Is beauty only skin deep?

If you're with someone, as you get older you just accept the way they change. My ex had varicose veins, a big belly and eczema on his hands, hehehe. He didn't have those things when I met him but because I loved him it didn't seem to matter. It's different when you're single . If I met a guy with a fat gut I probably wouldn't even get to know him because it would be a turn off straight away. I guess that makes me a bit shallow. 

Same with me. Running around naked even though I've got cellulite and stretch marks ( lol and a list of other things) never bothered me with my ex and he never seemed worried. I wouldn't dare go naked in front of anyone else. It has to be dim lights and sexy undies! 

It's only in the last few months that ageing has really bothered me. When I look in the mirror I feel that all the trauma of the past 5 years has really taken its toll. When I was forty I was probably the fittest I'd been in my entire life. I felt good and when I looked in the mirror it made me smile. I know I was pretty manic at that time so maybe I wasn't as great as I thought. I guess how I perceive myself relates to my moods too..... its always been from one extreme to another. I doubt that's much different to most women. That's one good thing about being a bit high, I don't worry about wrinkles and jiggly bits....because I'm bloody lovely! Lol. 

  Of course when I'm down, every little flaw is a major defect in my eyes....it's a pretty miserable state to be in. I try not to even go anywhere near a mirror, let alone look in it. I feel ugly and unattractive. Every single bit of myself has something wrong.

I'm sure that when I get done up to go out I probably look pretty good for my age. People tell me I look younger and if I catch it right can look quite attractive. It's when you strip it all bare that it exposes the flaws. 

Nature has a nasty side. Just as we get older and start feeling more confident and at ease with ourselves she starts chipping away at it, making us start to feel self conscious and vulnerable just like when we were young. 

I guess you can't  stop the ageing process. All you can do is make the best of what you've got. I admire women who are "comfortable in their own skin". I wish I could be like that all of the time and not just when I'm high. 

Still, when it really comes down to it, it's what's inside that matters most. 

I'm.going to have a rest from my blog for a few days. I'm tired.
I feel a bit overwhelmed by it all.

Diagnosis

I was officially diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder in 2010....4years after I first asked for help. 

In hindsight , I can see  that I've always had it but nothing extreme enough to be a problem.

Lol, I've had the nickname Scatty since school . It amuses me the number of people who have no idea that it's my nickname, call me scatty. Hahahaha it must be true. 

I've always been an " up and down" person. My moods never caused anything bad enough to warrant me seeking medical help. Whenever I was high people thought I was just fun loving and full of life. When I was low I usually managed to keep it to myself and work my way through it.

Sometimes everything seems to come at once and I hit a bad patch , which sent me out of control. 

We had moved into a house that needed gutting. My ex had changed jobs and was working in Ely, which meant he was hardly ever there. His mum was ill and I had to look after her. My job as a tutor was getting more and more time consuming. My son was doing drugs and my ex had chucked him out. I'd put on weight, so felt like shit and my periods were up the shoot !  I guess all that combined made me depressed

The first time I went to the doctors he gave me Prozac. That was the start of it. I've since learned that giving someone with bipolar an antidepressant on its own can kick start a manic episode..... and that's exactly what happened. Well, hypomania ( not quite so bad ) . I felt amazing . I was running around like a headless chicken. I thought everything was hilarious. I didn't sleep for a week and I wasn't tired. I drove like a lunatic . I remember driving at 90mph into Great Bentley and getting my car airborne ...no way would I try and do that now. 

I didn't think anything was really wrong. My ex insisted on taking me back to the doctors. I thought it was so funny sat in the doctors, I  laughed so much I ended up crying. I suppose it must have been really embarrassing for my husband. 

So then the real trouble started. I don't remember too much. I was miserable then happy, full of energy then exhausted. I didn't sleep for days then slept for days on end. I seemed to go from one extreme to the other....up and down like a yoyo. I really couldn't seem to help it. It was at least a year before I got to see a psychiatrist. She diagnosed,  Bipolar3 ..... Bipolar brought on by medication, then I was diagnosed as being in a " mixed state" lol well I was definitely in  a bloody state. Then came months and months of one medication then another. One lot of shitty side effects after another and only brief spells of feeling normal. I feel like I lost months and months of my life. I only managed work for brief periods.

