A colossal waste of time (asking for help on the NHS)

Here lies one of the main reasons why I get tired of people telling me to “seek help”. If you’re one of those people (whether you mean well or not), I suggest you read this, because this is reality for me and for so many others….

As expected, going to my new GP and asking for help was a colossal waste of time. She was nice enough, but the most she could offer me was to be put on the waiting list for CBT, where I’d have had to wait at least 4-6 months. Not only that, but CBT was never effective for me and on the NHS, you only get 6 weeks of it. She wouldn’t change my medication, but wanted to up the dose of the one I’m already taking (Duloxetine), but I refused because higher dosages of Duloxetine caused excessive sweating and weren’t helping my depression or anxiety. I have to go back next week to discuss my chronic lower back pain and also the following week to discuss my medication with the clinical pharmacist, which will also be a waste of time because all they’ll suggest are alternate generic SSRI antidepressants or Propanolol for anxiety (this is what happened when I saw the clinical pharmacist in Runcorn). She told me if I needed trauma therapy because of my PTSD, I’d have to pay for it privately because there isn’t anything like that on the NHS anymore.

At least I was able to prove to the people I’m staying with that there isn’t any help and I gave them a sheet with the number for the local crisis team, not that they’ve ever been any use either. The lady I’m staying with started talking about terminally ill children and made a comment along the lines of how she couldn’t stand people who were physically fit, but chose to “off themselves”, which I think was directed at me, even though I’ve never told her that I wanted to kill myself. Her comment just added to the overall shitness of the day though and I retreated to my room not long after that and went to bed. It’s sad that many people in this day and age of information still choose not to try to understand the pain of mental illness. For some of us, death is far less unappealing than the continuity of a painful and pointless existence.

I don’t even know what ‘help’ I need anyway, besides being admitted to hospital on a long-term basis, where I’d be safe from myself and from the world outside and its many triggers. If those old mental institutions still existed today, I’d gladly be admitted into one, to spend the rest of my days locked up and drugged up enough to barely be conscious. I can’t cope and sooner or later, I’m going to take the permanent solution (the only solution) before I end up on the street or even a danger to others, because my hatred of the toxic human continues to fester inside me and grow.

People keep trying to dissuade me from going to Scotland at the end of the month, but why shouldn’t I? I felt less unsafe there and even if much of what I feel about Brexit England is in my head, it doesn’t make it any less real. I don’t choose to bounce from place to place, as I don’t have a fixed address. I wish I’d stayed put in NY, where I did have help, including weekly sessions with an understanding therapist who I trusted and could be almost completely honest with.

I’ve tried doing everything else within my power to protect my mental health and prevent further deterioration, but that hasn’t worked either. I eat right and I’ve cut right back on drinking. Up until a few months ago, I went on long bike rides, but I feel far too physically and mentally tired and debilitated to do that anymore (I have no idea why I feel this way now versus 6 months ago).

I’m going to save this blog entry to refer to as proof for the next time some idiot do-gooder tells me to “get help”; there is no help here, unless you can afford to pay for it privately (which I can’t). At least no one can say that I haven’t been trying. Even if I’d stayed in one place long enough, the most I’d have got is 6 weeks of CBT and a prescription for another useless SSRI, or to be told to go to a mindfulness group (fuck that). I will not call The Samaritans either, because all they do is ‘listen’ and that won’t help me. Just talking about it doesn’t help at all and I find it incredibly frustrating.

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Uglyasfuckface

The lady whose house I’m staying in suggested that I should look in the mirror and tell myself that I’m beautiful every day. It’s not the first time someone has suggested it, but it’s not something I can do. I can’t look at this reflection without experiencing a wave of dysphoria and dysmorphia. I have so many flaws and every time I look in the mirror, I notice at least 3 of them (my huge nose gets me every time).. When I looked in the mirror earlier this morning, I noticed how scarred my chin is from when I had electrolysis in 2017 to remove my ugly facial hair. The hair is mostly gone from that part of uglyface, but it’s left me with weird scarring that makes uglyface look even older than I actually am.

