When nobody wants to treat you.

I'm too hot. I'm too cold. I shiver, I sweat, I burn up.
I've missed all my recent appointments with my Counsellor and Connexions worker, even though now is when I need them most.
I think I'm sick, but I don't know. The apathy, tiredness, low mood - they could all be part of the depression, or at least that's what the GP always thinks.
I need to go and pick up my prescription, I've missed two doses of Venlafaxine and that's probably not going to help.
I've missed 4 days of placement now, time which I'll have to pay back.
I haven't even started the essay.
Last night I wanted to overdose.
I don't have enough tablets to make a decent attempt. It would have been different if I'd collected my prescription yesterday, 28 days of Venlafaxine, 4.2g.
I don't want to die - I just want this to stop. I want help. I want - and I hate myself for this - someone to take me seriously.
I'm going to be in so much trouble when I return to Uni. Everyone thinks I shouldn't be there. I'm obviously not commited to the course. They were surprised I made it through the first year. I hate the fact our failures will always take precidence over our acheivements.

Tribunals, and a return to writing.

I'm writing in here again because right now I need it. I don't need anyone to read it or to say anything, but I need to take control again and this is one of a combination of things which helped pull me through when things got bad again.
No promises that I'll be a consistent blogger, or a good blogger, or an interesting blogger.
I feel better just for getting this out.
I've been on my work placement, in an adolescent inpatient unit, and I love it. I love my work anyway, but this is even better. Despite struggling to fit in initially, and having no clue what to write my essay on, I am really enjoying it and really learning from it.
However, I'm slipping quite badly.
It started initially with being nervous, and having no appetite. Then, I didn't really want to eat in front of people, and I'm still quite constricted in certain areas with what I eat. Eating a meal every day which has been prepared by someone else and which I have limited control of is actually very hard.
I've lost 3 pounds in the past 3 and a half weeks, and I feel good, happier about my body, my smaller stomach.
This is me slipping into a danger zone, and I'm aware of that.
I've also been skipping meals, not taking anything except maybe a piece of fruit to eat during a shift, and weighing myself.

My mood has dipped, and I'm having migraines. I've had two pretty bad ones, and so I've missed two days of work, which I'll have to make up over the next few weeks. My self care and the housework have both slipped, and I'm neglecting to spend time with the guinea pigs and with my friends.

I'm constantly exhausted, and unfortunately still bleeding. I've had about 4 or 5 days this month when I havn't been bleeding. The medical verdict is to change my contraception, but I'm getting no guidance about what to change it too, or what may help. It's pretty much try it and see.

I'm managing, and I know that once I am qualified I am only going to work 3 or 4 days per week. 5 days is too much for me, and I can easily manage on part-time wages. However in the mean time, I need to make my 37.5 hours a week. I'm really struggling to do this, let alone manage university work on top.

I've also got my tribunal date for DLA coming up, on November 25th. I've written to them requesting them to get a supporting letter from my consultant, and a copy of my medical records. I tried to do this myself, but my consultant wants them to write to him, and the surgery want £18.30 for photocopying and administration fees. I'm so tired.

I have no idea what I'm going to say at the tribunal, I mainly want to contend the letter from my previous consultant that says I have no history or risk of self harm or self neglect. I also want to point out that I do require ongoing support with bills and correspondence from my Connexions work, and with ongoing low self esteem and the paranoia it cause from my Counsellor. If I got the lower rate of care then I could afford to go swimming regularly, which I have used in the past to improve my mood. It would also help with travel expenses to see my Connexions worker and Counsellor, and with the increased phone bill as I often need additional support from them, or my mum and boyfriend. When I'm travelling alone, such as to or from work, it helps if I can call someone for support as I often feel very unsafe.

I don't see myself as severely ill, but I do think I have a long term problem which means I require a little more support from those around me than most people. I still work, although it can be a struggle, and I'm planning carefully to ensure that I can continue to work in the future. I'm proud of being independent, but sometimes I need to ask for a little bit of help so that I don't become unwell, and therefore become dependant on others for everything from finances to getting dressed.

Praise to the GODS that are O2

We finally have INTERNET.
It has taken numerous phone calls, technician visits and kicking of the wireless box, but I am connected.
I need this blog right now, so I'm bloody grateful.

