I’m just so done with this shit. I’m so tired, make it all go away.





Eating disorder

Make it all go away. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to wipe the slate clean and be neurotypical. No disorders. To trauma. No pain. Whatever is left over will just be Me. My authentic self. Whoever that is. I don’t know, do you? You can’t know because you’ve never met her. You’ve never seen the girl behind the mask.

Except there is no girl. Just a mask. Layers upon layers of learned maladaptive coping skills and personas. All contrived to match society. Which is ever changing. Adapting. Evolving. Along with it, the mask. But the confusion born of inconsistency builds up and builds up.

What’s the point?


Mental Health Awareness Day 2018

Hey guys, as it’s mental health awareness day I thought I’d get back on here, sorry it’s been a while! I’ve not been able to write recently; I’ve been stuck in a void of nothing for a while. Oh the joys of BPD.

I’ve seen so many posts from friends, family, social media groups about mental health today. All with very similar messages: end the stigma, it’s okay to not be okay and communicate. It’s amazing to see so much love and understanding.

But we do need more of that. We still need to end the stigma.

The only way we can do that is to spread more awareness. And hope that it’s well received by those who truly need to hear it. And I don’t just mean those who are struggling. I mean the ignorant ones. The people in denial. The people who judge because they don’t understand. You lot need to wake up. You need to understand that mental health disorders are very real and painful. And bloody scary! They hurt people in so many ways. They are a cause of death in some cases. Not a choice. There is absolutely nothing glamorous about having depression or anxiety and I wish so badly that I didn’t have this awful illness that interferes with every aspect of my life. I fantasise about being healthy. Maybe I’d have a successful career, more money, maybe I’d be able to travel the world and learn to drive. Maybe I’d be better with people. Maybe I’d be able to write that book that I had to stop writing because it was too big a trigger… maybe my life would be better. But that isn’t the reality I live with and I have to come to terms with that. I have to mourn the loss of a life I know I will never have. But this is who I am and I love me. I am proud and satisfied with what I do have. And I hope that people who are a suffering in silence get to that stage too. You deserve it. And you will get there.

It’s also so very important to share your feelings and experiences. Not just because it’s good to talk, to let it all out. But because someone might really need to hear it. Earlier this year I made a fleeting comment to a neighbour about my personality disorder, which was shocking because apparently I seem really “calm and serene” (ahahahahaha lol okay sure) but it began a very beautiful friendship as she was then able to open up to me about how she was feeling. I really needed to know I wasn’t alone and I think she did too. This is why it’s so important to be brave and honest. Take off that mask, accept your beautiful self and say what you feel. If it isn’t received well…they’re not your tribe, let them go. But if you do, you can not only creat a beautiful friendship, you can help someone too.

It isn’t always easy to say the truth out loud. Sometimes I conceal it because it gives me a little break from reality. Right in that moment, I’m just a neurotypical human. No baggage. Just normal. It’s a welcome break to mask. And honestly, sometimes very necessary. But not for too long. You know when you take the mask off again it’ll all come flooding back.

  • When you find a moment where you can say it, be brave. Say it.
    • I am depressed
      I am anxious
      I’m having panic attacks everyday
      I made myself sick this morning
      I cut
      My moods are so erratic I don’t know how I feel
      I feel nothing
      I am alone
      I hurt someone I love because I was scared
      I sabotage all of my relationships
      I hate me
      I don’t want to be here
      I need help
  • You can say it. I believe in you.
  • 52 Reasons

    Ever feel like everything is an illusion? A false hope? Everything felt so right and so perfect and then it all changed. Almost over night. I don’t understand. It’s not possible. It can’t be that simple. There must be more. Some other reason I have not seen. It’s my fault. Undoubtedly. Whatever it was that I should have seen; I over looked. I was blind.

    Did Destiny bring us here? Is there some lesson I should be learning? I don’t know. Show me the way. Give me an answer. I want to fix it but I don’t know how. Tell me this is not the end. I can’t fill the space. Not yet. It might not be the end. Just in case. I’ll wait.

    The betrayal. The loss. The emptiness. The lack of consideration. Nonsensical. It must have all been a facade. A tool. I’ll be better off. You’ll be sorry. You’ll be alone and pining. You’ve shown your true colours and made me a fool. I hate you.

