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Musings of an Angels Mumma 🖤

Mummy to an Angel baby! 💚 A journey of soul searching and raising a baby in the cosmic cradle

Month

December 2016

A Christmas Milestone

 December 25 2016

**TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ **

Mentions suicide attempt, overdose and mental health/illness 

 suffering with borderline personality disorder, bulimia, extreme self harm, anxiety, depression and an array of mental health problems Doctors and counsellors said that I would be lucky to see my 19th birthday, months flew by and recovery was in sight but nothing could’ve prepared us for what would happen next.  Before we knew Christmas was fast approaching but the unimaginable happened and a family and a life would hang in the balance.
What should’ve been the happiest day of the year was masked by sadness and an odd melancholy feeling seemed to loom over us like a thunder cloud. To anyone we just looked like your average father and child  but what you wouldn’t know is that just 13 days ago I attempted and almost succeeded in ending my own life via overdose.

As I tore the paper off my Christmas presents, a smile spread across my face. As I ran through the house at 07:00hours squealing “it’s Christmas”, I felt the familiar excitement that I did as a child. My Daddy smiled at me and looked at me with an expression that was one of joy yet extreme pain and sadness. Yes I’m 19 years old now and this is our second Christmas since my parents split but that is not why the atmosphere is far from that of Christmas, my father now treasures every moment with me since just 13 days ago I almost committed suicide by overdose. I came so close to death that doctors say I’m lucky to be alive. 

As I ran through the house squealing, tearing paper from gifts and stuffing myself full of chocolate my father watches from the distance. I know deep down he’s consumed by guilt and has so many questions for me but for now captures the moment in his heart. He is my hero and inspiration, from a troubled youth to a dedicated soldier to a father of 5 my dad has taught me so much about life. I am so thankful to everyone who loved and supported me through the last few weeks and I realise how lucky I am to have been here on this earth to celebrate Christmas this year. After all I almost didn’t get to see this day and I’ve lost so much but now I’m learning to Rebuild my broken life, start again and shoot for the moon! 

I spent my whole life being doubted, put down and made to feel inferior to my peers. I’ve battled through multiple mental illnesses alone. They said I wouldn’t see 19, I did. they said that overdose should’ve killed me – it didn’t. I was born a fighter and I will be forever. I may not have achieved my dream of being the soldier my father once was but I’m the child of a soldier who defied the odds at every turn and still continues the legacy my father began almost 35 years ago. I realise now that I’m only confined to hell by the walls I built myself -because remember that guy who gave up?! Yeah neither does anyone else. 

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Tears and Pain – A week in a place worse than hell 

**Possible trigger warning**

Part 3 – this post talks about the 4 days I spent in a residential respite unit following a suicide attempt by overdose. Please note that I have little memory of the Tuesday (December 13) and Wednesday (December 14) which leaves me relying on text conversations and my loved ones so apologies if this blog post is so long and a little muddled. I’m trying my best 
I hate being called strong, I’m not strong okay. If I was so strong I would never have picked up that blade and cut myself, I would never have swallowed those pills attempting to end my life. I certainly never would’ve started skipping meals because someone called me fat and I wouldn’t have started this stupid cycle of self destruction. So no I’m not “strong”, I’m far from it actually. Overdosing, cutting my thighs, faking smiles, drying my eyes, hating myself, hating my life- welcome to my world of lies. They told me life’s not going to be easy but they never told me it would be this hard.

Tuesday 13 December 

Arriving at the residential respite unit 

After checking in and being shown around I finally was shown my room. Feeling shaky on my feet and incredibly overwhelmed of the events of the past 24 hours (refer to the two posts prior to this) I insisted my mother leave. As I watched her drive away I was consumed by guilt – if I died last night she would have to tell my innocent young brothers that their big “sister” is never coming back,how would she tell them I died?, my partner would go to pieces, blaming herself for it, If we didn’t have the fight would I have attempted suicide?, my closest friends and colleagues would be left confused and trying to fill the void, would they blame themselves for never noticing? But ultimately my father would live with the regret of being just in the next room but totally clueless, would he blame himself for being distant or not talking to me at the time? Would he blame himself for never noticing when I took a fatal overdose and lied to him as I took off for the last time?

