Hatred.

You know those times you have when you're getting ready to go out somewhere, and nothing looks nice? Or when you're doing your makeup and the liner goes all wrong? If you make a mistake and then can't fix? Those times where you really dislike yourself, or really get disappointed in yourself? Yeah, everyone gets those. But imagine how it feels, to hate yourself. Not to just dislike yourself a little bit, not to just 'hate' your thighs or stomach or face. Not to get annoyed by personality traits. But to look in a mirror or just sit there everyday and only consider how much you loathe everything about yourself.

Ever wondered how that feels? Well, I'll tell you. It feels like heartbreak, every time you remember that you are you. It feels like you're a freak, like you grew this body and brain yourself yet you can't stand it. To think that you would do anything to accept yourself, just for 5 seconds. You don't want a new body, or a new personality or anything like that. You just want to accept yourself. In a lot of self hatred you think the problem would be solved if you got right of your thighs/stomach/personality traits. However in this form of self hated changing those things wouldn't matter, you'd move your hate your new self.

I've always been led to believe that the dislike I held for myself was totally justified. My own dad used to regularly describe to me what a "piece of s**t" he thought I was; in detail. My ex boyfriend, the first person I thought I'd properly fallen for, used to tell me that I was chubby, not very pretty, that his ex-girlfriend did things that I wouldn't. Then came the assassination of my character traits, the comments on that I was the most boring person he'd ever met, I was hard to be around, I was unlovable, his parents didn't know why bothered with me, I had no friends because no one could stand to be around me for long enough. The teenage x-boyfriend who cheated on me constantly and told me all the horrible things those girls said about me. The 'friend' that told me everyone pretended to like me and I should "go and get hit by a bus". All that top of the times my own physical body let me down. Turns out growing a brain that doesn't work properly without ingesting copious amounts of tablet form serotonin, and a spine that is unable to grow in a straight line isn't good for your self belief. 

It's at a point no where no matter what nice things someone says to me, I don't believe them, and I ignore what they say and I push them away. Then when, obviously, they stop saying these things I panic that they're trying to ditch me and not be my friend or whatever anymore. It doesn't cross my mind that they've stopped saying these things because who's going to compliment someone who does nothing but tell them that what they're saying is wrong? No one. I don't know why this bothers me, it could be some thing to do with that phrase that's all like, if you can't love yourself then who is going to love you? In my case it's that I've never had anyone show me there's anything to even like about myself, never mind love myself. I can't carry on with this, it's too intense and it's too much. The second I start to like someone or want to be someones friend all that happens is that my brain starts a fucking parade, with huge banners and neon lights that spell out all the reasons that no one will like me, and all the reasons that I don't like myself. I can't help that, I have no control over that parade,  despite my years of trying.

I'm going to live in a constant cycle of meeting new people, and scaring them off with my negativity and my deep unnecessary hatred of myself. I'm going to spend my life, meeting people and behaving normally. Then them getting to know me and behaving like a lunatic. Them trying to leave me and me upping my insanity standards by 110%. Them actually leaving, even when I'd do anything to be able to get them to stay. That's all I'm ever going to get. I need to make peace with it.

At the moment, I can't. I can't come to terms with how much I hate myself no matter how hard I try. I can't accept my big forehead, my long nose, wonky teeth, fat arms, flabby stomach, scarred torso, my metal spine, my big thighs, my weird knees and my awkward feet. I can't accept that I am sad, lonely, miserable and pathetic. Maybe if I could accept these things my life pattern would change? People would want to be my friend, they'd like me back, they wouldn't laugh at me or ridicule me. I just don't ever see that happening.

This time last year.

This time last year, my life was in chaos. For once, not even a self induced chaos, but an unavoidable life circumstances chaos. This time last year, my nan had had her stroke (yes, the one I found her on the bathroom floor after) and she was in hospital. My life was a constant mad rush of doing my night shifts, doing the half hour drive to the hospital everyday I could, looking after my niece, and seeing family I'd not seen for a very long time.
This time last year though, I had hope. At this point I'm pretty sure I still thought there was a strong chance that she would come home. I knew she wouldn't be the physically capable woman that she'd been before. But I thought she'd be coming home to stay for a while. Instead, fairly quickly that idea was replaced by the harsh reality that she was indeed coming home. But she wasn't coming to stay. We were bringing her home to pass away where she wanted to.

I'm not sure what the point of this post is going to be really. It helps to sit and talk about it I think, and yes I know this isn't really talking. It's typing to myself, but it still helps. Just sit here and say whatever I want to. I'm struggling to get the image of the hospital out of my mind at the moment. I know that will pass. At the end of January, the only image I had was of her on the bathroom floor after I found her that Tuesday night.

Sometimes I can't get over the journey I've been on since. In the last year I've done things that I never thought I would do. Like I think I've said before, I started 2017 by saying to people "nothing will change this year, I'm going to just stay comfortable" and then of course everything changed. Literally everything. I started the year with a part time job, a crappy relationship-type thing, my nan and a dog. I ended it doing part time work and college, being single and happy, with new friends but no nanny and no dog. Where as this time last year I was dealing with the hospital chaos, this year I'm in the midst of  a 'normal' life chaos. I'm fighting off assignment deadlines, university interviews, early mornings at work. I've got new friends (who are probably some of the best people I've ever met in my entire life. Seriously.)

Right now I'm sat here looking at my Cancer Research Unity bracelet. For the first time in my life, I donate to Cancer charities as someone who has actually had cancer affect my life. This time last year I was just donating because it made me feel better. Now I donate because I fully understand the work they do. Literally, any single one I come across.

Tuesdays are still my least favourite day of the week, and I don't think that will ever change. Tuesday is still the day grandad passed away on, the day we buried him on. The day nan had her stroke. The day I feel the most lonely and the least motivated of them all.

