Hello Sailor Plays with Fire

I find it difficult to find the time to write.  That doesn’t mean I don’t want to, it’s just that there is always something else in the way. Then magically, once a year or something, there is a moment where everything stops and I can open the computer.  I could make more time, but its hard to balance pretending to be sane, my physical health, keeping a house tidy and a job. And then when I do find the time, the words don’t come as magically any more.  Maybe I’m just out of practice.

Since we last spoke not a lot has changed.  My mental health is still difficult, but somehow we keep it in the balance (I say we because some days there is still more than one person in my head, and H helps a lot too).  I have BPD, I still have all of the thoughts and feelings associated with it.  It is still tiring feeling like you’re everything and nothing almost simultaneously, as well as feeling nothing and everything at the same time.

The physical health got more difficult recently because my mental health got worse (apparently).  I had an unexplained pain in my stomach all the time.  It stopped me from eating and I lost, well, I won’t give you a number, I’ll just say a lot of weight.  Surprisingly the doctor didn’t fob me off with medication this time and I had a full work up, including bloods, ultrasound, x rays and finally a CT scan because they couldn’t find anything physically wrong.  It turns out the pain is all in my head (mentally, not physically). They think its all down to perpetual anxiety and stress.  I wouldn’t say I’m any more or less anxious in my life than I usually am, but it is always like riding a rollercoaster anyway.

Image result for someecards rollercoaster

I’m simultaneously angry and relieved that the doctor didn’t find anything on any of the tests.  I’m mainly angry that my brain could do that to my body, and I let it (I sometimes think I am separate from my brain, because my brain can want something and I can want something else). So on I will go, back to a different psychologist and I will have to begin my story from the start. I will also visit a nutritionist so I can learn how to eat again.  I feel like I’m 14 years old again……. Fuck.

H thinks a lot of my physical and mental problems are the result of my current employers.  I think some of this could be true, but I don’t want it to be, which makes me think perhaps it is all true, and he is completely right, I just can’t see it yet.

The problem is, unless you do my job and work in my shoes, you’d never understand what it’s like.  It’s not all bad all of the time, but its hardly ever good either. It’s like spinning plates. Except the plates are on fire. And I’m on fire.  And so is everyone else.  But we aren’t supposed to be on fire. And only have one cup of water that gets refilled each day. And we are short staffed again because everyone’s physical and mental health is suffering, but we are still expected to spin the same amount of fire-plates as if the whole team was at work.  Gradually more and more of the building gets on fire until we all die, but the management is still demanding that we turn up for work even though we are dead.  The End.

Image result for dead but still going to work

If I died they would replace me tomorrow.

I love what I do.  There are points in my life where it is all that I lived and breathed because I loved it, and it got me through some tough times knowing that I was needed somewhere else by someone else.  Recent changes have meant that I felt like I stopped loving it.  Only I really didn’t stop, it was just the poorly managed changes, which made me angry, which made me feel like I stopped loving it.  I considered a change in career, but I don’t think I’d ever be good at anything else, or have as much passion as what I do now.

I have an opportunity to continue what I’m doing, but in a different company.  H thinks it might bring the love back.  He’s been pestering me all week to apply for the position, but it’s making me anxious for a number of reasons.  I think he thinks it will fix everything, including my brain. And it probably will, for a bit.

But I think the “fire” scenario isn’t just a problem where I work, it’s a problem everywhere in this profession.  I belong to a lot of social media (urgh – I hate social media) groups of people working in the same profession suffering from similar mental and physical health conditions.  It is rife almost everywhere in this industry in the UK. But, from what I’ve read, being overworked and understaffed (not to mention underpaid, because most of us do this job for love not money) seems to play a big part in the effect of everyone suffering.  I can’t help thinking that if I move, I will be moving to the same scenario in a different place with different people.  Also change is bad.

Ultimately I need to decide what I want, but I don’t know. I’d kind of like to curl up into a ball and wait for it all to go away.  Or for someone else can decide for me.

HS xox




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Doll and the Not-Kiss

Trying to figure another thing out.