    I don’t want this to end. The pain is too much. I want things back the way they were. Tell me how to fix it. I’ll do anything to fix it. I’ll be be whoever you want me to be. I’ll go back in time and make things right. I’ll compromise. Anything. Anything to have you back.

    Make this pain end. I can’t carry on. I feel nothing and everything. The misery. The self loathing. How have I not cried my last tears? I hate me. Why do I ruin everything I touch. Just leave me be. You’re better off without me.

    I don’t know where to go from here. But I know I must go. Forwards is the only way, they say. I don’t know what awaits me but I know I have to go. They tell me it will get better. They tell me I am strong. I don’t believe them. But I know I must go.


    I want to talk about anxiety. Anxiety is a bitch! For me it’s the one thing that really interferes with my life. I hate it. It’s stupid and unnecessary!

    For those of you who don’t know of the struggle… I am so happy for you. I’m glad you don’t get it because that means you have never had to experience it.

    For those of you who do understand, keep going. Don’t give up. But also don’t beat yourself up (figuratively) if you can’t do life today. Give yourself time to heal.

    Anxiety is like living in a constant state of emergency. It’s chest pain, headaches. Body aches due to all the tension. I literally get the point where my legs are shaking because I’ve been tensing them for so long without realising. Anxiety is shutdown. Anxiety is blind panic like there’s an apocalypse outside when you’ve actually just misplaced your handbag lip balm. Anxiety is cancelling on your friends. Letting people down. Anxiety is isolation. Avoidance. It is dread, worry, pain, fear. Sometimes over important things, sometimes mundane. But it never feels mundane. It feels earth shattering. And trust me, we know when it’s ridiculous. And it’s just as frustrating to live with that than it is to observe it. I always make a point of explaining to people that however annoying or frustrating it is for you to deal with a friend or loved one who suffers from anxiety, that annoyance you feel is nothing compared to the pain and guilt of having this stupid illness trapped inside you like a virus.

    So as I said, anxiety is a bitch.

    Who am I?

    So, a little introduction into me! I am Autistic 🌈 I’ve know this for quite some years. It’s not something I’ve always been ready and able to talk about, I think part of that is because I struggle to assert myself and open up. But I’m getting better at this so I want to take this opportunity to spread a little awareness. I’m going to start by talking about my journey to get a formal diagnosis.

    So after many years, I have decided to pursue a formal diagnosis for my ASD. To do this I have to visit my GP who will refer me to the relevant professionals. This is what happened:

    So I’m sat in the waiting room feeling immense anxiety. The room is loud, I feel nauseous, my hands are clammy, I’m fidgeting. I get up once to put my gum in the bin and go into the bathroom to rinse my hands under cold water. This is a sensory feedback thing for me, it’s soothing. Finally it’s my turn. I sit and gather my thoughts and say:

    “For some time now …. I …. have felt I am … autistic … (pause to swallow the ginormous lump in my throat) … I would now like a diagnosis”

    He asks me why I feel in autistic and I begin by talking about how things were for me as a child, I had intended on going in chronological order, he interrupted me mid sentence to say:

    “I’ll just stop you there”



    “What you’re describing is not how autism presents. You’re making eye contact with me *gestures to me* this is not Autism. This is likely to be due to your mental health difficulties and personality disorder…”

    Yeah because it is literally impossible to have more than more disorder at the same time (sarcasm. It is very possible). The ignorance is strong in this one. Very disappointing.

    And seriously, eye contact? Eye contact?! He can’t have met that many autistic people. I personally need to make eye contact at times, especially when talking to someone new, because I need to see their facial expressions, body language etc. All of these things help me understand what is being said much more effectively. It is worth noting that if I didn’t make eye contact, I wouldn’t have seen him smirking at me.

    Also, a lot of autistic people mask in situations like this which enables them to make eye contact or conform to other social standards, where normally they would find it immensely painful. Unfortunately masking doesn’t necessarily mean they avoid that pain altogether. It just comes to them later.

    Anyway long story short he did agree to write to the relevant people. I have since discussed my desire for a referral with my mental health team so, I’m just going to put that awful experience out of my mind. And wait! The list is so long sometimes you can’t even be referred to the waiting list. This makes me sad, so many people are going undiagnosed and living with no support.

