Well, that was a s*** week!

Trigger warning: Suicidal ideation

The knot in my stomach just got tighter and tigher as the week went on.

I thought that having spent a couple of hours with my brother meant that things were looking up, but a week later, 3 days before our Grandfathers funeral, and I recieve another Whatapp message “We need to talk”.

Straight away, I feel nauseous. I’d spent the evening with my wife and friends and it had been a lovely evening out. And then we’re on our way home when I recieve the message.
My wife suggested dropping me off, but I wished for her to be there with me, so she joined me.

I don’t want to go into details abut this because it is still incredibly raw, and I’m not even too sure how I am supposed to phrase it online! This “We need to talk”, actually meant “I need to bite your head off”, and I ended up being verbally attacked and threatened. So, much so, that my wife was in the middle trying to keep him from getting too close to me in fear he may physically hurt me. It was scary, but not as much as it had been in the past. I think that I know now how he reacts to things, and I could only wish he’d actually try something to then see where it got him.

Unfortunately, this meant on the day of our Grandfathers funeral, when all the family come together, I was doing my utmost to avoid looking at him.

I have decided that I cannot, and will not have anything to do with my brother any more. I need to look after my own health and he continues to wreck what is already damaged.

It meant that the funeral, which should have been a day of mourning, but also a day of celebrating, was also a day, for me, of grieving from the loss of my brother.

My family cried, I stood there – unable to cry. I felt hate and anger towards my brother, that these emotions left me blank. I spent the day dissociated, disconnected from many feelings. If I let myself “feel”, then there was a chance of something going horribly wrong, on a day I couldn’t afford to let this happen.

I feel sad from my Grandpa. I was sad that he had to see how much the family dynamics have changed over the years. The division was so obvious at the funeral, and for anyone witnessing this, it must have been unusual for them to see. Boys vs. girls, and one family aside from the other. The contrast from both families also obvious, those who have had a “posh” and “well kept” upbringing, to those of us who have been through hell and back, you could almost see the cracks on our skin. It was just sad.

I had wished so much for our families to come together, and whilst my brother played the charm card and socialised with everyone, all I could do is sit back, and think “if only they knew…”, except, what good would it do, but destroy something which doesn’t really exist anyway?

All we could do was be patient, and be there for those who “mattered”. After all, the day itself was for Grandpa.


A couple of days later, I started a volunteer role with a reading charity. It’s only an hour and a half a day, for two days a week, which is a start to find out if I’m mentally and physically capable of anything yet!

I was so nervous, I forgot my lanyard and worried that I’d get told off for not remembering it. Fortuately, it didn’t matter, and I got to meet the children I’d be helping out for the duration of the school year.

The next day I had a meeting with my care co-ordinator, before heading off to volunteering.

I find it so frustrating sometimes, going to a meeting and discussing how you’ve been feeling, for about an hour, to then feel dumped when they say “We’re going to have to wrap it up here”, then leaving you feeling abandoned and uncared for. With what I discussed I needed time, and I also needed feedback. Feedback which I could try and evaluate there, not to take away with me and think about.

I even started the meeting by stating how much of a horrible, nasty person I must be, and then reflected on the few friends who have recently cut me and a couple of others out of their life, and how I’ve bee told I’ve done something which “hurt their soul”, of which, still humours me, because I can be a drama queen, but this is just too much! I just wish they could confront me, and state exactly what it is I am supposed to have done which was so bad. And then I’m told by my care co-ordinator, that maybe they just needed to take a step back from the friendships because they could see it was unhealthy for them…. And that makes me so angry, because I know full well that my care co-ordinator is also theirs, and makes me wonder what they’ve said to her, and what she must think of me, setting off my paranoia.

Overall, my mental health is deteriorating, and although it’s not as rapid as last time, and perhaps that’s due to the therapy, but I can see it all spiralling out of control.

I even got told that I was “mature” for not self-harming, even though that’s all I’ve felt like doing, and yet, is “mature” really the right choice of word? No. I’ve thought of all the ways I could harm myself, and know exactly what I’d do if I wanted to end it all. I don’t want those thoughts in my head. But by not acting on them does not make me mature. It still frightens me, because sometimes I don’t know what I am capable of. On the night I saw my brother, if I wasn’t in the company of my wife and friend, it is likely that I’d have done some serious damage and ended up in hospital. I’m grateful that they were there for me, and kept me safe. I just wish I could stop the thoughts.

Leaving the meeting, I thought so much about what is it that I should expect from those meetings. What support do I want, or need? The problem is, when you don’t know what support is there, or you don’t feel as though your deserve it, it can be hard to figure out exactly what you want.

I wanted the diagnosis so I could get the right treatment. I’ve been through Stepps, Stairways and the therapeutic community, and I feel as though I’m none the wiser. There may be some things I take control of now, such as not raising my voice, and holding back a lot more now, but it doesn’t stop the noise and chaos inside my head.

I have a constant battle in there, and I wish it would all stop just so I could breathe, and feel at peace with myself.

I had to leave that meeting and head to the voluntary role, which meant putting on a brave face. Just another mask to hide behind.

Noone would know that anything was wrong.


And then, on Friday we held a Crafternoon event for Mind. I’d been organising it for several weeks, and getting raffle prizes from companies and local businesses, as well as craft materials from those willing to donate. I was always with my wife when we went to collect something, or had something delivered. I couldn’t believe how strong I was feeling about doing this, but I feel as though most of my energy was going into the event.

The event was really good. I was so fortunate to have a few supportive crafters alongside me who were willing to help out and run activities. I felt a bit like a magnet, in the fact that  everyone wanted to talk to me. It was hard to find a moments peace, even popping to the loo was hard as I had a friend bang on the door!

The total raised for Mind was ¬£188, and I’m really proud of everyone who helped support the charity. Everyone kept telling me to be proud of myself, but it’s really hard, because I always think about all the other things I could have done… That’s being a perfectionist!


After the exhausting week, I’ve since been flat out with a cold. It’s affected me so much. My poor nose, my throat has swelled up, and my chest is aching.

I feel as though all my stress is now coming out in physical symptoms, and I’m due a trip to the doctors for the nerve pain, which is ever increasing. It’s booked for this coming Wednesday! Let’s see what happens!


Hopefully things will start to settle, but I highly doubt it.

Wishful thinking… That’s all!

Until next time,

Take care x