A Mothers End.

Today ain’t good, It ain’t good at all. Awakened by the horrifying news that a another beautiful, tormented soul had taken her own life. I didn’t know this girl, We however shared a playground, our kids a school, A young Mum who always appeared smiling, Proud & like she had her shit together.

A young mum who ultimately like many others put a face on, I put the same face on, many of you will too. Makeup, concealer, lippy it all add’s to the image, the disguise but it’s the battles of the brain that can never be seen externally.

Why didn’t I ask if she was okay? Should I have known? Should I have spotted any warning signs? Ultimately I don’t know but this Girls passing is so logistcally & mentally close to home.

Why? Why in 2020 are human beings minusing themselves from the equation that is Everyday Life. Why is a child waking up today without the mum who had her hair mastered with artistic precision. Why didn’t the help she obviously required get provided.

The NHS is stretched we all know it, We also know Mental Health services in this country are second rate at best – the employees are generally great by the way but waiting times & the fact that in 2020 l there is no A&E for Mentally Ill people to report to & recieve instant support other than a phone call by half arsed Harry telling you to have a bath or cup of tea, a f*cking cup of tea to drown out the commandments a suicidal brain blurts out like a Stephen King novel, aye that’ll do.

She was almost me, her child almost mines. It’s close to home, More must be done by all.

What can we do? Well we can reach out to our friends, check in, small gestures, be the oar that helps navigate the storm.

Rest in Peace you poor, poor soul x

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Grabbing The Bull.

Today I had enough, enough of relying on the professionals to help drag me out the Dangerous Depths of a Suicidal Mind. There’s only so many times unanswered plea’s for help can remain unanswered. Normally these unanswered plea’s would result in me doing something gravely dangerous but I made a promise the last time that no matter how intense my twisted minds utterings become I’ll never go down “Suicide Attempt Avenue” again.

The sun was out today but even still I battled with the notion of extending my hibernation but last nights chat with the football mums really helped make inroads towards taking steps forward & pushed me towards today’s action of grabbing the Proverbial Bull by the horns.

I understand at times I probably sound like the most Negative Woman on Earth but I started this blog with the aim of being as open as possible, Open with a huge side serving of Rawness. Today however I had enough, something had to change I had to try & shift the Destructive Mindset that has plagued me constantly over the last week or so.

I have a safe space, a Haven as such where I like to escape to when I seek an escape from the torment. That place is Loch Lomond shores, I love it, the water, the hills, the views & the ice cream shop that was typically f*cking shut! I mean how dare they furlough my opportunity for a giant cone.

I needed that today, the sound of the water, the laughter of my boys playfully wading through the icey waters stripped to their boxers – little maniacs, innocent but beautiful, beautiful but frozen, frozen but happy. Me behind the lense snapping away with the camera on my phone, cherishable moments & an unconscious smile across my face. Family time worked far better than any Lorazepam ever could.

Today I took the bull by the Horns, tonight I think it’s important I take a step back & realise that positive step. Tomorrow might be shitty or it may not but tonight I can reflect on the memories made with my Hubby & Boys.



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Broken Roulette.

Broken Roulette.

We all know Roulette yeah? Stick in your money pick any number(s) & hope it lands on that specific one. The only number that is Green is “0” so the chances of landing on Zero are 35/1.

Everyday right now I pray I wake up & land on “Zero”, zero in terms of worries, suicidal ideation & self harm thoughts. The ball landing on Zero anytime soon would be great Mr William Hill if you will please.

The odds as you know are heavilty stacked against landing on that “Zero” but I know I’ve got to keep spinning, tomorrow I might be in luck.

I’m clinging on for dear life, my thoughts violently intrusive, my inner critics voice even more harrowing now that it resembles that of my Fathers. I find this even more difficult to challenge because I feel I was always a hinderence to him, his ramblings are detailed & daring. I apologise for the detail here but my escapism led me toward disecting a can of Fanta to self harm with, thats the thing you can hide knives, razors etc but we’ll always find a way when the urge to escape even momentarily is so big.

My quest for an Escape took another twist this week when my lovely Personality Disorder decided to think that walking away from my Husband & Kids was a particularly good idea, I know it’s not but my illness told me that the pressures of being a Mummy & Wife were too much when juggling a grenade that’s ready to go off at any minute.

That’s the thing we say things we don’t mean, The illness speaks, The only logic that sometimes makes sense is the illogical. We punish those closest to us looking to exert our internal pains. We don’t mean it. I certainly dont. I try & destruct everything roundabout me bit by bit, I don’t my illness does. Would I be happier living myself? No chance. Would I be happer without my dogs? No chance. Would running away stop the voices? Nope.