Sometimes I really didn't give a fuck and sometimes I felt so scared .

My husband came to all my appointments to start but that gradually dwindled. He was at home less and less and we pretty much never saw each other.

When I was finally given a proper diagnosis and assigned a care-coordinator ( a mental health nurse) it was such a relief. I was glad I had bipolar......at least I had a reason for how I'd been. Sadly it was too late for my marriage. 

It was only when I was in hospital that they managed to sort out medication that suits me. I don't think I could survive without  my meds . 

The treatment I get now is fantastic.

Statistics show that it can take up to 13 years to get a proper diagnosis . I guess I'm one of the lucky ones. 

The Nuthouse

Sorry, that's a very politically incorrect thing to call it but I have to keep it a bit light-hearted. There's a real stigma attached to having a mental illness and an even bigger one attached to being so bad you have to go into a psychiatric unit. Most people I know call it the nuthouse or loony bin. Terrible really in this day and age! I find it funny. I always think of " One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest " even though its nothing like that. Well,  not where I went anyway.

When I was discharged back home from the general hospital after my suicide attempt I had an appointment to see a psychiatrist the next day. I didn't want to go but I didn't want to make waves. All I wanted to do was to be left alone.

The psychiatrist was nice enough. I can't remember how it all came about but it just seemed out of the blue him suggesting I go and stay on the psychiatric ward for a few days. I said absolutely not, no way. How ridiculous . I know I did what I did but the nuthouse? No way. 

What came next shocked me more. He said I could go in voluntarily but if I didn't he would have me sectioned. So I had no fucking choice. 

I was allowed to go home and get some clothes and bits but I was accompanied . Probably in case I did a runner. 

For the first time I realised how serious trying to take your own life is. 

As I walked onto the ward I wished I was dead. How low could it get. My life was a disaster and I couldn't even make a proper job of ending it. I was scared and so alone. 

Someone showed me to my room. I shut myself in and closed the curtain on the window in the door. Two seconds later a nurse walked in, without knocking and opened it. " We need to keep that open " she said and walked out. Great, not even any privacy. I sat in the chair and cried and cried and cried.

It's amazing how quickly you get institutionalised and into a routine. Breakfast, therapy, lunch, free time , dinner, visiting, medication, bed. 

I had a named nurse who explained everything to me and in all honesty after a few days I felt quite safe. I liked the routine and I liked being looked after but I didn't like the feeling that I was a prisoner. Of course I'm sure I could have left if I really wanted to but it wasn't worth all the fuss.

The other patients were ok. Some were totally off the wall and some seemed like there was nothing wrong. There was only one incident that scared me. A young girl was trying to escape and bit one of the nurses. There were people of all ages and all walks of life. Mental illness is not choosy! 

There were some bizarre things going on. Lol they got me tearing up bits of tissue paper to make a collage....like in infants school.

I played table tennis , joined in with a quiz, drew pictures and smoked about a million cigarettes.

I wouldn't let anyone visit apart from my best friend and one of her sons. I didn't want people seeing me in there and I was starting to feel ashamed of what I'd done.

They let my sister come and take me out for the day. I loved that. It was the worst thing going back again and leaving her. 

The aim of my treatment was to get my medication sorted and to ensure that I wasn't going to try and kill myself again. In my mind I couldn't say if I'd do it again but I made sure every time I saw the psychiatrist I told him I was fine.

I can't remember how long I was in there for but when they said I could go home I acted pleased. The truth was by then I didn't want to go home and be on my own. 

It really wasn't that bad and it really did do me good. 

Sometimes when I feel really down and when things are getting too much, I wish I could go back.

 I've got no idea what I'm on about today.

Please dont think I'm trying for the sympathy vote...I'm really not. I'm just trying to explain. In general people dont really understand that its a constant battle to keep well when you've got something like bipolar.They look at me and think "oh shes ok now" and then get shocked when I have a little blip. When I was in hospital I thought my life was over. I thought I'd lost everything that was worth having in life. I dont feel like that now. I've managed to get myself back to a point where I can have a life thats actually worth living but it still takes effort. I'm not really sure what I'm trying to say here...most people don't understand. I have got to be careful, I cant afford to let myself get ill again which is why I need to think about what I do nearly all of the time.