I got my hair dyed today. I got all the blonde taken out, and a fair bit of length cut off the ends. I love it, but now all I can think is that I wonder if my nan would like it. She used to be my guide on when my hair needed doing. She would start making comments about how ratty it was looking, how long my roots were, how bad my ends were. I used to love going to get my hair done, yes it helped that a lot of the time she'd help me out in paying for it (bless her heart) but now I can't stand getting it done, or anything to do with my hair. If anyone tells me it needs doing I ignore them. In my mind, even a year later it's still my nan's job to tell me when to get my hair done. Like the time she sent me back before a night out when I'd backcombed my hair, to go and brush all the tangles out. I love the fact I have those memories. But I hate the fact that they are memories now. How hard it is that your best friend is just a beautiful memory now. Even harder that there is no way of changing that.

Love from,
Rose-Marie

P.S I got my first university place offer the other week. Check me out.

I'm still the same person.

Every now and then, someone tries to tell me how strong I am. Not physically strong, anyone who knows me knows that I have about the strength of a feather. But internally strong.
After all, I chose a job where I constantly have to think of other peoples wants and needs over my own. Where I help look after people until they take their last breath. I've supported people so confused they're fearing for their lives at 2 o'clock in the morning. And yet every time it comes round to my shift, off I go.
I helped nurse my Nan until her dying moments. I found her on the floor after a stroke and called 999. I sat next to her bed nearly every day for 47 days knowing that she was dying.
I'm studying to become a nurse to help people in their darkest, dying moments.
That's what a strong person does, right?

Who knows. Because that's what I do every day and I am far from being strong.

I'm still the person that is convinced everyone is going to leave them. I'm still the person that believed it when an ex-boyfriend told me I should prepare to be alone forever because I'm 'unlovable'. I'm still the person that's answered phone calls where people who should know better have described in accurate detail how much they hate me. I'm still the person who panics when their iMessage tone goes off anytime after 9pm.
Every time I say good bye to someone, I'm convinced I'm never going to see them or speak to them again. I'm still the person that goes over everything I said or did, regardless of who I've been hanging out with to work out if I said something that will make them hate me and never talk to me again. I'm still the person that can't believe anyone when they tell me they like me, or they think I'm a good person. Sometimes I'm still that person who stayed up until the early hours of the morning searching for train times, trying to chose the right one to step in front of. I'm still the person who scratched their arm to pieces and then pretended I had no idea how it happened. 
I'm still the person terrified of being alone after once being told that I would 'die alone, cold and hungry' when I was an old lady. I'm still the person that panics when someone doesn't text or call me back, I still sit there and try to work out what it was that I did wrong. Sometimes in my attempts to work it out I make it even worse. I still cry myself to sleep trying to work out if I'll ever be normal. I'm still the person with the nervous habits. The Restless Leg Syndrome, the need to keep my hands busy when I'm worried.

I'm always going to be that person. Even when I'm doing better or I'm feeling confident in myself and my choices, I have to make those decisions knowing that the person I don't want to be is only just a few steps behind me, and will always catch me.


This isn't the post I'd like to be making at the end of this year, so I'll try and fit in another one if I get the chance. Most of this year I'd tried to adapt the thinking of that no matter what happens, the tide will still come in and out. The sun and the moon will still rise. The stars will still come out at night. My family and my real friends will still love me. If you've ever had the misfortune to have a brain programmed and chemically balanced like mine is, then you know how hard it can be to keep that constant positive thought in your mind. Like I said, I'm always going to be 'that person', and those thoughts are always going to be there.

Communication.

Communication.
Something so simple for most people, yet so complicated for me. For all the hard work I've done to my mental health over the last few years, my issues with communication are something that no one has ever really been able to fix.

For a long time communication has been used against me. My dad has done it, I choose not to speak about my parents on this blog. My old friends have done it, and every single one of my ex-boyfriends has done it. Whenever there is a small gap in conversation with someone, my brain just goes in to over drive. It doesn't matter who it is, my brain really isn't that fussy. It can be a friend, someone I'm interested in, or even someone I don't know that well.

In the past people have used communication as a way to let me know they think I've done something wrong. If they didn't like something I said, then they wouldn't speak to me for a few days/hours. If I put something on Facebook they didn't like, they'd post a status and start a public conversation with someone else whilst ignoring me. For example, one particularly vile ex decided to just ignore me for days on end, just dropped out mid conversation. Then told me off for trying to get in contact with them during that time, because I was supposed to telepathically know that they were ignoring me because they wanted to break up with me. Eventually the silence ended when they dumped me by text at 1am when they were drunk and told me I was psycho. Another one would make plans with me, then turn their phone off, leaving me sat there ready and waiting to go out until eventually I'd get back in to my pyjamas, take my makeup off and go to bed. Even just friends, I have some that just dropped off the face of the earth, some that just spoke to me to make themselves feel better about their lives. Even still if one my (granted very small) group of friends can't reply for a period of time, I decide that I must have done something that will offend them and I will never hear from them again.

My brain tells me in equal parts that if someone isn't talking to me then they're probably just busy, but also that if they aren't talking to me that I'm never going to hear from them again. I've never known conversation to be so important and so detrimental to someone at the same time.


So yeah. Conversation, especially of the text/phone call/social media kind, is not something that I fare well with. I just can't help it. I wish I knew how to fix it. I bring it up with every counselor I've ever had but nothing anyone tries to do help me manages to penetrate through all the bad memories my brain is storing about the past and these peoples actions. Of course it massively affects me being to form and maintain normal friendships/relationships/bonds with people. It takes a special kind of person to know that I'm not a complete weirdo, that I'm just damaged.

Remembering.

I'm half way through a psychology essay for my college course. But as usual on a Saturday, just as the week is ending, and a new week is beginning, I feel a bit down.

