep a towel wrapped round me as much as I can, and make sure I have lots of bubbles in the bath.

I'd been a lot better recently -- I'd noticed that some days I hadn't even thought about it. Hadn't bothered making rude gestures at the wall.
Today I realised why -- it's been replaced by a new obsession. I think that all the cars and vans with those blacked out or mirrored windows are videoing me.
Then I read a great description of a guy with schizophrenia, and it could have been me.
That was a hard one to take.
I'm sure loads of people obsess about one thing or another, but still.

* *

Good news is that I submitted a story that I've been working on for a couple of days. I'm pleased with it. I hope it does good.

* * *

In the meantime I can feel my anger at he who left me bubbling up again. He doesn't bother texting or anything. No letters, no nothing. We went through such a lot, and right to the end he said he loved me, but hey, the World Cup is on. Or he's busy. Whatever.
That hurts like fuck.
So now I veer wildly between hurt and furious, and the only way I know how to deal with that is to wallop it with anger.
But bright girls are dangerous, and I could do so much damage.
I have to keep reminding myself that the only reason it still hurts is because I love him.

Brand New Day

Hey,

Sleep was hard to come by again last night, so I took a sleeping pill at 3am. Woke up at 7.30 and have been up ever since, but still muzzy.

It's sunny outside.

It's weird, the way I feel at the moment.
It's not bad - it's just weird. Like my head is on the verge of something big. Discovering the meaning of life, or reading all the books in the world and coming up with The Answer.
It will become frustrating, because it's completely unobtainable, but I'm not there yet. At the moment it still feels as though, if I strive hard enough, I'll get there.

Psych lady would say I'm setting myself up for another fall.
I should probably talk to her about that.

But at the moment, I have a book to read.

Sleep 2

I seem to have lost the knack again.

It's not really a problem -- I'm happy staying up writing and stuff -- but it just gets a bit lonely when most of my waking time is when everyone else is asleep.
I suppose that's what the internet is for - I should strike up a relationship with someone in Australia.

I don't think so.

I don't think I'll ever strike up a relationship again. After the last one ended I said 'never again,' it left me so lost and broken. But then this guy comes along and I really really thought it was different. Yeah, I know; If I had a penny for every woman who'd said that before me I'd be a very wealthy girly. But I really mean it!
I really thought this time was different.

It was - I loved him more, and it broke me more.

I'm not going there again.

I just need more nocturnal hobbies.

* * *

I watched a programme about Julie Burchill tonight. I don't know why, but that woman really winds me up.
And what is with her teeth?
Bitchy? Moi?

Strange days 2

Another weird one.

Lots of shopping. That's never a good sign.

And dreams that make me wake up crying, in spite of sleeping pills.

And every time I get worked up the bloody fire alarm goes off.

No wonder he left. It's a nut house.

The Darkest Night

Last night was a New Moon.
I read somewhere that the New Moon makes us feel raw and vulnerable.
I can believe that.

I stayed up late, writing, but when it finally came my sleep was long and dreamless. That was a relief.

I think I feel slightly better than I have done for the last few days. That might be because I am settling into taking three Trazodone at night and none in the morning. My Librium intake is down a bit, which is good.

I saw the sea today -- they are building a new beach.
Importing 34,000 tons of sand.
Funny to think of them building something 'natural'.

I want to write something analogous, about my pills and me and madness, about who the real me is, but my head is still mush.
So, [***insert profound real me analogy here***]
And have a good evening.

Forgive and Remember

There was an article in today's paper, about forgiving but not forgetting; about how forgiveness takes time, and how it is sometimes easier said than done. I can second that.
I've never been very good at on-the-spot forgiveness, sometimes it takes me a while (a while being a decade or more in some cases).
I can think of some instances where I'm not quite there yet, but no case where I have just categorically given up.
I used to think that this made me a bad person -- that if only I could forgive more easily I would be better for it.
So the article was reassuring.
I am not alone in my belief that some people do not deserve to be instantly forgiven.

Spin cycle

Yesterday didn't get any better, so I went to bed early.
Today isn't much better.
My mood is low, way low, and the washing machine got stuck on the spin cycle. It was on for four hours before anyone noticed.

