Admissions of Dirt, Lies, Foreboding and Evil

Beware pointless whinging and navel-gazing nonsense.  As usual.

I have an appointment with my consultant in the morning.  I wish I didn’t.  She’s probably going to have a go at me for dragging her into my war with the management of the hateful bloody Trust, and I wouldn’t blame her.  None of this is her fault.

I don’t know what to say to her, apart from the fact that I am sorry.  Sorry for putting her in that position, sorry for having wasted so much of her time since January, sorry for being so twisted.  For everything, really.

Evil Liar

How do I admit to her that I’ve made up everything about being sexually abused?  Will she stop treating me in a righteous fit of pique, or will she section me for being such a fundamentally fucked up being as to dream up something as evil and heinous as that?  Who makes up a story that they were systematically raped as a child?!  Who does that?!!  It makes the lies that Hideous Ex spun me look like stealing a penny chew from a bankrupt sweet shop.  I am malevolence personified, and I don’t know how she’ll react to that.

Skilful Actress

How do I admit to her that I’ve been walking about with a (perhaps metaphorical) smile on my brittle, prematurely haggard face, convincing everyone that everything is fine…when inside I am screaming and despairing?  That I’m doing my Great Pretender thing again?  Am I actually screaming and despairing?  Who is the arbiter of what is and isn’t real?  We are only defined by perception, ultimately, are we not?  And the perception of everyone else is that I’m fine.  I’m one person to Everyone Else’s dozens of people…what do I know?

Paranoid and Schizo

How do I admit to her, when I haven’t even had the balls hitherto to tell anyone else, that I’m being watched on those rare occasions on which I put my foot outside the door of the house, which is at least a comparatively safe haven for me?

How do I admit to her that I’m haunted by inner amorphous but nefarious terror all day long, which is compounded notably by what sounds like sleep paralysis at night?  The difference between the two being, however, that I can accept a rational, medical explanation for what happens at night, but during the day I can’t.  Then the foreboding dread is real, and I am certain that it means that something ghastly is about to happen.  I deserve it for making up lies about Paedo (not that I should continue calling him that), of course, but she’ll probably say that I’m paranoid – possibly delusional – which isn’t fair; but, again, everything’s about perception, and her’s is a medical one.

Fucked Up Eater?

How do I admit to her that my eating behaviour is becoming increasingly erratic?  There’s no clear pattern to it – I binge sometimes, I eat nothing all day on others – and I almost always end up vomiting what I’ve eaten, an action which is quite deliberate.  In fairness that’s simply because I feel over-full (and never realise in the course of eating that it’s time to stop consumption), not because I’m trying to get rid of the calories I’d just ingested.

Something I’ve started doing in the past fortnight or three weeks is taking laxatives after each meal, but again this is not about losing calories – it’s about getting waste out of my system as quickly as possible in order to minimise IBS attacks.  I am concerned, however, that NewVCB won’t see it quite like that if I elect to confess to her.  I don’t think I have an eating disorder (I’m about fucking 14 stone for Christ’s sake!) – I’m just trying to manage other issues.  But to give her an accurate picture of my state of mind, I feel almost honour-bound to tell her the truth (about the binge/eat nothing behaviour) when she asks about my appetite, and I fear that that will lead to further questions.

Dirt-Bag

Finally, most grotesquely after my lies (though a good bit further down the ladder of outrageousness), how do I admit to the almost unspeakably disgusting fact that I haven’t had a shower, nor even a fucking proper non-shower wash, for weeks?  That it’s partly because I have no actual reason to – I barely leave the house, after all – but more so because I am scared to clean myself?  How do I justify that absurdity not only to her – but to myself?

Clarissa of Bipolarity and Brushing Your Teeth has an interesting post outlining her take on this issue, and the explanation rings true with me too.  I remember with embarrassed and cringing despair the horror of having to undress in front of other people – people who thought that they were more attractive, slimmer, cleverer and more interesting than me, and who were more than happy to demonstrate their views to me.