Last weekend one of my very close work-friends/subordinates text me ” Can I call you? I need to talk”. That crapped me up straight away.  1. I hate talking to anyone on the phone, 2. My brain is racing because she didn’t say what it was she wanted to talk to me about and now I’m imagining about six billion things.

“You’ll never guess what,” she told me. ” O (our boss) tried to kiss me last night.”

First thought – “What in the actual fuck, he’s married with two kids!!!” So I ask what happened.  This is the story she told me (for the sake of the story she will be Doll) –

On Halloween evening everyone in the work place decided to go out for fancy dress and alcoholic beverages. Both our bosses were there as well as some of the employees.  Everyone is getting wasted. I don’t go out, and part of this reason is everyone gets wasted and it makes me feel uncomfortable as it is like they act like a different person (and it reminds me of the time a drunk guy trapped me in a phone box).

Image result for someecards drunk

Boss Number One, whom we shall call Gobby, gets very gobby and loud and opinionated when she’d has a few.  She’s slagging Boss Number Two (O) off behind his back, but as she is pissed as a fart she is saying it loud enough for the whole pub to hear.

O is obviously not very happy but shrugs it off.  As he is also wasted he’s now slagging his wife off saying he hates being tied down, hates having kids, his wife needs to deal with the fact that he’s still going to go out drinking and do what he wants wah-wah-wah.  Gobby, who has kids, got very offended and they had an altercation.

O didn’t want to be around Gobby anymore so left the pub.  Doll hadn’t had a lot to drink and was worried he was not going to be able to get home by himself so offered to walk him home.

Half way home he hugged her.  She though “this is odd” as O is one of the least touchy feely people in the world.  He is like my level of “don’t touch me”, perhaps he has a case of the even more severe “don’t touch me’s” than I do.

Image result for someecards don't touch me

He leaned in for a kiss. She said what the fuck are you doing. He stopped and was very embarrassed.  He thought she’d been flirting with him all night so went in for a kiss.  He thought it was OK because “people fuck their bosses all the time”.  He called this the icing on the cake for how bad the night had been.  He apologised and she said “don’t worry it’s fine”.

Doll went home. Seemingly, so did O. In the morning he text her and apologised again, many times.  Each time she said “it’s OK, it’s fine”.  Only it’s not fine.  He asked her not to tell anyone.  She said OK, but told me and three other people (I know a fourth person who knows via someone else.  I am of the strong opinion that if you want to keep a secret don’t tell anyone).

Doll is signed off of work sick.

Doll was raped two years ago and this has set of flash backs.  Not because O almost kissed her, but because of the “what if’s”.  What if she had said no and he hadn’t stopped. Like what happened before. Then “like what happened before” pops into her head and she can’t get rid of it.

She’s currently refusing to face O.  I think I would do the same, hide my head in the sand until I was ready to come out/forever depending on which one happens first.


I know Doll very, very well. We have a similar life path, apart from the whole sectioning thing.  We are both wired very differently to the rest of the population.  I think if she had a diagnosis she would also be Borderline.  I know I’m not a psychologist, but I can see the traits that I know very well from my own personality in other people.  She is like a daughter to me if I had a kid when I was a teenager. She gets me and I get her.

I have worked with O for probably two years. He is highly intelligent and socially awkward, but that’s always been OK as we can talk about geek stuff and I’m awkward any way.   He has supported me with Mum’s cancer, H’s depression and my mental health. I feel bad that I immediately judged him after he tried to kiss Doll.  It is very unlike him and as much as I want to go round his house and yell at him to “sort-you-fucking-life-out-why-would-you-try-to-kiss-one-of-your-employees-why-do-you-think-it-is-ok-to-cheat-on-your-wife-who’s-just-had-a-baby!!???” There must be something else going on for him to act out this way. It is so not him.  Also what is not him is how glum he has been at work this week.  It’s not just wishful thinking because I know he fucked up and has something to feel bad about, everyone has noticed.  I think he knows he’s fucked up mega big time and is worried about the consequences.  I know I would be.


As much as I think I don’t have friends, I am friendly towards people. I am Doll’s friend.  I am here for her to lean on. I worry that if O think’s no one knows, this is eating him up inside.  Sometimes people just need to get it all off their chest.