On really bad ones I take sleeping pills during the day.
They don't make me sleep, they just numb it up a bit.

I don't know what's causing this.
The flash of how I used to be was tough -- remembering that I used to be normal, have a life and ambition and a purpose. I'd forgotten that I used to enjoy it, sometimes; being normal.

And the longer I go on missing him, the harder it gets. The fact he can just walk away, and not even think about me, gets harder every day instead of easier.

Yesterday I thought about killing myself again. Not in a really depressed howling sort of way. Just matter of fact. You know -- listing my options. And death was one of them. Hard to believe that everyone doesn't feel that way, but apparently they don't.

Maybe I was never that normal after all.

Crying

Rough day so far, with lots of tears.
I suppose after a high patch there always has to be a fall.

High patch has been as usual - change the world, become a different person overnight, and shop. Whilst all the while talking non-stop about seven different subjects at once.
No wonder I get tired and can't keep it up.

Even with sleeping pills I had a choppy night, with lots of disjointed dreams.
There was an unfamiliar place, unfriendly, and I wasn't quite sure what was going on. He was there, and all the time I felt like I was trying to keep up. Eventually I said I had to stop for a rest, and he carried on, with someone else.

Today I have been crying, and tidying -- my house is such a mess.

I still sleep with his shirt under my pillow.
I don't know if it smells of him anymore.
I can't remember.

Gifted and Talented 2

He did good.
They were the youngest group taking part, and they hadn't done quite as much work as they should have done, so all in all I think they did ok. He said he was pleased he did it, he learned a lot, and he would do it again given the chance. I think that's a result.
Unfortunately he doesn't do stress too well, and he did get really nervous, and so now he is sick in bed with a high temperature and stuff.
I wonder if they do stress management courses for 13 year olds?

* * *
I'm on 3 Trazodone at night, plus everything else, so I'm back to pretty heavyweight side effects: pains in my legs, headaches, sore throat, and a kind of 'banking' effect when I try to walk in a straight line. That's on top of not being able to get my words out and sleeping for 18 hours a day.
The hard thing is that I don't know if they are actually doing any good now.
Now I'm away from he who left me, I might be fine.
Or I might be a million times worse.
I've read about this sort of thing -- pills work so symptoms subside so patient thinks they are fine so they stop taking pills so it all comes back.
It's fun being mad.

* * *
I keep wanting to text him or email him, just to tell him that I love him and I miss him. Then I think of how much he lied to me and I don't think I can get over that.
I asked him outright once, if I was right to trust him, and he told me I was.

I must be the most gullible woman on the planet.

Does that make me a bad mother, to let someone near my kids when clearly I didn't know them at all? Things could have been so much worse than just my feelings being hurt, my finances being fucked, my kids being let down and my mind being blown. We got off lightly (!).
After three years, I really thought it would be ok.
But I didn't know anything.

I know I should have asked more, but he never wanted to tell me anything (hint hint, you stupid woman) and I hated asking. I think that's a bpd thing. But I should have done it anyway, for the kids' sake.

Note to self: read about 'trust issues.'

Gifted and Talented

My son has to do a presentation at 2 o'clock, as part of some competition for gifted and talented kids.
Not that he wasn't big headed beforehand...

He was so nervous this morning.
I'm keeping everything crossed for him.

The Longest Day

Today is the longest day of the year. It's been rainy, and windy, and much like any other.

I finished a story I've been writing.
It's about regret. And second chances.
It's probably rubbish.

I'm tired tonight - I should remember not to take any meds until I'm ready to get into bed. Otherwise it's like trying to type with sand in my head.
Tonight I will take a sleeping pill - I don't want to dream tonight.

I wonder...

... if he thinks about me at all?

There are things known...

... and there are things unknown
And in between are The Doors.

Number one daughter bought me a card with a picture of Jim Morrison on because I liked this quote on the back.
I think I've always been more scared of the doors than the other two.

