At church, just sitting in my car, hesitating to go in. Everything is going right in my life. Why am I so depressed? Even though I’ll see my friends soon it doesn’t feel like they want to see me. They ask if I can record and make cds but nothing of being happy to see me. Although, they say they’re happy others are coming. It’s just like, ok, the past is swinging around to the present.
It’s like I’m begging God to take away my pain and despair. It doesn’t work that way, and I know it. I guess it’s better than never letting him in.
So here I go. Time to have dinner by myself. Pick myself up and play the game one more time.
Today has now become a sad day. I just read that a childhood friend has terminal cancer. This I have suspected for months, but to know the treatments didn’t work is heartbreaking. She and her husband have four kids five and under. Please pray for a miracle and for God to ease her pain.
This has already been an emotional week. I openened up with my therapist and shared the most about my middle school years than I have with anyone else. I shared how I felt as well as facts as to what happened in my family. Becoming vulnerable is very hard for me. The bolts and nuts are never the hard part, reaching in and grabbing those emotions is playing with fire.
DBT skills groups was no easier. My example was used for the class. Although there was only one other person, talking about my emotions and struggles for an hour made it so real.
I want someone I can cry out to. I want someone’s shoulder to rest my head on and maybe a hand to squeeze. Will that ever happen? Who’s to know. For now, my phone offers more solace than none.
I still don’t know if I can believe what happened this evening. It’s going to make me reevaluate my core beliefs. It seems so silly to say, so basic to write. This is the hardest thing for me to even think into existence.
I matter to this world. I am worthy of loving myself and of being loved.
Last night I cut myself again. I hadn’t in months. I had blades and scissors all around me. After going through all the art boxes from my storage unit I found a bunch of straight edges. I let them sit in my room for over a week. Oh yeah, I’ll get rid of them I thought. No big deal. But it was a big deal and I knew it. I wasn’t fooling myself or anyone else. I said I’d throw them out or give them to a friend.
Two things happened last night before I did anything positive with the blades. I decided to self sabotage and my emotions got to a level I thought I couldn’t handle. I have a pattern of self sabotaging after about a month of recovery. I’m not worthy of getting better, I’ve always thought. Also, my little brother went back up to school, so the focus was back on me. Not in a good way either. I needed to do this, go do that. Why can’t you be like blank? I felt I couldn’t take it. So rather than talking to my parents on how I felt they were treating me, or reaching out to a friend, I cut. Cutting feels so good. It’s almost orgasmic. A wave of endorphins wash over me. Everything is alright.
Then, reality hits. Consequences fall. I had to tell my therapist today and be ready for what could happen. I could get kicked out of the program. Luckily I didn’t get kicked out. I haven’t heard what my doctor is going to say to me tomorrow, though.
This evening I went to my friend’s house and gave her all my scissors and blades. I’m not going to lie and say I now feel so free because that would be a lie. My heart does feel love though. I texted this friend this afternoon and didn’t get a response for several hours. I figured she didn’t want to get involved. In actuality, she had a really busy day at work and hadn’t had time to look at her phone. Even though her husband wanted to spend the evening with her, she opened up her home to me. I went over and gave her the blades to dispose of. We talked for an hour, catching up on last week and getting deep and talking about why I cut.
Before I left she looked me straight on and told me that I matter and that I am worthy of love. I’ve heard this from therapists before but never from someone with such raw emotions. I thank God for this friendship.
I started today. Finally, I’m taking my weight loss seriously. It’s time. I look disgusting. No use in sugar coating it. I further the stereotype of mentally ill people. I eat my feelings. For those few minutes, I feel great. Then the oh shit not again feelings come.
Attractive or sexy isn’t what I’m going for. That’s quite funny and unrealistic. I just want to be healthy, and hell, fit into my clothes again. Gone are the days of picking up guys at a bar or wherever. Ha, gone are the days of picking up guys. I think I’m asexual. I’ve accepted that I’m fucked up in about five too many ways to ever get in a relationship again.
This time I want to lose weight true healthy way. No barely eating or over exercising. Just eating healthy food. Yes, I plan on keeping a journal of what I eat but not counting the calories. I’ll only weigh in once a week.
I’ve got this. Bring on tomorrow. I’ve got today. 😉
It’s my birthday. I’m sad, not depressed, just sad. I don’t know why. Is it because only one person has acknowledged it? I don’t think so. I don’t think my birthday has anything to do with it really.
I’m in php. This is my 12th day. I’ve had two, two week each hospitalizations since September. The second time my doctor “highly suggested” I do php. So here I am. Every weekday from 9-2 I’m here doing the hardest job I’ve ever done. Being told that everything you’ve been doing and thinking isn’t healthy so you need to unlearn it all and relearn how to think in a healthy way. Plus an hour and a half commute completely drains me.
I don’t know what I want and more importantly I don’t know what I need. The reason I’m here is to find out. Hopefully it’ll sink in soon.
In about 12 hours I have my usual Tuesday afternoon therapy session. Except this one is going to be different. I need help. I think I’m abusing my benzos again. This time is different than the others. I’ve been in bed for days not able to get out. My anxiety it through the roof. Don’t run out of your Klonopin on the weekend and not have a secret stash. Well, I used up my secret stash, and my Ativan stash too. My heart feels like it’s going to explode.
I guess I either need to get off this stuff (I’ve been on for 15 years) or I need to get on a dose where I can take it in smaller quantities in smaller intervals throughout the day. All I can think about is picking up that prescription tomorrow and popping one of those perfectly round tiny blue pills into my mouth.
I hate living like this. I hope I have the courage to ask someone for help.
Why can’t I tell anyone I’m depressed today? I’m sad and just want to sleep and cry. Yes, it’ll pass so just let me have my feelings! No, I don’t have a reason and that’s ok. My body is just too heavy to move, my mind too foggy to think.