Monday 15th August.
I feel I'm in a place to get it off my chest and share. I always vowed I would talk about my experiences to help others and to help the stigma. This day was probably the first day in my life where I genuinely believed I wouldn't see the end of it.
I remember the Friday before feeling not quite right, I visited my doctor to discuss everything I wrote about in my previous post. The paranoia, the feeling as though someone was with me, the seeing someone that no one else could see. As expected my medication was simply increased - however this does take 4 weeks or so to take effect. It was a case of trying to manage my stress/avoid unnecessary stress to keep me level headed. But paranoia creates stress, something which is so infuriating and so hard to grasp for people who don't understand what endless paranoia is like. It's stressful feeling like you're never alone, it's scary to feel eyes on you all the time, from walking down the street and into shops to sitting alone on my bed. Someone was always watching, sometimes real people, sometimes just a presence. But the whole feeling in itself is unnerving.
It's known to those close to me my paranoid personality is very curious, very suspicious. People around me know I'm...well I guess you'd say sensitive when I am in this frame of mind. I feel kind of victimised, I hate to use that word but it's the only way I feel I can convey my true feeling. It's as if everyone and everything is against me. I am suspicious of friends and family alike, that there is bad word about me between them or bad feeling, that people are disappointed or dislike me, I can't put my finger on why but I feel it so intensely. The person who suffers the most at these times is probably Tom. I become obsessed with the idea of him hiding things or lying to me. It gets hard to rationalise what is real and what is in my head. A third party to this didn't help matters but that's something I don't want to go into.
Monday 15th August
I was sat unknowingly as to what was coming. Thinking about my life and how much I truly hated it. Thinking I am so disappointed in where I am, I was so deflated and feel essentially worthless. Feeling completely at the hands of my paranoia, a total loss of control and a general air of self hate. My self esteem has never been high nor my confidence and I was really kicking myself. I in fact left my call early to go home and have a little sob about how rubbish I felt.
Anyway, feeling as though everything was taking a downward turn so quickly, I raided every cupboard in the house. I could find a measly packet of paracetamol. I have never felt so sure in my life about anything, I was distraught that there was not enough to end it all. I didn't have anything strong enough to finish my life for good and stop all this bad feeling. I was screaming for there to be more, why was there not more? Why was there nothing stronger? I felt like I was losing control of my moment to take control. How ironic. I wanted to stop feeling. Just stop feeling everything. I sometimes still wish I had managed to stop feeling. Truly it is a curse to feel so deeply, to have such a thin emotional skin is going to prove to be fatal - well I mean it nearly was.
Many people will say how selfish or how silly. But in a moment of madness and uncertainty I felt such clarity that now was the time for it to all stop. This was it, I was strangely content with the thought of not seeing the light of day again.
I guess I could say I'm lucky that Tom walked in at a perfect moment, finding me hysterically crying with pills on our bed. Being begged by someone you love to not hurt yourself is a strange experience. There is strangely serenity in the idea of death when you feel so much. It's strange to understand I guess.
I went to hospital and was offered meds to calm me - just to note, they were ineffective - I was also offered time in a crisis house and support from the crisis team. However I didn't feel safe without Tom at my side, I took the help at home instead.
I think it's important to write these experiences down, not only so I can read them again and think about where I've come from and how far, but also to others. People who don't realise how thin an emotional skin can be. One little comment or niggle can send someone already fighting into oblivion. I mean, in my case it was an over exaggeration and imagination on my part as well as a helping hand from someone who thought they were doing the right thing - to clarify, they weren't. But don't forget that your words have so much weight and resonate with people more than you know.
Although much better now, I think everyday is still hard. I'm still doubtful and I'm still struggling with various aspects of life. I'm still suspicious and paranoid, but that is something I am having to manage by sharing my thoughts. It's scary to do that, to open up about the tricks your mind seems to be playing on you but it does help. Saying things out loud, even to yourself can bring you back to earth, it can help you to rationalise your thinking process and approach it appropriately. Keeping it all in is like breeding a disease in your mind - it's slowly killing you.
