Dear Diary,

This is my first entry. After a long love of writing in diaries as a child, but knowing the fear of keeping one for it to be found and read, I've not allowed myself the therapeutic process of documenting my life since my teen years. Now pen to paper is always better (I personally think) but this way is safer. There's no repercussions to this...and if I were to die, my words would merely stay an anonymous rambling for someone to read.

I'm presently in crisis. Experiencing yet another episode of poor (or should I say diabolical) mental health. It's been a long time and a familiar place to be and it feels never ending. As though life really truly will not ever get better than this. In truth, maybe it won't. We just don't know.

Last week saw a week off work and instead of enjoying the time with all the things I though I would (or should) be doing, I was in bed most of the week. Barely seeing the daylight, sky or a clean set of clothes! I've not taken care of myself and I've pushed everyone away. Coping mechanism - how stupid is that! I messed about with drugs and drink on Wednesday and cut myself too. Talking with my care coordinator has not been helpful. She doesn't understand me. The bigger issue though is she doesn't even try to understand me. She makes unhelpful comments and talks over me when I'm trying to express myself. She sees our meetings as tick box exercises and seeing her sparks more harmful emotions that positive and progressive ones.

I went to work today and spoke with my manager...let's call her M. She was kind and compassionate and gave me so much time. She did however tell me I couldn't work at the moment. I cried. I cried a lot. Which I said I wouldn't do! It was okay though, I felt safe to do that. We talked a lot. About mental health, what I've been doing, my self harm, suicide intentions, how I'm trying to cope, my need to prove myself and also chatted about normal things. It was as positive as that sort of meeting could have been. My care coordinator however fucked it all up. She called not long after...I debated in my head whether I should speak with her. I'd avoided her the previous week. I should have avoided her again. She made me feel awful. She sounded so judging and I felt so invalidated. I ended up cutting myself out of such strong emotion she has evoked. I saw my manager after to calm down. It should be like that.

I'm home now. I've taken drugs to try and manage the intense negative feelings I'm having tonight and will probably sleep soon. I'll write more tomorrow and maybe try a poem or something. But for now I'm pleased I've written something...it's a start at some form of cathartic expression. M would be pleased.

Good night x

Aura

Trixie's Dear Diary