What I plan to do is speak to him about the situation, as a friend, not an employee.  Not to tell him off, but to make sure he is alright and to let him know that I am around if he has a problem he needs to talk about.

I also want to be able to support both Doll and O in case this does go to HR (Doll has not decided yet).


ALSO on this night out – Two senior members of staff asked a junior member of staff if they wanted some cocaine. They then went and did cocaine.  They’re fucking nuts.  I don’t know if I have to report this or not.  Whistle blowing is dodgy, but not doing it is also as dodgy, so I will fight with this one mentally for a bit.


It’s like I work on the set of a soap. I couldn’t make up half the shit that goes on, like night staff boinking, affairs, drugs and all sorts of sordid things………

Often I’m glad to come home and sit in my pyjamas with my boyfriend and cat.

Love Sailor xox


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Being Honest

Somehow I still remember the password for this thing.

It’s been a while. I miss the writing, yet it seems there is never any time in this busy life to sit down and actually unravel the things in my brain.

There are a lot of things.  I feel like an update is due to give context, but that is not what my brain wants to talk about.

What does it want to talk about? I don’t know.

I can’t say that ever over the last 3 or 4 years since I last wrote that I was ever fixed (or ever wanted to stop writing, I miss this).

I seem to loop the loop through emotions, still peaks and troughs of high and low, happy, sad, angry, passive, interested, bored…… It’s tiring.

I am always tired. H wonders if it is the medication.  But without the meds the loop the looping is just as tiring. So I can’t win.

Image result for emotional rollercoaster

I just accept that this is the way it is.  And I think that is why I stopped writing.  What was the point of documenting the inside of my brain? I’d accepted it. The BPD life and me.  It was never going to be easy, this is how it is.  I resolved to use all of my experience to an advantage.  I had to stop letting it eat me up.

Over the last few years I have used everything to an advantage.

In the workplace I am an advocate for mental health.

In my profession, I am concerned that you’re not allowed to talk about “it” (read between the lines as “one’s mental health”) due to repercussions.

In my experience you’re not allowed to talk about “it” either because a) it makes people feel uncomfortable because they lack experience in mental health problems or b) the work place is dangerous and if you say you’re depressed/crazy/suffer poor mental health management crash down on top of you, either demanding that you “pull yourself together” (yes, one of my managers has said that) or get the fuck out of the building because they don’t trust you not to kill yourself on the premises and that will make the company look bad.  The management didn’t say the later in those exact words, but it was literally “go home you can’t be here”, despite the member of staff stating that the fact she didn’t want to be alive any more did not mean that she was going to kill herself ( a statement that you will only understand if you’ve been there – not wanting to be alive does not necessarily mean you are going to kill yourself).

I know employers have to be careful, but they also have the responsibility to take the time to understand the physical and mental health problems that their employees have to juggle along with a personal life and maintaining a full time job.

Rant over. Maybe.  I’ll let my brain wander a bit more to eject some of the words in there and sort it out into something linear.


Outside of work I have approximately 1 and a half friends. The half friend is one of H’s best friends girlfriend.  I think H is my best friend, but I don’t think he counts as he is also my boyfriend.

Inside of work the girls that I line manage are like my family and my friends.  Some of them are like sisters to me, some like daughters.  I am the mother hen and they are my chicks. I stand up for them and protect them as much as I can.  I stand up for what is right and have gotten pretty good at saying what is wrong, what is needed and pointing out what has been achieved, despite sometimes feeling frowned on that we have not achieved more when sometimes we are literally on our knees pushing to go on because we really do believe that the job we do is important.

Recently there has been a lot off illness in the workplace. In my humble opinion I think this is because of the stresses we are put under.

Our job is highly stressful.  Some of my close blog buddies know what I do and where I work, but I can’t go into more here as I cannot risk my role by speaking out and identifying myself. Either way, we deal with life and death every day, and this is stressful before you throw anything else in the mix.

We are often understaffed. I don’t even need to explain how stressful this is.   There is no-one to pick up the slack of the other jobs while we deal with life and death, so we inadvertently cause more work for ourselves later on picking up on the things that we have not done and staying behind to do them.  Many of us work through our lunch breaks and go home late. Every. Single. Day.