I fell to my knees and cried my eyes out. A nurse found me and came in to talk. I told her my fears about my girlfriend and all the other things that were going on in my life. The rest of the day passed in a bit of a blur .. I spent most of the day vaping and sitting alone outside worried about life, I didn’t eat today and then took my meds and went to bed, crying myself to sleep wishing she’d contact me and trying to remember yesterday which I can’t really remember much about. My risperidone seemed to lull me to sleep. In the risperidone haze my body had the familiar spasms as my thoughts began to slow down and next thing I knew .. my world went dark..

Wednesday 14 December 

Day 2 – Still can’t remember

 
A hazy memory of the last two days and heavy eyes from meds, I got out of bed, showered, took my morning meds and daddy came to drop off more meds and e liquid for my vape. I could see him staring at my scars or looking at me like I was gravely ill and it was killing me. He left about 1/2 hour later and I went and sat in my favourite place for a few hours – vaping and colouring in. I made a friend and we talked for while. Feeling wiped out from the meds and overdose I dragged myself back into bed and had a nap.

The nurse from psych emergency came out and did an assessment on me – I’m stuck here till Saturday! This feels like a prison sentence. My best friend/close work colleague came to visit for little over an hour and it was nice to catch up. She was very supportive and promised she’d be back tomorrow with more lollies and V!!  My friend that I made earlier had to be held by police and removed (taken to psych ward) because she went off the rails and had a major meltdown. This is when I had my visitor so we stayed in my room. An old army cadet sergeant was visiting a relative and wound up buying me smokes and we talked.Then My big sister arrived after my friend left and we smoked weed and took selfies. She stayed about an hour. Was so nice to know I had so much support. 

After my sister left I began to hear malicious voices and seeing faceless shadow people. I was slowly going off the rails believing I was the spawn of the devil and I was going so psychotic- I kept seeing faceless shadow people and my beloved Sophie and I was becoming so suicidal and meds weren’t helping.

It was late in the evening and I don’t remember or have any recollection of the next few hours but I know the unit had to phone psych emergency and the police. I was put in handcuffs and restrained. I shouted all sorts of insane expletives and insults as I sat handcuffed to the officer as the psych nurse (psych emergency) attempted to calm me down.They gave   me an extra 2mg of risperidone. Very doped out I was unable to react but the   voices tormented me. 

After a gruelling time with the police I must’ve fallen into a deep sleep because next thing I knew I was being woken by the staff (around 00:45 hours) for my night meds bringing my dose to 4.5mg. I cried as fear and panic had me in its grips as the shakes took over and my world turned to black…

Thursday 15 December

Day 3 – My Realisation

I woke today around 09:30hours and my day began with me realising – that an arrow can only be shot by pulling it backwards, just like  when life’s dragging you down with it’s difficulties it’s about to launch you into something great. Well that’s what I’m hoping anyway.So on that note I got up and grabbed my stuff and headed towards the shower. 

After a nice hot shower I wandered back into my room and sat down and spent little over an hour colouring in before going for my meds. After that I headed out to the garden for a smoke (about 11:30hours).I can’t say I’ve had much of an appetite since coming in here and I haven’t eaten anything except a packet of party mix and since Shan left I’ve been incredibly lonely. I went through another packet of smokes and used about 3 tanks of e liquid. I don’t talk to anyone in here so it’s very quiet and Im not allowed my iPod since my meltdown so I spend my time colouring and smoking. I also try ringing my girlfriend but she never answers the phone or my texts anymore and I no longer find relief in her voicemail recording – I just end up in tears. Will my baby girl ever talk to me again?

I sat in the garden smoking away until about 14:45hours. Being stuck in my mind is a very dark place and if you knew the secrets I’m hiding it’d probably break your heart. I went back into my room and had a short nap. Sleep is no longer peaceful, my dreams have turned to nightmares and as time ticks on I face the reality that I could be leaving here a single woman and Sophie will walk out of my life forever, or worse may have happened to her by now I guess I’ll never know. That breaks my heart more than anything else. I woke up in a cold sweat on the floor wrapped in a blanket with tears streaming down my face- I found myself  running for the shower and hoping I’ll be ok for my visitor arriving. I just got tidied up and hung my towels up before my favourite colleague arrived. (about 17:15 hours)

We sat in my room talking about work colleagues and life outside of here. She brought me a block of chocolate, party mix and a bottle of V. We sat on my bed talking and laughing she’s a brilliant distraction while I’m stuck here and She sat with me till near 1900 hours. I’m so grateful for her support!!  When she left I drank my V and wandered down to the kitchen where the other 4 residents were having dinner. I’m the youngest of 5 residents (I’m 19 and the others are 40+).