Note my avatar on the top right of the blog’s sidebar.  It’s taken from the (truly awful) film Carrie, and comes from a scene in which the protagonist begins menstruating in the school showers, and ends up getting tampons, sanitary towels and bog roll thrown at her by her jeering, scornful peers.  I never endured anything quite that extreme, but nevertheless the activity – apparently innocuous and even full of camaraderie to most of the others – was marred by my classmates’ contempt and revulsion towards me, and does not ergo represent one of my favourite memories.

I feel like there’s more to it, though; it’s almost like the night that A was ‘spring cleaning‘ and I went completely mental.  As if some sordid little detail is lurking there just outside the perimeters of my conscious mind and that for a second it almost blurs its way into focus, so that I can dissect it…but then it snatches itself back again, away from me.  The thing is though, the night of the ‘spring clean’, I was under the belief/self-delusional fantasy-of-evil that I’d been abused and it was a belief about that that sent me off my head – but of course I wasn’t really thus abused, so I must just be very strange.  Scared of cleaning the house and scared of cleaning myself.

General Idiot

Depression can be insidious.  Although it often happens, you don’t always just wake up one morning with a dark syrup of despair imprisoning and inhibiting you.  Whatever is wrong with me at the minute has crept up on me – I felt surprisingly OK for a while there, though admittedly I could have been acting so well that I had just convinced myself that all was relatively well when it wasn’t.  But having said that, isn’t it the same thing?  Or if not, does the distinction matter – isn’t it entirely arbitrary?  Who knows.  Frankly, who really cares.

Until probably this week, I was coping remarkably well with the anxieties brought by being a twisted fuck of a liar, my sense of indeterminate portentousness and being watched when I left home.  However, as my mood has taken a stroll down a figurative canyon, so my nervousness – observing my circumstances, but not previously becoming involved with them – has taken a slow walk up out of its hole.

I feel strange.  It’s not a traditional mixed episode because, paradoxically, I feel a sort of weird resignation about everything.  I can’t really put it into words, and I am only writing this utter, utter bilge to try and get some idea of what I’m going to say tomorrow.

But I’ve written over 1,100 words and I still have no idea.

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17 thoughts on “Admissions of Dirt, Lies, Foreboding and Evil

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  3. I have no advice, I don’t think you’re making anything up, this is an elaborate defense mechanism in your brain BUT:

    Please please knock the laxatives on the head! They’ll fuck with your digestive system even more and you will become dependent on them. I had a really hard time with laxatives and when I finally kicked them they were two of the most uncomfortable weeks of my life, but they helped my weight stabilise and I got a round of applause the first time in over a year I had done a natural poo. Please don’t let your body get dependent on them, it isn’t worth it. I once took them and ended up shitting in bed over my boyfriend. It isn’t nice.

    As for washing and stuff, the last time I washed was last Thursday, and that was because I had thrown up all over my arms and feet. So there’s other skanks out there, it’s not just you. Give yourself a break.

    • And do mention the paranoia, even if you’re worried you sound mental. They most likely might not take any action on it, just ask you to keep in touch. In one of my past mental periods I thought I was being stalked and kept hiding in gardens and memorising car number plates. Eventually I got so afraid I started barricading my doors and cupboards. I had constant panic attacks. That was a pretty shit time, but I needed to feel safe. I didn’t tell anyone how I felt. Eventually I had to, and that in itself did help. Rationalising it a bit, and also being told that it was probably because I was ill, but it made sense if I thought I was being followed to lock my doors, so at least my “must keep safe” thing was intact, which is better, in a way, than the opposite. So don’t feel ashamed of how you feel, is what I’m saying.

  4. Pan, you know you’re not evil at all. You’re being pretty damn hard on yourself. You know also that these people are trained to believe that you aren’t crazy, although that’s not always the case. We all have to be that skillful actress sometimes, it’s stops people asking what’s wrong and having to tell them you’re actually okay or tell the whole damn story for the millionth time. I wrote the post “fraud” the other day, it’s a survival technique in itself. Idiot is completely questionable, you’re incredibly knowledgable and definitely wise, how else could anyone get through all this shit without being sensible? There are so many things we all do that we think, what the hell is wrong with me or I’m sick and disgusting, you know from my BPD manipulator post…just thinking about it, i think how twisted and sick. Yet you saw it differently for me… xxxxx

  5. Put. Down. The. Buzzsaw. You’re doing your best hon in a very difficult situation. Transitions are unbearable. They are going to fuck with you from every direction. Try to focus on just being safe physically. First things first, right? Many people care great deal for you. YOU. And I happento love you very much. YOU. try to rest above a. Be safe.