If we are not understaffed we are staffed with unqualified workers.  Again this is stressful as we do not have the time to adequately train the new staff because we need to catch up on the jobs that have been forgotten and do our own jobs too. Yes, on the surface it sounds like a problem with time management but I can assure you there are not enough hours in the day to do everything that is expected of us.  We have to add to our day training the next generation, plus checking all of their work to ensure that they aren’t going to be responsible for killing something.

The last one is possibly the biggest stress of mine. I am afraid that something is going to die, because of something someone did or didn’t do, by mistake.  And that will be the thing that finally kills me and I lose it all again.

Over the last few months I have been working on this anxiety day in, day out. I have to do everything in my power to ensure that nothing died on my watch and everything was perfect, often pushing my body and brain to its limits.  Some days I’d get home and go straight to bed for a few hours, quite and dark to sooth the noise in my brain.

Over the last few months I’ve approached many people about the staffing situation for it only to fall on deaf ears.


Since I accepted my mental health problem I’ve been pretty honest about it with people in the real world.  I don’t go around introducing myself as “Hello, I’m Sailor, I have BPD”, but I do not edit myself or my behaviours.  If people don’t like it they can get out of my life. I know it’s not very accepting but people either accept me as I am – sometimes depressed-can’t-leave-the-house or sometimes yay-lets-do-all-the-things-and-then-make-promises-I-can’t-keep. My family accept it, H accepts it, so does his best friend and girlfriend and my one actual friend. My team accept it too.  But then my team are pretty quirky as individuals.  These groups of people accept it and we laugh about it (obviously only when I’m in a good mood).

Image result for bpd funny


Due to my brain and the fact that we don’t talk about mental health enough I make sure I talk about it at work. My employers know.  One couldn’t give two shits and thinks it’s easy enough to pull yourself together, the other doesn’t believe in mental health problems but is more supportive. The other employers also don’t give a shit as long as things are done by the book.

Due to the staffing situation there are moments where it seems my team are dropping like flies. Some of the illnesses are with mental health problems but until recently people have phoned in with “a migraine” or “24 hour virus”. I’m guilty of this too.  It is still too easy to blame something physical rather than mental.  Even in this day and age people are more accepting if you’re chucking your guts up rather than feeling anxious. Both are crippling, but more people are going to have the experience of chucking their guts up rather than having a panic attack, so they simply do not understand how paralysing it is.

Recently I have made sure that when I log my sickness I am honest. I don’t have “migraines”, I think I’ve literally had only one in my life, but my sick records looks a lot more migrainey than it actually has been . I now log my sickness as stress or anxiety or depression if that is what the problem is. I am not ashamed of it, but I am scared that my capability will be questioned, despite actually being quite capable living with BPD and maintaining a full time job.

With my stressed out team I have tried to be supportive, and I think I have been. Two weeks ago it got to a point where I couldn’t be supportive anymore.  I was physically and mentally wrecked from caring too much.  I went to the doctor and got him to sign me off with depression and stress.  I know for a fact currently myself, my deputy and two others are off sick.  I can’t imagine how hard it is for those that are left behind.  I hope nothing has died.

In four days my sick note expires and then I have to face up to all of the things.


So what are the things?

Two weeks ago I was ready to quit my job, maybe even the profession.

I came to realise that I hate the place I work so much.


I have one boss who is pretty awesome, not an ass hole, and has my back.

I have the ability to influence and sometimes carry out miracles (OK not actual miracles, but pretty impressive stuff).

I have the most wonderful team, that even though half of us are physically damaged and the other half emotionally damaged, can also work miracles, are caring and wonderful and……. there are just not enough words to bestow what an amazing job they do.

I have colleagues that are as frustrated as I am with the whole situation.

I think I must also have hope that things will change one day.

It took me a while. Thinking and thinking and thinking the above points.  But eventually I decided that I need to go back, sort things out and improve things.

But I’m glad I took this time out for me first, so I can go back to who I was before I was so stressed I didn’t know who I was any more.


I don’t think H will be happy. He hates the stress that work puts me under.  But when I tell him I’m going back I know he will be supportive.

