Scars remind me that the past is real

Image from here

It's no secret that I have a history of self harm...I have evidence from my wrists to my shoulders.

I'm not ashamed of my scars....but I'm not proud of them either...contrary to popular belief.

Most of them I can tell you a brief story of how it got there...the superficial story anyway.

I often forget that they are actually there...I've lived with scars for so long that they are just part of me...much like a birthmark or freckle would be for someone else.  It always throws me off when people ask me what happened.  My stock standard answer is "It's a long story" aka mind your own fucking business.  Most of the time that works....others are just too nosy and I end up walking away.  

If I do tell you what happened...don't think that I will do any harm to you...that's why it's called SELF harm.  I have no intention on physically hurting anyone else except myself.

Self harm can be all consuming and is much like an addiction.  Before you know it, you are doing so much damage to yourself in one session that it repulses most people...you hardly blink an eye.

Self harm is not an attention seeking venture.  It's a way to make the inner turmoil into something physical. Physical problems are much easier to deal with.

If you or someone you know has the urge to self harm please call someone.  It can be a family member or a friend.  Alternatively if you don't feel comfortable talking to someone close to you, there are numerous help lines to call.

Lifeline: 13 11 14

Victoria Suicide Helpline: 1300 651 251

Kids Helpline: 1800 55 1800 (these guys were a huge amount of help to me as a teenager)

You can also call your local hospital and ask about a crisis line.

If you are in immediate danger please call 000 or get yourself or the person who is threatening self harm to your nearest Emergency Department.

Mummy Sins

I most likely commit 'mummy sins' every single day.

What's a mummy sin you ask?  It's one of those things that you do that 'the experts' would shudder and shake their head if they found out you were committing them.

What's my reaction to this? 

I DON'T GIVE A FLYING FUCK!

None of these so called 'sins' are hurting mini man and  they help us get through the day.

So just what are these so called sins you ask?

Well....sometimes we have sandwiches for dinner *gasps*

Mini Man doesn't have a shower every single day *gasps*

sometimes I have a nap when Mini Man doesn't *gasps*

The kicker is that he faces forwards while in his pram and has from day dot.  According to 'experts' this is cruel and selfish. *cue eye rolling*

What mummy sins do you commit? Do you give a flying fuck or do you feel guilty?

Self Sabotage be thy name

image from here

I've been doing this 'weight loss' thing for a while now.  I've been gaining and losing the same 5kgs for the last 5 months.

Every time I lose weight something in my head flicks and I eat like I'm eating my last supper.  Hello Self Sabotage. How nice to see you *cue sarcastic eye rolling*

Every time I go to the shop I fill my basket with fruit and vegetables and that yummy healthy stuff, telling myself that I don't need or want any junk food.  I'm sure my stomach must have a brain of its own, because before I know it I am putting a packet of Tim Tams in the basket and making my way to the counter.  Hello Self Sabotage.

I tell myself that I can exercise it off later.  I then proceed to sit on the couch and not do it...cursing myself the whole time and feeling like a lazy so and so.  Hello Self Sabotage.

I'm kicking the habit! I can do this! It will be different this time! I'm a new person.

GOODBYE SELF SABOTAGE!

It all starts here....

This week I signed up for the Michelle Bridges 12 Week Body Transformation.  It's quite possibly a eek what the fuck have I done moment.

In typical me fashion after I signed up I ate a large pizza and a packet of tim tams.  Hello self sabotage!  It's been hanging around in the wings for months.  I'm hoping that this program really gets me in the right headspace.  I need this! I'm sick of not liking what is in the mirror.  

This is what I am going to miss the most.  I am starting already with alternating no alcohol weekends.  I'm not cutting it out completely...maybe trying to cut down...we'll see how that goes.  

Isn't that nice

On Monday I went to my GP...

I've been seeing her for about three years and Mini Man has been seeing her since he was a mere 5 days old. I'd like to think we have a good rapport, even if she doesn't get my sarcasm.....

I mentioned that I was feeling quite run down lately.  Sleep wasn't fixing it and I was sick of it.  I am getting 8+ hours sleep at night and then catnapping for another hour in the mornings while Mini Man plays....yet still feeling like death warmed up.  It's affecting my day to day tasks as I constantly run late....something that drives me bonkers.

Her first response was to ask if I thought it was my depression was returning (had it left) and I responded yes with trepidation.  Many (un)professionals dismiss mental health clients physical symptoms as just part of their mental illness.  I know of a woman who was admitted to the psychiatric unit at the local hospital every time she presented to the emergency department...regardless of her ailment.

Her next words gave me hope...She wanted to send me for a blood test to make sure everything is ok.  Everything could be ok and the tiredness could be a manifestation of depression and other head stuff but it's nice to be taken seriously.  

Oh Wow....Just Wow

Today I was doing my daily blog stalk reading and came across this

I'm dumb founded....speechless.  What could possess someone to do this to their child.  

A child modelling is one thing but to me this borders on child porn.  I don't think it's art.  It would be art if it was a woman, who can legally consent to these provocative images being shown to the world and understand the full ramifications of it.

These clothes or poses aren't age appropriate or even close to it.  In Australia a child can't even be considered legally responsible for a crime until they reach 10 years of age (take a gander) so how can a child be deemed responsible enough to pose this way.

