Honesty is the key

So, this is an exceptionally difficult post for me to write, but I can't continue putting up a façade.

I could carry on telling everyone around me that I am A-Okay, that I am happy, that I am doing well. I could keep smiling and laughing and putting on a generally cheerful appearance. But what's the point? Why should I keep up this pretence that all is well, when all is really not well at all?

I guess you could say that I am once again falling into a slump. And yes, I know that what I need to do is to pull myself up from this gradual slope of depression before it gets out of hand, but I almost don't want to. I'm tired, exhausted even. I am fed up.

Will this cycle ever end? Depression - into hospital - out of hospital - depression - into hospital - out of hospital.

(I apologise profusely for the sense of self-pity that I am displaying.)

I feel like I'm just reaching the end of it. I want to be happy, truly happy. I want to go to college, I want to have my own flat, I want to have friends and a partner and a life. But truthfully, I don't currently feel as though I can do any of that.

At this moment in time, I am honestly terrified.

You see, on Tuesday I am being discharged from my section 3, which means that I won't have a safety net to fall back onto when things become tough. I am fully aware that I should be learning to cope with things alone, but I just don't feel independent enough yet. I'm scared. I'm scared because I can't rely on myself to keep on top of my medications; I'm scared because I can't rely upon myself to stop self harming; and I'm scared because I don't feel like I'm ready to fully intergrate back into the community just yet.

Just two weeks ago, I was discharged from a Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit, where our access to anything was so limited. And now suddenly, I have access to everything and anything, including sharps and medications. Can you imagine how scary that is for me? How difficult it has been to go from having nothing to having everything all at once? I've had no rehabilitation, no therapy, no nothing. Hell, I don't even have an accurate diagnosis.

On the exterior, it appears that I have come along in leaps and bounds. But inside, I am struggling immensely. I am struggling with people, voices and images that others cannot see nor hear. I am struggling with thoughts of suicide and self harm. I am struggling with the thought of being on my own as of Tuesday.

I regret with all my heart moving back down south. I wish that I could turn back the clock and insist that I stay on the adult ward in Sheffield, where I could have had the appropriate therapeutic input. But sadly, that is completely impossible.

I apologise abundantly for rambling on and for drowning you all in my deep pool of self pity. I simply needed a place to write down my current feelings and worries.