Tag Archives: anger

Can I have a do-over?

Or at least that’s what I text my friend the other day.

These last….six months have been relentless. I haven’t been able to catch my breath from one moment to the next. And that has been exhausting.

For someone who requires stability and routine in order to function from one day to the next….the last few months have left me spinning. My very own waltzers have been increasing in momentum….my homing beacon isn’t only just switched off…it’s in a different universe from what I can tell…my swans wings have been flapping almost as hard as my feet have been paddling and still…..the war of attrition has sucked me back in.

I’ve changed jobs, to one that whilst…requires less hours…it requires much more head space and much more mask wearing. I’m on my own for great swathes of the day. That’s a long time to be with my own thoughts.

My very own Everest has beaten me for now. I could see the summit…and then I slipped back too far to reach it this year.

Childcare has been a nightmare, I get that having kids and going to work was my choice. And I did it for all the right reasons. But its a minefield. And mines are detonating everywhere I turn.

There’s been a bereavement…which I found out about…by accident it would appear. Actually there is no appear about it. That’s exactly how I found out.

I’ve had to meet loads of new people. In fact its a prerequisite of my job – forming relationships. The irony of someone like me having to form and build relationships for a job. That’s hilarious.

And perhaps most concerning….I’ve come off my antidepressant.

Not my anti psychotic. We increased the dose of that and removed the antidepressant. At first it was accidentally. In the maelstrom of changing jobs and all the drama that ensued with the big green kitchen company….I forgot to take it. My sleep didn’t change, I woke up in a good mood….so I ran with it…..

The first month was amazing. Everything was fantastic. No withdrawal….no sleep issues…I was happier and more content…awesome right?

Then the second month happened…the nightmares came back, the insomnia came back. I was so tired I cried in a car park because someone snapped at me…I felt physically ill with exhaustion. My bones hurt. I was so tired….but I just couldn’t sleep….and when I did sleep….back to the beginning…back to the violence of past relationships, back to seeing my girls die before my eyes….back to waking up screaming and drenched in sweat…there was just no respite.

Then the third month came….the nightmares are less. I still dream. I still have exhausting dreams, but the antipsychs are keeping me….well sane I guess. My sleep pattern is some bizarre version of fucked up. I’ll sleep for 10 hours one night and not at all two nights later. I’m assuming it’s just my body trying to work out its own thing….I’ll ride it out. I don’t want to go back on the anti depressants.

Not because I have anything against them….but because…the benefits of not being on them are now outweighing the benefits of taking them. And thats part of taking control of my own health….learning when I need the boost and when I can manage on my own….

But in saying this….it’s not been all bad.

It’s kept me on my voyage of learning who I am.

I swapped jobs to another role within an international company…and I love it. It pushes me, it engages me…this could be a career. So I’m passionate about it….the big green company job is another post entirely. And one I will be writing, and one I will tag them in. Because that was a soulless,destroying company and hell will rain down on the heads of the management before I’m through with them…..

I’ve maintained some good relationships with people I thought I’d lose over the natural course of time. But now it’s like, because we don’t have work binding us together…we have to make the effort….and that’s nice. It’s reinforcing the lack of scarlet in me at the moment.

The bereavement…I genuinely…I don’t care. And thats not my BPD. It sounds horrible, but the woman who died….she hadn’t engaged with me for years prior to that, and her son – my father, well he was no better. So finding out by accident was a bit cruel, but hey….so what?


So overall, no I don’t want a do over. I’ve learnt lots about myself in the last 6 months. I’ve learnt how resillient I am. How strong I am. How I can adapt as needed.

I’ve learnt that actually, I really am in control of my BPD. And that, that’s amazing. Thats real progress. I really love some aspects of my mental health illness… I still love the empathy I have because of it. I really love how it means I can help people. I love the way I see sounds and taste words. I’m fascinated by the way my mind works.


I hate the way I don’t have that much control over my emotions. So I’ve taught myself to control how I react to my emotions. Thats a life skill, even neurotypical people struggle with.


So fuck it, overall…I’m still winning this battle. Or at least…I’m keeping from being overthrown. And for now. That’ll do.

