Like a Bad Penny!

I know I’m like a bad penny! Hahaha And yet again I find myself apologising for such a big gap between blogs, or maybe apologising for breaking your peace from me! Here I am, sat watching the autumn leaves fall, and the woods looking colourful, if not a little sparse. The squirrels are foraging for acorns, get them quick lads, Dylan’s scoffing them by the gob full! As many of you know, my life is far from mundane. In fact, the negative people I’ve often attracted into my life, have called me a liar and a fantasist. HA! I WISH! Those who have been stuck with me since first school and many decades; erm …. Let’s rephrase that slightly to, for rather a long time. There, that’s better and less ageing! Where was I? Yes, those folk have lived and witnessed my calamities, traumas and the devastation of many aftermaths. I honestly don’t know what it’s like to see a day go by without some kind of event. Yes, I agree, they all need a bloody medal! Haha My mam can be often heard saying ”well if it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen to you Libby!”

My Psychiatrist Chris, yes, that’s right, she’s a fully fledged Psychiatrist. Before you all go One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest on me, I don’t need locking up, though some of you might disagree! I have PTSD and CPTSD. These pesky little fuckers need to be dealt with, with precision and great care. There’s many things that need gently, and cautiously unpicking. Anyhoo, Chris, she says I have Superheroism, amongst many other labels. Basically, well no, it’s far from basic, I want to save the world from all the awful things that I’ve been through, and experienced myself. Things or events that I find unbearable to think of someone else going through, to feel the way I have felt. I want to eradicate such things from their life and shield them. Thus having a Saviour Complex. It’s also often referred to White Knight Syndrome. Just today someone empathised and identified it within me. I only feel good about myself when I can help someone, and I believe I’m solely here for others, and not for my own purpose. Until I spend so much energy trying to save or fix others, that I end up completely spent and exhausted. Because it’s just me, it’s ok if it happens to me, I don’t matter. There’s two sides to this coin, one is egotistical and controlling, that’s not me, but the other side of the coin is what I’ve just described and very much me – selfless to your own detriment. I won’t take any praise or credit for anything I may have helped with, I prefer to stay in the background, and I get uncomfortably bashful and awkward. I’m not great at taking a compliment at all. Unfortunately, it’s an adaption I learnt very early in life, and I tend to attract the takers, those beasties are the hardest bastards to eradicate. As long as you’re giving, they’re going to take. The only way I can describe it, is like the Harry Potter Dementors.

I know this will shock you all, but these days my phone is rarely switched on, or if it is, it has the moon and the aeroplane on. I said this recently to a friend, and she was completely confused. iPhone users will totes get it!

I have a school friend that was in the Military, hearing snippets of his story, of how he was facing a completely different battle in life, was pretty much the first time I had heard about PTSD, or rather, gotten an insight of what it was. I never thought for one minute that I was already experiencing PTSD. The flashbacks and reliving scenarios were being clumped in with the seizure activity I started to have after mine and Dylan’s accident. As time went by, it started to become a lot clearer that I wasn’t just having seizures, I was also having flashbacks, or reliving traumatic events.

I’ve probably mentioned this before. If I have it’s the usual drill, just nod your head and keep reading. About a year and a half ago, I had a massive seizure at my Mams, she ran out into the street to find someone to help. A friend and neighbour came, she lifted me off the floor on to the sofa, how the hell she managed, I still have no idea. I started to experience a flashback right after the seizure. My seizures are a direct result of my accident, therefore being a trigger for my PTSD in their own right. I was hanging on to Dylan and repeatedly telling him that he was safe now, you’re safe now Dylan, they’re coming, hold on, you’re safe, I’ve got you. When she asked me ”but are you save? Are you safe now?” I came to, I remember that bit vividly. I can’t tell you where I was, but I can hazard a guess. Another time I was at Slaley Hall with another friend. I know, I’m geet pesh, I have all these friends! It was the first time being submerged in water after saving Dylan. Most folk know, but you’re lucky if I can swim 5 metres, and swim is a lose term! In mid swim I panicked and almost jumped into said friends arms, I was scrambling and grasping looking for safety. I was taken back to primary school swimming lessons, where Mrs Robson and the swimming coaches often shoved floats in the back of the boys swimming trunks to keep them buoyant, they did, honest! They also used to walk along side you as you swam, sometimes with their hand on your back, encouraging you to keep your back straight against their hand. As a kid I used to feel trapped even though she was by no means holding me down. But that’s what I was experiencing at that time. My poor friend was only worried whether I’d scratched her face whilst I was holding onto her for dear life. She never once said, here man, what the hell, like most would.

