Loopy, Lonely and Lost

Work has been quite good.

Posted on: September 21, 2010

I mean, it’s just training so far, so it’s not always particularly exciting. But it’s a distraction, and something to do, and the people are nice (although I’m aware I’ve been being slightly paranoid, snapping “are you laughing at me?” more than once).

Today, we did a test. I got 21 out of 22, the best in the group.

I got embarrassed and awkward and started internally beating myself up about the one I got wrong. Couldn’t stop thinking about what a stupid mistake it had been, how careless and pathetic and useless I am.

Ninety-five and a half per cent, and all I can feel is the burning shame of failure.

I know it makes life impossible, nothing ever being enough. I don’t want to stand out. It’s just, I feel like I stand out every time I do something wrong. Like people will always be talking about me as “her who thought that LOL”. Perhaps it’s a type of perfectionism, but I’m not striving to be brilliant or successful or win praise. I strive to blend in, to hide. To not give people a chance to disapprove.

I think that maybe I’m starting to lose control. I can’t afford to, I know that – I need to be stronger, better. But I’m closer to hurting myself than I have been for quite a while.

I fell out with my mum earlier. She said some quite hurtful things (but she’s in a lot of pain lately, so I’m not allowed to get angry. Actually, scratch that. Anger’s never allowed). She was essentially calling me a selfish, two-faced, manipulative bitch, and accusing me of all sorts of things. And I could feel the rage building up inside me, and all I could think about was grabbing the pair of scissors off the table and stabbing myself, hard and deep and over and over again. I could practically see myself doing it.

It’s been a pretty long time since I’ve self-harmed, and I never did it badly or particularly regularly. But it was always a blank, disconnected kind of thing. When I think of hurting myself lately, it’s not unfeeling or detached, and it’s not carefully calculated. It’s impulsive and automatic and destructive.

I’m worried that I won’t be able to stop myself. As it is, I have to screw up my eyes and breathe very deeply and dig little crescent moons into my palms with my nails.

I need to learn more control.


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My name is Laura. I was once told that I have cyclothymia. This blog is mostly where I write about living as a person with extremes and instability of mood, and the history of a life that led to the development of those symptoms.

I complain a lot, I'm very repetitive, unreliable, and I tend to contradict myself.

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September 2010
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