This life is more than just a read-through.

Mental health “issues” and what’s being done…is it enough? Is it even right?

One of my biggest bug bears (amongst poor grammar, cold feet, hanger, and people) is proportional representation of people in the media. Or rather the lack thereof. Now, I know I am about to come across as disablist (is that a word?), racist, ageist, peopleist (I know this isn’t but hey ho). But I aren’t…I really aren’t. And eventually I will get back to my opening question.

So proportional representation isn’t the technical term, and I’m sure there is one, but right now my brain is pretty fried (recovering from an acute attack) and it will suffice for what I’m trying to get across. So statistically speaking

  • There are 9.4 million disabled people in England, accounting for 18 per cent of the population

So how come, if they only account for 18% of the population do they seem to account for 75% of news articles, opinion polls and generally everything. Every show has at least one disabled person in it, and thats only accounting for the physically disabled. I aren’t counting mentally “disabled” in that because that will be covered later. I have nothing against disabled people at all, couldn’t care less in fact, but I do hate the way the media seems to portray the amount of disabled people as equal to or more than the people that aren’t. All in the name of equality. THAT ISN’T EQUALITY. IT’S LYING. 

See definition: Equality is ensuring individuals or groups of individuals are treated fairly and equally and no less favourably, specific to their needs, including areas of race, gender, disability, religion or belief, sexual orientation and age.

So why then, are the groups I mentioned above always treated with more…awareness? It seems that if you’re a one armed, black, muslim, gay woman you stand much higher chance of being listened to and having your views and opinions heard than a straight, white, athiest male.

Maybe I’m wrong, I quite frequently am. But I know for where I am in the UK, it’s definitely the case. Every time the local news comes on its about some poor down trodden put against person who the world hates. I just can’t help but feel that we reward those who can’t/won’t and ignore those that do and try.

So how does this tie in to my initial question? Well, why is it, only the …. in vogue…. mental health issues ever portrayed? And usually either in a really patronizing, all hold hands and sing kumbaya aren’t you wonderful and you  fart fucks dripping in gold, or they’re lower than low. They’re never normal people, struggling but doing their best. They’re called invisible disabilities for a reason. Not every one who has a mental health disorder needs their hands holding, or the media to show us as literal crazies, or people that can’t cope, or people that have been amazing an over come diversity. Most of us, are just like John Smith who plods along in his normal life and keeps all the plates spinning.

I for one, don’t have an in vogue mental health issue, it’s relatively unheard of, the only time I’ve ever seen it in the media the character was portrayed as some kind of lunatic, bunny boiling, weak individual. And that is… damaging to all the good work that is being done by other outlets (human resources, people on the street, MIND, etc etc) because what people actually believe about mental health issues is what a]they’ve been taught (so typically most of it is wrong, hurtful, ill informed and dangerous) and what the media portrays (see above). I know many people like me, it’s hard not to with the amount of flaming classes I have to go to (sleep hygiene…what IS that?) , and they’re of much the same opinion as me, the media is damaging peoples beliefs. All these celebreties claiming to have this that or the other….and glamorising so suddenly it’s cool. And they’ve achieved LOADS…..news flash. It’s not and they haven’t. Sure they may have struggled (I know some days I struggle to not cry all day, eat too many carbs, and focus on what it would feel like to pluck all the hair from my body, strand by strand) but that doesn’t make my struggle any more…worthy than anyone elses.

So how does that tie in with my rant about proportional representation ofthe elderly/disabled/coloured? It’s all the same thing. The media need to stop trying to show people how accepting, and understanding and fucking wonderful we should be with these people and those like me. They should just deliver the facts, portray everyone in a statistically accurate way and let us get back to hating people because of bad highlights/shoes/weird teeth whatever we want to. And let us make our own minds up and behaviours accordingly with correct education in schools/factual programmes/books etc. Corrie and the likes need to take a long walk off a short pier in cement bricks with their malligned and flawed attempts at “normalising” everything I’ve talked about.

… Haha and I didn’t even mention my opinion on how they portray the gay.