HS xox

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I don’t know what happened.  Writers block or something.  But it always felt wrong here anyway.  I never quite got into being Bonjour Marin.  I am Hello Sailor, and since what happened there, and my trust was broken, I never quite got over it.  Now any domain I choose to hide in doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel like me.  Even now I am not me.  But I need to write, so I need to try.

It is true that I am scared of people knowing the real me.  The real me is a broken, distorted person, covered over by the façade of a Sailor, even in real life, although she has different names.  Sometimes her and I and all the others merge into one. I am getting used to this mingle of managing all of the different personalities, but again I’m afraid that letting them all be who they are means I am not normal.  I don’t aspire to be normal, I just want to be treated that way, no better, no worse than anyone else.

There are so many words in my brain, but I try to be mindful and “in the moment”, as I was taught by various therapists.  If I’m in the moment and the moment is bad, I will not always be in the moment. I believed the fact that I was not in the moment any more meant it did not matter, but I think it was wrong.  Everything I was taught in therapy I probably perceived as something else because of my broken borderline brain.  When the moment has passed there are shadows of feelings that need to be dealt with.  I don’t know if I’m supposed to talk about them or wait for them to fade.  I no longer have therapy.  I have no one to ask.

I am lonely without you, but my broken brain can only deal with the mundane task of running day-to-day tasks at the moment. After all, I am trying to live in my moment, even if my moment lingers and I can’t decide what to do with it.

I don’t know if I’m back forever or just for this day.  Perhaps I’ll ease myself in slowly, because this still doesn’t seem right.

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A Thousand Times Already

Fi’s birthday is coming up.

Two years ago I went on a date with someone really special.  It got messed up because he couldn’t be honest.  Occasionally he pops into my brain and I miss what we had, even if what we had was nothing and I was wasting my time breaking my heart.

Miss You

Then comes the memories of always being betrayed. Even when I was young I couldn’t keep friends, I guess because my emotions were too reactive, or something.

What Asshole did, everything he promised me and the fact that he took away more than you or he will ever know.  What that Girl, my best friend, did and the whole “you’re faking your mental illness” situation, turned it around on me and accusing me of bullying her (I hasten to add that I did not bully anyone).

It all reminds me of the neglect and betrayal.  One of those downward spirals, where the more you think, the deeper you go and the harder it is to get back up.


It’s probably only me who sees it this way.

Anyone else involved in the memories probably sees it as their innocent actions resulting in my emotional outbursts of ginormous proportions, because that is just how Sailor is.    Emotionally reactive.  Intensely unstable.  Borderline.

quote | Tumblr | via Facebook

My outbursts were always “how can I go on living like this, if people keep doing this to me?”.

So much emotional pain.  If hearts could actually break, I’m sure mine did a thousand times already.

I honestly don’t know how I did it.  How I’m still here.

I am more careful now.  I keep a distance, if I keep people far enough away, I can’t get hurt.

Life seems smaller with fewer people, but safe.

hekootymsoul | via Tumblr

I’m better off in friendships with birds and bees and dogs and unicorns.  I can do that.

I doubt that I will ever not feel betrayed by all these things that happened.  And I doubt I will ever understand why it happened. People do things I suppose.  They do what feels right for them.

For now, we will continue living in caution.  For now I need the ocean and the few of you I trust.

(5) - Phrases | via Facebook

Love Sailor xox

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I hate that I want everyone to like me.

My mind is so confusing I don’t think I can begin to explain this one, although I’m sure there are other people who feel the same way.

I’m aware that personality clashes mean that not everyone is liked or likable.

Sometimes, with the BPD, I feel like I don’t have a personality, even though I’m sure I have one.  I can be defined by the thing I like, the people I interact with, my life experiences, my dislikes.  Yet sometimes I still feel the big fat empty lack of personality.

Sometimes, with the BPD, I soak up other people’s personalities.  I don’t mean to, but when you aren’t feeling yourself it is easy to be a social butterfly when you absorb other people like a sponge.  I try to be mindful.  I try to accept that my feelings of lack of personality make me want to consume other peoples.  I try to be aware that I am my own person and I can know what I like and dislike.

