I’m really struggling right now, I’ve reached the end of anything I can cope with.
It’s like because I’ve been doing better people have just stepped back from supporting me and now, after months of heading down hill, I can’t hold it together anymore.
I doubt anyone would be able to cope with whats been going on over the last few months very well, let alone me whos had a really had time coping for such a long time.
I feel like no one cares how hard and how horrible this is. I know everyones trying to encourage me to stand up and deal with stuff myself, but there comes a point where I’m like how much do you expect me to take?
I’m so tired of waiting on mum hand and foot, day in & day out. She wakes me up somedays to get her stuff. I can’t study, I can’t relax, I can’t watch a movie without being interupted.
I’m tired of trying to ignore my brothers out bursts, worrying about whether he’ll go out in public like this and hurt someone. Whether he’s going to break something in his room or hurt me.
I went to the new house on friday for a ‘group’ thing and they still don’t know when I’ll be able to move in. It’ll probably be a couple more weeks.
The new catchment still haven’t told us who I’m getting for a psych and said it may still be another 2 weeks before we know.
All of these uncertainties are getting to me, like I don’t know when thing are going to start getting easier. Not that they will fix everything, but the state of not knowing and being stuck in this house is killing me.
I’m hurting so much, I cried so long and hard last night. I don’t remember the last time I cried that hard.
I said to mum today; “the days that you’re feeling a bit better, you should get your own lunch. It can’t be good for you staying in your room all the time.” This was after I had to go get her lunch the second I sat down to study for an exam I have on tuesday. She kind of listened to me to start with, but this arvo she was like “I can’t come up there because I’m ‘leaking’ everywhere” She has a blister on her leg that poped and isn’t healing and keeps weaping. I told her to cover it but she came up with an excuse for that too.
I can’t take it anymore. I can’t even take care of myself, let alone her too. Nothing I do helps anymore. I’ve rented movies this week, but they don’t help, I’ve been trying to get out but my friends are studying for exams so there’s only a certain amount of stuff I can do. I’ve been trying to study, but I’m in so much pain that its next to impossible to try and put that first.
I’ve been trying to focus on organising the party, but most of the time I don’t even want to have it I feel so shit and its so hard trying to put together something that’s suppose to be positive when I feel so horrible. I’m running out of youtube videos to watch, no that there isn’t more, but I’ve watched almost everything interesting I can find.
Things that normally make me happy aren’t even lifting my mood a tiny bit. I brought 2 new dresses the other day and some new make up, but it’s all meaningless and stupid.
I’m trying so so hard. How much more do I have to take before I’m worth helping? Before someone does something?
I know there’s nothing anyone can do, but I just feel so so alone in this, I feel like I don’t have support.
I would really like to go to PARC right now but there’s so many issues coming up with trying to get in there.
I don’t know how to cope anymore. I don’t know how much more I can take.
I cut last week, they’re now healed and I’m really tempted to cut again.
It’s kinda my last option, you know.
Things are as bad as they’ve ever been.
I feel like I really need support right now, but no one cares because I’ve been doing better.
Shouldn’t that mean I deserve help now? because I’ve held it together as long and as well as I could. I’ve stood up and done this myself. Now I really really need help and there’s no one there.
I can’t do this anymore!!!!!
Great.. I’m crying again.
It’s been over two months since I left lighthouse, I was going down hill then. Two months of shit at home, a million huge changes in my life, facing not having anywhere to live and still trying to keep up with uni. I really feel like even someone with their shit together and ideal coping skills couldn’t have held it together this long. So why is everyone expecting me to still be fine & dandy?
I’m so exhausted, possible more so than I’ve ever been.
I need some relief. I can’t go any longer.
It’s killing me that tomorrow is a public holiday and I can’t talk to lisa because my insides hurt so freakin much. I’m in agony.
I can’t even discribe how much it hurts. I’m at the end of my rope. I can’t fight this anymore.
Train, hanging, insulin OD, electricution, jumping. I think they’re my main options right now.
I want train coz it’s easy, but I don’t want to stuff up the trainline for however long it is to clean up my body and destroy the train drivers life.
I want to jump but I don’t know how accessable high enough roof tops are and there’s aren’t any shear drops off cliffs around here.
I don’t want to do it in the new house nor in my mums house so bathtub electricution is pretty much out.
Hanging is difficult, the whole ‘survival instinct’ takes over if you don’t break your neck which I don’t think I can do.
Insulin OD looks like the best bet, but I don’t know if mum will notice it missing and I don’t know how much I need and I don’t know how long it’ll take. There’s really not mum info online about it because its a reistricted drug I guess. Brain damage is a very real threat, but it’s a threat with most suicide attempts.
I think hanging would be the easiest if I trusted myself to go through with it. Another problem with insulin is I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get an insulin pen out of mums cupboard… Actually, yes I can. She’s going out between now and then. Go out into the middle of the bush (there’s plenty around here) and do that. I think it’s still my best bet.
This sounds fucked talking about it. I don’t know why I am. Trying to get it sorted in my head. I don’t know. Part of me wants someone to know. Not so they can stop me, I guess maybe just so that I feel less alone with my demons till the day arrives.
So I’ve taken care of my mum and brother more of my life than anyone took care of me. From the time mum started working again, things went down hill. I was probably in grade 3, so 9y/o ish? Mum didn’t cook for us, we ate frozen meals from the supermarket that we heated in the oven. We would be at after school (OSH) care from 3:30 to 6pm and holiday care from the time they opened in the morning till 6pm while mum went to work. Single mum, you know. She did that best she could. How was she to know how hellish OSHcare and holiday care was.
Mums health has deterierated over my life. But even before things were bad, she would make us do things to take care of her. Get her this, do that for her. It wasn’t like she couldn’t do it for her self, it was just easier to call us at the other end of the house to do it for her.
