No police for me please

Hi,

I think it’s save to say I haven’t been in the best place lately.
I was talking to my friend Saturday morning about how I was feeling. To me, it was nothing new. Nothing weird, I didn’t say anything different. Or suspicious. Nothing I might not have said the day before for instance. Of course, I talked to him about how miserable I was feeling, and how I didn’t really see how it could get any better, and to be frank; how I wanted to die.
But to be honest? I said that to him Friday aswell.

Suddenly he didn’t answer anymore. Although I could see he had been online since then (Whatsapp). Well ok, I figured he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I was a little hurt but I can understand it can be a burden to talk about heavy stuff like that. So I just let it go.

50 minutes later the doorbell rang.. I opened and TADAA, the police.

‘Somebody phoned us, saying they were worried about you’

Well just to paint a picture. My heart as racing, I was beyond scared. Brenda SCREAMED terror in my head ‘ABRAHAM!!’, I couldn’t stop shaking, I couldn’t even talk to the police. I just politely gave them my hand as a ‘Hi my name is……’ except, I couldn’t even say that. They asked me if they were allowed to come in. I couldn’t answer, all I could do was shake, and tears escaped from my eyes. I could notice one of them looking around and the other one focussing on my face (and my arm which is full of scars + a few fresh cuts). I was standing there in my pyjama’s, which means a tank top, and a short boxer pants. They were two huge men in uniform. Right in front of me. Very intimidating.

‘Can we go further?’
Brianna was still shaking and crying.
‘We’ll just go to the living room?’
Brianna was still shaking and looked at the living room.

I can’t even describe it. I know I texted my mum; Police is here. Get here now. < That I could do! Wow.
They started to ask me all kinds of questions. A part of me was still being smart, although Brenda was screaming, I knew… they’d put me in a cell if they take me.

One of the cops was real hard and not nice at all, he was very intimidating and scary to be honest. The other one was friendly actually, but unfortunately he didn’t say much. He did try to squeeze a sentence in when the other one was being so harsh and made me cry bad.

It all turned out ok.
My mum came, they left. I was ‘ok enough to not be taken away. I was not a danger to myself and/or others’.

But then I collapsed. I started crying like crazy. Shaking like crazy. I actually cried to my mum straight in her face saying ‘I need Abraham, mummy’.
I was sitting on the couch, she put a blanket over me and got me glass of water and my crisis medication.

Now, the day after…. I slept good thanks to the medication.
My house does not feel save. It’s like the police men are still sitting on the couch. Watching my every move. I don’t know what else to say except; my house isn’t save anymore right now.

xoxo
Brianna

Walking in circles

Hi,

I called the psychiatrist today because I’ve been taking oxazepam for quite a while now (daily). He suggested a type of heart medication, that lowers my heart rate and blood pressure, I wont be able to get scared because my heart just can’t beat faster. I’m sorry, but am I the only one who thinks this is freaky?
I already refused a lot of medication he suggested due to my overweight (I weigh more than 100 kg/15 stone/220 pounds). I really don’t want to gain more kilo’s ūüė¶ ! Food is so complicated for me. He doesn’t seem to get that.

I am getting really frustrated and hopeless. I feel everyone (Brandon, Polly, psychiatrist, myself) is trying to fix a little part of me, and in the end it’s just not working. Because I stumble on other things and I shove them forward to (for instance) Brandon, and then something comes up which I shove towards Polly (because it fits her workfield) etc.

Right now I am angry with the psychiatrist. I asked him for some time to think about it, though I already know I don’t want the heart medication. And I can feel myself in a ¬†‘fuck you/whatever’ mode. I don’t care anymore. WELL, fuck my sleep then. I’ll just cut my way through the night. And don’t they dare say anything about that! I’ll do it in my own way. THEY DON’T CARE ANYWAYS. Freaking heart medication. That’s ridiculous. I am not too difficult, in my opinion. I have antidepressants, antipsychotics,¬†antiepileptics etc. But I just don’t want anything influencing my heart.