Ok I'll step down from my soap box now....as you were

Manflu

Mini Man is sick.  On Saturday night we took him to the hospital and after the last couple of days I have decided that he will never be a 'Manflu' sufferer.  He just has way. too.  much.  energy for anything like that.  

His high temp was what prompted us to make the trip to the dreaded emergency department.  Upon having his temp taken at the hospital it was discovered his temp was sitting at 39.2 (eek!) but everything else was fine.  Mini Man was petrified of the doctor.  He didn't even know that his name was 'Butt'. I'm sure if he did he wouldn't find him quite as scary.  Something tells me however that he overheard Major Man and I giggling about the doctors name as the next time his temp was taken (38.5) the doctor had to chase the giggling little school girl around the exam room.

It was this that made me decide that he will never suffer Manflu.  At one point a nurse came in and he was running around like a maniac and I said "I swear he really is sick".  She laughed....I'm still deciding whether she believed me or not.

So Mini Man is still under the weather and looks miserable but is still his cheeky boundless amounts of energy self.

The long time coming post

image from here

I haven't really talked about this.  Well not in great detail to many people.  I have glossed over the details.  Who really wants to admit stuff like this anyway? This post has been in the back of my mind since I started this blog.  I just needed to find the right words.  On Friday I got in one of my lovely moods where I am mostly inappropriately open about things in my past.  I posted on a friends link about treatment of mentally ill people in prisons.  It all snowballed from there and I ended up pouring my story out to this friend.  I’m glad I did because it gave me the push in the right direction I needed to start this post.  The post where I talk about why I was in jail and what happened. 

I was quite sick at the time and just wanted some sort of medication to kill myself with.  My mum had moved closer to me and while I am forever grateful for the upheaval she created in her life, I felt trapped and smothered. While part of me knew that I had bought it on myself and that I should be grateful, a much bigger part of me just wanted to give up and not care anymore.  

I had a volunteer job and while on my lunchbreak I walked into a chemist and demanded drugs with a knife. I had no intention of hurting anyone except myself I was just desperate. I couldn't take an overdose on over the counter stuff as I had developed a gag reflex to most of it. It was my 'local' chemist and everyone except the woman i threatened knew who I was and my history. She pressed the panic button and the police were there in 5 minutes. I got arrested and was denied bail. I was in prison while awaiting a court date for 2 months. It was the longest 2 months of my entire life (I’ve been pregnant remember and we all know how that time just flies :|). Thankfully I was allowed bail at my next hearing.

I was 19 at the time. It was definitely an eye opener. I don't have a great deal of trust for people in authority anymore. The uniformed police officers and chemist workers wanted for me to be hospitalised, but the head detective had other ideas...until he interviewed me and realised how much of a mess mentally I was. By then it was too late to turn back. I was refused bail on the basis that I was a danger to myself.  Mental Health interviewed me and deemed me mentally sound….The officers at the watch house rang them again multiple times to tell them they needed to reassess, they refused saying that I was sufficiently medicated and there was nothing more that they could do.  I must add that they did nothing to my medication between me taking a knife into a chemist with the intent of getting medication to kill myself and them finishing the initial assessment.  

This is why I have so little faith in the effectiveness of the public mental health system.  This is why I am so cynical.  This is why I am not a people person.

image from here

This is exactly what one of the cells in the jail I was in looked like.  See that nice silver dome on the roof at the back? That's a camera, yes they can see you pee.  At the opposite end to the toilet is the shower...yes they can also watch you shower too.  

See that light above the bed? That stays on 24 hours a day.  Could you imagine it? Try leaving your lamp on one night and seeing how easily you get to sleep.  All I can say is thank god for high doses of sleep meds.  

See the size of the room? You went into 'lockdown' from 6pm until 6-7am.  There was no getting out.  There was no talking to anyone else.  You could watch tv but it's easier to just sleep.  The guards had around 1.5 hours for lunch each day. Yep you guessed it we were locked down for that too.  Every Wednesday was training day.  This essentially meant that most of the jail was locked down for most of the day.  We even had to eat our lunch in our cells on that day.  

Next time you make a flippant comment about how being in prison is easy...just think about all that.  

Smart one dumb one

Today I had an appointment with my mental health case manager.  She had a power nap half way through.  No I am not even close to shitting you.  If it hadn't been at my house I would have considered walking out.  Chances are I wouldn't.  I don't always have the fire I should in life.  Today is one of those days.

My loss of fire is one of the things that worries me most.  I wonder if I am too medicated but then I remember that maybe a little too much fire is a bad thing.  Major man has commented a couple of times that I don't seem to have the same amount of pizzazz as I used to.  This is the first time that I have consistently been on sedatives since being with him.  I used to be on seroquel but didn't take it often enough to be any use.  Or when I did take it, it would knock me out for days at a time. I once slept through his son punching holes in the wall just outside his bedroom.  

I feel 'safe' taking all of the medication I do.  I have a lot of faith in medication....until I don't.  I swing from one train of thought to the other.  I either love it or hate it.  Welcome to the world of borderline.  Although I have started to wonder if it wasn't just a label  put on me because I was self harming and wasn't fitting into any other category.  I fit some of the symptoms now but not enough for a diagnosis.  While sometimes it's nice to be known for more than just a label sometimes it is also nice to know what the fuck is going on.  Having a name to put to it, sometimes just makes that seem easier.