I saw psych lady today. This was the first day she has seen me 'different.' She said the difference was unbelievable. For the first time I actually felt like we got somewhere. We have an agenda to work with. We talked about how the way I present to the world in a bad patch is actually the exact opposite of how I'm feeling - others might perceive me as hostile or angry, but in actual fact I'm terrified. I might say "fuck off" but what I desperately need is a hug. We talked about the fact I pick men who will ultimately make me feel more unlovable. We talked about the fact I need to 'reel it in a bit' as she said, as at the moment I'm going at 900 miles an hour and want to change the world.
She said I was bright enough to vary my meds and see what happens - try the 3rd Trazodone at night, or try going down to 2. See what works best.
It was a useful meeting. It doesn't mean I'm better - I'm still incredibly paranoid and unable to leave the house alone. Things are still not right - that's going to take a long time.
But if this was a physical illness they would have just moved me out of intensive care.

Bad Dream

I had a bad dream last night.

I dreamed I had been diagnosed with cancer.
He who left me stayed with me because of the cancer, because I had to go for medical appointments and I kept getting lost in the hospital.
He knew he would be able to leave when I was dead.

Bloody Mary and the Tudor rose wouldn't go away.

I wish I could afford an analyst.

Fathers Day

Today was a tougher day for all of us, I think, than we let on. It's years now since my kids have seen their father. They didn't mention him.
Number two daughter collected snails and wrote about a praying mantis. Son wrote cartoons on Powerpoint, and number one daughter tidied her room.
Wonders will never cease.

Morning Trazodone has got to go - I'm like a zombie afterwards, and I'm beginning to dread taking it. Something must have changed in my brain (chemically) because it used to have no noticeable effect at all. Either I will have to change to three together at night, or give it up altogether. I will talk to psych woman on Tuesday.

This made me smile: I gave number one daughter a set of tarot cards, years ago, because I liked the pictures and I thought she would want to learn how to do it if she saw me doing it. It only cost me £2.50 in a book clearance shop. She's never really shown much interest though, and so I was looking at her cards again. I've become very interested in Jung lately, and the cards are alchemical with similar themes to those which he explored, so I thought I'd look for an identical deck of my own.
They were £245 on amazon! Not even new!
Number one daughter has suddenly become a lot more interested ;-)

17th June...

... was a quiet and calm day.
A spiritual day.
I needed one of those.
I spent it with the kids, read, wrote, did some tarot, went to church and in the evening I watched Memoirs of a Geisha with number one daughter. I thought it was a beautiful film.

At the moment, I am not angry with him at all. I just wish he'd been honest with me. Lying to me must have been hard -- I hope it was hard -- No wonder he was so stressed. I wish he had been honest. I would still have loved him, no matter what, as I do now.

But I am circumspect: tomorrow I may be furious again.
By tomorrow, the world will have turned, and so might I.

P.S. The fire alarm woke us up and then went off another 4 times this morning. I turned off its electricity.

Decisions, decisions.

I couldn't write my blog yesterday - there was so much going on in my head that I didn't know where to start. So I did nothing.

Things feel very crossroads-y at the moment.
I feel like I could lose it altogether, and God knows how or where we would all end up. Or I could get a grip.
It's a really funny feeling, almost like having a choice, but not quite. It isn't that I can choose to be mad or not, more like I can choose to stop trying.
I wonder if that's how a personality disorder differs from a mental illness, such as schizophrenia or bipolar?
At some level, I have more control.
Certainly not when I'm in the middle of an episode - that is completely out of my control. Each time it has happened I say 'Never again,' and firmly believe it won't happen again, but it always does.
But now, when things are a bit calmer, it feels more like I could have some kind of influence.
Giving up is certainly the easier option. To not think, and worry, and tear myself apart over what I've done and what I'm going to do would be bliss. To not consider the consequences would be such a relief.
And twenty years ago, ten years ago even, that is the route I took. I didn't consider the consequences. It didn't worry me that some time later down the line I would have to pick it all up again if I ever wanted to have any life at all.
This time the consequences are much more of a deterrent to giving up. Getting a grip now, rather than in four or five years time, would make things so much easier for me, and the kids.
I just don't know if I can do it.
Trying and failing feels a bit like a double or nothing bet, and I never was much of a gambler. But I don't want to turn 40 and still be this miserable, so that only gives me a year to sort myself out.
I don't know what to do, or how to do it.
I don't know if I really do have that choice.
I don't know .