    I think some professionals fail to realise that if someone comes to them to ask for ASD referrals or support for their mental health struggles, they have not made the appointment on a whim. They didn’t wake up one morning and think “you know what! I’m ASD/PDA/BPD! *makes dr appointment*

    Things like this are a very long journey of self discovery. It takes weeks, months sometimes years to finally make that appointment. Some poor souls don’t even make it that far without giving up completely. I realised I was autistic when I was 19. I’m now 25 and realising how much it really does impact my life. I now understand that I’ve been suffering with autistic meltdowns, not necessarily the “weird psychotic episodes” I previously thought. I have learnt that I have sensory overload, I mask pretty much all the time… and now I’m learning how to manage it. It’s a bloody nightmare managing it alongside the mental health disorders too, they seem to trigger each other. It gets so confusing. I’ll discuss my mental health in another post. That’s enough for now.

    Thank you for reading.

    Psychologise This

    I keep having weird, super vivid dreams lately. Sometimes my dreams vary in that I feel like I’m outside looking in, like a film but I can still interfere with the story. Sometimes I dream about me as this version of myself, or as close to the real life me, but that’s usually quite rare in my dream world.

    But not recently. For the last few weeks all my dreams have been me as this version of myself. All very different story lines if you will but all the same version of me. But in the dreams there is something wrong with my legs. It will get to a point in the day where I will suddenly be unable to use my legs properly. I’ll be walking and suddenly I have to stop to steady myself. I feel them going. I try to soldier on and walk through the pain and the immense weight of my body. Sometimes I have to stop, tell others to walk ahead of me, I’ll catch up. I wait and build up some kind of strength. Then brace myself. I pick up my massive bag. It’s like one of those stupidly big traveler style rucksack with so many compartments and random camping essentials strapped to the sides. I have to struggle to get this bag onto my shoulders. Which is the easy part. The hard part is having to stand on my weak legs. The pain in unreal. The weight is far too much for me but still I try and stand. I fall over several times. I also notice all the other people around me don’t notice me struggling. I don’t think they see me at all. Finally I make it onto my feet. Like a new born giraffe I steady myself. I’m about to make my way to my people. But I notice they’ve left bags behind so I calculate the logistics and take the other bags. It’s so heavy. My legs are shaking. I can feel myself going but I make a move. I’m walking as fast as I can to catch up. But it’s still snails pace. I pause to catch my breath without even noticing. I begin to walk again. I fall. This cycle seems to repeat over and over until I wake it to where I should really have caught site of someone familiar but there’s no one I know around. It’s dark and I don’t know my way. I’m lost. Alone. I fall again. I lose grip of all the bags I’ve been carrying. Why is this happening? I’m young and healthy there’s no reason why my legs don’t work. Why is everything so heavy?

    Sometimes I will just dream of waking around unsure of the destination, falling, struggling to pick up this heavy bag. Why do I even have this bag? I don’t know what’s in it. I just know I have to carry it around with me always.

    Twice now I’ve dreamt of the “I’ll catch up with you” scenario and in the process I’ve lost my daughter. I’ll make it to where I should find her and all I’m met with is panic. “Jodie she’s gone”, “I’m so sorry we lost sight of her I don’t know where she is I’m so so sorry”

    I’m not even angry at them. It’s wasn’t their responsibility. It was mine. I failed her. Because my legs just…stopped. This bag is so heavy. If only I could lose one of those things… if my legs were stronger I could manage the weight of the bag. If the bag was lighter I could manage walking without falling every few steps. But I can’t. I’m stuck with both.

    When the dream gets like that I usually wake myself up. The dreams weren’t really resinating with me at first, my dreams have always been weird. But now I’m noticing a pattern. It’s not the bag. It’s not the legs.

    It’s my mental health

    The weight is too much for me to carry. The pain, the weakness. I feel like I can’t move or get out of bed. But I have to. I have responsibilities. But in doing so I pay a price. I have to carry this massive weight everywhere I go. Sometimes I fall. I have to stop and let my mind rest. Then try to get back up again.

    Thank you for reading.