Three is a Magic Number

In more ways than one.

I won't be seeing my psychologist or support worker for the next three weeks.
My support worker is actually off on a four week holiday to visit her husband in Australia and my psychologist felt it best to give me some time to adjust to the flat and start sleeping before we met again.
I can't say that I'm all that bothered about not seeing my SW for a month. As some people on a closed Facebook group know she said something to me a few weeks ago that left me reeling.
She basically insinuated I was committing fraud by spending a weekend at my parents. Forget that I'd managed a week at the flat before heading home and that I haven't been back since. Apparently that wasn't good enough so they thought they'd put the frighteners on me. She also told me I was being selfish if I didn't move in (even though I had) because my brother can't live here if I'm not here and my parents wouldn't get any help.

Talk about putting the weight of the world on your shoulders.
I could tell she was trying to turn the screws on me and I also knew her saying this was coming from my psychologist was nonsense. My psychologist would never ever be as tactlessly blunt as what my SW can be. She has been pushing me toward moving out for a long time and I could tell she was both frustrated and baffled that not only was I not going at the speed she wanted but I also wasn't loving it.
She can't grasp my reaction to this move in the slightest. It's all black and white. Pro and con for her.

It was always the CMHT's belief not mine that my parents home environment was the driving force behind my anxiety and depression.
And I agree not having access to the basics like warm water, working shower and toilet might have had a negative influence on my mood but it was never the core of the problem.
I had to fight the urge pretty hard to pull away entirely from the CMHT and just return to my dark little box room.
I wanted so badly to show them that they couldn't manipulate me or tell me who or what I am and what I have the right to do.
But that was just the anger talking and if I did do that I knew that would be selfish. Its ok if I'm suffering at my own hands but not anybody else. I want better for them.

So all in all I'm looking forward to not having to deal with the appointments for the next few weeks and working at my own pace without interruption or coercion.
And to celebrate my brother and I are having a friend down to stay at the end of the week. Hopefully it'll help me relax and shut my brain off for even a few minutes. We're going to head to the cinema and will be probably watching a few scary flicks and foreign goodies in between playing games and good talks. I'm also looking forward to Thursday because we'll finally be able to move my hamster Smudge into the flat. I miss having my little fuzzball around. It's reassuring hearing him running in his wheel in the wee small hours. Will probably help me focus on something other than the usual argy bargy going on outside at the weekend here.

Numb Would Be Nice

Well that's always what I think when I hear characters in TV shows describe how depression makes them feel. They always seem to be living in an emotional vacuum. Detached from it all and running on automatic pilot. And I can't relate to that. It's never been that way for me. The closest thing I can relate to is bereavement. It's the same sort of boundless emptiness and like grief it plays by its own rules. There can be days where you'll feel almost functional, almost content. You can even smile or laugh. And you try so hard to hang on to that feeling. You take every little precaution. work every little technique. But somewhere deep down you know that it won't last. Something inevitably comes out of the blue and knocks you back on your ass. And its scary how fast you fall. You can be laughing it up with friends one second and the next you can almost taste the despair. There doesn't need to be a trigger. No one needs to say anything and nothing needs to happen. And you can feel it happening. The metamorphose is quicker than any other in nature. But instead of emerging from the cocoon, you instead get regression. Skipping back in evolution instead of forwards. Time moves forward, everything moves forward in life but you.

I guess that's where I'm at tonight. Today I didn't get out of bed till gone 5pm and I never bothered gettting dressed. Instead I lay on the couch and only moved when I forced myself to help my brother make dinner. After that I resumed my position and stared vacantly at the TV till I started to nod off around 9pm. I was looking, searching for any kind of distraction. Couldn't face Twitter or Facebook. Most definitely couldn't face talking to anyone on the phone. I couldn't find anything that would take me outside of my head. Or dull the ache. Its a gnawing, scratching ball of darkness, rooted deep within your stomach. And at its worst you can feel the branches shooting up your limbs wrapping itself around them and draining you of all your energy. Feeding into the perpetually hungry ball that can never be satiated. I don't even have enough left in me to continue to type. So I'll need to return to this later. I just hope it lets me sleep.

Well I got over somewhere around 5am I think. Tossed and turned and got up around 11. Still completely zapped of all life. Listless, tired, achey and completely disinterested in doing anything. The fact I've managed to type this much is frankly a miracle and will probably be the only thing I actually do today. I'm just taking a shot that getting this all out can make a difference and maybe I might find some drive to move or think or even just get out of these pajamas. There's still so much to do in the flat and I just can't seem to get any momentum going.

It's pretty much how I feel about this place all over. I can't find the will to care. People keep asking me if I'm excited and if I'm enjoying the freedom. But I don't feel either of those things. No excitement and I definitely don't feel free. That's not new though. I've always felt constrained by my need to help others. It's why my biggest wish even at 12 was to live alone in the middle of some secluded forest somewhere. It's not that other people are too demanding or that they use me. They don't. My family and friends are a great support to me. It's all down to how I feel. If someone cares about me I instantly feel the need to try and please and never let them down. Which is impossible so I'm always left feeling less than. And I just wonder what it would be like to not feel that.

Right now it's a tug of war. I'm piggy in the middle. I'm not sure I want to be in this flat at all but I know I can't go home even if I wanted to because it would mean my brother loses the freedom and happiness he's found here. And I know also that I can't go home because it would mean my parents definitely couldn't get the help I want them to get. Not that I believe the CMHT or the never around social worker when they say they will get help. Everything so far we've tried to do for them has fallen flat. And I'm frankly sick of getting my hopes up.

So for the moment I'm in a kind of limbo. My stomach twisted in knots. Not settled here and can't go home. So the anxiety is running high and I'm wondering what it's all for? And whether I'm even capable of getting better. Or if I even want to for that matter. I don't know what to do with my time here. It was easy at home. The only thing I needed to do to get through a day was plug myself into the PC and try to stop thinking. Now I'm here though there's all this impetus to "blossom" and do more. I don't know where to start and I don't know if I'm ready to.