Running away simply isn’t an option, I’ll stick an extra few pounds on the roulette table, In metaphorical terms I’ll give it an extra 20%, i’m past the Lorazepam & sleep stage, My Mania like thoughts ensure this. How the f*ck can I swallow 2 Lorazepam & clean a bathroom? It’s unexplainable these little white buttons of Pharmaceutical hope are meant to knock me out & take me away from it all. Either mines are laced with Speed or I’m just too intense to get out this moment medically.

Tomorrows a new day, pray for a ball landing on Zero.

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Opportunity & Escapism.

As you know the last few days have been incredibly hard, I’ve been lost in a Storm of Emotions, Thoughts of Self Harm striking light lightning only frequent times a day, My brains only spot of sunlight in the fog was today when I knew my Hubby was doing football with the boys & I knew I could try & get some relief from the Constant Downpour of Anger sweeping through my body.

This is probably very triggering & alarming for some but please understand my motive was never to end just to relieve – there is a difference although it’s a horrible topic all the same. It’s something I’ve referred to before in my Blog titled “Tissue Trauma”. Today I had an opportunity, Today I tried to escape the pain for a while not a life time – Suicide won’t ever be an option again & whilst sickning to some, Horizontal sharp cuts are a whole lot safer than overdoses.

Yes today I acted on the thoughts, Yes today I violated my own body but I also done it with an element of control as mad as that probably sounds. I had prior prepared I had an inventory to guide me on my mini mission, The goal to achieve relief. Reliefs a funny word when it comes at the tip of a brand new Stanley Blade but my intentions were clear, a quick trainline or two that would nullify the audible internal blows that have battered me for days.

I apologise for letting you all down too, I use this as a platform of hope & to chart my recovery but also as weird as this sounds please see the positives in todays act. As soon as my deed of depravity was done I told my Hubby, This is completely different to previous times where I’d get caught out by the emergence of my “Cutting Cloak” AKA a horrible black over sized cardigan that I only wear to hide self inflicted war wounds from the kids.

Adrenaline drove me through the initial action, the pain was sharp, the blade sharper, the relief not forth coming & for that I’m glad, The energy I found to drag my drained body to punish myself was gone the minute I bowed to the pressure of my inner critic, I cried for hours uncontrollably, I feel like I’ve let so many people down even though I don’t have a face I do have a duty, a duty to my kids to be the perfect mum, a duty to my hubby to be the perfect wife & a duty to everyone of my followers to divulge the miniscule detailed steps forwards & backwards throughout my recovery.

Today I took steps backwards on one path but I also went forward on another, I owned my actions, I informed my Hubby & I remained in control whilst in a situation & state of mind that was the polar opposite.

I apologise to everyone of you, I’ve apologised to those closed to me – the kids think I burned myself making tea. I’ve let people down & I’ve let myself down but I’m also determined more than ever to weather this storm bit by bit.


Today I acted before I spoke. We should always speak to prevent the Act.


We’ve got this…



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Aaaghhhhh.

Today I feel like a total let down, I let down my sister & my nieces at a time they needed me most. My spiralling Mental Health robbed me of comforting them at another family funeral. I feel shitter than shit & have tortured myself thinking about them engulfed in sorrow without me being alongside them to help.

Day by Day this week a little bit more of me has crumbled, today im like a half chewed Digestive the crumblings got that much. My behaviour has been rather erratic to the extent where my hubby had to step in & stop me rolling up to the funeral in my pyjamas, I still don’t know why I thought this was acceptable but thats the wonderful world of where my heads currently at.

There has been other weird things I have done & said I don’t remember any of it, I have never had this before has anyone else acted like this with bpd? Is it something I should be worried about? I’ve had Diazepam & Lorazepam that I get prescribed as a PRN it’s meant to help me but not today I’ve felt like my insides are vibrating, my stomach resembles a washing machine. I’m exhausted & drained but hyper at the same time like a Sloth on Ecstacy – if that makes any sense whatsoever!

My head is working overtime, my ideas shoot from one extreme to the other one minute I want to decorate my bathroom then the next I want new furniture for my bedroom then making lists for Christmas it’s relentless I can’t switch off.

Agitation drives me insane. I’ve spoke to my CPN, Accessed the Duty Officer but ‘Try your coping skills’ only goes so far when you view your loft window as an ideal spot for “falling from” – Thats the thoughts talking I stand by my promise I won’t act on any od these but at what point does the Brains resistance crack & the grip on that promise unravel.

This is when resources are shown up for what they are, I’m at breaking point – Normally I’d be afforded my respite admission but COVID has put a pin in that part of my care plan. Imagine we had a Mental Health A&E we could rock up to & have some caring soul give us temporary relief from that Satanic slander that infilitrates your own body so badly that self inflicted pain or worse is deemed the only ritual that will HELP.

