Archive for the ‘Suicide’ Category

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Diagnosis: Help or Hindrance?

November 22, 2011

I’m writing this by popular request of twitter.

Often people question whether a mental health diagnosis is a good thing. Personally I think it is a good thing aslong as it isn’t misdiagnosis and has been well thought out. To treat an illness you must first know what it is. Unlike many with a BPD diagnosis I was relieved when I was told what was wrong because I already had my suspicions. It meant I had a name to my “crazy” behaviour and could work on conquering. If you use your diagnosis constructively, it can work for you not against you. The only scary diagnosis should be one you haven’t heard of before. Because knowledge is power. Knowing what an illness is and how to fight it is the key to recovery.

On the other side being diagnosed with a mental health problem can mean that stigma is suddenly chasing you like a wild dog but then the only difference between you before diagnosis and after is that someone has told you what is wrong. Whether you are told what you have, not having a diagnosis doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

A diagnosis of a mental illness can sometimes feel daunting and scary and can often worsen symptoms because, hell, nobody wants to be ill. My dad will often use his diagnosis as a crutch by saying “But I can’t do that, I’m Bipolar aren’t I?” he’s someone who blindly follows the doctors and hopes the pills will make him better. He doesn’t actively take part in improving his mental health or changing his situation. So for someone like my dad, it probably wouldn’t matter what diagnosis he had, he would take the pills and be on his way.

It depends how you approach it. But it shouldn’t leave you feeling hopeless. It should leave you feel that there is hope. No, there isn’t always a way to “cure” it but there are ways of coping with it. When you get a mental illness diagnosis, don’t think it’s the end. It’s the beginning of a rocky path to a stable future.

Once people become less ignorant about mental illness, I know that a diagnosis will seem less scary. There will be less of a worry that other people will judge you and be scared of you. When there is more acceptance of mental health problems in society, more people will feel comfortable with getting that all important diagnosis.

I think one of the real problems is self diagnosis, once you’ve been diagnosed with one thing you can start thinking but I’m also this and this Oh! and this one. But generally recovering from your main diagnosis or controlling the symptoms of it will probably control the other attributes you’d find in other illness too. The main diagnosis is the important one and will usually take the others with it. Multiple diagnosis isn’t uncommon but then mental illnesses don’t like to be alone. I’d say I have Borderline Personality Disorder, Social Anxiety and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder yet I just say I have BPD because the social anxiety and PTSD are part of my BPD. Don’t cover yourself in diagnosis. You may have many diagnoses but there will always be one that sticks out and that has to be focused on first.

So that’s my two cents. I think it’s a help, but what do you think?

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I make him ill.

November 11, 2011

I know I do. I cause a lot of stress and when I cause myself so much stress it’s bound to cause him stress too. I make things harder than they should be and I definately make life more difficult for both of us. Women generally have a more stern approach to life anyay, whereas men are generally more laidback and that’s why women are known for nagging. It’s a tool to get men to do what they’re supposed to when they’re supposed to. And that pisses him off to no ends and causes a lot of tension. I just feel like I’m one big nuisance when a lot of the time I may just be trying to help. I try and get him to not stay up too late when he has to get up early but I’m just being a nag and trying to ruin his fun. I say not to be on the computer when he has a headache because it’ll make it worse but then to him I’m just trying to find any way to be with him and getting jealous of him being with his friends on the computer. I’m just a bad person, all I do is hurt him when I’m trying to do good. I make him feel the need to get counsilling because I make everything harder. It’s hard to like yourself when all you seem to do is make life harder for yourself and others. He agrees that life is more difficult with me than it would be with someone who didn’t have an illness but then anyone could agree with that. But then he says if I weren’t worth all the stress than why would he still be here? It’s a wonderful thing to hear but at the same time my head says well there aren’t really any reasons to stay with me, I wouldn’t stay with me. He says I’m worth it but I don’t understand how when I just cause stress and illness. We both always feel unwell, he’s even been told he has problems with anxiety now and I know it’s because of me. So now we’re both ill, both constantly stressed, anxious and depressed. Sometimes I think it would be best if I just left. He would so much happier without me. Whenever I’ve gone for the night, he will stay up all night until the early hours playing games with his friends and have a really good time BECAUSE I’m gone and I can’t tell him to go to bed. He will have a nice time because I’m not there to tell him what to do. But then when I come home and find out I just ruin everything again by telling him, it’s not good for him to stay up all night. Then he hates me. I know if i weren’t here he would game all day and all night, do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted and be a happy bachelor. He’s always dreamed of having a bachelor pad anyway.