I hate that sometimes, because I want to be liked and accepted, I pretend to like things I don’t. I know I’m doing it.  I have no excuse.  Now I know I do it, I do it a lot less, but I still feel guilty about it because I don’t want to be a liar and then my brain won’t shut up.

I also sometimes say things other people want to hear, just to make them happy, so they don’t feel bad. Not major lies, but things like “Yes, your dress looks lovely,” when I’m asked, even if it is bloody horrible.  If someone said I looked horrible I’d be broken.  So I don’t say it.  Maybe I don’t believe people when they give me compliments because I lie and I’m afraid they will lie.

I hate that I want to be liked and accepted, even by the people I don’t necessarily like, but it’s not as simple as that.

There are people who I genuinely, genuinely like.  I can be honest with them and I trust them and I don’t try to be them, because they know the real me.

There are people I dislike, just because they seem to have characteristics that seem negative, for example they bully or belittle, they are selfish, cruel or egotistical, things I find repulsive in a human, even though I can understand why these personality traits may have arisen.  I can think of a few names that I won’t mention here because it is irrelevant. But when I spend time with them, I find I like them more, even though I know I don’t like them, and I still want to be liked by them.

Again, I over think things.

I don’t want to be disliked, but it’s thoughts like this that make me worry that I am secretly unlikable, and eventually people will find out that I don’t have a personality, sometimes I lie to certain people about things so they will like me, and then they won’t like me, so I might as well go and hide somewhere so no one can know me.

Love Sailor xox

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Tea, Anyone?

***Trigger Warning***

I had a psychotherapy session yesterday.  I didn’t start off in the best of moods.

The day before (Monday), I had an increasingly rare panic attack at work.  I say increasingly rare, because although I’m an anxious person, constantly feeling on the edge of an anxiety attack, they don’t often spill over.  But when they do spill over….. they are epic.

I went home from work feigning a stomach bug.  I felt rather guilty, I hardly ever go home from work sick, but this panic attack made me feel ill, and I knew I’d have to go home and crash out after my adrenaline levels plummeted (and I did – I slept for two hours).

I know what cause the anxiety attack, but I don’t think that’s the point of this. The point is after the panic attack, using up all my adrenaline and feeling exhausted made me extremely grumpy and “there is no point to anything, I wish I was dead”.

My brain was acting up.  It was saying some awful things.  My brain (I don’t know who it is in there, I think Charlotte when she gets a bit angsty) finishes sentences with “and then we’ll kill ourselves” or “they’re coming to get us and then they’re going to kill us”.  For example my brain thinks ” I’m thirsty, I’d better go and make a cup of tea,” then out of nowhere “and then we’ll kill ourselves” gets added to the end of the sentence.  If I wanted to kill myself my priority wouldn’t be to have a cup of tea first. I hate the pre occupation my (our?) brain has with death sometimes.

But the annoying thing is, the begining of my psychotherapy session started with the normal question of “How are you feeling?”, and my reply was “I kind of don’t see the point in anything, I don’t want to be alive any more”. Throught the progress of talking for an hour about life, the universe and everything I came to the conclusion that “Everything matters too much, it hurts, I don’t want to be alive any more“.

So that’s it.  Those are the two extremes. My answer to everything is death.  So I will sit here in limbo for a few days until I find something new to obsess over and death is no longer the answer or the question.

And the thing that is more annoying that the answer to everything being death? I don’t have another psychotherapy session until the middle of September.

Love Sailor xox

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A Crazy Update

It’s been a while.  It all looks a bit different.  I thought it was about time I dipped my toe back in.

I’m still me, and by that I mean I’m still crazy.  There are still triggers and flashbacks, there are arguments in my brain, voices telling me to kill myself, moments where this all doesn’t seem real, moments where nothing matters at all and moments of everything matters so much it hurts.  This is me, this is my normal.  I’m coming to terms with it, still. It’s a work in progress. But before I launch into all that crazy, I should probably do an update, because it’s been a while.

