At the moment…

I’m not rereading this. Blaming it on the hour.

Trigger warning.

I just want to put this down.

Today has been long. R’R asked a charity here if they can help. Why does he care??? So had work this morning, then filled out this online link, work, people.

Then. Last week I took a blood test. To get a blood test done I had to get a dr to request it so spoke to a GP in the surgery, not my GP, but one who is actually really nice. Had the blood test the next day. That night the out of hours surgery called to tell me that my paracetamol levels were high (well, duh), and it took me a while to tell them to leave the info with my GP. That freaked me out and, that night I knew I’d be dead sooner rather than later.

I asked S if she could do some energy work. I’m assuming it helped because come a couple days ago, life seems possible. Doable. Not just ‘I don’t want to hurt others through dying but death is inevitable’, but, ‘maybe life could be possible’.

This afternoon, just after I got home from school, the dr I spoke to last week called me. She said that one of the liver enzymes are high. She said whatever she said, I can’t recall the conversation, just that she would think I should go to the A&E. To make sure the damage isn’t irreparable. I told her to speak to my GP. I had planned on calling him today but didn’t as I knew she was going to.

And just.

Why now?

And I don’t care.

And I don’t know what I want.

So there’s a few points.

Death would hurt people. It would hurt those who would miss me if I were gone. There are some people I haven’t been in touch with much because I didn’t want there to be such a large gap in their lives when I left them. It would hurt those who feel guilty (though they should know I’d be at peace). It’d hurt those it would trigger.

Meaning to life for me is giving. There are so many dreams I’ve always had about making the world a better place.

Those 2 points are on the side of life.

I don’t know what the rest of the blood results were. I don’t know how high. I do know with certainty that going to the hospital would be the worst thing possible for me. I wouldn’t handle it well. It’d wreck my life, and the reasons on lifes side, which I’ve chosen, would be meaningless.

Then, after 5, I looked at my emails. And saw a response from the online service. It was a really gorgeous response, and wasn’t in response to what I’d written there, but to what R had passed on (in the online form you were meant to write 50 words or so. So I only wrote a couple sentences). With an offer to speak. Or chat online. At around 4. Which was past. I replied only a couple sentences that both work because I wanted the response to potentially go through before the end of the day. Trying to write a proper response would take hours. And now I don’t feel I can write a proper response for I’ve responded. And I don’t know if it’s the same person who will see it. Either way. I’m grateful they responded. And no clue where it will lead.

Found the day weird. It’s ironic. That. On Monday I reached out to 2 people for help. I find reaching out hard because, well asides for knowing no one cares and I don’t deserve it and all that, there’s the entire I need to take responsibility for my own life thing. I can’t just find the balance and ask for help because I never took responsibility until recently and I don’t know how to do this thing.

So I think there are 2 charities here that may actually help. And work has started. And I’m trying to stay okay. And get to a better place. And now I’m told that one of the liver enzymes may be high? Like, what? Why now?? And why now when I’ve actually been taking less. Well actually, I don’t know if I have been. I don’t know. It’s just. It’s just.

Some of what I ordered for people last week came today (I want them to have mementos. Know I love them always). When I saw it this morning I was like, kay. Now I want them to get them already. And need to get stuff for those I didn’t get anything for. I want them to know I love them always. Always and forever.

My day has been such a mixture.

On the one hand is all the above. On the other hand I spent my day in a really productive way, work, family, time with a gorgeous child, out with a friend, out with a workmate/friend, lift to my mother, phone to a friend, reading, now writing this at 2am. Productive. Healthy. Good things. And I don’t know. This drs call earlier freaked me out. Seeing I’d missed the message from the charity made me sad. And I say ‘sad’ when honestly I feel nothing at all.

An online ‘friend’ messaged me how my insights during this time really help her. Funny.

Tomorrow is another day.

When there’s nothing to say…

Trigger warning suicidality.

… the past week has been chaotic. Chaotic is an understatement. And there is no way I’d ever write in public what I’m thinking or doing at the time. I wouldn’t even wrote it in password protected posts. Because they could be read. Even though I know most people don’t read them. And I’m rambling about absolutely nothing. For there’s just nothing to say. But I want to out this down.

Trigger warning.

Today’s calmer.

Yesterday’s been calmer.

Do I really want to put it into words?

I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t really understand how come I’m still here. I didn’t do anything. But. I don’t know.

In my head I planned what’s going to be with my money. The messages I’d leave for people to get 3 months later.

You know when you’re choosing to live but death is an inevitability regardless of your choice not to die? Or you don’t know.

I wrote myself a letter. One of those nights. And what I found, still find, so incredible, is how I can be so positive and hopeful on the one hand, and on the other hand prepare stuff for when death is inevitable.