It may seem starnge but on the game Sims people generally create the life that would like to have. I have always created myself with a partener to start off with, I’ve never started off alone and I become a writer, my husband works and I pop out kids and that’s my life. J always starts off alone and usually stays that way, he works, plays games and plays music and if he runs out of life wishes to fulfill he might get married to someone on the way. It says a lot and actually worries me because I know his dream life would have been to be alone and have a computing/music career and I just happened to walk into his life for him to fall in love with me and ultimately fuck up his whole life plan. It’s not his fault he fell in love with me but maybe if he hadn’t have he would be happier now and less unwell. I never ever want to leave him and sometimes I feel selfish for feeling that way.

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Control

November 10, 2011

I have none. I really don’t. I watched “The 8 year old Anorexic” yesterday and I was shocked by it but my unstable mind was mostly thinking things like this:

“I wish I had that much control.

Look at all the attention she’s getting, maybe If I starved…

I wish I could starve myself, It’s so extreme even exciting.

I could be emotionally and physically unstable, then I would get looked after forever.”

Although having BPD can be unbearable at the same time to recover from my illness means not having reasons for people to look after me. If I’m ill I need help from people.

Now back to the self control, I write myself a note yesterday it said:

NO BURGERS.

NO PIZZA.

NO CHINESE.

Eat fruit.

Drink Water.

STOP EATING.

I was completely determined to do this, as I am every time I try and start something like this. But then my biggest addiction is food (after sex). It makes me feel so good and I can have it any time (unlike sex) I can just go into the kitchen and stuff my face and it feels so so good. The feeling I get from eating some delicious is euphoric. When I feel stressed or anxious (99.9% of the time, the 0.1% being after I’ve eaten) I eat but it’s not just simply eating it’s gorging myself until I feel sick. And it feels wonderful. I get so determined sometimes when I see anorexia programmes to just not eat and I make a plan but then I get hungry or I feel down and J will say I need to eat something and he’ll tell me that I’m allowed and I’ll use any excuse to stuff myself again. The thing is I feel so determined not to and then when it comes to it I really can’t stop. I can not eat but the days that I don’t I have a hell of a lot that I have done in that day so I have been too distracted to eat. It shows that I can do it I just need more distraction, like writing. I’m not craving anything right now because I’m distracted by this but as soon as I stop I know I’ll want to get some take-out. Although we do need to do food shopping today and I’m going to order loads of fruit because although fatty foods is very pleasurable, I had an apple yesterday and the sweetness was so delicious. So I think If I live off of apples, water, salads and sandwiches I’m not being too dangerous but I’m still tricking my brain into thinking I am by not eating loads of food. This isn’t about hurting myself as such, it’s about satisfying my mind into thinking I am because it is adamant on doing so.

People never think food is an addiction but it really is. Like anything can become an addiction. They just think people are fat and should stop eating, they don’t think that maybe this person is eating to stop all the hurt that is controlling their head. It’s such a stereotype to see a picture of a girl who has recently broken up with her boyfriend eating a big tub of ice cream. Food is a beautiful comfort. It used to just simply be for survival but with our over indulgence nowadays it’s normal to eat too much food just when we feel like it. I do get upset that I’ve put on two stone in a couple of months, I do but then when I feel shit I don’t care. I really don’t. Who cares If I’m huge, I want to eat, it’ll make me feel better. But then I know if I carry on like this by the age of 25 I’ll be so big that I’ll fall into a horrible depression. Then I’ll die. So I have two options, eat feel good, kill myself because I’m obese. Stop comfort eating, find distractions, potential of depression becoming more apparent due to not having comfort eating, kill self with depression.

At least the not eating has only a potential of suicide, right? Maybe I should try that one. Now I know there is one thing that could potentially balance the two things I would want. Eating food as much as I like but then not gaining any weight and abusing my body. But then after having a brief affair with vomiting numerous times a day and not eating a thing, I lost a tooth and losing my teeth is something that would cause any even worse depression than being fat. I can’t get my teeth back. It’s sad though because after I did all of this, I loved my body. I was size 12, I had never been size 12 before, I felt really feminine. It seems strange with the fact that I have constant stress and anxiety that I don’t lose weight but then it shows how much I do eat. I don’t go out a lot, which limits exercise but I do have a very high constant sex drive so that’s my majority exercise.

