I’ll cry if I want to

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. 

The Truth

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.

Excess

I binged tonight, severely. For the first time it was so bad I had to purge. Twice. The depression hasn’t lifted and anger has set in. None of the negative feelings went away the entire time I binged. The feelings just seemed to escalate. 

I came home and immediately took my night meds. One extra mg of klonipin and one mg of Ativan. I’m still awake. I just want to choke myself and let it be over. 

It all hurts too bad now. 

One week

I told him the truth, he didn’t believe me. My psychiatrist said it’s the BPD. I’ve learned that’s my default response, wanting to kill myself. Yes, that’s true. I still see myself through others eyes. When someone is mean, rude, etc to me, it’s my fault. I’ve been working on it in therapy for months now. “It gets easier with time. You just have to keep working on it.” Every session two times a week. 

How do I handle the thoughts inundating my head constantly? The dreams of me hanging myself. The thoughts of buying a new blade and slashing my throat. While driving, forcing myself to stay on the road and not driving off an overpass or speed into a guardrail at 120 mph. 

I don’t know how to stop it. I started cutting again. The feelings have to come out somewhere. My stomach is where I hide my pain. I cut for relief, not attention. No one knows. Who knows what my therapist would say. My psychiatrist would get all heady. 

I’m at a loss. Just like I told both my therapist and psychiatrist, I’m 99% ready to give up. The only thing that’s holding me on is finishing this semester with a 4.0. One more week. 

I’ll be safe for one more week.