I cut myself today (Trigger Warning: Self Harm)

I’ve never done that before.

It all started with a radio news report about 80 refugee children coming over to the UK from Calais. It actually started way before this we’ve had the same argument since before the EU referendum, but todays event started off this way. My mother remarked that we should send them back. Because there is no room. I said we’re not doing nearly enough and that we do have the room, but are not building enough new housing in this country, and not making the most of the housing we do have.

If there was zero empty properties in the uk, she may have a point, if there was zero flat land to build on she may have a point. But none of those things are true.

We were on our way back from having a meal out together. There was me, my mother, a friend and two siblings. The friend also holds the same anti immigration attitudes and was the one driving. MY mother was the only one of us who had a key to our house and wanted to stop at the friends bungalow before heading back to the house. I wanted to go straight home because of the argument we had in the car about how to treat the immigrants, and she would not let me have her key so I could let myself into the house.

I refused to enter the bungalow anyway. Asked her to let me have the key please, and she twice refused.

So. I walked away, called her a bitch under my breath as I walked away towards the house, with no key, and carrying a bag of shopping that we did that day. Nothing much in the bag, but there happened to be a glass in there. I was very upset at this point. I took the glass out of the bag and smashed it against the wall. With one of the shards of the shattered glass I ran it over my wrist a couple of times. 5 times to be exact. Not enough to cut deeply, but I did break the skin. I felt better in the moment that I was cutting. I felt much worse though after I saw what I had done.

My sister came round after a while with the key, I think it was about 15 minutes after I cut. I didn’t want to go inside until I had permission to do so. My mother shut me out of the house, she has never deliberately done that to me before. So I tried to call her using my mobile phone, and she just hung up the call. I asked my sister to call using her phone instead and my mother spoke to me, then. She said I was just upset for losing an argument, that I was welcome in the bungalow, and should not have been so antisocial, the irony, of her wanting to shut out people who need help, and then calling me antisocial. I told her on the phone that it wasn’t because I lost an argument that I was upset, I said I was pissed off because she is a racist bitch.

She said she hopes that I get a flat as soon as possible because she is fed up of all this. She’s not the only one who is fed up. I cannot understand how, or when she became so full of spite that she would rather a refugee starves to death, than we build a house in this country to give them a home.

I will apologise for calling her a bitch. I’ll try to explain that I’m very passionate about this subject and that I believe all people deserve a home, and to live regardless of whether they were born in this country or not. And things got out of hand. I’ll try to live peacefully with her until I do get the flat I need so I can move out and be free from this poisonous atmosphere, after that I will probably never want to see her again.

Heightened Dysphoria Day

There’s no beating around the bush with this one, all day I’ve felt like shit. This started at about 3a.m. where I hadn’t got any sleep yet since the previous night. I felt my legs and they were disgusting. My chin and upper lip had much too much facial hair too, and I spent the better part of an hour just shaving, first my face, then my legs.

I did feel better after my legs were nice and smooth again, and my face was clean-shaven again, but the lack of breasts also made me feel extremely unhappy with myself, I did manage to get a little sleep, I don’t know what time it was I got to sleep but when I woke again it was 9 am and I was feeling really awful again. I spent practically the entire morning in bed just watching T.V. shows on my laptop.

A friend came round in the early afternoon and let us know word is now gotten out about me. Someone who saw me dressed in one of my skirts was laughing and joking about it to everyone in the estate apparently. So It’s out, it’s public, and I am fearful for my safety. I have had problems in this neighbourhood before because some people thought I was Gay. I’ll try to ignore the idiots around here and hope I get a place of my own soon. I’m more concerned for my little brother though. I have tried to prepare him a little of what to expect and told him I want him to act calmly and indifferently even if someone uses words that I will not write here in this blog, but I said them once to him so that they won’t be as big a shock to him when he hears them from other people, and that he’ll know what they mean. I know this won’t be enough to stop the comments from causing hurt, but I hope they help.

I feel awful. I hate my body right now, hate this town, and almost everyone in it, not too fond of the entire country if I’m honest. But I’m stuck. No money, No Job, and still just waiting for things. Waiting for the psychiatrist appointment, waiting in the queue to be rehoused, waiting for hormones, dying to be who I was meant to be, and crying when I know no-one is around to see my breakdowns. FUCK!