University is almost at the end.  Lessons have finished, all essays are handed in, now I just have to pass the written and practical exams.  This is easier said than done.  Balancing learning and crazy is not always easy, as depending on the type of crazy i.e. whether it is functional crazy or not, can never be estimated.  I’m not sure how I managed to do a whole Post Graduate Diploma with Borderline Personality Disorder (and all the crap thats gone with it), but I did it. There are so many times I almost quit, because it seemed more trouble than it was worth, what with balancing the crazies up at the same time, but I’m glad I did it.  In some ways I think it kept me alive in the really bad moments, because I didn’t want to leave my work unfinished.

I think now I need a new goal to work on.  Whether it’s painting or learning something new, or both, I don’t know yet, I just need something to aim towards.  I think this always helps, it gives me something relatively healthy to obsess over.

My new job is not going too bad.  I suppose when you work in a place which is large enough and there are lots of people there are personality clashes.  Some people are nice, some I don’t get, some I don’t trust and some are on my wavelength. I try to stay out of all of the work politics stuff.  I don’t want to over-complicate things.  If there is an argument or disagreement I don’t get involved, because I can’t get involved without it adversely affecting my mental health.  I worry that sometimes I am distant from the rest of the group, but when it comes to the nursing, I am hardly distant at all (I can’t say never since I still have my “run away and hide”, usually accomapanied by “clean ALL the things!” days) and we all work as a team so it doesn’t really matter.

Compared to my last job, I feel more relaxed here because there is no constant bullying, arguments and I actually feel valued.

There are people from my old life who I miss every day, Jenny is one, C is another (although I try not to think about him or I get triggered), some I don’t miss at all (my old Head Nurse who was the bully) and some I miss, even though I can see how screwed up everything was (W and Helenna, mostly).  There are some I’m deathly confused about, so instead of face up to it, I try to bury it all deep, deep down in the hope that one day they will sort themselves out (or manifest themselves into new and improved mental illnesses).

I’m lucky that Jenny is still a constant in my life, as well as Alex, when he is in the country. Everyone else just leaves eventually. I also feel lucky that I have my mental friends forever I made here in blogland.  I count you all as a true, constant friends now I now you personally and you have helped me over the past few months!

Therapy is a bit balls. Since CBT/DBT finished at the beginning of the year I have psychotherapy once every six weeks.  It helps, it’s better than nothing, but I still think I could’ve done with a bit longer on the CBT front.  I felt like CBT was more helpful that psychotherapy because it was more structured and weekly. Psychotherapy seems to me too much like just talking about the things that pop into your brain, during the sessions that you hardly ever get, and feels like it doesn’t really solve anything.

Since my Nan died at the end of last year my brother has moved out. It’s a bit weird that he has moved into her house, I haven’t been there since she died because, I don’t know, I’m not sure how I feel about it. It’s her house, it always will be.  I don’t like the idea of him moving her stuff out and replacing it with his own.  But it’s not like she needs any of it. It’s quieter at home without him, but I like it.  I like quiet.

The others are still here, but it’s mostly me at the front.  I don’t mind this because with the CBT we did have we learnt to work and function a bit better as a whole person rather than parts.

I have not been on any more dates.  My life plan now is to grow old, live on a beach and be a mad cat/dog/rabbit/everything else lady.

I have not had a holiday in eight months and I’ve only had one hair cut.  My car has broken down zero times, but someone decided to park in the boot, so now it has a massive dent in it.

I still have four rabbits and my parents won’t let me have a dog.  I’m scared I’m going to live with my parents forever.

Everything else is still pretty much the same. I’m still a sailor, nurse, painter, writer, pirate, mermaid.  I go mental every so often so I have no idea what I’m thinking about or who is even doing the thinking. I somehow get up to go to work everyday, and everyday I fall back into bed wondering how I made it through yet another day.  I still hope that one day it will feel better.

Love Sailor xox

Posted in Art, Borderline, Mental Health | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

In My Room

Let me take you to a place that I know.  It’s a place where I can just be, a blank canvas where my mind rests, where I can reach out to you in the only way I know how.

There is a room, it’s not very big, but it’s big enough that when the door is shut and locked you don’t feel claustrophobic.