(this cartoon picture actually looks just like me)

Apart from going out to my doctor’s appointment later, I’m staying in my room today. They comment on my height a lot here and I was told that I should be a basketball player, which really upset me, especially as the person wouldn’t stop going on about it and my shoe size. I cooked a vegetarian spaghetti, but no one liked it and it left me feeling like a failure, because cooking was something I once enjoyed, but I can’t handle criticism. She wants me to help her with wallpapering her toilet and bathroom, but I don’t think I can. I have this shitty dyspraxia and I’d be terrified of dropping something and making a huge mess, or of further criticism. I really can’t deal with people at all at the moment, having been through 4 months of living with K and dealing with her bullshit and constantly being triggered by subjects that I’m not able to talk about. Mentally, I’m in a really bad place and my intrusive thoughts have nowhere to go, leaving me with depression, suicidal thoughts and I am forced to isolate in a stranger;s house.

I have people around, but I can’t talk to any of them, because they don’t understand and I don’t have the energy or the patience to keep trying to explain it all. I get that some people want to help, but when they try to relate to what I’m going through with cisgender or neurotypical eyes, it almost always ends badly, i.e. with me getting hurt or even triggered. I just don’t want to talk to anyone anymore, especially not about my problems. When people accidentally wound me, I can only internalize it and ruminate. I’ve realised that opening up to someone in person is a terrible idea.

I leave for Scotland in 2 weeks on Thursday, but I don’t even think I’m going to make it that far without another breakdown, or worse. I have so many wounds and people can’t seem to stop reopening or worsening those wounds, even if it’s accidental and not done with any malice or hidden intentions. I hate being ugly, I hate being tall, I hate my manly voice and I hate being transgender. I will never like what I see in the mirror, nor will I accept it.

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These dark, intrusive thoughts have nowhere to go

I hate it that I can’t be fully open with what I’m going through at the moment on this blog, because I know that at least 3 people who knew me in person are watching.  All I can say is that the thoughts are of dysphoria, hatred of my voice, my height and my appearance and the ever present envy of others.  I cannot distract myself from these thoughts and they are highly intrusive.  All roads lead to suicide or escaping to the wilderness where I’d be far removed from society, but the latter isn’t realistic or doable.  I’m not physically alone because I’m staying in someone’s house, but I can’t really talk to them about how I’m really feeling, so I might as well be alone.  I think they have people over, so I can’t even go downstairs because I feel far too ugly to be seen and my appearance and voice have already led to the ‘worst case scenario’.

I’m going down to London next week to meet my mum and stepmum (both are my dad’s ex-wives).  They have become friends, but this will be the first time they’ve met.  Even though I’m dreading the long journey and the return journey on a Saturday of all days, I need to go.  This may well be the last time I ever see either of them and I want to leave on good terms.  I know that my stepmum will probably accidentally deadname me and misgender me, but so much irreparable damage has been done to my gender identity that 6 years in, transition feels like a complete lost cause and I’ll make sure I’ve had a few drinks before I get there, so I’ll be numb to any accidental wounding.

I have an appointment with a new GP in my current location, but I know it will be a waste of time.  Mental health care in the United Kingdom is bad everywhere I’ve been and it’s never been worse in my lifetime.  The only reason I’m going through the motions of trying to get help again is to prove to the people I’m staying with that there really is no help.  Even if there was help, I’m too much of a lost cause and I’d rather be dead.

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“You have no friends and people actually dislike you” (but most of the time, I don’t care)

When someone recently told me “You have no friends and people actually dislike you”, it didn’t bother me as much as she probably thought it would. It’s true and I know it’s true. The thing is, most of the time, I don’t care. I do experience loneliness, but mostly when I’m around other people who are either extroverted or people I do not feel that I’m able to connect to and make myself heard (extroverted or not, this is 98% of people). Even if I like someone and even if they’re a good person, they still drain me. I need a lot of alone time and space and I can count on one hand the number of people throughout my life who have actually understood this. My former best friend was one of them, which is why it’s unfortunate that things went so horribly wrong between us.