The reason behind BPD’s high sex drive and lack of self control is the extreme want of that thrill, that excitement to alleviate boredom and give pleasure. It takes you away from everything. The pleasure may not last as long as we wish but it’s something and if we can access it easily then all the better. Food is easy to get. Sex is easier to get if you’re in a relationship but then BPD promiscuity is of course a big issue in a relationship or not. I wouldn’t say it’s “sex addiction” I would call it simply addiction to things that make you feel good. Which with BPD is very limited. Simple things cannot please someone with BPD. I must say here again I am not promiscuous and I am faithful to J. But as a woman with a high sex drive, he can even  get frustrated with it. So I eat instead. When you’re so used to being ignored by parents as a child and often neglected you realise as you get older that sex can be a very good tool for attention. Again, I say this here that I know I’m started to sound like I sleep around and try and get men’s attention with my body but I’m only referring to the what I do around my Husband. My father loved my mother but only ever really wanted sex from her, so at a young age I learnt that men just want sex. Which, isn’t true but it is a dominating part of their lives. I won’t lie, I know women who when they feel a little neglected, walk past their partner in the nude and it usually get the desired result. Although I know that my husband doesn’t want JUST sex from me, it is so much easier to get his attention and time from offering it. It’s more enticing that sitting down for a nice chat. I just need to control it, I will use innuendos without noticing it and sometimes I just wish I would stop but then I’m so desperate for full attention that it just happens.

It’s sad to see how my father treats and looks at women because to a young daughter it teaches her to feel the need to degrade herself for a man to love her. I remember in the earlier stages of mine and J’s relationship and I would try and act a way that wasn’t me and he knew it. He would say to me, “you don’t have to do things like that to make me love you” and I was baffled. What was this? It had to be a trick. How could he love me if I didn’t take my top off. Was this what real, genuine men were like? It still confuses me and I’m still learning that J doesn’t just love me because I have breasts. My fathers view on women has really shaped the idea of who I am and his ideas are WRONG. We were be watching motorbike racing together and he would always say, “Look! You could be one of those starting line girl who wear mini shorts and hold up a sign”. He had some good future plans for me, he did. I know my dad was always a “lad” but then it doesn’t help your daughter to have any respect for herself. I never wore revealing clothes or caked my face in make-up. I had a lot of respect for my body and that was mainly down the the church I was in. But now I am not a part of it, I’m not AS strict as I was then. I still don’t walk around with my breasts out but If I want to wear a pair of shorts I will. J doesn’t like me wearing revealing clothing but he’s not one of those controlling men who will force me to change if I did. He just doesn’t want other men seeing me half naked.

Yes, I did completely steer off the subject but I always do.

I have learnt many dangerous things from my parents and this means that I do find it hard to have control over my actions because I know extreme actions get equally as extreme reactions. I would only get cared for if I was dying so sometimes dying can be very appealing. Not being dead, but dying. I want to be begged to stop harming myself. The fall that comes with that though is often with these actions, if you do them too many times, the person who has to experience what you’re doing can often just start to block it out. They think well you do this all the time and I give you the reaction you want yet you do it again so telling you I care doesn’t seem to help. As with everything, validation is temporary.

When being told to recover from BPD, it mean unlearning that bad things mean you get looked after. It means unlearning that para-suicide and suicide is the way to go when things get rough. It means unlearning that addictions will keep you going forever. But then it means learning that my husband does love me and I don’t need to keep asking him again and again and again whether he really does love me. It means learning that I have to look after myself sometimes and accept that everyone can’t look after me for me. It means learning Independence. It means you can’t just kill yourself when you miss the bus because you don’t want to have to feel any negative emotion. It means learning that food will help in the short term but in the long run your problems won’t just dissapear.

Both paths are hell but only one can lead to potential recovery. But then do I really want to recover. Not right now.

The reason I don’t go out much, why I study with distance courses is so I don’t have to be around people. Because the horror stories I hear about people with BPD  and how out of control their actions become scares me a lot. And I know I have a lack of control with sex, food and money and to put myself into the world gives a greater risk. I mean If I can have those problems when I don’t get out much what could happen if I were out there. I’m not willing to risk it.

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Protected: I’m not ill.