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Life is a journey. Definitely calmer after writing this letter. No clue how long it'll last. I'm believing it will be okay. I'm choosing to believe that it will be okay. I'm choosing to believe I won't end it. As I said a while ago, if god wants me to die, I've given enough opportunities for that to happen, nothing I do will cause death if I'm meant to live. So I may as well not do anything on that end. I'm choosing to believe in hope. I'm choosing to believe in possibility. I'm choosing to believe in life. It hurts. It doesn't feel like it hurts but I know that it does. How profound is that??? Life is a journey. I didn't ask to be on this journey. Yet I am here. I don't want to be. But I am. There's something I've been doing that scares me. Some of my thoughts scare me. The planning. The planning. The planning. I haven't done this in years. Or 3 years. When I got past this place then, I never dreamt of coming back here. Yet here I am. And. And there's nothing really to say. Just live with it. I guess that says it all. Just live with it. Until I can get to another side. Dare I say, until I will get to another side. #mentalhealthmatters #mentalhealth #jewishmentalhealth #jews4mentalhealth #jewishgirl #jewish #jewishblogger #suicidalideation #suicidalthoughts #suicidality #borderlinepersonalitydisorder #bpdrecovery #bipolarwarrior #therapistsofinstagram #innerchild #lettertomyself #journaling #journaltherapy #innerchildhealing #innerchildwork #selfdestruction #selfharmrecovery #attachmenttrauma #oding #deathvslife #adultchildrenofalcoholics #acoa #addictionsucks #addictionrecovery #eatingdisorderrecovery

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I just reread that. And it says it all. The hope. The opposite. The everything. Just the everything.

I haven’t been reading most posts on here. I’ve been writing letters as a distraction. They just say hello. If you want a letter email me your address – if you’re less phobic then I who does not give out my address. Not that I care if you’re an axe murderer and cone and shoot me in the night. Do axe murderers use guns?

I’ve ordered a number of gifts for the people I care about. They don’t feel as necessary. Last week, if you asked me, I would gave told you that give me 3 weeks and I’m not here. Not by choice. Never a choice to die. I don’t want to hurt others that way. It’ll hurt so many. R’R said I’m talking like when a kid does something accidentally on purpose. I don’t know how to describe the lack of choice. Of choosing one thing, or choosing not something when it’s inevitable however much you may go against it. Like saying gravity ain’t a force. Choosing not to let gravity pull you to the ground yet however much you hold yourself up you know gravity will win.

Death doesn’t seem as much like gravity today. Like, maybe I’ll be here in 2 weeks.

I called the CMHT to ask when an outpatient assessment is meant to be. The person who answered said they haven’t made an appointment and don’t have any until February anyways. Is that okay? If I don’t get a letter with a date in a month I should call again. I just put down. I couldn’t speak. Speaking is always hard. And what was I meant to say? I’ll be dead in 2 weeks, never mind 4 weeks, so you may as well not bother wasting paper or ink on an appointment letter. I’ll spare you the resources.

There’s a reason I’m going through the CMHT. Asides that any professional I called is either not available, or is fazed by this, or ‘doesn’t do therapy when the therapist will have to work hard’. That’s because most therapists don’t offer crisis management as the main thing. I don’t want traditional therapy. And. If I stop ODing I’m not going to cope. I can’t use therapy. I don’t do talking because it’s not safe. I use writing to process, except I haven’t been writing much as I didn’t want a record of anything. I didn’t want anyone to know I knew I’d die. I don’t want them to hurt even more. Not just would death hurt, but that ‘could they have done anything’. Now that I’m not going to die I can write it. I don’t know.

I spoke to R’R. He got in touch with a charity for me. No clue if they’ll be able to help. He said he cares. I didn’t tell him I don’t believe him for I don’t think it’s fair to him to do that. Tried to get through to my GP to ask him to call the CMHT but haven’t yet gotten through.

Work starts tomorrow. I can’t face it. I’ve been taking less. It’s less of a need. SG did some energy work for me. I texted her when I was freaking out asking if there’s anything she could do. I wonder if that’s the cause of the shift. Of the being okay being here. Of not needing to take as much so constantly. Still buying lots more coz need to be able to if I want to.

And that’s it basically. My world. Which seems to expand and contract and expand and contract. I’ve no clue what of anything is real. I wonder if in April I really was in a better place. Or not at all. And there’s been chantelle during the past few months too. Change that seems meaningless.

Boundaries. I’ve been keeping boundaries much more, and in a much healthier way.

Responsibility. I always took responsibility for others and no responsibility for myself. Then I took responsibility for myself so couldn’t ask others for help because I’m meant to be taking responsibility… I’ve been reaching out. Which isn’t me at all. I was freaking out earlier so called a friend and asked her to talk to me (could never tell her what I was freaking about). And. It helped.

Compassion vs guilt. I’m guilting myself less. Accepting what my reality is more. Like when I’m freaking. Instead of why’m I freaking, being okay that I am. Not adding on the additional guilt (that doesn’t take away the core guilt I live with).

Relationships. In the past few months there are 3 people I’ve really built healthy relationships with. My sister. 2 friends. One of my friends, I’ve gotten to know her children during this time.

I’ve really become okay with what I want, where I stand, re judaism and the culture (I hate the culture. Hate is way too tame to describe the abhorrence, detestation and all it brings up. I wonder if there’s such a thing as religious trauma…). Yet. I’m okay with it. When others bash the culture I can see how their experiences aren’t everyone’s. I can and do see the extremities. And how the culture and the religion of the culture is so different to Judaism. I don’t know what life I’m going to lead with it. If I live long enough to ever get that far. I’m okay with separating it. I love what I see. I love the connection I can’t tune into (because what do I tune into ever?)

My world is a mass of contradictions. That’s another thing I’ve learnt over the past few months of living with destruction. That there is an AND and both can be, and are, true.

Going to end with this image I made. I know this is too long for most to read. Which is why it’s for me. I’m grateful for this space for myself.

E