I was so nervous to eat and scared to be alive that the second I put one spoonful of mashed potato near my mouth, my stomach did a backflip. I spent the next 1/2 hour pushing my food around my plate. I’ve never been with people and felt this alone, quiet and scared.When  everyone was finished I headed back to my room, by now it was about 20:00hours, I rolled another 13 cigarettes and filled my vape up. Then I headed outside to my favourite spot in the garden and smoked away, I sat there thinking about life. Next thing I know darkness set in (as I was finishing my vape) I tried Sophie again but when it went to voicemail I had a huge meltdown. I headed in about 23:15 hours in tears. I had my risperidone and crawled into bed the world around me slowed down, my body crashed and the world turned to black…

Friday 16 December

Day 4 – An early release

With grace for good behaviour she got out before her time her mates and her neighbours told her she was looking fine. But she’s feeling several years older and her memory is rather slow, her father said “you’d think she was dead just like Marilyn Monroe!”

I woke up around 08:00hours and headed for the spa. Lounging in the bubbles that floated in the hot water all alone I realised that I didn’t belong in here, I realised I had to get the hell outta this place. Determined that today would be the day of an early release, I knew just what I had to do. After a nice long soak I crawled out of the spa and looked at the time. It was little after 09:00 hours, I chucked on my singlet and jeans and headed for the office. I spoke with staff and had a conversation with the guy from psych emergency who gave me permission to leave.

Running from the office I called my mother and she agreed to pick me up. I packed my belongings into my backpack, rolled some smokes and headed for my favourite spot for the final time. Smoking a few rollys and enjoying the sun I finally mumbled a hello to an older resident and then headed inside. My mother arrived around 11:00 and we headed off bound for my post OD checkup!

Still no word from Sophie and that breaks my heart more than anything else but I hold on to hope that she’ll reply soon. Each day it’s all I wish for, I’m losing hope but I have to be strong. This is the biggest battle of my life and I am slowly learning to live my life after the overdose that almost killed me. Hoping to father satan that Sophie will answer and all will be ok. But for now I live with the looming storm clouds of the unknown and a heart filled with sadness, regret,pain and darkness.
I’m sick of crying, tired of trying, yes today I’m smiling but inside I’m dying. Deep inside where nothing’s fine I’m slowly and psychotically going out of my mind. I used to fear depression, now I look into that mirror and want to smash it to pieces. I’ve put on so many fake smiles that I really don’t have any self confidence, I’m convinced that everyone will abandon me and I hate this place, I now understand why I hate it because of it I realise that the difference between you and me is that when you wake up your nightmare ends.

Picture attached is of the place I spent most of my time smoking and relaxing during the days I spent in respite 

The Day My Life Changed Forever 

**Trigger Warning**

Part two 
Society had spoken and nobody cared. She cried all alone for it’s a truth he struggled to bear, she bled most nights when no one was there she believed not one person would truly care, she tried her hardest to just remain here. She downed 50 pills and was sent to a chair, in the ER shedding her final  tears. She took one last breath, when she  collapsed from that chair  she embraced death. Please understand I kept this a secret for a reason – because the truth is worse than any lie I told to cover it up. 

Behind my smiles a hurting heart, behind my laugh I’m falling apart. Look closely at me and you will see the person I became .. isn’t really me. I just hate myself, every single thing about me is horrible – I literally have no motivation to save myself anymore.

Tuesday December 13 2016 

 06:17 hours – 12 hours later 
I could hear the sound of urgent chatter somewhere close by as my hazy vision lifted. I slowly began to understand the scene I found myself in  – I was in a hospital bed and alone in a cubicle. Wires attached me to a heart monitor, a nasal cannula was jammed up my nose, a sharp IV cannula lodged in the back of my hand and a gown draped loosely around me. Panic hit me as I struggled to remember a weak yet terrified scream escaped my mouth. Nurses came running as tears cascaded down my pale cheeks “Emily ..” she said “..it’s ok”. She asked me what was wrong and I asked her what had happened since the last memory I had was 12 ish hours ago.