My storms turning into a Tsunami I know I need to get through this but I’m scared & really tired, tired of fighting, tired of putting a face on & tired of being f*cking tired.

Lunch has been served a Lorazepam Supper it’s called, Sleep takes me away momentarily I pray when I wake that things are better.

Mental Health 1-0 Me…

But only for today, I promise you my beautiful boys.



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Micro Achievements.

The last week has been f*cking relentless, the thoughts have crept back I won’t act on them but that high pitched dictator like voice trying to force me into permanent submission is eerie in a sense that you’ll only ever know if you’ve experienced them.

In the midst of this madness I have taken positive steps in my fear of the Gym & The Steroid Lizards that I thought inhabited these aquariums of Testosterone, so admittedly although the dark days are back I’m hitting Micro Achievements, taking positive steps despite being positively miserable.

For the first time in forever I had to call my CPN this week to reach out & just for some reassurance aswell as to have the return of these thoughts logged, I also very nearly self harmed. Nearly but not quite, thankfully my will power allowed me to bin the dismembered razor blade that I disected quicker than my Dog eats a prawn cracked. Binned it & told my Hubby, Normally I’d stash such weaponry till I felt a need for it but not now. The Razor went in the bin & a friendly little baltic ice cube replaced it. Ice you say? I’ve alluded before try it as a safe alternative, It works the coldness shocks you, I also use cold showers to scare off pending panic attacks, Worth trying if you’re in my shoes.

I’ve been neglecting my Blogs as a result of my mindset buckling under the pressure of “putting a faceon-ism” I feel like im letting myself down, my hubby down & my boys down but Tiredness, Hopelessness & Self Destruction are a Trident thats testing my self control so my priorities have had to change.

Today it’s football day, I’ll cheer on my wee hero’s & socially distantly attack any mother of offspring who dare lay a mistimed foot on them.

Tomorrows a fresh start – I’ll hit more micro targets & battle on.

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Lip Service.

Lip Service – “to publicly support or approve of something, while actually taking no action to produce it”

“Suicide Prevention Awareness Month” they call it, the Hashtag will read similar, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram will be awash with posts, proclamations for a day or so then zero. All of this without education or understanding is lip service, I write this as a Sister who will have family members guilty of the very crime I report here. Sisters who left me withouftvisitors during various spells in a Hospital facility for the Mentally Ill. No this isn’t a dig just facts, cold hard facts.

We live in an apparent Super Power, a Country that under its UK banner has a Military Arsenal that would shame others into submission, a Country in which our Government found the pot full of Gold at the Coronavirus Rainbow to help combat the pandemic of all pandemics, a Country in which Suicide culls young & old, a country in 2020 where there is no A&E facility for the distressed, a country that is so happy & gloriously weapon hungry that it can throw billions at an Nukes but cannot afford the dust off an Artillery shell towards increasing budgets for the Plague that is scurging all areas of our beautiful country.

I’m all for Coverage & Awareness but a lot of it is Lip Service whether some like to hear it or not, Tweet about it if you want, Post on Instagram, Hashtag till your hearts content but look closer to home check in with your friends notice the signs, the friend that always cancels & changes her excuse everytime, Check on her. The friend thats the loudest out of all of your Girl Gang check on her too. We can & must do more, that goes for me too, I’ve suffered so badly & debilitatingly that I have forgotten others struggles, in my time of need I can’t see beyond the tears of my own face let alone somebody elses.

My point may be missed here but basically Yes follow the fads, post what you want etc but lets make a difference in person not just on the Internet. If you earned a little bit more this month donate it to a Charity, Try & make it one of your daily goals to check in on a friend it may be the difference, you can be that difference.

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Hedgehogs & Rollercoasters.

If you could be any animal in the World what would you be & why? I want you to think of this & comment the reasons why.

Right now I’d want to be a Hedgehog, curled up in a ball with the necessary tools to hurt anyone who dared disturb my hibernation. Prod at me & I’ll sting f*ck out of your finger. Can Humans hibernate? I’m asking for a Mentally & Physically exhaused Mother of Two her name is Me.

Is it bad that all I want to do is curl up in a ball & block out the world? Hedgehogs strike me as slobby little species, Exactly how I feel at the minute.

I’m running on empty, Mental & Physical exhaustion has sapped me completely. I am not Suicidal so I take some comfort in that fact but the warning signs are there, I’ve been down this path before so I know the dangers that come with it but no I am not suicidal.

I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster the last 3 weeks, The rollercoaster took me through various emotions, misery & sadness through the loop the loop & crashing at break neck speed into Anger, betrayal & outright rage.

I am now at the point where I actually don’t know how I feel I have no words but what I do know is that I’m failing my little family again. I’m allowing my thoughts & feelings to continually drag me back onto that rollercoaster knowing the next stop could very well be be self destruct.