Just good friends

Hey.

Today I feel different. Again. It's a regular mood lucky-dip.

Today I just miss my best friend.

I miss laughing with him, talking to him, looking forward to his texts and phonecalls.
I miss him sticking his head round my door with coffee in the morning, and I miss him smiling at me.
I miss hearing his voice, and the way his hair curled behind his ears.
I miss the feel of him breathing when I slept with my head on his shoulder.
I just miss him.

I miss walking along the beach with my favourite boys.

I wish things had been different.
I wish I had been different.
I wish everything was different.

I wish he had loved me enough.

Alarm Bells

It's exactly a month since the fire alarm went off for no reason.
It did it again tonight.
Spooky.

In my blog then I said that I could feel things slipping, and that's how I feel at the moment.
I think it's a cyclical thing.
Something in me goes around, and comes around.

I talked to the doctor about ultra rapid cycling bipolar. They don't think my highs are high enough to be manic. I think if I told them the whole truth, about everything, they might think slightly differently. On the other hand, from what I have read there is no self-harm associated with bipolar in the way that there is with borderline, and that is definitely a problem for me.

But I can't really see what difference a label makes anyway, unless it's on a bottle of good champagne.

* * *

I write in a creative writing group online, and one of my pieces was up for criticism. Good, they said, but the character has no emotion. We have no idea how she feels, or what she thinks.

I guess I can only write about what I know.

The Right Stuff

Today I am trying to keep myself occupied. Lots of writing to be done, and some housey stuff, and just any stuff really.

I am tense.

I think: if I can write down what it is that is making me tense, then it will go, but there is so much to write. And once you write it down, it's just insignificant crap.

I need to come off some of these pills. My head is mush. I think it's the Trazodone that does it. And I need to look at my money. My bank statement terrifies me, but it needs to be done. And I need to buy flannels.
There is so much crap in my head.

I wonder where all the good stuff is hiding?

Maths Shmaths

Maths exam today.

It didn't go so well :-/

I was at home and there was the longest roll of thunder just as the exam was starting.

I hope that's not a bad omen, I thought.

It was.

She was very upset when she got out of the exam, got more upset on the way home, and was not doing so great by the time she got here.
We hugged.
We talked.
Its just maths, I said.
It doesn't matter, I said.
But it does, and I wanted to cry for her.
She tries so hard, and copes with so much, they should give her an A* and a medal just for turning up.

Bunny Boiling

That's the joy of a mood disorder - by the next day the world has turned.

Most women would have done what I did - and most of them a lot sooner than I did.
Some of them would have even taken a baseball bat to his PC, or left it out in the rain.
I didn't do either of those things, and I didn't boil his bunny either.

Get over yourself man.

(No) Hard Feelings

I'm not sure how I feel at the moment.

I know what I did has hurt him, but that wasn't why I did it, and I'm sorry for that. It had to be something powerful, else nothing would have changed. And what I did was better than some of the alternatives.

I didn't realise it would be so hard, doing something that hurts him.
I didn't realise it would hurt me so much too.

I can deal with him hating me - that's ok. That's what I wanted. It's a feeling I'm used to - I think everyone hates me anyway, so if they do in reality, it's ok.
And that way I know it's really over. Other people can just be told, I think, but we've already established that my head doesn't work quite like other peoples, and I kept thinking there must be something I could do to make it right. Intellectually I knew it was rubbish, but my heart kept telling me it would be ok. I couldn't go on like that.

I keep telling myself that this way is better, in the long run. But I'm not naturally good at hurting people, and at the moment it's hard going.

I have been told that my borderline-ness could be much worse - I'm not violent (except to myself sometimes), I don't have hundreds of relationships or move around the country continually. I've kept away from drugs and I don't smoke. I even think I'm an ok mother at times.
But my emotions are all over the place.
I don't know what I feel.
Sometimes that's why I want it all to go away; just so I don't have to feel anything anymore.

Tonight is one of those times.

Broken Glass

I broke a glass today.

I went back to bed.
Despite sleeping for nearly 12 hours last night, I slept another 4.
I feel crappy.