 Sometimes I am a bit of a loud mouth , stupid cow. I know I act like an idiot. I'm forever saying things then wishing I could " unsay" it.Sometimes I cringe when I think about it.  I go on a bit and start talking crap...I cant seem to stop it. I often talk to random people and I know they are probably looking at me and thinking " nutter". Its because when I've got a lot going on and when I'm a bit emotionally charged I get this thing called "racing thoughts", another one of the joys of Bipolar. Its difficult to explain but its probably no different to anyone when they've got a lot going on in their head just maybe a lot more intense. Its like I'm constantly talking in my head and cant be quiet. I get all this random stuff racing around and it is pretty draining. Its hard to concentrate and virtually impossible to switch off. I do find it helpful to just write stuff down.  I've already written a novel virtually...then deleted it. I've got post it notes all over the flat too...its quite funny when I read what's on them, sometimes a bit sad too. The thing is I know whats going on and am dealing with it. Its when I don't realise it that it becomes a major problem.

 Providing I try and stay on it I can keep myself well....take my medication, don't drink or do drugs, eat properly, get enough sleep, live like a saint! Yawn. The thing is though, I don't always realise I'm not so good until I'm better ! Then I worry about what I was like. 

I'm not sure if I've just written a load of twaddle or something quite sensible.

My Son.....a heroin addict

So on Mothers Day I didn't even get a text. I wasn't expecting a card or present...just a few words to let me know everything was ok would have made me happy. For all I knew he could have been dead.

Writing about my son has to be the hardest thing. 

I loved him from the second I knew I was pregnant. I wasn't in a position to have a baby but he was all I ever wanted. Maybe I was being selfish, I don't know, but he was my number one priority.

I know all Mums say it but he really was the most beautiful baby. Even though I was a single mother with no money I found it easy and such a joy. I didn't worry about a thing.

He never caused me any grief until he went to the senior school. He changed from happy go lucky to moody. I thought it was just normal teenage angst and even though he didn't do bugger all at school the fact he never got into any real trouble made me think he was just a normal teenage boy.

When he got his first job fixing caravans I was as  proud as any mother. Ok, so it wasn't the best job in the world but it was a start. He wasn't lazy like some of his friends.

I never noticed anything to make me suspect he was using drugs until he lost his job and I found the letter saying why....moody, bad time- keeping, lazy. He told me he occasionally smoked a bit of weed and I believed it. I thought that was ok and thats what they all did at that age.In hindsight I should have done something then....what, I have no idea. 

He went through more jobs and phases of being up and down. I sometimes think he's probably got bipolar like me but at that time it wasn't something I knew or even thought about.

I remember when he came home one night. He was about twenty. I could always tell when he wanted to talk to me. I went and sat on his bed and he just started sobbing. He said he'd been using cocaine and he couldn't stop it. I had no idea what to do but I promised I'd help.

I sat up all night on the Internet. By morning I thought I was an expert and he'd decided that he didn't have a problem after all.

 I rang FRANK ...what a waste of time. I rang the charity called Open Road and got an appointment to go and see them. My ex did come but under duress. They were nice enough but they couldn't tell me what to do. All they kept saying was that the more help we gave him the more we were enabling him to do drugs. I tried NEEDAS , the NHS drug advisory service. They were even less helpful. He had to go to them himself or they were powerless. I tried the police and they couldn't do a thing either. 

Time went on and he seemed ok , so I put it down to a phase. How stupid.When he was ok he was the loveliest most charming, hard working and polite young man. People liked him, they still do. Sometimes I suspected something but couldn't prove it so hoped it would go away. When he was 23 things started to become obvious. He was skinny, moody and not himself. Things started to go missing. My Nan's ring, my exes wedding ring, money. His boss started complaining and sacked him. He admitted to me that he'd moved on to heroin. I was devastated. 

My beautiful boy was addicted to the most devastating evil drug there is. 

This time he said he wanted help. I took him to NEEDAS but they couldn't get him an appointment for three days. What came next was the most shocking thing I've ever heard. They advised me to buy him heroin until he could be seen. Me having to buy my own son heroin. I did it and it was one of the worst things I've ever done in my entire life. 