The only time she did anything was to scream & shout at us for not doing enough. You knew if she got the vacume cleaner out, you were in trouble.
Because my brother has his disabilities I had to care for him too, do a lot of the stuff around the house, make sure kids weren’t being horrible or making him do bad things. I did the shopping a lot of the time, I heated up our meals, I did the cleaning and stuff, I made my own lunches from about the time mum started working as well.
As mums stuff got worse, as too did the demands. We had to bring her everything, do everything. Even if I was in my room doing homework in high school or studying, I’d still get asked to this, that and the other thing.
A week when I was in about year 9. Mum was in hospital and I was home taking care of my brother and myself alone. It wasn’t the end of the world, I had taken care of us for years and the previous year mum had spent most of her time at this guys house, so I had to take care of us then too. But it was still hard, being home alone.
It’s so hard being back here, having these responsiblities. Taking care of my own mother. I wouldn’t have such a big issue doing it now because I know she’s really sick. It’s just that even when she was able to do it, she didn’t. And now I told her, the days that she is feeling a bit better she should do it herself because it’s not good for her to stay in her room all the time, she makes up excuses why she can’t.
I feel bad complaining or getting my brother to do anything. I mean, when I’m not living here, he has to do all of it, all of the time. WTF? my disabled brother has to take care of my sick mum? This is fucked up situation. Mum needs to get more help and my brother needs somewhere else to live. But you know, she won’t let that happen. She’ll let us kill ourselves taking care of her but it hurts her pride too much to ask someone else to help her.
I’m just really angry right now. Probably why I’m sharing all this.
There is a word for what I was, a young carer. I thought I was a bad person for finding it hard, turns out I wasn’t alone and lots of young people have to do it. I didn’t know. I didn’t have any support. At least other kids are appriciated for what they do, in my situation, I always got treated like an ungreatful child.
It kinda sucks with the psych I have at the moment, if I talk about self harming, she takes the blade off me or tell someone so they can. I’m almost 21, so it’s not like I’m underage and thats duty of care stuff. I don’t see it as a ‘duty of care’ thing, particularly at my age. But she does. It kinda sucks though, I haven’t cut in quite a few months and I can’t share with her that I gave in, that things got that bad. It’s really hard for me. IDK. I know she has her reasons, she doesn’t think she’s doing her job if she just turns a blind eye to me hurting myself. She’s like I wouldn’t if someone else was hurting you, just because you’re hurting you doesn’t change that. I just feel like its something society makes you feel shameful of and something we have to hide everyday of our lives, my psych should be someone I can talk to about it with.
Anyways, In other news. She’s making some calls to see if I can go to PARC for a few days, I need a break from life, I’m not coping and I might not move into the new place for a few more weeks. Apparently it might also take longer until I’m transferred to the new catchment and get a new psych, originally they said 2 weeks, now they’re saying maybe 4 weeks. Blah! I’m so scared, I just want to know who I’m gonna have and if they’re okay.
Okay, so I gave in & made a couple of cuts on my arm & leg tonight but this made me laugh so I thought I’d share it. Just fyi, these are NOT bad cuts at all very shallow & superficial.
I tried to put a bandaid on too soon & it was leaking out the side. But not just that but through the bandaid! There’s drops forming on the surface! Haha. You get what you pay for… Coles (supermarket) bandaids.
I hate it when you go to the effort of sending a kind, heartfelt ask to someone who is having a hard time and they don’t say anything. It’s not like I want them to be like OMG thanks. But I just want to know they got it, you know?
so, I thought I’d tell you about my dad.Coz you know, dads like to fuck up their kids right? IDK. that’s my experience.
When we were little dad wasn’t around much, he travelled with work a lot. He would travel often and be away for months at a time. He’d always bring us back presents though, I still have a lot of the different things he brought back. Anyways. I loved my dad. But when my parents divorsed at a young age him not being around didn’t effect me a whole lot because clearly he wasn’t arond much anyway.
Well, the reason he left was because he cheated on mum and got the woman pregnant. He left us for her and moved to Singapore for work. I hated that I never saw him and would love it when he came home. I would get all dressed up and be so excited to see him. But one night, I was wearing my fave dress I got for christmas and before he even said hello when we picked him up he said to me something to affect of “why is a fat girl like you wearing such a pretty dress”. I cried for a long time, I didn’t want to have dinner with him anymore. It wasn’t the first time he commented on my weight. Furthermore, that same night. My brother was clapping (one of the things he does with his autisim), dad almost stabbed him in the hand with a stake knife because he wouldn’t be quiet. I was so scared. I’ve hated him since that night. It was the last thing I could take. The rose coloured glasses came of that night. I stopped talking to him for like a year after that until mum made me talk to him, telling me he wouldn’t pay child support if I didn’t.
I still hate that man, he treats my little sister the same and I’m terrorfied she’s going to turn out like me. I saw him a couple of times a year, she sees him everyday.
Looking back on photos of me as a child, I really wasn’t fat. I may at times have been a bit bigger than my friends but definately not fat. Him and the bullies in my life made me believe with every ounce of me that I was huge and disgusting. So you know what happened? I got an eating disorder, then when I over came that, I did get fat.
You know I hate him for the way he treated me and my brother. I hate that he cheated because he couldn’t deal with my brothers disabilities and 99% of him really is a fucking ass hole but he could be worse. He left us with the house, no fuss. He always paid child support. So although he is emotionally the worst man to be a father, he still did the physical thing.
Holding it together till ‘the day’ is proving to be harder than I thought. I’m trying to do all the things I need to do, but I am so exhausted and so emotional right now. I feel like shit. I don’t want to do this birthday anymore. It’s more trouble than it’s worth. I just want that day to come so I can be free.