  6. I tried washing once. All it did was get me clean so that the dirt showed up. Sorry. Hopeless attempt at humour: you can hit me at the next mad up; or hug me / accept a hug from me irrespective of whether or not you’ve had a wash. Seriously: *big hugs* again. There’s a beautiful you in there, you know; and she’s fighting for survival. Which means this isn’t pointless whinging: it’s deep cleaning; which is probably what the laxatives thing is all about. You don’t need the laxatives though: you can let it all out here and your friends will still love you. Sending much love your way.

  7. I don’t know the whole story. But, you are way too hard on yourself. I’ve been in and out of therapy for years. I have a degree in Psychology. These people are trained and want to see people like you and I. They have or wish they’ve heard it all. So, go and be as open as you can at the time. Don’t bet yourself up if you think you didn’t tell enough or too much. They’re there for you. They want to help you.

    I’m 45 years old and damn I have gone weeks without showering! When I was younger, I did things that I thought were freaky-Trich etc..

  8. I’m not really sure what to say- I _really_ don’t think you’ve made anything up. Being veyr hard on yourself, Pan… though I do know it;s hard not to be. Phil is right, there is something beautful inside you, your eloquence and expression proves that. Please hang in there and be honest with the New VCB tomorrow, good luck

    Take care
    Kate

  9. *hugs* I hope things get better for you.
    You know, rationally, that Paedo was a Paedo, but the feeling thet you’re lying is probably still overwhelming. I wish I knew how to make it go away.
    You. Are. A. Good. Person. Probably in the top five per cent of people in the world for being kind an brave.

  10. Pan, everyone else has said what I want to say far better than I ever could. But I think you’re just lovely, a lovely, beautiful person who’s going through a shitty time and being exceptionally hard on yourself as a coping mechanism. Sounds like you’re trying to protect yourself. I really hope you can be honest with the consultant, although I have a feeling the appointment is over at the time I write this.

    *Hugs*

  11. By the time you read this comment, you will have seen the quack. I think if she concludes that because you say you have lied about shit that you don’t need to keep seeing your psychotherapist, she’s incompetent. You see, IF (a very big IF in your case) a person fabricates massively, it isn’t the detail of the fabrication that you deal with first – it’s the motivation for fabrication that needs talking about. Either way, you still need loads of professional support.

    Now then lassie: I don’t believe you are making anything up – this is all just your way avoiding issues. Of course it is possible for any of us to be lying about stuff: but that’s okay – I’m not angry if what you say is true. None of us here want you to be the victim of a rapist bastard. BUT… look; what you are describing in this post is typical depressive, deluded stuff. That doesn’t mean that you are daft or anything – just desperate – and if you were that desperate that you’d lie about stuff like that, then you have my love and support to sort it out. No recriminations here!

    It is horrid in the extreme, and the laxitive / purging stuff is the emotional expression of feeling out of control – and wanting to take charge in the most vital way. People protest by starving themselves or purging themselves… think about that. What are you trying to purge actually?

    I hear what you are saying about IBS, but the laxitives won’t help you; they’ll irritate your bowel and cause your immunity to flatline (so you’ll get colds and shit if you carry on). I haven’t read your posts on self harm, but I picked up on the fact that you do from a previous one. Vomiting and starving are both forms of SH and are all centred around control.

    IBS is massive stress indicator too: of course GPs usually treat this by giving you drugs, but these don’t deal with the aggravating factor (stress causing funny reactions to slightly irritating food types). Big Pharma makes a mint out of IBS sufferers – I wonder what ratio of mentalists have IBS? That might be a good poll for one of us to post somewhere.

    What you say about your revulsion about washing (thanks for the link by the way) is so part of being depressed – but again, it is also probably linked with your associations with negative things in the past. Man… I really think we all have to start thinking about this “chemical imbalance” theory: it may be true (although has never been proven), but I really think from everything that we all talk about that most mentalism is symptomatic of past or previous rubbish happenings.