October 20, 2011

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Dear me,

June 29, 2011

Dear Little Me,

Why did you have to be so awkward. There are reasons why they never liked you, why they used you. Even your parents couldn’t love you enough, especially her, she only loved you if she wanted something. And he was always selfish, you were always second. Why couldn’t you just be good enough. You were always overweight and disgusting, that’s why they laughed at you. That’s why they called you a freak. You were just weird, not good enough to be their friends. They were better than you. Sure, you were smart but who cared about that? You thought maybe being smart would get you somewhere even if you weren’t attractive but you were just too quiet to be noticed. Plus, your friends were smarter than you anyway, so you were never smart enough. I know you tried to look nice but you made a fool of yourself. They laughed and asked what was on your face or what had you done to your hair. You just could never get it right. Your clumsiness made you stupid, your clumsiness made them hit you. You stupid child. Nothing made sense in your world anymore, you could never figure out why you were hated. But did they need a reason, you were just destined to be locked away. You hid a lot, I know, it was safer to be alone. You cried and made sure no one heard and if there was a knock on your door, your face was immediately bright and cheerful, of course nothing was wrong. But maybe you deserved to cry? Not that it mattered. No one would come. No one would know what to do with you. Even if they did, they would get sick of you and leave at the first chance. Why did you keep going? I don’t know what possessed you. Did you believe that one day, you would be saved? What made you think they would suddenly change and take care of you. Are you delusional? I think so. Who in your life has never stabbed you through the heart? Everyone is destined to break you because you are breakable. And hell, do you deserve it.

Love Adult Me.

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Parents, growing up and suicide.

May 2, 2011

Well, wouldn’t you expect a happy blogger after getting hitched? Tis not so. Everything has gone excessively worse in my life since. Not my fault of my marriage but everything else (Okay I admit being married is called borderline anxiety problems but leave this for now). While my anxiety has increased massively since getting married and being diagnosed OCD, I knew something else had to go crazy in my life because my life can’t just have one huge problem at a time. Since I’ve gotten married my dad has finally said that he wants to divorce mum, this is a God send because their marriage is part of the reason that I am, well, writing this now. It just seems so many years too late for it to actually benefit me but at least for it to happen now means that my dad may be able to benefit, as for my mum she is socially inept, can’t make friends, is easily bullied, has a low paying job and has narcissistic tendencies and I believe BPD. I can’t imagine her ever being happy with any situation. Even though I am trying to fuel this divorce, along with my dad’s sister, every now and then I break down and cry. I know I’ve never really had a family as such but the fact that they were physically in the same home meant I could pretend.

I went to the in laws yesterday and it was my father in laws birthday, the family gathered round the table and a cake was brought out as the family sang and my heart broke into a million pieces. Even though my husband’s family are also quite dysfunctional, they love each other and do nice things for each other. I’ve never EVER witnessed either of my parents do something nice for the other and it hurt so much to see that even the most dysfunctional family can still be a family. It hurt that I don’t have a family. I have a mother and I have a father but no family. And now I’m married, I have even less of a family because the part of my parents that made me feel like I had parents was the occasional care of which now they feel they don’t need to give because I’m my husband’s responsibility now. I had this particular conversation with my mother yesterday.

