3 Weeks On

It's 3 weeks since my surgery.  I developed an infection in my stitches, and stubbornly refused help, as I felt that I had brought it on myself - which is absolutely true.  Eventually my MH social worker dragged me (almost literally) into Minor Injuries and found someone to look at the mess on my wrist.  Again, no harshness, no nasty glances, just gentle words and reassurance that it was ok to be there.  The infection has cleared now, just a slightly red scar now.   I wish I could say that was the end of it all.  But still, I dwell on self harm many times a day.  I wish I knew why?  I wish it wasn't like that.  I suppose it is my way of coping with the images and pictures that are flashing through my mind, the thoughts and feelings that they provoke - and the anger which they raise within me - though I direct it on myself, as I don't know what else to do with it. 


No2 son has been incredibly challenging for the last few weeks.  He is medicated for ADHD, but they only see the benefit of it at school.  It has worn off by the time he gets in, and in the unstructured setting of the weekend, he is as hyper as ever.  I think it is the feeling of utter helplessness that I find hardest - it doesn't matter what strategies I try to employ (distraction / bribery etc) he does not respond.  He is locked in that autistic state where he is the only one who matters, who has feelings and who has needs.  He doesn't care about how others feel as a result of his words or actions.  When he is being violent to me it is bad enough, but it is so hard for his siblings to bear the brunt of his physical behaviour.  I wish that there was a pill to take away all his problems, but then, maybe he wouldn't be the boy he is now?  I don't know. 


It all feels a bit overwhelming today.  

Resurrection Eyes

Just back from church. A really interesting sermon about seeing the world with Resurrection Eyes, as the priest felt that the disciples were able to see beyond the crucifixion, and feel the hope for the future - and that we should try seeing the world with Resurrection Eyes. I thought about this long and hard as the service went on. I wish that I could feel that positive about things. He talked of people who forgave the murderer of their son - how they moved on and made good come from a terrible situation.

Forgiveness is a funny thing. I want forgiveness for all that I do wrong (which feels like a lot at times) but I find it terribly difficult to forgive others. I wish I could, but I really don't seem to have the capacity. I don't hate anyone, I may hate their actions or dislike their attitude, but I don't hate them. I still want approval from everyone - affirmation that I am ok, that I am "doing it right" whatever that means. People have hurt me deeply in the past, but I still want their love and approval - I just can't get my head round it all. I think that is a lot of my problem, that I am unable to move past what has been said and done.

I kind of need to move forward - to get away from this place I am stuck in. I think I would like to see the world with Resurrection Eyes - to feel the hope rising out of despair, so see a future beyond tomorrow.

Being Organised

I have had the urge this week to plan my funeral. I don't know why, but I really want to make sure that plans are in place. There is this constant feeling at the moment, that something is very wrong.

So I thought I would put down my funeral plans

Coming in Music : Pachelbel's Canon

Coffin : bamboo / willow - something sustainable.

Songs / Hymns : Shine Jesus Shine

The Servant King

Here I am to Worship

I will offer up My Life

Our God Reigns

Cremation : Ben Folds - Landed

Going Out : They Might Be Giants - Birdhouse in your Soul

Charity Collection - NO FLOWERS (except my husband who may buy 5 orange gerberas)

In aid of National Self Harm Network & The Samaritans

Party afterwards at the Campsite - Only vegetarian food to be served. Lots of drink, and an 80's disco.

Kind of sad that I won't be there to enjoy it.

Aftermath

I spent the whole weekend in hospital. Oh the shame. Self inflicted injury made surgery a necessity to maintain function in my hand. I was really scared / ashamed / horrified about it all. The hospital is over an hours drive away, so we had to get someone to stay in our house so that my husband could drive me there, leaving at 6 a.m. without waking the children. He dropped me at the hospital entrance and I made my way to the ward. I was shown to a side room next to the nurses station. I was spoken to kindly and asked if I would like to be Mrs.... or my first name, to which I replied first name please. Then a man arrived - he was an older man, probably the age of my dad. He introduced himself as a MH nurse from the hospital psych unit - and he had been allocated to me for the day. Basically I was not to be left on my own. I don't know what they thought I was going to do, but I was not going to be alone. At this point I shut down completely and withdrew into myself. I couldn't string a sentence together or get any words out. He tried to make conversation, but I couldn't engage with him at that point.

The nurse came in and was so kind. She was not judgmental or shocked by the state of my arms. The surgeon came and explained what they were going to do and again was kind and understanding and very dismissive of my stuttering apologies. It was a long day - there were lots of emergencies so my operation was put back and back. As the day went on I began to chat to the MH nurse. He was lovely, we talked about MH, but also about religion, faith, church, children, history, politics and education! I finally went down to theatre at about 8pm. The anesthetist was a bit scary and business like - though I did have to laugh when they drew a huge arrow pointing to the damaged wrist! Just in case they forgot which one to work on!!

When I came round I was very groggy and remember very little of it. My arm was heavily bandaged and felt very heavy.

Once back on the ward I was yet again not to be left alone, this time it was a Healthcare Assistant. I couldn't sleep during the night - I was wide awake - the HCA however, put her feet up and slept the time away - with some healthy snoring thrown in.

I was discharged in the morning and my mother in law came to collect me.

Reflecting on my hospital stay I was struck by how caring, kind & considerate all the staff were towards me. So often there are tales of people who have self harmed being treated like second class citizens, not so for me. So the guilt at taking up all these good people's time is great.

I have had to work hard not to interfere with the wound - the urges are great. But for all those who put themselves out for me, I will not do it. I will not undo their work and give in to the devil called self harm that lives in my head.