History of Severe Depression and Anxiety

I was feeling really low this weekend. Even though I had a song of mine recorded on Friday and I felt pretty good about how it turned out, yesterday I felt the lowest that I have felt for several years. I should have tried getting help the first time I felt this way but until now I have always tried to fight through these low points and just get on with it, but I feel like I cannot manage without getting help anymore.

I booked in an appointment to see my GP. Told her my symptoms and for how long I’ve been experiencing these things on and off over the years. I rated severe on both the Depression and Anxiety scale and have been prescribed with medication called Sertaline. I have to take 1 capsule a day, for at least a month and see how things go. I didn’t want to resort to medication, but I will try these tablets and see if they help.

The earliest I can remember feeling this way I was still in school. I was unhappy at home and at school. My father was an alcoholic and a smoker, and because most of the money coming into our house was spent on his habits there was very little for anything else, like, food, and clothing, and soap. So I would be hungry for most of the time, in cheap clothes that were unwashed for most of the time. Which in turn led to a lot of bullying at school.

I tried taking my own life twice. Once I just laid myself down in a cold river hoping I would go to sleep and hypothermia would set in and I wouldn’t wake up again. Another occasion I wrapped my neck with wool, in ever tighter circles hoping to suffocate myself. The discomfort of these attempts stopped me from going through with them fully. Although the lying down in a river one was pretty stupid. Looking back I’m sure if I had stayed there someone would have seen me well before any permanent damage was done.

I went on to university for the first time though straight after finishing school with three A level qualifications. I studied for a year but I wasn’t happy in university. I was drinking a lot, and from that I quickly found myself in debt way over my head and malnourished. My father died during this time and it was a wake up call for me. His alcoholism killed him, and if something like that hadn’t happened it could easily have destroyed me too.

I’m not an Alcoholic. I was spared that curse, I can have one drink without feeling like I want 10 more. And I have been completely sober for a couple of months now and I don’t miss the alcohol. After my father died I moved back in with my mum, dropping out of university and started looking for employment.

The first long-term employment I managed to get was in tele-sales. A completely soul-destroying job. Some people say any job is better than no job. I disagree. I would have been better off mentally if I never worked in tele-sales. But I also would not have met my fist real girlfriend who has now become one of my best friends. I found myself unable to be happy though when I was with her. I felt like a failure because I wanted to make her happy but felt like I was failing.

A long period of unemployment came after that. I had very little marketable skills coming from my experience in tele-sales work. Every day seemed pointless, dull and I would often sleep for most of the day. Often not waking up until the afternoon and going to bed early too.

The depression subsided after I landed a really nice job in a Civil engineering office, doing Data entry and Administration mostly. The work I was doing wasn’t really exciting, but the work of the whole team was much more rewarding. Maintaining roads and bridges, and all the structures associated with those things, and even planning new layouts. It was really great. It wasn’t meant to last though. When the Icelandic banks crashed and we went into a recession in this country the office was forced to make cutbacks to their staff, and I was one of the first to go.

I managed to get 1 other temporary role in Administration, but that never progressed to a permanent position. I was unemployed for another year before it was suggested I should try going back to university.

I decided to follow that advice and spent three years in higher education. The first year went by quite smoothly. In the second year though I began experiencing problems again. And again I decided instead of getting help I would try to tough it out and just get through it. That didn’t work out very well for me though because I failed most of my exams and had to redo the year. The resit of the year didn’t go any better than before, and when it came round to the exams again a second time around I couldn’t even sit down to do them because the stress and anxiety hit me so hard. I ended up dropping out of University again in May this year, with only 1 year completed out of the 3 year course. I’m trying to look optimistically into the future but I cannot see a way out of this hole I find myself in right now.

I’m not going to attempt suicide again. I’ve thought about self harm, cutting, and burning, but what stops me is knowing what effect it will have on my family. I hope the medication I’ve been given will help. I’m hoping even more that I will get the help I need to deal with my Gender Dysphoria and that things will move forward when I meet with the psychiatrist in September. I need something to go right, because I am on the verge of giving up completely, just packing up a backpack with some clothes, filling my handbag with soap, toothpaste and cosmetics, slinging my guitar over my shoulder and just walking right out the front door never to return.