I came home from the in laws for my mother to casually say “your dad went to hospital”, I questioned why she didn’t call to tell me of which she just shrugged her shoulders (her usual response to anything to do with dad) , this then brought up a conversation about how I’ve always loved dad more and how she needs to see the one she loves again (her celebrity obsession who has stepped over the boundaries by being her “friend”). She said she didn’t want to tell me that she was going away because I would “go off on one” I didn’t I said to her, “He (the obsession) cannot solve your problems.” To which she cried to my husband “see I told you, there she goes”. I tried my up most not to judge her and to just tell her that this celebrity can’t make her huge life problems better. She sees me as attacking her no matter what I say, I told her that she needs to sort out this home situation too and that she should of left years ago. She, of course, attacked me again, “you said you wanted to live with dad and he would’ve of raped you!”, she’s playing the hero, living with him to protect me. My dad has never touched me in any way that has ever been inappropriate. If anything she’s been the one who’s been over sexual with me throughout my childhood. She starts to tell me that she is trying to sort out the situation at home, so I asked her what she’s trying to sort out. She wouldn’t tell me, she said now I’m married and moving why do I need to know what’s going on with my my home because I’ll be gone. I told her that just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean I’m just forgotten about but she was set in her view that if I’m gone then I no longer exist in her life and it’s not important what goes on in my family because she doesn’t seem to understand that anything would emotionally effect me. She has a very one person view, she can only understand the way that things affect her. I thought maybe she was going to try and sort out a divorce as well so I tried to get her to tell me what was going on because how ridiculous would it be for both parties to be filing for divorce and the other not knowing. You can see how much communication there really is. She ended up saying how she doesn’t want to say anything because it’ll cause problems, J kept telling her she had to tell us. So she starts crying and says she’s talking to someone at the crisis team. After all she’s put me through I can be horribly unsympathetic to her so I stopped myself blurting out, “IS THAT IT?” To me calling the crisis team is not a big thing at all, I just know that they’re shit. So, she’s trying to get herself emotional support…but I still don’t see how that solves the home problem. She wants to continue living at home but have emotional support? She spent ages saying how nobody ever helped her when dad was first ill but every time we asked if she asked for help she said no but she expected it to just happen. So she feels let down by mental health services and she’s angry at them yet how do you receive if you don’t ask? She complains that dad got help and I got help but she didn’t. One, dad had a psychotic episode, of course someone is going to look after him in hospital. Two, I was a child, when you’re a child, you aren’t expected to ask for help when you go through a traumatic experience. I feel like she blames me but I did all I could throughout my life to help her and yes I did give up because of her constant “nobody cares about me, what about me, nobody ever looks after me”. J kept being sympathetic to her and I couldn’t stand it, she would cry and he hugged her and I just got so mad. If he hugs her and comforts her, she will attach to him and because I refused to hug her, she will have more reason to attack me. There were times that I cried and cried and she shrugged her shoulders at my feelings and said “what about me” and I can no longer let her in emotionally because I only get hurt. I only get left behind. So J’s compassion will be her reasoning for me not caring. He also kept telling her I do care and I do want to listen and I do want to help. I don’t. She is a grown woman, I want her to grow the hell up and start taking responsibility for her actions. She has created this life and she takes no responsibility at all for any of the wrong that happened, It’s all everyone else fault. She only thinks I’m ill because of “your crazy dad”, she doesn’t understand situational depression or that anything she has ever done being a cause for my trauma and pain. And until she accepts responsibility for her own actions I can’t help her. She says she wants to die, yeah well you know what, join the queue.

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Hate is a strong word? Then it’s perfect.

December 2, 2010

If I were still in the Mormon Church I would be classed as unworthy because of my feelings towards my family but that’s ignorance right there. How can you forgive something that is ongoing and never stops?

I think I’ve had just about enough, now don’t you dare think this is a teenage “my parent’s don’t understand me, I hate them!” balls because I scream. I have been neglected, abused, stepped all over, guilt tripped and emotionally blackmailed so many times and It has wittled me down to almost nothing. My CBT has opened up a lot for me, my excuses for letting my parents do these things to me and not stick up for myself were that I felt sorry for them and they’re both ill. But I can’t carry on giving in to my mum’s emotional guilt trips or my dad’s blackmailing, they may be ill but that doesn’t mean they have a right to use and abuse me. I am their daughter, I shouldn’t have to take my mum to hospital if she feels ill or put my dad’s socks on every morning, I am fnejfwuniu sick of it all. I want out. I want f***ing out, now.

Mum

I was born to love mum. She wanted a child because she wanted a living “thing” to love her unconditionally and make her feel good about herself and be hers forever. She would then get angry and abusive to this thing if it didn’t give her what she wanted in love and affection or if it had it own needs. How dare it have it own needs. How dare it cry, hit it that should (as she’d say) “shut it up”. She says she never loved dad and just wanted to be looked after all her life, this has been the case financially anyway. I’m sure that she did love him but when things got tough and he had a breakdown she claims she never loved him so she had no responsibility for caring for him. After dad’s breakdown it was all about her, she was the poor wife who’s husbanhad a breakdown. Little S was left to fend for herself. Mum would go away a lot to “get away” leaving little S feeling scared that dad would kill her in the night, he would become psychotic. Little S didn’t know what was going on or where mummy had gone or if she was going to come back. Then when mum came back little S was expected to be excited about her return and love her all the same, she would cry when mum went away and be hostile when she came back. Mum wouldn’t have any of it, she wasn’t doing anything wrong and should be love unconditionally no matter what she did/does.