Even then I didn’t realise what was happening. As time rolled by they became more frequent, more disturbing and beyond intrusive, to the point of it becoming a daily occurrence. Even gardening can trigger it. There I am, happily potting my plants and the compost digs into my finger nails. The sensation, the smell and I’m right back there. I mentioned CPTSD. That’s even more complexed and derives from experiences during my early childhood. Often my flashbacks as they’re referred to, have absolutely nothing to do with a trauma I’ve experienced, but the scenes are often very similar. The feelings are the same, and at times I’m the third party paying witness to a barbaric event, but being unable to stop it or save them, like I once needed saving myself. Here stems the ‘Saviour Complex”.

I so desperately want to save the world from such hideous and life impacting pain and suffering. When I was being assessed by the mental health team, I quietly asked with an anxious dry mouth “Am I psychotic?” No she replied, you’re someone that’s gone through a great deal, your accident and all that you’ve endured since, and moments in your childhood has been a trigger, everything has condensed. I also have intrusive thoughts throughout each day, dozens of them. I have to shake them away or rub them out, but these things are all so fucking exhausting. I kinda don’t want to get into this one. One because I try so very hard to dispel them, and two, because they’re made up of stuff of nightmares, and beyond anything you could possibly imagine. I don’t even know how they’re in my head. Another label I have is Anhedonia. If you Google it, it’ll probably come up with depression, but it’s far from that, even though depression in itself is just awful. Anhedonia is a major depressive disorder (check me out! Yes, I’m being facetious again!) It’s an inability to experience pleasure from, well, normal pleasurable things, and it massively impacts your life. Yet again it’s a queer beast, Like, I’m genuinely happy for folk and appreciative, and all those lovely things, but I also feel nothing. It’s like being dead inside, just nothingness. I can’t even claim to feel depressed or of low mood, but it’s very much there within me.

This is my daily life, not some of the days, or more than half the days (those who have been through the mental health system will get my little whim) it’s everyday. Then adapting – HA! Adapting, I’m doing a piss poor job of that too! Theres nee adapting gannin on here like pet! Acceptance? Fuck off, there’s neen of that shit either! I will say that opening Pandora’s Box so to speak, takes courage in itself. And no haters I’m not saying I’m so brave, nor am I having a pity party, divint be starting that shite. I’m just saying, that again, things are very rarely how they seem.

If someone doesn’t answer their phone but they’re on Facebook, don’t think negatively, maybe they’re watching Brad Mondo, Beard Meats Food, and crazy nail art videos *Whistles nonchalantly* Maybe they prefer to text rather than speak on the phone, because its less intrusive. It doesn’t mean they don’t like you, that they’re ignoring you, that they don’t appreciate you. More than likely they find the written word easier than vocalising. I know I can express myself a great deal better via text. I’m also still relearning to read and write, ironic that I write a blog, but I have speaking gadgets and what nots to help me.

I know we’re still in the grips of Covid, but before Covid and when it eventually fucks off, if someone always turns you down and says no, maybe there’s a reason. I’m so very reluctant to go anywhere or be around a lot of people just in case something triggers me. How the hell would I even begin to explain PTSD or a reliving episode/flash back!? I know Chris told me to just tell folk, that I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, I’m maybe doing folk a great injustice, but I’d rather not. I’ve said it before, isolation is addictive, it’s safe, it’s familiar. But don’t ever stop asking me to go or do things, because one day I might get my brave on and say yes!

More than ever we need to be kind, yes I know that’s been flung about like Lilo Lil’s knickers from Bread, come to think of it, Betty Boswell may say she never wore any, but you get the gist, and it’s true! Somehow in this shit storm of life we need to find understanding, show our love and compassion like it’s going out of fashion, hey, that kinda rhymes, and I didn’t even try, anyhoo, yes, but not to the extent that this wassik does!

Woooooah! I got through a whole blog without reciting any song lyrics! Christ, I must be unwell! Hahahaha!

No matter what Boris the Buffoon says, stay safe, make good choices, and make a little birdhouse in your soul!

I had to get one in how! Haha