Reality hit me, I was paralysed by fear and tortured by vague memories as she explained that after I checked in I fell to the floor and remained unconscious/stopped breathing. I had an IV cannula inserted into the back of my left hand and I had to be resuscitated and have my stomach pumped and they’ve been  monitoring me ever since. Tears silently spilled from my eyes as she left, I reached for my phone and called in sick at work. I honestly can’t remember what I said in that message but Within minutes my supervisor (my mother) had immediately phoned me back in tears and was on  her way to the hospital. 

Emotions swept over me as I lay alone in that bed. There was that odd melancholy feeling and a sense of guilt I couldn’t deny. My memory was hazy and I drifted in and out of consciousness before my mother flew through the curtain. Ashamed and speechless as she spoke softly to me and assured me all will be ok. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and whispered “I don’t have the words to make it right or you feel better, but I do have the arms to hold you, ears to listen to whatever you want to talk about and I have a heart that’s aching to see you smile again my baby”. It was at this moment that I realised how close I came to death and how lucky I  am to be here right now. I lay sobbing as I began to text my girlfriend. 
Approximately 09:45 hours 

I was consumed by guilt and swept up in emotional pain as my case manager arrived. She suggested I go into respite care. After a chat she left and shakily I got up and dressed myself. The cannula was removed and I was discharged. I still hadn’t heard from my girlfriend and it was breaking my heart.

When you’re heart has been shattered in to a million pieces, which piece do you follow?

As we pulled out of the parking lot bound for the residential respite unit, I still hadn’t heard from her and still feeling scared, sad and full of guilt. I felt bad for hurting myself but worst of all I’ve hurt my loved ones. Consumed by nerves as I wondered what the week would bring and whether my relationship with my beautiful girlfriend would survive. 

**Part 3 Coming Soon**

Lately I’ve been pretending like everything’s ok and that everything around me hasn’t collapsed. But this morning I woke up and realised I was the only one who relapsed. Scars on my wrists, scars on my thighs, eyes full of hurt and a mouth full of lies.

The End

This is part one

**Trigger warning **
It’s really sad how some days I seem to have everything going right and the within moments I’ve lost everything I’ve worked for. I spent a whole year convincing myself I was getting better, that I  was  recovering, but then I realised I’m no better than I was a year ago and that  I can’t even handle myself anymore!
I’ve been meaning to write this post for a few days  and I started planning it in the unit but couldn’t  bring myself to talk about it till now. Everyday got harder, like a nightmare progressing on. Each day another desperate plea echoed from my tired bones begging death to take me now!, everyday I closed up more and the burden became impossible to bear as I felt myself die some more. I’d lay there wondering what grisly way I would leave this hell because I’d never felt so much pain! 
At 5 years old she wanted to be a vet, At 8 years old she wanted to be a psychologist, At 10 years old she wanted to be a mortician. But at 13 years old she wanted to be invisible , At 16 years old she wished she was dead. However At 19 years old she attempted suicide for the second time and that time she almost succeeded …

 and this is where my story begins!
I was never scared of suicide or death – only what would happen to me if I failed. 

Summer 2016.  December 12 

A ghastly fight erupted between my partner Sophie and I which ended in me packing up my stuff and her driving me home to my place and numerous harsh words thrown around and spat at each other in retaliation.  Upon dragging my gear out of her car and screaming it’s over I was numb with shock. I wandered inside feeling so lost as I unpacked some stuff the shock began to wear off as the depressing suicidal thoughts kicked in. 
Rage hit me like a thunderstorm and I lost all control. Psychotic images filled my head and It was like My mind had been consumed by evil as eyes that weren’t mine spied 2 bottles of lorazepam laying amongst my underwear in a drawer! Before I could comprehend what I’d done I’d swallowed 30mg of the lorazepam as I stumbled back into reality panic set in, contacting Sophie with no reply and convinced it was over I packed my backpack and headed out the door, lying to my father saying that I was staying with my friend. 
I drove as quickly as I could to the local ER in utter panic. My life flashing before my eyes as I parked up, I was dancing with death as the reaper reached out for my hand. Determined my relationship was over and I had no real reason to live I pulled the almost full pill bottle out of my pocket and swallowed the last 15-20mg of lorazepam like it was candy. Euphoria hit me as chronic hallucinations kicked in and I realised that the end was almost upon me and that was when Sophie replied it dawned on me that I’d made a grave mistake.
Panic consumed me  as I stumbled through the parking lot psychotic images and sounds seemed to encapsulate me as the world around me became hazy and my breathing got slower, I was convinced I was going to die. Tears trickled down my pale lifeless face as I staggered through the doors and into the ER! 