As I grew up, she was possessive, didn’t like me liking other family members, I was her posession. I felt guilty seeing my my aunt who I love because I knew it would upset mum and make her feel unloved. I remember once to get back at her I made a photoboard and had pictures of me and all of my family members seperately except her, I was sick of how she treated me and I wanted her to know that. If I was upset I hid and cried alone, I would be told I was silly for crying and my feelings invalidated. If she cried I had to comfort her and tell her I loved her, even If I didn’t feel it at the time. Once I just screamed “BITCH!!” and she ran into the kitchen crying and shouted “nothing loves me, I’m going to kill myself!!” It makes me so so angry just writing this, how dare she threaten suicide to a little girl. How dare she play the victim when I was the one hurting and why the hell should I have had to comfort her? But it’s what I did, I reassured her she was loved and then shut myself in my room. I konw what you may be thinking, it sounds like she has BPD right? Well that’s what I think and I said to Dr L that I feel hypocritical getting angry at her for BPD traits but she told me that I shouldn’t because at least I’m getting help and trying to change. Which is very true, I hate myself for my BPD traits and I actually feel guilt whereas my mother seems to feel no guilt and not care about anyone but herself. Now that I am ill, she is invalidating, doesn’t understand why I feel the way I do, she blames herself sometimes and I don’t correct her. As she is correct anyway. She says that she’s able to have a job, she’s able to live her life. This makes me feel worse but then I remember that she is miserable and she only has herself to blame for it, she hates her husband yet she still lives with him and his finance which is incapactiy benefit, while using her own wages for her leisure, why should contribute eh? She’s unhappy. It’s not like she could move out or anything is it, it’s not like she could start a fresh new life without him and maybe be happy. Heaven forbid.

Dad

Well dad has Bipolar, although doesn’t mean his behavious too can be excused. I know pleasantly nice people with Bipolar who love their kids more than anything. I know my dad loves me, he is just unable to show it. I have always been a daddys girl, not neccesarily because he was the most loving but he was the only one who took me out places and always wanted to do things with me. He would love to take me to the farm or to watch football with him and I never remember doing anything like that with mum or her even coming along. I’m never sure what behaviour and Bipolar and what behaviour was just him but everything I did was wrong, If I accidentally knocked something or fell I was a “stupid child” and hit until I screamed and ran away. If i was ever hyper I was told to shut up and stop showing off, I was always such a quiet child. I learnt that if I was quiet then it meant I couldn’t do or say anything wrong. I still managed to somehow though. Not to mention I had no clue until about 2 years ago when I asked dad what illness my dad said and he said “I think it’s Bipolar” and then I actually knew, before then I wasn’t even told what was wrong or what was going on. There is no communication and if you want to know something in the family, you’ll either find out by asking or by asking a million irrelevant questions until something happens to come out. He was hospitlised 3 times and to me it felt like a limetime and I would always cry in my room alone because I wanted my daddy back. I didn’t know what was going on and why everything was so chaotic, I only remember that mum never wanted to visit and always complained when we did go. I’ll never forgive her for being so uncaring. But then it seems as I’ve gotten older he’s realised that if his wife won’t look after him then his maturing daughter can take to the wife role, take him to appointments, do the shopping, put his socks on, make sure he take his meds and the like. Now this has all happened in the last 2 years and It’s the most degrading feeling to have someone tell you to put their socks on and then if you don’t they stress and scream and cry if you don’t. I HATE emotional blackmail and I hate that my mother sits back and allows this to happen, I say to her I don’t want to do it and she says I don’t have to but who else will make sure he doesn’t have another break down, she bloody sure won’t.

I really really am praying (figure of speech) that I can get out next year with J, he wants to go to Uni far from here so we can both just live and get away from this horrible pain, anxiety and stress. We both need to release form our restricting unhelpful parents. He wants to live with me near wherever needed and start a “real” life.

Sure, I’ll have to look after him but the difference is, he will look after me back.

Of course I have the panic of, what the hell will happen to my parents. My mum will surely hate me for leaving her and will do anything she can to be spiteful and childish. Dad will care that I’m going but he won’t show it, he will support my choice and be happy for me. Please let me get out, please, get me out. I can’t die here.

It’ll be sad to never have my parents involved in my life but in all honesty, they have earned no rights to be.