    Please keep fighting to get your therapy re-instated: sounds like you need to keep going with it. We all love you 😉

    X Clarissa

  12. I think it’s probably a lot easier to think of yourself as a nasty liar than to think that someone would do that to you, isn’t it. But I don’t think you’re a liar, I think you’re a good person who didn’t deserve a single bit of what happened. I hope it went ok at the docs today

  13. Oh Pan, you really are being so hard on yourself here. I understand that memories of abuse can sometimes become far too distressing for us to cope with any longer, and it would make sense for it all to get to a point where it may seem like it would be easier to live with everyone calling you every vile name under the sun for “making stuff up”, rather than have to deal with the effect of all these emotions that the memories and flashbacks are bringing back for you.

    It makes sense, you are trying to protect yourself from these memories and are willing to go to the extent of making yourself look bad/like a liar to avoid the pain of talking about these memories any longer. Do you think this could be because you are about to enter counselling with Nexus who specifically look at sexual abuse and this could be your defence mechanisms kicking in and majorly rebelling, saying you are not nearly ready to talk about the exact details of what paedo put you through?

    I know you opened the can of worms when you began to discuss things with C, but maybe you also knew you could talk about many other issues when things really did become too tough and perhaps somewhere inside, actually you are shitting yourself that much about the thought of ‘having’ to talk about the abuse, ‘having’ to relive it in a sense to others, that this is your way of avoiding it all completely.

    How to avoid it all and avoid the distress this will bring = try to believe it never happened, say I made it all up. The consequences of that action surely has to be better than facing the truth?

    And I know you say that sometimes you don’t know if certain events actually took place or if they are a result of your mind playing tricks on you, but sometimes it’s all about what angle we look at things from. For example – and I am so sorry if this is triggering to anyone – when an abuser touches a kid for the first time and is taking the approach of ‘you will enjoy this’ then a child may describe this as “he said he was tickling me and tickling should feel good, but it didn’t” and as they get a bit older the angle may change to “he made me take my clothes off to touch me…down ‘there'” and then you move into adulthood and you start hearing the terms abuse and you go through the more adult angles of looking at things, ranging from the massive confusion surrounding ‘did I encourage it? could I have stopped it? was it really how I remember it? but he seems like an ok guy now? surely he couldn’t have? BUT… but I remember it…. he did do it” until…

    We finally we reach the point of acceptance… “I WAS abused, he IS an abuser, my memories ARE real and what he did WAS wrong, and what HE did is killing me inside, but I’m allowed to feel shit about it and I understand that my mind is trying to block it all out for me because it HURT ME emotionally and physically to such a deep level that nobody else will ever understand, because it destroyed parts of my life and has had major consequences on the ways I now view so many things in my life.”

    Maybe the question now is, are you ready to allow yourself to start to heal? You deserve to heal Pan, to heal from the inside out not just by sticking a plaster over the external wounds (i.e. the eating, self harming, etc) but accepting what really happened to us is one of the biggest hurdles to get over, before we even start the healing process.

    Sorry for taking up so much space in your comment box… once I started I couldn’t seem to stop! Sending you big hugs and for what it’s worth, I for one do not believe you are an evil liar or dirt bag or any other negative terms that you described yourself by. xx

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  16. ‘It’s not me, it’s the others’ or ‘it is me, not the others’?

    So now with you blogging, twittering and face-booking so much we have an almost live journal of your life – but of course as someone who only stumbles on your diary from time to time, I read it and reflect upon it at leisure. And what do I find, well much the same as is found in the journals of the rich and famous down the centuries – you contradict yourself from time to time.

    So the reader has a choice; is this evidence of an unstable personality, a quality of that particular person, or a result of circumstances, of a particular environment on a particular day and the people that person was around?

    Triggers, cues – I note in passing that you give a different version of you when posting from your car, when posting from your car and waiting for an appointment with different people. You present differently when you’ve been alone at home a long time, different when A is asleep, or out. Different when at your mothers…

    We cannot help but live in the present moment, and if you don’t fight it the present emotion always changes with the inevitable charging circumstances.

    (We shower by the way because the experience/ sensation makes us feel good)

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