Can't sleep

I can't work, I can't think, I can't do anything.

No sleep for me tonight probably.

Isolation

It's so incredibly isolating being anxious. At least I think it's the anxiety, and not just me. No one seems to truly understand me at all. Perhaps none of us can be understood? Perhaps it is human nature to be locked in our own little world, trapped inside our own consciousness.

Sometimes I wish people cared more. I feel so alone all the time, and I find myself dwelling on every little thing that has ever happened. OCD doesn't just control my life through compulsions, it keeps me in a state of continuous self-loathing where every negative comment, every negative thought I have ever experienced is constantly there in the back of my mind.

I just wish I had the reassurance that I wasn't such a horrible, messed up little girl. I wish someone could make me feel better about myself, but I don't think they can. I'm just something that people are used to, taken for granted. People may be used to my little habits, but they don't understand. How can they? How can anyone know what it is like to suffer with constant obsessions, how can they understand the *need* to be constantly reassured that everything is okay?

Those closest to you aren't immune to assumptions about mental health, aren't exempt from showing the same stigma. Whether it's a tired expression, or accusations of self pity and attention seeking, or just that look that reveals their lack of empathy.

And how much is the illness and how much is just me? It all comes back to this constant obsession that it might just be me, that there might be something wrong with me.

I just want to be looked after. I want to be wanted. I just want to know that I mean something and that I'm not just this burden that won't go away. I wish people would just contact me to see how I am, to let me know they are thinking about me, or just because they can. I want be special for a change.

But I'm just not. And people are fed up of me moaning. My head is so full of things that no one knows.

Waiting

The thing that annoys me more than anything about suffering from a mental health problem is the time it takes for every stage of the process:

Visit the doctor. Wait. Invite for referral appointment. Wait. Appointment. Wait. Second Appointment. Wait. Diagnosis. Wait. Treatment Plan. Wait. Treatment.

I understand the NHS has a lot of patients, many of whom will have serious and life threatening conditions that need a lot more time and money than those of us with depression, anxiety and other disorders, but I can't help but feel mental health isn't taken seriously. Anxiety has a massive impact on a person's life, and when you are so frightened you are redued to merely shaking, you shouldn't be expected to wait.

Two months has passed since I saw my doctor. I have no fixed diagnosis, no treatment plan, no number to phone in a crisis. Nothing. And the longer I wait, the more anxious I become that they are just going to forget. I hate living with this anxiety and yet even when I ask for help, nothing seems to happen.

Pissed Off and Fed up

I can't take this anymore, it's driving me mad. And everyone thinks it's my fault

And I hate revision.

I wish I would just disappear

Non mi piace l'italiano

Scrivo in l'italiano perche devo studiare per i essami. Non mi piace studiare l'italion e mi piacerrebe studiare il tedesco o solo la storia. Credo che l'italiano sia piu dificile di inglese. Sono stupido.

I am going to fail my exam. I am pancking immensely right now. Perche studiare l'italiano? Il tedesco e piu facile! I can't even put the accents in on here!

Grrrrrrrrr

Empty

I'm really struggling today. I need to pour my heart out but I do not have the right means to write at the moment.

Argh, this isn't helping.

I know I'm a hyperchondriac

...but I'm pretty certain it's not normal to be tachychardic on a regular basis. I'm actually beginning to get quite worried about my pulse rate, which is consistently above 100 and often closer to 120 bpm. Combined with my slightly lower than average blood pressure, and it doesn't quite seem normal.

So I googled the symptoms, which, as any hyperchondriac will tell you, is a very stupid thing to do. To be honest, that particular research experiment didn't cause too many worries, since the high pulse- low blood pressure combination can be practically anything. What it did do, however, was remind me of all the other little things that have felt vaguely abnormal in the last few months: the random lump in my neck, the strange palpitation-chest-pain-thing, the earchache that has never quite cleared up...the list goes on.

Sometimes, I wish I could just admit myself to hospital and have all the tests humanly possible. Maybe that would stop my underlying anxiousness. But then maybe that would anger the health service. It's a hard life fearing the power of your own body.

I just hope the pulse goes down.