So started the cycle of going on and off drugs. There's so much more to it than I want to say right now. It's been so complicated. Trying to get him into rehab, him not wanting to, using one substitute or another. It's been going on for four years. He's on methadone now, which in my eyes is as bad as heroin. I don't think the system has really helped him, yet he has to take responsibility for his own actions. He still uses heroin. Me being ill probably didn't help him but I really did try my best. I've offered to pay to get him into rehab but unless he's ready and willing it will be a waste.
He lives with his girlfriend, who I suspect uses drugs too. They live in a tip, with no jobs and no money. I help where I can but I have to let them get on with it. He's not a child anymore. 

He is not a bad person. He's not scum like some of them and some really are despicable. He wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone.  I know he loves me... I can see it in his face. I still love him and though I
don't really understand, I know its nothing to do with me. I don't blame him. He had the same chances as every other kid, if not more. Something inside must make a person become an addict. It just breaks my heart that he will probably die before I do if he doesn't do something soon.

If I could swap places with him and give him a life, I really would.

Some people might think I'm wrong for putting this on here. Maybe I am but I guess I'm hoping he'll read it one day and it will shock him into doing something. I don't know. 

It will be fine as long as you stay single  

I don't know where to start. Sometimes someone truly amazing just turns up in your life and for me you are that person. I don't know why I think you are so amazing but I really do! 

I've never met anyone quite like you before. Hahaha when I first met you I never dreamed that you would have such a huge impact on me.

I remember picking you up on our first date.As you walked towards the car I thought you looked kind of cute, a bit skinny and dressed like a teenager...must have been the trainers and hoody! 

In the pub we seemed to be able to chat quite easily. The thing that really struck me was your smile and there was something about your voice. When I dropped you off you lent forward and gave me the gentlest of kisses right on the lips. I could feel your breath. It was so lovely........then you said " do you smoke? " and I could have died of embarrassment.  We only dated for a couple of months and I have to be honest I knew it wasn't going anywhere. We got on well enough, it was ok, sex was ok,  well it was all ok but it was obvious you weren't really that into me. I remember ringing you and saying perhaps we should call it a day ...you didn't seem bothered but we agreed to stay friends.

I always had the feeling that I'd never be quite right for you...I imagined you'd want some perfect, skinny , sporty, health freak...oh and I'd always be way too old.

What really took me by surprise was that I really did miss you.  I wanted you to help me sell some stuff on eBay and when I went to yours I couldn't believe the feeling I had when I saw you again. When you told me you were seeing someone I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. I don't know, maybe we always want what we can't have.

Over the next few months we just seemed to slip into a routine .....cooking  meals, getting takeaways and just spending time together. You told me you weren't still seeing anyone so I forgot about it.

  I felt that I could tell you anything. You are one of the few people who knows about my bipolar and doesn't judge me for it.  You really helped me and just seemed to be in tune with my feelings. 

You never did anything to lead me on, well not directly but I always thought something might happen. Sometimes I got the feeling though, that you didn't want people to know how close we were. I still do. I think you are quite a private person so I make that your excuse. 

I'll never forget the day I bumped into her. I was distraught. I just never in a million years thought you had been seeing someone again. I felt so shit. I felt old, ugly and just plain fucking miserable....how could I ever compete with one of the most beautiful people I have ever met. Beautiful and a lovely person too. She told me you weren't still seeing each other. I wanted to think badly of you but I just couldn't . You told me that you probably got on better with me than her and that gave me a bit of hope. I do think you consciously kept it from me, and her. You knew damn well we knew each other. Sometimes you make out you are clueless when you bloody well are not!  Having said that I don't for one minute think you did it out of malice. I like to think its because you didn't want to hurt me. 

So we just carried on again.....I'm sure I made a fool of myself by trying it on and getting turned down. I  do blame you a little bit....you knew I had feelings for you yet you kept our friendship going. I don't know when I decided I loved you. I still don't know if I "love you" or if I'm " in love" with you. I'm not even sure if there is any difference. I think you can love someone and be just friends. We really are like a couple....without the sex. I suppose I can't make you fancy me and I guess by now I've come to terms with the fact we will only ever be friends. I think our friendship is more important than anything else. It will change on the outside if either of us meet someone else but no one can break the bond of a true friendship. There's not much you don't know about me and not much I don't share with you. You are my male best friend and now I know where I stand......I'm happy with that !!!