* * *
Daughter number one and I went to (Spiritualist) Church last night. We go most weeks, except haven't been for a while because I've been ill. It's a proper church - not all mumbo jumbo. It's very reassuring.
They told her again that she can see spirit, and that her power will grow. Apparently it starts as seeing little lights in the air, and develops from that. I like the idea that loved ones are around us, looking out for us.

I miss my dad.

This is an old picture of my dad, when he was in the Navy during the war. It was taken in Sydney, Australia, and he's the one second from the right. He's been dead for 5 years now.

Sleep

I woke up in the night wondering what the hell I'd done.
Why did I tell him?
I felt awful.

Then I reminded myself of all the things he did to me that were far worse.
I nearly lost my life.
I have a whole new bunch of scars.
My kids trust has been shattered, again.
I am penniless and alone.
I can't leave the house by myself.
I am taking up to 18 pills a day just to keep me going.
I have no idea if I'm going to be ok.

He broke countless promises to us. I broke one.

I went back to sleep.

Hate me, please.

Rough day.

I did the fatal thing and sent a text to him who left me.

I don't know what I wanted him to say really - sorry we haven't communicated for over a week? How are you?
Just something... human?

Instead I got the usual 'Not now.'
And this time I got the added joy of 'Email me next week.'

I've emailed him so much! I've written reams and reams!
I get three word replies.

I've said before this has to stop, and I realised the only way that it will happen is if I make it happen. Negative Control. But whilst he keeps saying he cares about me but treating me like this, it does my head in.
Is this the only kind of love I deserve?
If he hated me, it would make more sense.

So I told him about the stuff I read on his computer.

I think it's fair to say he hates me now.

Horror story

He who left me writes horror stories. And romantic comedy.

I think thats the only reason he was with me in the first place.
Like a supermarket - everything you want under one roof.

I believe I was just material for his stories. An experiment.

But now he has the footie to occupy him.
Ho hum.

Personality disordered

This morning I woke up and did a personality test

Actually I did two, and got different (but similar) results from them.

I can't say I can recognise myself completely in the analysis, but maybe that's because it took 2 minutes online and not 10 years at £100 an hour.

The thing that interested me most was the description of my shadow - the part of my unconscious that others see, most clearly when I am stressed or ill or tired:

• expressing intense negative emotions towards others
• being very sensitive to criticism
• becoming preoccupied with details, without any logical basis
• interpreting facts or events in a very subjective way

I shall read more Jung.

Not the best day...

... but not the worst either.

I got quite a lot of reading done, number one daughter's exam seemed to go ok, and number two daughter and son are doing well.

Low points were:

1. I couldn't remember the word for a moth (of which I have a really bad phobia) so I had shouted everything I could think of beginning with M (Mole! Mat! Mars! Man! Mop!) before someone realised what I was yelling about and came to rescue me, and
2. Still shocked by the moth incident, I carried a bowl of Frosties into the living room, sat down, and then poured them into my lap. Milk and cereal all over me. Grrrreat.

I think both of these are pill side effects. Inability to articulate words, and clumsiness.

It's fun, being me.

Knees of my Bees

This is my first attempt at posting a picture.

This is what all the fuss is about.

This is the picture I took for his mother's Christmas present.

This is he who left me.

Jung at Heart

Last week I read the Da Vinci Code.

Yesterday I was reading the bible.

Today I am reading Jung.

Tomorrow I might find the answer.

***
What was the question again?

Strange days

Yesterday went without a hitch.
Better than hitchless in fact - the CSA must really come into their own on 6/6/6 because they managed to get some money out of my ex. Crisis averted for a bit longer. Phew.

Today is a strange day.

I feel a growing sense of injustice, and that's not good.

Injustice and powerlessness are two things that really get to the core of me. I think I've read about the reasons for it in lots of places; something to do with being abused as a child - it doesn't matter what kind of abuse - physical, sexual, emotional, the result is the same.
So they are two things that really wind me up.

Having a bit more money suddenly increases my power - I'm not about to be thrown out on the street or have to eat the bread that the corner shop chucks out.

But my sense of injustice is growing.
He who left me got away with it all so lightly. He's not had to repay any of the money he cost me, he's not had to repair any of the damage he has done, he's not even had to explain things to the kids - I've had to do it all. He just walked away.