Talking of bloody, the irregular menstrual cycle appears to be related to it's grand return [it was also on hiatus following my little weight loss episode prior to Christmas], and possibly some effects of the Pill. My blood tests detected nothing - I'm am medically healthy.
I'm slightly disappointed. I was hoping it would throw up a little thyroid trouble or similar, instantly explaining my mood disorder and moving me from "mental" to "a bit physically ill". Let's face it - it would make life easier.

Food-wise, I appear to be having a slip. I came across a dreadful picture of me from a few weeks ago in which I look huge, and it hasn't exactly helped. I'm at my body's "healthy weight", the one it bounces back to whenever it is allowed to eat, and yet I feel like a whale. I have been surveying the pro-ana sites again, buying lo-cal bread and stepping on the scales a little too often. I'm at the top of a very slippery slope, and I'm making sure everyone knows it, because if I try and throw myself down it, I want the f*cking cavalry out to stop me. I am not wasting away under the duvet again. I want to just be happy with my weight, not keep hiring the anorexia videos from the university library so I can admire the competition. "See, you are huge -she is perfect". Bearing in mind that "she" is 4 and a half stone, and on her way to the Bethlem.

Part of the food problem is that I feel like I am always hungry. This gnawing sensation in my abdomen won't go away and it is having a real effect. I can quiet it for a short while by eating, but I'm pretty sure it isn't just hunger, I think it's an effect of the Venlafaxine to be honest. I have been trying to see my new consultant since March, but still haven't had any luck. The secretary is on sick leave, and the scheduled appointment is during an important lecture.

I am totally confused by food and weight now. My stepsister has two young children and is much smaller than me, she must be a size 6. She works out constantly and is so fit. I can't afford a gym membership and I'm too embarrassed to go running or work out anyway. I have no idea what is a healthy, well-balanced meal, I don't know what is a healthy size, and I feel huge huge huge.

It's Been A While...

Hi, and hope you are all well, or as well as can be.

I am on Placement at the moment, which is always a trying time, but Boyfriend has recently moved in and is doing his best to help out. Even if he hasn't got a clue how to work the washing machine, he still manages to make me smile. The flat is full of black ink pen drawings of various smiling cats, and he leaves me little notes if I have a shit day. He loves me.

The fridge has become centre point of the house, with me struggling to stay friends with food. I've lost 7 pounds, accidentally, though neglecting to eat when I'm working, and this has fuelled my underlying desire to look like a stick insect. My eating has been very irregular, often only one meal a day when I do my best to eat 3 regular balanced ones. This has impacted on my mood, which started to dip, and on my physical health.

I am finally getting blood tests done - through all of this depression, no one has ever checked if there is an underlying health problem. My run down state has prompted my new Doctor to request for full bloods, so YIPPEE. Peace of mind over how much damage alcohol and diuretics actually did to my organs, eh?

Physically, I am quite concerned - I have extremely irregular periods, which often stop completely for months at a time, I seem to be getting constipation a lot, and I'm always exhausted. I just want to make sure I'm OK, and try to find out why I can't keep up with everyone else.

Placement has been going really well, although I constantly exhausted, and haven't found time to revise for my exam. I just spent two hours making preparations for my essay, and seem to have got nowhere. However I spoke to a friend from my cohort, and she hadn't started her essay either, so at least it's not just me. I'm not lagging behind completely.

Oh. My toilet is still leaking. It has been leaking since I moved in, and the plumber has replaced the pipe twice. Argh.

On a lighter note, when you turn on the kitchen light, the electric shower in the bathroom comes on as well???

Poltergeists, me thinks.....

Uni Rant

I don't really like some things about myself. Well, I half do and half don't. I come across as a bit of a teacher's pet, know-it-all smug cow at uni. I'm aware of this, and I hate it, but to be honest it's mainly because everyone else just sits there, mouth slightly open, with a uniform blank expression on their faces. I want to stand up and cry out, "aren't you interested? Don't you care? This stuff is f*cking AMAZING!", but somehow don't think it would go down too well. I seem to be constantly questioning, seeking more knowledge, and it's great that I enjoy learning about mental illness so much, but it doesn't exactly help me when it comes to interacting with my peers. I want to say, "I'm just like you", but I'm not. I'd rather spend my break debating some new controversial issue or mulling over the last lecture, not discussing kids or husbands. I'm also short tempered with people who are ignorant. I can't stand it when people make blundering errors or ask ridiculous questions. For example, someone said during a lecture that all incontinent people lack capacity. "Are you sure you mean incontinent? Are you sure you understand the meaning of the word?". Yes, they say, when I worked on a Older Person's ward all the incontinent people lacked capacity. I was disgusted. The same when someone refers to a service user as a Schizophrenic - for f*ck's sake, they have been diagnosed with schizophrenia, but that does not define them as a person. I also get annoyed when people are unable to see past a diagnosis - why do you need to put a person's diagnosis on their care plan? Surely the needs that you should be focusing on are the current symptoms, the things which currently affect that person's life?