I managed to mumble my name, age and situation to the triage nurse whose eyes only widened as I sobbed out of fear and panic. As  I checked in at reception the nurse shouted something to the nurses in the triage department. I staggered and stumbled to an empty seat alone and scared, I noticed  the pandemonium around me fading out as the sound of a heart monitor flatlining filled my ears, my breathing slowed as did my heartbeat. I realised the end was close, one final image filled my mind – my beautiful girlfriend, and her voice saying goodbye. It all happened so  quickly and next thing I know, the flatlining pierced my ears as my world turned to black ….

My Mind, A battle of the most brutal kind 

I remember when I was younger and I learned about eating disorders, self harm, depression and other mental health problems in health class and I would wonder how people could do that to themselves. Yet here I am at 3am debating whether or not to take my own life. I know I’m fat,ugly, disgusting, stupid, pathetic, not important, a poisonous waste of space- I don’t need reminding!  And that’s how it begins suddenly the mirror showed me that I’m fat, my wrists and thighs became paper, my scales became the enemy. Suddenly pencil sharpeners became weapons,  my pillow was soaked in tears, I felt worthless, the sight of blood brought relief,  sleep was my escape, mealtimes were like death sentences, suddenly before I knew it – my life was ugly!

It’s such a shame that as a little girl I actually believed in fairy tales  but recently I have been struck by a nightmarish reality with demons in my mind and a fear of never being good enough. I’m the kind of person that liked to draw, drawing pictures that nobody saw. I was most creative late at night in a dark place far from sight, I had a secret that no one else knew, without telling a soul my gallery grew. My drawing were unique- no paper or pen but I needed a bandage now and then. I stood by the river with her under the setting sun, I rolled up my trousers and showed her the scars feeling humiliated I looked at the water so blue. She rolled up her trousers whispering “yeah, me too!”

My battle with self harm and suicidal thoughts and ideation hasn’t been an easy road. Despite being little over  2 months clean from cutting I’d be lying if I denied thinking about it. The urges are so strong and relentless sometimes that it takes all my strength to ignore them. These last two days have been particularly painful and I can see it’s eyes staring into mine like a battlefield and I’m on the losing side. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to not suffer with mental illness, I wonder what life would be like if I wasn’t reliant on medication to function, to experience life and the world like all my friends, to not be constantly depressed, anxious, paranoid, sleep deprived, psychotic and upset and ultimately not be awake at 3am because faceless shadow people maliciously loiter around you and the voices lulling you to your eternal sleep. The heartbreaking thing for me is watching some of my friends and loved ones suffer as a result of my illness because they want to help but don’t know how and also knowing that others see my pain as they watch my illness consuming me and blatantly turn a blind eye because I’m too difficult for them!  I often wonder what life’s like where you don’t spend your time thinking about how to make everyday items into weapons to harm yourself or when you don’t have to constantly carefully consider your choice of wardrobe because your arms and thighs are badly scarred. So to those of you who look at me like I’m an attention seeking piece of shit I’m not – don’t judge me because if you knew what goes  on everyday inside your head you’d understand why I feel the way I do. I have so many painful secrets and memories that if you knew it would break your heart.