I’ve neglected things in my life the past few weeks like housework & the everyday demands of being a Mother & Wife, I just feel it’s all becoming to much. I need to rest but can’t as I feel guilty I have a list the size of my arm of things I still need to complete, My hubby tries his best but his best at my best are at completely different levels.

Tomorrows very much a new day, I’ll change ride, change carriage & make sure it allows only occupancy of Myself, My Hubby, My Boys & My Dogs. Nobody else matters, your not getting in, Yer Barred.

This isn’t the f*cking Pepsi Max at Blackpool it’s real life, I need to get on top of myself, I know I can & I know I should but I haven’t had the energy to do it.



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Be Gone Dad.

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Yesterday was another one of those days that the Penny Dropped. I have been open before about my Dad’s addiction to treating my Mother like shit, his drinking more often than not resulted in my Mum being used as a punchbag by a pityful little man. I conveniantly forgot about these for a few weeks & tried to sprinkle positivity on my life with him as a Dad, I use the term loosely he is the reason I am tasked with a daily battle within the confines of my own skull, he is the reason I bare horizontal scars on my wrists, he is the reason my liver still shows the hallmarks of parecetamol poisoning. He is the reason, he was the problem.

My ramblings may confuse, My emotional pendulams swung from Guilt to Hate & back again fast enough to cross various timezones lately. I was guilty of feeling guilty about not letting my Dad’s past crimes go but I was also guilty of letting my guard slip, giving the one I’ve mourned over for 2 long weeks now the emotional headspace that he most definately didn’t deserve. I tried to pretend certain things didn’t happen, I can still hear the noise of Sunday Dinner Wars where I took cover from the shelling of Dinner plates & Stew residue bombaring the walls of our house, My mum cowering in fear, her white flag waving to Surrender, her white flag ignored as fists rained down on her in an aerial bombardment. A bombardment at the hands of a hopeless little man, Any man that lifts his hand to the Woman he loves is no man.

I feel sick to my stomach today, Even beyond the grave he forces misery on me. The rose I left on his coffin doesn’t deserve to lie next to my Mothers memorial, Today that rose will have a new resting place, The Bin. How can I place the man next to the Woman he beat so regularly? Yes she forgave him but I don’t.

Money has never been my motivation nor should it but a Dad of 5 who chooses one of his children over all others is no Dad at all. Parenting is challenging but favoritism isn’t a subject that should ever go hand in hand with parenting, well it shouldn’t but it does. Thankfully I watched my Dad’s crash course in failed parenting first hand so I’ll never be him, Never ever. Nor would I wish to be.

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Speedbumps & Potholes.

Panic sets in that feeling of dread is back & back with a vengeance, For weeks & weeks I’ve been on this road, The speed im travelling has differed – some days can be steady Sunday 30mph drives others can be Rush hour traffic like. I’ve hit speedbumps along this road & journey, the speedbumps such as the stresses of morning school runs or my beloved dogs barking at the f*ckin hoover like it’s another dog trying to steal their food!

My fathers death has been like a pothole that’s forced me off the road I was on, Momentarily I hope but I am terrified that the Voices I hear are courtesy of my inner critic & not that of somebody merely fixing my tyres.

The tyres, potholes & speedholes are purely for setting the tone there’s f*ckall wrong with my car, but plenty wrong with me.

I’m home alone my stomach is turning like a wheel, my heart accelerates out my chest. Oh no please don’t let this be back I knew that it would come back at some point but just not so soon I feel like I’m viberating inside & out I’m trying my best to keep telling myself that I’m stronger than before I will beat this but it has a rather large presence.

1PM & I’ve only just managed to pull myself out of bed the thought of having to go for a shower and get dressed is crippling. I’m not going to lie, in the words of Danny Dyer “I Am Shitting myself” – I’m not in control the voices from my inner critic are sneaking back in. Mental Paralysation grips me as I sit in a house that needs plenty of my TLC but will get absolutely zero. Motivationally I’m empty, The pothole of my fathers death has immobilised me & drained my tank, I’m running on the fumes of positivity I’ve built up for a day like this.

I need to get my shit together, I’m a Wife & a Mummy thats minds polluted with Instagram culture of Mrs Hinched houses, I strive for perfection but also need to remember that Mental Perfection is my target not Material Perfection. I also need to remember the pothole thats taken me off the road, Losing a loved one is a serious issue for anybody let alone somebody like me. Today I think I’ll listen to my Hubby, Try some more mindfulness, double up on my Diazepam & take deep breaths.

A Bad Day doesn’t mean a bad life – I’ll fix my wheels & restart my engine for tomorrow I hit that road to recovery again, Speedbumps will slow me down & potholes may take you off the road but I’ll get back on it.

Beep Beep



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