Unlike most introverts though, I do not like being this way and I would rather change it, if I could. I can’t distract myself with hobbies like most introverts can; hobbies such as reading, watching anime or art. I know that prolonged isolation is also bad for me, but only because I’ve had to deal with too much of it in the past. I do need to socialise sometimes, but with with people on a similar wavelength who I can be myself with. When my social battery runs out (which can happen very quickly), I need to know that I can leave a situation without offending people or without them trying to guilt me into staying, as if there’s something wrong with me. I wish I was like them though; normal and able to start conversations, hold conversations and fit in. It’s not just about how I look so physically different (ugly), but I do not operate on the same frequency as most people and I’m tired of being judged.

I’ve lost all but one of my friendships except for my friend in the Netherlands and my introversion is to blame for some of those losses. People have accused me of being conceited, too quiet or they confuse my introversion and need for alone time as depression. As I’ve got older, my fuse has shrunk and I have little or no filter when my social battery runs out, so I will often just walk off or I will become irritable. I’m not here to please anyone and I’m not interested in impressing anyone. I will tell you what I think and this will be necessarily be what you want to hear. Sometimes I will just listen and not say anything much at all. I have a lot of problems, but outside of writing, I don’t like to discuss them with most people.

I feel that the world we live in today favours extroverts more than it did 15 years ago, particularly here in the UK, where introversion was largely seen as the norm, under the guise of the ‘British reserve’. The Americanisation of British society has changed that and for me, it’s a change for the worse. The people who get ahead here seem to be extroverts and as in the US, introversion is seen by many as something that needs to be ‘fixed’.

Lastly, I’ve always maintained that I would possibly choose to live, if I could find a way to remove myself from this toxic human society completely and live in the wilderness somewhere. Unfortunately, that’s far less realistic than suicide, as I wouldn’t last 2 seconds fending for myself in the wild. It’s been a fantasy of mine since I was a child though. The loneliness I feel living in this society would soon disappear if I were truly alone.

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Hurting (dysphoria, depression, spinal stenosis)

I hate the fact that I can’t be completely honest about why I’m feeling so fucking low at the moment, nor can I say where I’m currently staying. Most of my pain is dysphoria related and I can’t bring myself to go into it. I know there are people reading this blog who knew me in person and shouldn’t be reading it. They know what I look like, so if I were to go into it, I would picture those people nodding in agreement and perhaps even getting a kick out of it. Just know that I hate myself and I hate my ugly body and my disgustingly male voice. I’m finding it extremely difficult and draining to be social at all and my mind is fixated on wanting out. This blog was cathartic when it was only seen by people who hadn’t met me in person and therefore didn’t know how ugly I am.

What I can discuss is my chronic pain. I have lumbar spinal stenosis, which I’ve had since my early 20’s, but it’s been getting progressively worse over the past couple of years. It’s got to the point where I can’t sit or stand still for very long and it’s affecting my sleep, which I’m already lacking in, even without the pain. I feel perpetually tired and going out completely wipes me out, because my anxiety raises my adrenaline level while I’m in an almost permanent state of panic when in the outside world. Just 6 months ago, I cycled 50 miles in one day and regularly cycled 10-20 miles without breaking a sweat Now I can barely manage 3 miles without feeling wiped out and exhausted.

My mum found out that she needs a hip replacement, but she will probably have to wait months for it on the NHS I feel bad for her, because gardening is her life and it will impact her mobility for quite some time. It also adds fuel to the fire of “I do not want to get old”, because I can’t imagine dealing with the shit I’m dealing with now plus the pain and indignity of growing old alone, in a youth-centric society. I can understand how most people would want to live as long as possible, perhaps for their children and grandchildren. I’ll never have those things though, so what’s the point when I don’t even like life and most likely never will? I’m not even middle aged, but I feel like a 90 year old and I dont like it one bit, because I can’t even ride my bike without anxiety attacks and exhaustion getting the better of me every time.