I was watching a film (I always write with Netflix on in the background) and basically, the girl in it was living the same day over and over until she learnt the right lessons, and eventually she died. In a very dramatic and heartfelt monologue at the end, she discusses that she lived her last day as how she wanted to be remembered. It got me thinking how easy it is when someone dies to let the grief take over and to just think that they are gone. It's a long time before you can remember what you want to from them.

For example. Thanks to my Grandad, I remember the importance of a hug, of always making up after an argument. I remember when you have a cold to not leave the house without a packet of tissues and throat sweets. I remember what a difference it can make to be a quiet, gentle, yet solid presence in someones life. I remember that the best way to get toast out of the toaster when it get's stuck is to turn it off at the wall, and use something sharp with a wooden handle. I remember the smallest thing you do can make the biggest difference to someone.

Thanks to my Nanny, I remember that you should always brush your hair and look your best before you leave the house (this was the lady who insisted on changing her skirt before going off to A&E with a head injury after all). That sometimes in an argument you just need to back down. I remember that if you love someone, you fight to protect them with all that you have, but you never indulge them. She taught me that if you're right, you don't back down (which relates me back to my previous point of sometimes you need to back down in an argument!) I remember that manners don't cost a penny and that people appreciate them.

Both of them left a legacy that will long survive them. Both of them made me, and anyone they spent time with, a better person than they would have been without them. For a long time I will think of them in their later stages in their hospital beds, and there's not much I can do about that. But at the same time, I'll remember everything I learnt from them. And while the image of them in their last days will fade, the lessons and the person they shaped me in to will last forever.

Oh hey. More bad news.

All I ever do is come on here and tell anyone who's reading my bad news and have mini emotional breakdowns these days.

The newest one is because I have had a "24 hour stomach bug" for 23 hours now and it shows no sign of letting up, at all. I've had to miss my first proper day of lessons at college and at this rate I'll be missing the second as well.

The other one is that my dog died last week. We had to have her put to sleep. The vets came to the house and did it where she was comfortable, but there is nothing more heartbreaking than loving something that is about to die. You know how I know that? This is the second time this year I've had to do that, and the third time in my life.

So yeah. Life is fabulous right now. Anyway, I'm off to be sick. Bye.

Flash backs.

Every now and then recently I've started to suffer from flash backs. Anything can trigger them, a sight, smell, sound or emotion, then before I know it I feel like I'm back in the past again. I have a few specific ones that happen time and time again. I'm wondering if flash backs are like dreams, you know how people reckon if you have a nightmare and talk about it then you won't have that same dream again? I don't know. It's worth a try because these flash backs are starting to grate on my little brain.

The most common one is when I'm sat at home doing nothing, just letting my mind drift off to where it wants to go. For some reason it likes to take me to a specific moment during what I refer to as "The Breakdown" where I'm laying on my bed in the middle of the day, wrapped in my dressing gown, alternating between sobbing and staring in to space, while my mum tries desperately to snap me out of it. I remember how over heated I was wrapped in my grey stripey dressing gown, and now I think how ridiculous I must have looked. I mean my dressing gown has EARS. Imagine this small, stripey, flannel, cat-eared thing laying in a ball on the bed making over the top crying noises. Then almost as suddenly as I was in that moment, I'm back in the present moment.

Sometimes during the night when I wake up at 3am, I remember when also during that time, I was sat in my bed with the spotlight off, and the lamp on, again I was crying, and I was on Google on my iPad. I'd searched the train times of the train stations nearest to me, and was sat there staring at them.

Another one I get a lot at work. I'll be walking in to someones room in the middle of the night, and I'll hear the sound of their nursing bed. Before I know it I'm travelling back to when we were nursing my nan at home before she passed away. I see it clear as anything, I'm sat next to her bed in my grandads old arm chair, and I can hear the sound of her breathing, and the power pack attached to her bed whirring away, and see her small movements through the bars of her nursing bed. I can see that it's dark outside through the curtains we hung up in a panic the day before she came home.

Sometimes when I walk in the bathroom and look at the floor near the bath, I remember how my nan looked down there when she'd fallen on the floor just seconds after she'd had the stroke. I remember hearing the bang, and running up the stairs. I remember noticing that one slipper had come off, and how her face had fallen to one side. I remember how her voice sounded when she tried to tell me what had happened. I remember there was someone here, and how much I wanted them to leave right then and there but I didn't have it in me to say it.


If it was just the superficial things I remembered from these moments it wouldn't be that bad. But for the few seconds I'm in the flash back, I feel all the emotions exactly as I did before when it was actually happening. For example I remember how much I felt like I could easily walk out my front door and in front of the first train to come along. I remember the point where I realised I couldn't carry on living how I was. I remember the heart break every time I looked at my nan in her hospital bed in her lounge, and how it felt to know that she was dying and there was nothing I could do.


I have to accept that these are important moments in my life, and that's why I remember them so strongly. Those moments are the reason I can look after myself again, and the reason I can function, keep toxic people away from me, and the reason my friends mean so much to me. They are how I can make a decision for myself. They're the reason that I'm going in to nursing, and the reason I have the compassion in my job that I do. I'm never going to forget them, but it would be nice to just remember them, not end up back in the moment every single time.

A Rant.

It's not fair for people to pick me up and drop me whenever they fancy.
No one else to talk to tonight? Oh I'll message Rosie. The next night my messages will go unanswered.
Need your confidence boosting? Oh I'll give Rosie a call. When you feel better, once again, my messages will go unanswered.
Want to piss someone off that I'm friends with? Let's get Rosie involved. Rope me in to your little game.
Make up with that person? Now we're friends I'll blame it all on Rosie. And then you'll get away with what you did, and I'll end up with no friends.
Need someone to make fun of because of their poor life choices? Is Rosie online? She'll do. How much of my life have I spent being ridiculed when I didn't have a job, or when everyone found out how weird my home life is, or before I got my mental health under control? I don't know, but it was enough that I now know to make the jokes before other people do.
Someone's upset you so you need to ring me up and scream abuse at me down the phone? Let me finish this pint and I'll give her a call. Why not, you always have done.


