Tuesday, June 30, 2009

What a Difference a Day Makes...

...Well, 21 actually. I just logged in and realised that it has been 3 weeks to the day since I last posted, and after reading through my last post, I hardly recognise it as me, and yet I remember writing it through tears. I can't believe how completely different I feel.

I remember Seaneen saying once that if you feel suicidal try to ride it out for just one month - chances are, you would have changed your mind by then. It's so true. I'm not saying that I wanted to kill myself and that I've been waiting for a month to pass, I'm just saying that 3 weeks ago I would never have imagined I could feel as different as I do today. This is probably the best I have felt in at least 7 years.

In fact, I'm in such a positive place right now that I'm scared of losing it or spoiling it in some way. For the first time since Mr Man's first admission into hospital, I'm at peace, and I want to stay at peace. For this reason I have decided that I won't be writing in my blog for the time being. Although I have struggled to update my blog regularly for quite some time now, I never thought I would stop writing it completely. But dwelling on past experiences has not allowed me to let go of the anger I have felt over certain events, and although I desperately wanted to share them with the world, I now feel that it's time to move on. Of course, never say never. This is perhaps a "See you later" rather than a "Goodbye".

Thank you all for reading, and especially those who have taken the time to comment. The blog will remain and I hope that others will continue to benefit from it.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009


Hi. Yes, it's me, the sporadic blogger. I just felt like posting a little update today, partly to get things off my chest I suppose.

Things have been, well, y'know, the same. Or worse. I'm not sure. Better actually, because I have been avoiding life like never before. Less anxiety because I haven't been shopping or done any cooking or cleaning or... anything. The cupboards are empty. Mr Man is starving. We've just been living off take-aways. But the counsellor said it's ok to avoid things that cause me anxiety, so that's ok. (?)

Well, it did help with my anxiety for a while, but now I realise we have things to pay and I have wasted all our money, so long term it's kind of made things worse. Now I have to go back to managing the anxiety of shopping and cooking with the added anxiety of worrying about money.

Some readers suggested ordering shopping online and having it delivered, which was a very good suggestion and I did try, but I had to register and fill in an online form which kind of brought on a panic attack and I haven't tried again since.

I feel like a failure. All I can do is apologise to Mr Man over and over again, but it doesn't seem to mean anything. "I'm sorry" doesn't cover it. It doesn't do my feelings justice.

I have an appointment with the counsellor again on Friday and I'm absolutely dreading it. I don't want to go because I'm still so upset by the things she said last time. I don't trust her anymore. She made assumptions about me without even giving me the chance to speak. I expect she thinks I'm trying to blame all my problems on the way Mr Man was treated in hospital in 2002, which I'm not, but she wouldn't know that because she didn't let me explain. It certainly was a major contributor to the anxiety that I was already suffering, but as you readers and other carers will understand, struggling to keep Mr Man safe was traumatic enough. They can't comprehend that. Despite all their training and qualifications, none of them truly know what it's like to try to keep the person you love safe, when they are genuinely suicidal for so many months, or even years. None of them know how hard it is to watch the person you love give up on life and lay in bed in their own urine, refusing to get up, refusing to eat and refusing to drink. None of them know what it's like when the person you love is persecuted every day by frightening hallucinations and there is nothing you can do to protect them from their own mind. And none of them know how it feels to place the person you love into the care of others, only to realise that you have placed them in even more danger. None of them understand these things.

I know, I should have recovered from all of this right? Mr Man isn't that poorly any more is he? So why haven't I been able to move on? I don't know the answer to that. And I don't know why it has rendered me useless in every area of life.

Other updates

Mr Man has been sporadic too. His mind becomes over active and he doesn't sleep for days, and then he burns himself out and sleeps forever. He swings from being a great entrepreneur to being an online gamer who doesn't feel well enough to handle life's responsibilities. He's been very understanding but unable to help me in practical ways. He still starves if I don't cook, and I still have to remind him several times a day to take his medication before he actually takes it.