My blood pressure, my blood itself, my heart and my lungs are all fine. I don’t drink anywhere near as much as I drank several months ago, yet I feel worse. I eat healthy and I don’t smoke cigarettes.

Fuck this.

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Going ‘public’ again…

Even though I know that K will probably continue to spy on this blog, I’m making it ‘public’ again as I’ve finally got away from her and hopefully, I will never hear from her ever again. I should not have to hide what I’m going through and feel restricted when it comes to the only ‘outlet’ I have for my dark thoughts and feelings. If you do care to read, the last three blog entries were written in private mode, but they should be there now.

Although I’m out of that four month hell, the damage has been done and I don’t think I’ll ever heal, as the wounds were already open wounds that I was bleeding out from. Even though I do want retribution, the only thing stopping me is the fact that I love the cats and I don’t want her to have her son taken away into care. If she contacts me again or I find out that she’s been reading this blog, that may change. I’m not a vindictive person, but she’s got away with it time and time again, not just with me but with others that she’s used and manipulated, some of whom turned nasty on her and did seek revenge. I know there are two other people reading this blog who shouldn’t be, but I have no malice towards them, nor did I ever really hate them for what happened, which I take much of the blame for.

As for K, she misunderstood my ‘envy of others’ and she’s one of the few people who have used it as a weapon against me. The common misconception is that I want everyone else to be miserable, but I don’t. I do not want anyone to suffer like I do, nor do I want to take anything away from anyone. I just want to be able to experience love, genuine friendship, stability and a sense of belonging like most people do. It’s difficult whenever I go out and see couples and families everywhere, but I don’t blame them for how I feel. I can’t even watch television anymore or look at social media for the same reasons.. We live in an era of narcissism and selfishness and life seems to love to ‘remind’ people like me of what we’re missing out on. When individuals do it though, it makes those feelings stronger, leaving me with permanent damage and distrust in people. It also reinforces my belief that bad people win in this world, because society seems to reward narcissism and treating others like shit to get ahead.

As of now, I’m mentally and physically exhausted. I tried to ride my bike for a few miles yesterday, but I barely managed 5 miles before I felt exhausted (this time last year I would often ride 25-30 miles in a day). I have no energy at all and I’m finding it a huge struggle to be sociable with the people I’m staying with, even though they are decent people.

If (by some miracle) I find stability and support in Scotland, I have to figure out how to let the right people in, while guarding myself against narcissists, saviours and users. I push people away because I can’t trust anyone, but sometimes I push the wrong people away (like Jane, my ex-girlfriend in Rochester). It doesn’t matter though, because I’m fucked. It’s only a matter of time before I end up sleeping rough and that’s a situation I will not survive and I will end it before it gets to that stage.

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K is history (with any luck)

Even though I’ve had to temporarily set this blog to ‘private’ after figuring out that K had been spying on it, I’m still extremely paranoid about what I share here.. I can’t say where I am (yet), but I escaped K and Runcorn yesterday, belongings, bike and all. I am now staying with someone who very kindly offered to put me up until I leave for Scotland at the end of the month. I have an actual room and food included for the same money that I was paying K and without any of the stress, constant demands and having someone rub their so-called happiness and relationship in my face to cause me pain. I miss K’s cats and the dog, but there are 3 cats here and I’ve bonded with them already. Socially, I’m struggling though. There are a lot of people in and out here and it’s very difficult at times.

I can’t promise that I’ll be okay (because I’m not), or that I’ll be around much longer. The time with K has damaged my mental health and has reinforced my belief that good things happen to bad people in this shitty era and narcissism seems to be seen as a positive trait and a trait for survival. I’m sick of it, to be honest.

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