Tonight when I was feeling really suicidal, like I was all alone and debating whether or not to end my life I found myself listening to my girlfriend talk in her sleep she said “I love you baby I can’t live without you” and “promise me “. It really hit me so hard I began to imagine my parents having to explain to my younger brothers what had happened to me – I was supposed to protect them and be a role model not abandoning them. My colleagues at my horror job trying to fill the unique gap that I occupied, my single father having to clear out my room and forever wonder what he did so wrong and leave him forever wondering why. But ultimately my girlfriend who saved my life so many times and stayed by my side through everything would wake up to find my lifeless body- I stopped there and broke down. Remembering the pain I felt two years ago when my best friend killed himself and that pain is still so raw – like it only happened yesterday- that’s how she’d feel, she’d spend her life regretting falling asleep tonight and wondering if she could have done something to help, she’d be haunted by the memories that she’d relapse and probably end her life. I couldn’t do that to her, or my siblings or my father. I collapsed in a fit of tears and hugged her tightly- she’s saved my life again. I love her to death and I couldn’t hurt her or anyone I love that badly!

I realised I’m not alone just trapped in my mind which is, in itself a battle of the most brutal kind.

A second letter to my childhood self …

I’ve had many addictions . And they all came in different colours Blacked out, drunk.Crimson red flowing down my wrists and thighs, Dark blue clouded by depression,And who could forget the rainbow swirls of a borderline personality?But the worst of all? … Is when I see no colour at all. Not through the eyes of the unique individual I used to be. But the shell of that person  now doped out and drugged up desperately trying to forget.

Dear Little E

I wish I was writing this letter to tell you that you changed your life, that you recovered but truth be told … you never truly do. There’s good days but there’s  always a possibility of a relapse. Although today marks 2 months clean from cutting which is a huge victory in itself, the borderline personality disorder induced psychotic episode takes its toll on those who love you. The voices tell you that you’re mere existence is poisoning those you love, that you’re worthless and you should be alone forever, that it’s your fault your parents split up and so much more. The malicious faceless shadow people that seep from every corner and my whole body being filled with a nasty empty feeling that makes your body is rotting making you wish for your death.

That beautiful bubbly, blue eyed, perfect pale skinned confident little girl that you used to be changed. As I look in the mirror now at the age of 19 I see a depressed, bulimic genderless individual with scarred arms and thighs and sad tired eyes that hide a million secrets and lies.

I’m sitting here at 4am in so much emotional pain wondering where life is heading, bulimia physically and emotionally takes its toll on you as you realise you don’t really have control of anything in your life, the self harm urges are so strong that it hurts you to be near sharp objects because you know that any moment you could break and tear your skin apart, your self inflicted scars strip you of your confidence as borderline personality disorder renders you psychotic, constantly paranoid, in fear and stuck in a web of intense emotions that you find yourself depending on antidepressants and antipsychotics just to function . I realise that this is how life is now. That despite increased doses of various meds and counsellor, psychologist, psychiatrist, psych nurse and doctors appointments that relapses are inevitable.

But there is one person who saved your life more times than you care to remember, one person who was always there to pick you up when you were down and picked up the pieces when a relapse had you so broken you couldn’t see a way out,that one person who stuck by you through the various counselling sessions, psychologist visits, psychiatrist assessments, crisis meetings and nights in the ER when you self harmed so badly you had to be stitched up or glued back together. That person also is transgender, a history of self harm and psychosis and she is my girlfriend Sophie! And to this very day she continues to support you and you two support each other. 

Sophie came into my life and became your best friend. She saved you from a very dark suicide and still holds and cares for you when the psychotic episodes have you in it’s grip. Sophie is  truly your guardian angel, best friend and soulmate.

So Little E, the answer to your question is fairly simple and I think it’s fair to say you never truly recovered but you found the one person who will love you through anything, the one who sees perfection in your flaws and the potential you have. Instead of recovery you found the life’s most special gift – your soul mate !!  

Sophie I love you to death and I’m alive and  today 2 months clean  and I’m so much better off even though relapse happens. Love you to death baby girl and I’ll always be there for you.

Little E please stay strong. And because of her you have a reason to live and keep fighting and kick BPD’s butt!

Bye for now

At 4am you lay in bed listening to your favourite band reminiscing about all the things that you have done wrong. At 4am you think of all   those who have left, all those who abandoned you, all those who turned their backs on you and you blame yourself for their actions, you blame yourself for them leaving. Again you start crying and are reminded by those scars that you’re not as strong as you once were and no one can ever truly understand such a brutal addiction unless they’ve suffered it too.

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