So, if he can break promises just like that, can I?

If he was talking to me, or communicating with me at all; if I felt any hint of him being sorry for what he has done, I think my need to even things up would be lessened. But there is nothing.
I am very calm, I'm not talking about a reckless spur-of the-moment revenge, but it really doesn't feel right to me that I'm the one who's paying for all this.

I don't want to get mad; I want to get even.

The Mark of the Beast

Not that I'm superstitious or anything, but today is the 6th of the 6th of the 6th.

Maybe all this bible reading has got to me.

Hmm.

But I will pray extra hard today for number one daughter's exam this morning, number two daughter's attempt at the 1500 metres in athletics (please Lord), and that I can get through at least one day without breaking anything.

Godliness

Another tough day. They do seem to be coming thick and fast at the moment, don't they?

I broke a plate that used to belong to my dad. Again, I kept completely calm. Its just a plate. These pills must be doing their thing - that would normally set me off.

No text from he who left me, although I know he's been about because he's updated his website with witty football quips.
Oh, how I laughed. Not.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to keep really busy. Housing Benefit woman came round to see me, to help me fill in the form because they make me cry. I'm also doing lots of researchy stuff, for something I'm writing. Reading bible-type stuff at the moment. It's quite interesting, although 2 Timothy 3:6-9 kind of sticks in my throat.

And the exams march on. I think she's doing great. I hope she's doing great. Put it this way - she's doing her best.
That's all I can ask, and I'm proud of her.

seesaw 2

One of those up and downy days.

Up - I cleaned the kitchen like a demon and now have the shiniest worktops in the world and nothing living under the microwave anymore.

Down - just immeasurable sadness. Sadness that I am alone again. The whole leaving me just before a family do is not the first time - sadness that people are ashamed of me. Sadness that I am 39 this month and I feel like my life is nearly over.
Sadness that it's just all gone wrong. Again.

And all that interspersed with the clumsy inarticulateness (if that's a word) that tells me something more than just moodiness is going on. Its not pms, although that doesn't help. Its much worse. The kids look at me, worried, when suddenly I cant stand up straight. I didn't get upset when I broke one of my favourite cups - number one daughter was revising, and I didn't want to disrupt that. But I wanted to throw it and all the matching ones across the room, then cry.

So I held it all together with Librium every three hours, and tried not to think about anything.

Anniversary

He who left me is at an Anniversary party today - his parents 50th.
I think it is one of the reasons he left - he thought that I would upset him or there would be an incident or something else that would interfere with his getting there.
Nothing could interfere with that.
There was, of course, never any question of me going, or of me meeting his parents at all. He made that very clear, right from the beginning.
That doesn't do a lot for a girl's ego.

Good luck to his parents on making it to 50 years of marriage. Not many people do that these days, I shouldn't think. I imagine sometimes they had to work quite hard at it. Ironic really then, that a couple who tried so hard at it would have a son who tried so little to make things work.

If I was still married, today would have been my wedding anniversary too.

Seesaw

Weird day today.

I'm still not very well at all, still coughing badly.

But in general my mood has been slightly better than before. Occasionally it has been *very* much better, and those times are fun but slightly scary. Then in a heartbeat it's way back down low again, and that is tiring.
Whilst it stays generally up I'm not going to do anything - the pills are certainly having their sedative effect now, as I can barely lift my fingers to type. But if things go down again I probably should have a long hard think about staying on all these meds.

In the meantime I will not get a tattoo or make any major decisions, I will sleep and read and write, and I will keep looking straight ahead.

Camping it up.

I realised tonight that I laughed today.

Really really laughed.

I wanted to buy a new top and I decided to try it on first, so number one daughter waited outside the changing cubicle. I liked it, but felt it could do with a little more room.
"Can you see if they've got it in a bigger size?" I shouted through the curtain.
"Mum," she called back, with an air of resignation, "the only thing bigger than that is a six man tent."
I know I'm not skinny, and I know the other women in the shop weren't either and they were probably mortally offended, but it made me laugh like I haven't laughed in ages.

And I'm sure it did me more good than all the pills in the world.