Everyone reading this is going to tell me how dramatic I'm being, how I've over exaggerated the entire thing, but the sad thing is that I haven't. I've got 3 friends in my life that have never done that to me, and those three friends will never understand how much love I have for them. The friends that pulled me back from the brink when everyone else was trying to push me off for their own entertainment. The people that tried to push me? They're all fine. They're swanning around with things in life that I could only ever dream of having. I'm still fighting a daily battle in my mind just to be able to hold a normal conversation, and to make sure I never end up back at my worst point. The point where I was sat in bed sobbing at 3am, searching the train times and the nearest train track, so I knew how much longer I had before I could walk out of the house and throw myself in front of one. There. That's how close I was to ending it all, just over a year ago.

I'm sorry I can't live my life like a normal person, but I'm not a normal person. I've spent my entire life trying to be a normal functioning human being until I couldn't take it anymore. For example, when I was 16-18 I was a normal, exciting person. In a world full of Margarita pizzas, I was a Pepperoni, nothing fancy but  there was a bit more life to me, I didn't care about fitting in, I had a Dora The Explorer backpack for gods sake. I had light in my eyes, and dreams and ambitions. Over the next few years, the light gradually dulled until it just wanted to turn off entirely. To get that light back on, I had to just become the lowly Margarita pizza. I have to stick to routines and medications to keep myself going. I have to surround myself with things, and people I know. I can't just do spontaneous things anymore. For example I have to do a bedtime routine every night to help me sleep because I know that getting enough sleep helps to keep me out of the previous depression and anxiety ridden phases of my life. I have to not see people or speak to people that I'd love too, because I need to look after myself now. I can't make attachments to people because I can't cope. I can't ever risk going back where I was in the past. If that means I have to stay a generic, boring, routine Margarita pizza, then so be it I guess.

Untitled.

It's my birthday on Thursday. I'm going to be 25. Officially in the latter twenties, and I'm not sure how I feel about it if I'm honest. In my mind, I'm neither responsible enough or tall enough to be 25. It's not going to be an enjoyable birthday. My nan was super in to birthdays. You'd go downstairs in the morning, and she'd emerge from her bedroom or the kitchen singing Happy Birthday To You. She'd always have your card out and ready on the dining table. Later on if there was a birthday cake, she'd sing Happy Birthday again, harmonizing as she sang. Even though she said she didn't care much for her own birthday, she always made sure to make a big deal over yours. I'm not just facing my first birthday without her, I'm facing my first birthday with no grandparents there at all, which has never happened before.

Last years birthday was a strange one too. I wasn't long post-breakdown, and I had just started my current job. I had the grand total of two friends at the time, but I wasn't ready to leave my house to see anyone. This year social wise was a bit better. I went for drinks with a good girl-friend of mine, and tomorrow I'm going for ice cream with another friend of mine.

As for my general life situation from last year, there's been serious changes. I'm officially a student and in over £3000 worth of debt because of that fact. I'm enrolled on an Access to Nursing course, and in November I'll be applying to universities. I'm comfortable in my job and I adore it. I've got some good friends.





Basically what I'm trying to say is I have some really deep emotional stuff to talk about, but I don't know how to start so I'm going to talk about superficial rubbish and hope that you all fall for it.

See you next time,
Rosie.

Oh well hey there.

I was reminded by someone recently of how much blogging can help. Especially a blog like this that no one reads, where I can just dump the contents of my brain all over it, and there's pretty much no repercussions. I put the link on Twitter, which only about 3 people I like actually use, and it's more or less guaranteed that no one will see it. 

Anyway. I had the best of intentions for this year I really did. I vaguely remember writing a post at the end of the year, bragging on and on about how well I was doing in life and how that was something I was going to carry on well in to 2017 as well. But instead, my entire 2017, my heart, emotions and everything in my life just came crashing down around me. On February 1st, at just about 7.30pm my Nan had a stroke, which in time would leave her with no use of her left side. During her time in hospital with the stroke it was discovered that she had end stage lung cancer with a spread to her spine. After a month in hospital, she came home to a nursing bed in the living room of our house, and carers looking after her during the day. All of a sudden my life became this chaos of looking after her, leaving the house in relays so she was never left alone, sitting by her bedside, making her cups of tea and helping her drink them (much to her frustration) and chasing down various carers and nurses during the day time (or the one time I waited for a nurse until nearly midnight.) On the 19th of March in the early hours of Sunday morning, she passed away relatively peacefully at home, where she had always wanted to be. I've been through the grieving process before, but this is something else entirely. I've never felt such loss and heartbreak as I did during the whole experience. My Nan was my buddy. I told her all the time that she was my best friend, her and my grandad were both like second sets of parents to me. The hardest day by all accounts was her funeral. All I could do the entire service was stare at her coffin and try to beam messages to her of how much I love her and how much I miss her.

One day when Nan was still in hospital I went down for an X-ray with her as she didn't want to go alone. Just me and her in the room we spoke about things that we never had done before, mainly, her telling me that I need to stand up for myself against everyone. I had forgotten this conversation, and I was probably using excuses for things far too much. I was reminded of this the other day by someone, the same person who reminded me that this blog existed actually. I'm pretty good now at being brave in some areas of my life thanks to my Nan. I've been accepted on to an Access To Nursing college course, to go for my nursing degree, in the hopes of becoming a palliative care nurse. I can even sometimes make my own phone calls to hairdressers or work etc. I still prefer to do things by written word, not spoken, but that's just me. 

However there are some aspects of my life where I know no bravery exists whatsoever. I sometimes want to sit here and say 'no. But why them/it/this situation?' 'Why haven't you spoken to me in 5 days, do you think this is good enough?' And then there's other times when I'm quite happy to blend in to the background and just keep unnoticed. To be fair, those blending in moments are probably the reason I have any friends left at all. 

I'm not really sure what the point behind this post was in all honesty. I think there were just things I needed to get out. 

Thank god no one reads this. 

Rosie. 

Goodbye 2016.

Well, 2016 was on hell of a year wasn't it, not just for me but everyone I know seems to have had quite a turbulent year in someway or another. Now, 2017 is a few hours away, and congratulations everyone, we survived it. Now it's time for the recap. I had too much to put in a Facebook status like other people were doing, so I used my blog instead. Here goes nothing.

How I started 2016-

• Deeply depressed, with my anxiety at an all time high. 
• In a supremely unhappy and manipulative relationship, but also completely clueless about it. 
• Unemployed, going no where fast and not being particularly bothered by it. 

January to April has been kindly blanked out by my brain. I have a few memories of that time but most of them involve tears, panic, arguments and general discontentment with my life. In April, my entire life turned upside down. My horrendous relationship ended, in a pretty brutal way on their part and a pathetic way on my part, and I had a breakdown. I know now it wasn't because of the relationship ending, the end of the relationship was the final crack in my already weak pretense of being a normal, happy person. I couldn't kid myself that I was okay anymore, and I couldn't kid other people that I was okay anymore either. I spent most of April sat in my house, crying, not eating, not talking and genuinely suicidal. 

Yep, 2016 will be known, in part, as the year I wanted to kill myself. And I am okay with admitting that. I know now I wasn't fully suicidal but I did want things to change, and that was the only way I saw it happening at the time. I know lots of people have a brilliant time talking about what happened to me, and mocking it to this day. But while you're all sat in the same place, with the same people, drinking too much and doing the same drugs you've been doing for years, I'm out there getting better, growing and learning. I'd rather be on my path than yours, any day. 

2016 taught me many things. The people I thought were my friends, weren't necessarily my friends. Not everyone will be nice to you because you are nice to them. Not everyone deserves your niceness. Sometimes you need to let yourself be broken for a while. But more importantly, everything is temporary. 

So, how am I ending 2016? 

• I have the best relationships with people right now that I have ever had. 
• My mental health problems are currently under control. 
• I have a job I love, working with people that I love, who have helped me in ways I don't think I can explain. 
• I have plans and ideas and a list of goals for 2017.  

Its hard not to just see this year as "The Year My Life Fell Apart". 

I have to make a conscious effort to remind myself that this was also;

"The Year I Lost My Unhealthy Relationships" 

"The Year I Got A Job" 

"The Year I Went To London And Didn't Have A Panic Attack" 

"The Year I Got To See My Best Friend For The First Time In Far Too Long" 

"The Year I Met People who Changed My Life" 

"The Year I Could Fit In To Size 10 Clothes Again."

"The Year I Learnt To Contour My nose."  

Consistancy.

One of the few things consistent about depression, is that it will come back. No matter how hard you try, it will come back. It will feel different every time it comes back. (Sometimes its not so bad, sometimes its worse, the reason is always different etc.) Either way, it will come back.

I've been doing pretty well lately. I finished my psycho-dynamic therapy and I'm just seeing how things go in my mind. I still take my daily antidepressant. Somethings that used to be impossible are now a part of my life I don't even worry about, when I'm in a really good mood I can even have a conversation with a stranger. However, sometimes it's like being on a roundabout, I can feel the depression coming back around again.

Could it be that Christmas is just around the corner? Christmas isn't my favourite time of year anyway. However seeing all these gorgeous night out and party clothes in the shops is like a big slap in the face reminder that through various reasons, I don't have any of my "going out-out" friends anymore. Could it be the end of my therapy finishing? Being emotionally alone for the first time in a long time (by alone I mean having no mental health professionals around me) is a scary idea, anything that comes up I have to deal with on my own for the first time in a while. Family? Friends? Love life? Work? The weather? Inanimate objects?
Anything? Any ideas? Anyone?...


I don't know what it is right now. However, it's never nice to be reminded that depression, anxiety, any mental health problems in general don't ever really leave you, they just have moments where they fade in to the background and you manage to co-exist together for a while. It's important to remember it won't ever go fully away, otherwise each time it returns it's just a massive punch in the face. But, it's even more important to remember the only other thing consistent about depression is that eventually, it will go away again. To repeat myself at the beginning of this post- it will go away again. No matter how hard you try, it will go away again.

Thank you.

Thank you for making me miserable. Thank you for making sure I ended up in such a dark, horrendous place that I had to do something about it. Thank you for making my life so unbearable, and making realise how obviously miserable I was. Without you being such a horrendous person, I would never have been a bad enough place to finally get the help I needed. I would never have wanted to kill myself, and I would never have taken such clear notice of all the reasons I had to stay alive. Thank you for all the times you let me down, making plans with me to never turn up. Thank you for telling me that I was a psycho, maybe I needed to realise that, I was in desperate need of mental health help after all. Thank you for telling me I couldn't do things, thank you for telling me I'd never amount to anything. Thank you for making me realise that I hate spending all day sat around doing nothing waiting for other people to wake up, turn up, or answer their phones. Thank you for making fun of my breakdown. Which one of us is sat there mocking someone who was mentally unwell and is now trying hard to help themselves, and which one of us is actually out there improving, growing, learning and healing? Thank you for ignoring me, with out all that time to myself I might never have learnt so much about myself, or had the time to work out who I am. 

Who am I though? I am Rosie. I am 24 years old. I am a night care assistant in a care home. During the days when I can, I go in to work and do laundry there. I have severe social anxiety, and episodes of depression. I take antidepressants every day. I like to eat lots and lots of biscuits, and I like to put too much sugar in my tea and coffee. I like to play Sims, I like to read books. I like to read Daily Mail online and read about the Kardashians. I love to watch a show called Dance Moms, to be honest I really like watching any reality TV. I would rather spend a night wrapped in my blanket, colouring in and watching TV than going on a night out that I am not going to enjoy. I like to go for coffee, shopping or meals with my friends. I like chasing my niece around the house making tiger noises for hours on end, as much as I complain about it. Most importantly, I have gained some self confidence that I didn't know I had, that I never thought I deserved to have. I have learnt to trust myself in making decisions. 

On a brighter note, here are some good thank you's. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for answering the phone to me. Thank you for still being my friend even though depression and anxiety took over and I wasn't able to come and see you for years on end. Thank you for taking me out for a drink in the evenings and singing Disney songs with me on the way home. Thank you for staying awake until 1am with me talking about superheros and Star Wars. Thank you for letting me come in to your bedroom at 6am and comforting me while I sobbed uncontrollably. Thank you for being 2 years old and teaching me to see the world through your eyes. Thank you for making me spend hours sat on the floor building towers of blocks and making teddy bears talk with different accents. Thank you for buying me my first Pumpkin Spice Latte. Thank you for letting me buy you your first Millie's Cookies. Thank you for making me realise it's possible to have feelings for someone again. Thank you for letting me stay at your house when I couldn't bear to be left alone, and truthfully, wasn't safe enough to be left alone. Thank you for taking a chance on me and giving me a job. Thank you for looking after me at work, showing me how to do things, telling me the right way to go about things. Thank you for being a fantastic group of people to work with, and thank you for having patience with me while I'm learning. Thank you for being the best family and friends that I could have ever had. 

Endings.

In my current therapy sessions, I've been asked to think about what happened during the years I spent doing nothing. I've been been told to concentrate on what it was that stopped me from doing anything from 2011-2016. You know, the big 5 year gap that where I was stuck in a cycle of doing nothing, getting dumped, crying and eating. Yeah I know, those were the days.

And I guess its a thought that must have seeped in my subconscious. At the time she asked me, I had no idea. And now I think I know what it was. I was scared. I was absolutely terrified of starting new relationships, friendships, hobbies or jobs etc and then just having them end in circumstances that were out of my control. I know no one likes endings, but I just don't cope well with them. When things end, I tend to fall apart. I was scared of these things ending, and not knowing what to do, and I was scared of my reaction when they ended.

Some how I managed to convince myself that I was protecting my mind from doing nothing for all that time. If I didn't do anything, nothing could end, so I couldn't get hurt or feel sad at all.

Still, it was no reason for everyone to sit and make fun of me for 5 years was it?

Looks like it's that time again, to get my own word out there.

So today I encountered my first piece of life drama for a while, and I have to admit that it turns out I am a little bit out of practice. I don't even react to it the same way I used to. Anyone who knows me knows that I used to adore an argument, I wouldn't even think twice about jumping in to one. I thrived off of drama, I didn't think twice about telling people what I thought of them. But when today's drama kicked off, I just didn't want to take part in it anymore. I let the other person rant away and go on and on about it all, and I just didn't have the energy to take part in it. Don't get me wrong, they are loving being able to get sympathy from people, but I'm just not like that anymore. And then I realised something else. (This is a whole train of thought here so bear with me.)

I've just let people shout and scream things at me when they want to. I let an ex boyfriend drunkely text me horrible things at 1am. I let another ex boyfriend regularly shout abuse at me down the phone for years. I've let friends have all kinds of arguments with me, and tell me off for things that I've only just realised that I didn't deserve. I've been letting myself believe that I am a God awful horrendous vile person and it's been suiting other people for me to believe that, and I'm not.

And now I know I'm not these things (for example, I know I'm not a liar, I know I'm a good person and I know I'm not full of myself) I don't need to listen to these things. I can just turn my phone off. I can block numbers. I can block social media profiles. I can make it stop. And that's what I'm going to do from now on. I'm no longer going to accept being told that I am a horrendous person by people who couldn't control me, or couldn't manipulate me to fit in the mold of how they wanted me in their lives. Like I worked out in counselling today (yes, I am still going) any form of relationship- parent, sibling, friend, partner, needs to be equal. There needs to be compromise. You can't say things like "I'll only be her friend if she does/doesn't do this" "I'll only date you if you do this, or don't do that" "if she does this I'll stop talking to her" that's not how it's going to work with me anymore.

Basically, I've finally realised that I don't "deserve" any of this. And that is going to upset a whole load of people, and quite frankly. I don't give a shit. So while all this is going on and being splashed all over Facebook and Twitter, and getting back to people I don't really want it to and you're all sat around talking about it and being horrible about me. Go ahead.

Summer 2016.

So it's September, which in my mind means it is autumn. I adore autumn. I am such a little autumn bug it's crazy. I'm not overly looking forward to the memories from last autumn/winter if I'm brutally honest, but I will cross that bridge when it comes to it. Anyway. I sat myself down in my room and turned my computer on, and all of a sudden it dawned on me that I should be so, so, so proud of myself. Bear in mind the place I was in about 6-7 months ago (quick reminder, I wanted to kill myself) and now... I'm in a totally different place. I've lived more this summer than I have done for years. My counselling earlier in the year showed me the importance of writing things down and charting the progress I'm making. So...

Rosie's List Of Progress This Summer. 
1. I got a job. I adore my job, everything about it (I'm still terrified of the stove in the kitchen, but I'm working on that one!) I work with lovely people as well.
2. I have my own money! I can buy myself things with out justifying it to other people, and I can buy other people things as well.
3. I've seen friends I haven't seen for a long, long time.
4. I bought a pair of trainers.
5. I started to drink coffee.
6. I braved two bus journeys on my own to see a friend I haven't seen for years.
7. I went to Colchester Zoo.
8. I left the house every day.
9. I reconnected with old friends I thought I would never hear from again.
10. I lost friends I never anticipated losing, and I don't really mind that much about it.
11. I bought my first crop top. (I now have far too many)
12. I started reading again.
13. I stopped drinking.
14. I stopped being embarrassed over the things I enjoy doing. I'm going to throw it out there now- I LIKE PLAYING SIMS 4. A LOT. It's my favourite pass time.
15. I completed a course of counselling, I'm about to start a new one, and I've already got a course of CBT planned for when I finish the next lot.

And that's it. I don't care about you guys, but I am proud of me.

Things I Still Can't Do.

The last few posts have been full of things that I've been moving on and improving on, because I've been lucky enough to have a good few weeks. However this weekend a few little things have set me back. I feel like because I thought I was doing so well, it's been quite a shock to suddenly not be doing well, maybe I was trying to fly before I could even take a few baby steps. I know I should probably be all like "it's okay to have a set back" or whatever, and it is. And you can remind people of that all you want. But you won't be able to take away that feeling of failure and despair having a set back gives you.

A list of things that I still can't do. 

1. I still can't relax and enjoy things like I used to. I'm very rarely able to just sit and do nothing without remembering things when I least want to. 

2. I still can't spend any longer in the bath or shower than I need to, for some reason baths and showers have always been my happy place, I use a nice bathbomb, wash my hair, and just relax. This last week, 99% of the time I've left the bath or shower nearly in tears. 

3. I still can't stop the flashbacks or the dreams about things that have happened. This is the most bizzare one. I don't want any form of relationship with the people I've lost at all, but for some reason during the last week I've had a lot of dreams about them, or sudden flash backs of how I was left to feel. 

4. I still struggle to speak about what happened, and by struggle I mean I can not talk about anything from The Break Down period of my life. Will I ever? I don't know. Probably not. I'ts not because the people mean anything to me now, it's more that I can't bear to remember what I did to myself back then. The empty hours, the mental and physical harm I caused to myself, just the general darkness of that time. 

5. I still can't understand how I feel about people. The people that were in my life once and the people that are in my life now. Family, friends, anyone. 

I don't really know fully where this post is going if I am totally honest with you. I've just got a lot in my little head. 

To whom it may concern, (and those it doesn't, because we all know you're going to see it anyway.)

It's been a while since I last wrote on here, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I've been feeling better? Maybe it's because I'm working now and I'd rather do other things than this. Maybe I've just been avoiding thinking about anything that happened a few months ago, at all.

I am still under going mental health treatment, which has taught me a lot about myself. I've been surrounding myself with the wrong people for years now, it turns out. People who were only happy with me as long as I wasn't happier than them, or people who wanted me to continue "failing" at life so they could carry on treating me as their good deed for the day. The other day I went through every form of communication I have and took every single one of these people off it, and where I could, I blocked them. Unfortunately I know that people will still find out things that I'm doing in my life. Not because they're really that interested, but just because that appears to be the way it is. People will always talk.

So here I am once again, to set the record straight, in my own words. Not that that matters. Certain people will still read this and take it in what ever way helps them to sleep at night.

So here it goes.
1. I currently have no anger towards any body. From things I'm learning about myself since, I only really feel a bit sorry for some people, or I don't really feel anything for them at all. And yep, by 'sorry for' I mean I have vast amounts of pity for certain people. Mainly the ones who could only boost their morale or make themselves feel better by putting me down, or by mocking my breakdown. It's kind of sick in a way, and I genuinely feel if my mental health state amused you, or has ever amused you in any way shape or form, then you need to look at your own mental health, because no one should seek pleasure from someone in that situation. If you ever sat around a table with people and laughed at the things I did, or even just didn't tell someone to stop laughing, then I'm afraid, you also need help too, it's not just me.

2. Yes, I did want to kill myself. There is no more I need to add that point. If you don't know anymore about that, then you never will.

3. I don't personally "blame" anyone. I feel there were just certain people and situations that contributed. What happened to me would have happened no matter what it was. The next big thing that happened would have sent me in to the same situation. I accept I am to blame too. Not in the way other people want me to blame myself, but in other ways, yes it was totally my own fault as well.



So yes. 4 months ago, I wanted to kill myself. I was at rock bottom. But thank you to all the people that put me there. Without you, I was never going to be able to get the mental health help that I needed, as in the NHS it is totally possible to be "not unwell enough" to qualify for treatment. I'm receiving the correct form of treatment that I need. Without the help of the people I've cut from my life I wouldn't be in the position I am in now, which I personally count as the best life position I have ever been in. Without that happening I wouldn't know how strong I actually am as a person.

Moving forwards.

I'm not sure when I last wrote here? I think it was about a month ago, things are changing so quickly in my mind at the moment that I don't really know how to cope with it all, so I decided to stop writing for a while. I felt like although the writing helped to an extent it was also allowing me to wallow in what had happened to me, and maybe it wasn't helping me move forward as much as it could be. I'll never be able to go back and read what I wrote when I was at my worst, I don't think I'll ever be ready to face those feelings again.

So what have I been up to? From a medical point of view, I am still on Fluoxetine once a day. I have a doctors appointment next week where I'm thinking of asking if I can be taken off of it now. The thought is a bit terrifying. What if I go off it and I stop making progress. What if its the chemicals in the tablets that are making me feel better, not myself and my own mind. How will I cope if I start to go backwards again? I've been having CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy) once a week for the last few months now, and I think that's moving on to something else this week as well, I'm not sure, I didn't fully understand what they said so I'm just trying to go with the flow on that one. But it's helped, I've learnt some really good techniques to help me keep rational and motivated.

- I've learnt to keep a diary. Obviously for things like appointments and work, but also for other things. I've been scheduling time for things like reading, watching a film, writing, anything that I enjoy doing. The more I carry on doing things that I enjoy the better I feel, the more motivated I am. If I set the schedule at the beginning of the week it feels harder to ignore, and I have to keep remembering that I feel better after I've done these things, and worse if I "give in to the mood".
- I've also learnt to write a list of the worst things that could happen before I do something I'm worrying about, then when I get home to go through the list and see what actually happened verses what I wrote down. Most things I wrote won't have happened, and if something did happen then I can use it as a learning curve. 
- It's okay to ask people for help, in anything you're doing. Literally, no matter what it is. Just ask someone. The most stupid question is the one that you don't ask. 

I'm also working now, originally I was just helping out in a care home but now I'm doing night caring. I'm still on my first learning shifts there but as far as I can tell at the moment I'm really enjoying it. I'll admit having my own money to spend on copious amounts of makeup isn't bad either. I get to use my own money to buy my niece a birthday present this week for the first time ever, and I'm really excited about that, the independence is a big morale boost. But so is the thought that I'm helping people as well. Someone told me once that caring isn't a nice job and they didn't want me to be doing it, which is just making me more determined to succeed.

Apparently I look brighter and happier, and sound better than I have since late last year. I haven't noticed myself but a lot of people have told me that, so I'm guessing it must be true.

I've made a lot of progress that I don't always see myself, so it helps to stop sometimes and write it down, to see the things that I've done otherwise they're easy to ignore, and it's easy to sit there and think that you haven't made any positive changes.

However, there are still things that aren't right. Sometimes I still wake up at 4am in tears over everything that happened, and how I felt at the time. I'm never going to forget the nights that I sat up in my bed just desperate for everything to end. And yes, by end I mean that I was suicidal. I'm sure I've said that here before. If not, then here it is. I was suicidal and I wanted to kill myself. I'm using my phone again properly, but after I'd deleted every single message on there that was sent before and during the break down and started on a clean slate again. I've still not seen any of my friends, apart from one. But there are a few I speak to on a daily basis that I would love to have the courage to meet up with and spend time with in person for the first time in a long time. There are feelings I'm having that I didn't think I would have again for a long time. I don't know when I'll be brave enough to act upon those feelings, but I'd like to be able to.

It's been a long old road to be honest and it's been ridiculously hard. I've lost a tonne of friends, through my fault and their fault but I've had to just accept that. The friends I still have are great people, and I care deeply about them. I've still got further to go on the road to recovering completely from what happened to me, and even during the short time I've been going to CBT I've already had a relapse with my anxiety, but that's okay, that is going to happen sometimes.


Anyway, I have to go and eat and get ready for a loooong night shift. I know no one looks at this anymore, and maybe I'll pop the link up somewhere for people to find at some point. But I just wanted to put this here while I had the time to stop and write it.

Rosie xx

Mind Wander 2.

So here I am. It's a Tuesday again. Like I've said before, my least favourite day of the week is a Tuesday. Everything bad that's happened to me has happened on a Tuesday. My grandad died on a Tuesday. He was buried on a Tuesday. The Breakdown started on a Tuesday. I spend most Tuesdays alone. They're just not good days for me. For a while I didn't have to spend them alone, but now I do. So here I am. Sat on my own, in my room, in pyjamas with pictures of cakes all over them, drinking water and watching TV.

I had my first counselling appointment last week. Turns out there is something wrong me, and it has a name. Weird to think that my personal inner demons have a title. For a while it made them seem more normal. But right now it doesn't. For future reference guys, I have severe social anxiety, causing a consistent low mood. I have to continue with my Fluoxetine for the foreseeable. But there is an action plan in place with my counselors etc to help me. I'm going to be having CBT to help me recognise triggers, and try to change aspects of my thoughts and behavior. But once again, it's not a cure. I'm still never going to be a normal person. Anxiety and "low mood" are going to plague me for the rest of my life. But one day maybe they won't be the big scary monsters they currently are. Maybe one day they'll just be a tiny little speck on the horizon of my future. I'll learn how to live with them, not to constantly fight against them.

Also different from the last time I wrote on here is that I have a job. I have an employer. I am an employee. I have my name and fingerprint set up on a little machine next to the sign in book. I have to do training. And I can't explain how much I am enjoying learning how to do something. When I went for my first day of training last week (on a Tuesday actually) I was terrified. I nearly didn't go. I fully expected to wake up that morning, refuse to go and stay in bed. But I didn't. Some how I managed to be brave enough to wake up at 8am, get dressed, eat, leave the house, walk to work, and stay there all day, in a place I didn't know, with people I didn't know. I should be incredibly proud of myself. And I am, sort of. I like that my day goes really quickly while I'm there. I like that no one knows much about me so no one treats me differently. I like that everyone there is older than me, so the topics of conversation are totally different from what I'm used to. I like having things to say to other people when I get home other than "today I played Sims and took my niece for a walk." I like that I will eventually have my own money and I'll be able to get my mum a nice birthday present this year. But I also still miss everything that I lost.

I normally like to try and make these as positive as I can. So where else have I improved? I've been wearing makeup and nice clothes again, where I can. I've not cried for a while. I've found tiny things that I enjoy again, like having a nice bath or watching some films, that kind of thing. I sleep nearly every night before 1am. For the last 3 years I have been awake until 2 or 3am every day.

Something still just doesn't feel right though. And I don't know when it will either.