My urge to self-harm is real big right now. I feel I’m not worth it. He told me he’d fax a recipe for oxazepam to my pharmacy (while I was thinking about the heart medication, so a recipe for 2 weeks maximum). He never did!!!!! It’s the 3rd time he told me he’d do something for me, but never did.

xoxo
Brianna

What if..

What if I’m just being a brat?
What if there’s nothing wrong with me?
What if I don’t have ptsd but am just being niminiy-piminy or hoity-toity? (ok I just laughed for a solid minute about those words)
What if I’m just spoiled?
What if I’m just lazy?
What if this is all in my head?
What if everyone else is right.. therapy won’t work if there’s nothing wrong?
What if I’m just spoiled and I want my own way?

I don’t know anymore. Why doesn’t this work? Why am I alone? Why am I not in school? Why don’t I have a job? Why does everything rely on so many people?
Why do I collapse with even the tiniest bit of pressure? Why do I break down every day in tears?

WHAT IF I’M JUST LAzY?

Why won’t stuff work? Why am I not going the normal path people go?

I canceled the meeting tomorrow. I was crying and suicidal about the whole thing, when I decided not to go, I felt a little bit better, like 1 problem was solved. But then again.. what will others think of me? That stupid girl who just cancels because she gets stressed of a train ride of 4 hours. Stupid thing.

I am so weird, I can be in tears and crying and yet when I found those weird words (I wrote above) I just started laughing hysterically :/
Does that mean that either of those 2 emotions are fake? Maybe the tears were fake? But how can something so heavy be fake? And I really laughed, never heard of those words before!

I don’t understand myself, I wish there was a psychologist, who knew my ins and out, and could exactly tell me ‘this is wrong & this is what we need to do’. Why does it not work like that? Nobody seems to really know me… I don’t even know me! I’m so different, everywhere. Even at home I am different (When I’m alone) there’s no real me. Never was… I was a tomboy, who liked barbies. I was a pervert who acted like a prude. I am loud but I am shy. I am hyper and yet so calm. I love and yet I reject. I scream and yet I whisper. I look but I don’t see. I feel but I don’t understand. I live but I sense death.

What the fuck is wrong with me, don’t fit in with anybody, how did this happen to me?¬†

When I was younger, I imagined my life so much more different.
I thought I’d be at the university studying law by now. With a lot of friends, a boyfriend, my own place + pets. I never thought I’d be in therapy, I never thought I needed medication, I never thought I’d still have suicidal thoughts.
(Just a side note, I really am not planning to do something about those thoughts. I guess my rational part does realize it’s not the option. But the thoughts keep coming back)


Eu estou tentando não preciso de você, mas ele está me destruindo

 

xoxo
Brianna

Shame

Hi..

I am a little ashamed for my explosion yesterday, or anyway the post before this one.
Not doing that great actually, today was ok. Ok as in I only cried once today.

Tomorrow I’m going to a meeting. I’m gonna see some people who have self harm issue’s as well.

I don’t even know what to type, I’m just down I guess. I don’t want to talk. At this point I am kinda wishing someone was sitting next to me on the couch, just having fun, watching the Voice of Holland and just laughing, commenting, sharing opinions, shouting because the person we/I/she/he like(s) isn’t going through and stuff like that.

Sometimes saying sorry doesn’t mean things will go back to the way they were, it just means you wish they did.
To be honest, I didn’t see this coming, this amount of pain, I can keep pretending it’s not here and I don’t miss anything at all. But the truth is, the only thing I’m sure of, is that it’s here and I do. I feel like a bitch, a nagging bitch, who made her own bed and should lie in it. But I never meant to make the bed like this, I really didn’t. The silence around me is lancinating, the emptiness I see makes my eyes tear, but knowing it will never be filled by YOU, makes me want to die.

I guess I’ll be okay, but maybe just not today?

xoxo
Brianna