Rock On The [Long] Weekend

I may have mentioned this before [I'm too lazy to check], but my Mum and step-dad have a caravan in a tiny little hamlet somewhere in Essex. We'll call it Doris Bay. It has two caravan sites, two pubs, one marina and one post office, which is owned by a charming World of Warcraft addict and his Thai bride.

I was there last weekend, and I'm going again tomorrow evening, until Monday. My Mum has used the money my Nan left her to "upgrade" her caravan - that is, the new one is two feet wider, two feet longer and VERY pink. It was owned by the "only gays on the campsite" until last weekend, when my Mum purchased it. We have lots of work to do - cleaning it top-to-bottom, replacing the bedroom carpets and making part of the plot into a driveway area for my step-dad's speedboat.

I'm rather sad to be saying goodbye to the old 'van, after four summers there, but my step-dad is about to fall through the bathroom floor, and having a real bed as opposed to an 18 inch wide bunk will be a improvement. I say real bed, I mean 2 foot 6 by 5 foot 6 - leaving me about an inch short, but still an improvement.

The village is full of characters, and I just hope my ban from the pub has been lifted [I was drunk, and rearranged all the bins in the village]. My main concern regarding the weekend is alcohol - it tends to be a place where I drink. A couple of cans or a bottle of wine throughout the afternoon, a few pints at the pub, flaming Sambuca with my drunken uncles - staying sober has never been an option [and on that bed, who would want to?].

This week has been a bit problematic drink-wise. I returned from the caravan on Monday evening, and was extremely paranoid. In fact I was positive there was someone in my flat, and I spent almost the whole night awake, shaking, clutching my phone and struggling not to call my Mum. Tuesday night, I had friends over and got drunk. Result: They stay, and I sleep. It's safe. Last night, I went to a friend's house, had a few glasses of wine on an empty stomach, and once again, slept without too many problems.

I'm sitting here with a pint of cider and trying to decide whether to finish the bottle.
I'm also making an informed decision to start smoking again as soon as the shop opens.

Gash.
Why can't I stick to orange juice and sugar free gum?

Thanks For The Open Network

... Lovely neighbours!
Yes, I'm being rather naughty, but some social contact and blog venting is needed.
This will be a quick one, and I hope everyone I haven't had time to catch up with is doing OK.
The flat is fine, but my mood is a little unstable. I was close to tears in Tesco earlier - I want to adopt a rat who needs a new home, but I can't afford a cage, and that inability to help him and continue experiencing the little spark of happiness as he licked my fingers was a little too much in my emotional state. I don't really know why I'm feeling like this, but the looming placement could have something to do with it, coupled with the little mantra of "I must not get ill -I Must Not Get Ill - IMUSTNOTGETILL".

The upheaval of moving, even if it was undeniably for the better, has probably just caught up with me, and Boyfriend has just gone back to Leeds after spending most of the Easter break curled up on the beanbags with me.

I am very very very poor - after paying for the flat and the electric, I have £135 per calender month to pay for my food, travel, mobile phone and everything else. Hence the lack of Internet. I'm quite concerned about managing this over placement - my travel expenses will be around £200 for the eight week period, and I can't claim anything back until afterwards, so I think I will be living on beans on toast until July. God knows how I'll cope when I have to pay for heating in the winter, but hopefully Boyfriend will have a job by then.

I have applied for the Access to Learning Fund at my university, and I'm awaiting a decision on my Disability Living Allowance application as well, so things have the potential to get better soon.

My wishes/hopes/dreams at the moment;
- For someone on Freecycle to reply for my [begging] advert for a rat cage
- To complete eight weeks in the acute setting without getting admitted to the ward
- To hold a £50 note at some point within the next year