The white door is locked from the inside.  The paint has aged and is flakey, it could have been duck egg blue at some point.  The handle and locking mechanism are ornate brass, bright, shiny and smooth on the parts that are handled the most but tarnished on the rest of it. I don’t know where the key is to get out.  It’s OK though because I have no intention of removing myself from this room any time soon.  And even if I want to remove myself, all trace of the room magically fades away.

The walls are white. I’m not sure if they are cracked or faded because I hardly ever take my eyes of the door.

There is a window. Outside the sky is always blue. Sometimes there are white fluffy clouds, but they are never grey and the sky is never completely overcast. Trees frame the window, when I glance over I can see the green leaves dancing in the breeze. I don’t think the room is on the ground floor because all I can see is trees and sky.

The floor is definitely faded.  I can see when I am laying on it. There are wooden floor boards, slightly uneven, like you get in old English cottages.  They creak when you walk across them, not that I do much walking.  I imagine that when I cry my tears seep through the cracks..

Despite there being a bed in the room, a wrought iron bed with simple sheets, I lay on the cool floor facing the door which is an arm’s length away.  I can just about see under the door, but it doesn’t look like anything, just darkness.

I imagine you in the adjoining room, laying like me – on the floor, an arms reach from the door.

You can poke your fingers though the crack under the door, and I can do the same.  It’s to let each other know we are still there.  We can’t hear each other  because neither of us have the strength to talk in words.  We can’t see each other, apart from our finger tips, but it is somehow comforting, especially when you reach out far enough and our fingertips touch momentarily.


In two locked rooms it feels so far away from each other, much like reality. But when our fingertips touch all distance is lost and it feels like you are really here with me in my room.

Love Sailor xox

P.S I’ll be back soon, studying is almost over.

Posted in Art, Borderline, General Thoughts, Mental Health | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Hello Sailor Swallow – Free To Good Home

Blah, my birthday is coming up soon.  I did the whole explanation last year of why I don’t get birthdays (actually, checking back on my whole “Hello Sailor Contemplates Birthdays” post, it was exactly a year ago today I wrote it – I like coincidences).

My birthday last year kind of sucked balls. This year is my thirtieth and I’m still contemplating whether or not to participate this year.  I’ve been told if I don’t celebrate it, I’ll regret it, but knowing me I’ll probably regret it anyway because birthdays are just a bit pants really.

Anywho a while ago I decided to give away one of my paintings for my birthday.  I don’t know why, maybe the deed of doing something for someone else on what I consider the most selfish day of the year makes me feel less spoilt, or something.  Who knows.  It makes sense in my brain.

Originally I decided I would give away one on my Facebook page if I reached 100 followers before July 7th, but actually it doesn’t really matter how many likes I have, I’d rather people like it because they like it, not because they are getting something out of it. And I want to extend the love to my WordPress family, because without you I’d be nothing anyway, plus I know many of you aren’t on Facebook (or just enjoy hiding) and I want you to be included.

So this is what I’m giving away, one of my swallows –

hello sailor original swallow

He doesn’t have a name yet, but he is a he. I guess you can name him when you get him, whoever you are.

He’s hand draw and painted in watercolour and ink on A4 watercolour paper.

Here is how I’m going to do it –

Leave a message here on BonjourMarin, or Facebook, saying you want to enter, I’ll put your name on the list, on my birthday I’ll put everyone’s names in a hat, draw one out and that will be the winner.  I’ll even pay postage.

There can only be one entry per person, because I want it to be as fair as possible.

There is also a second prize, but this is not for an original, this is for four prints of my designs –


These are the original watercolour paintings I had scaled down and printed on to cards.

They are printed onto A6 (105mmx148mm) high quality thick 350gsm satin coated card. Each card is blank inside, so it can be sent with a personalised message (or you could just frame it and hang it on you wall as a piece of art!) and hand folded.

The catch? Your present to me.  Either dress yourself up/dress your pet up as a sailor or pirate OR change your profile picture on Facebook to a Hello Sailor painting for the day, post a message so I can see you and then I will choose my favourite, so make it awesome!

I’ll post again nearer the time reminding everyone, but this is what I want most for my birthday – Participation and people dressed as sailors.

If you decide to enter – Good luck!

Love Sailor xox

Posted in Art, General Thoughts | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments