Something I wrote last Monday or Tuesday..

I wrote this either Monday November 23rd or Tuesday November 24th, 2015. I was in a really bad place. I just need to let it out somewhere other than just in my private journals. I’m going to upload an update on how I’m doing now that I’ve seen the doc and gotten meds fixed a bit a little later.

 

**Trigger Warnings-Depression, suicidal thoughts, suicidal actions, cutting**
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~~This isn’t everything, but it’s everything I could get out in one sitting~~
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I’m losing myself… I’m losing everyone that matters to me. the ones that aren’t pushing me away, I’m pushing away unintentionally. and I keep bringing back toxic people into my life, because it’s what I know, and what I feel is safe/deserved.
I’m falling down the rabbit hole, sinking deep into this Great Depression, and I don’t know how to dig my way out anymore. My hands, elbows, knees, and feet are all bloodied from trying to crawl my way up, and my back is all scratched up from being dragged back down by The Darkness.
This is the worst episode I’ve had in a very very long time. At least 4 or 5 years now. I don’t want to take care of myself when I’m alone. I only do what people can see, or notice. And beyond that, I don’t care enough to bother.

If Brian is home, I try to make myself take care of myself, but, it’s really fucking hard, and takes a great deal of effort.
Holiday season is always hard on me, but, this year is taking the biggest toll it’s ever taken.
I don’t sleep well at night, unless I’m practically glued to Brian, or heavily medicated, but, I sleep all damn day to catch up. last week I slept 6 hours a day, after the sun came up, and then I was up for 21-28 hours, depending on when I fell asleep again once the sun went down and came back up again. and this was with meds the whole time.

Ambien causes nightmares and flashbacks that I can’t handle in any way shape or form.
I haven’t grieved for any of the deaths or losses I’ve been dealt this year. I’m just shoving it all away. I cry really hard for a little bit when I find out, and then I tell myself to pull it together, and I never let it out again. Even people who mean a lot to me.
I can already tell I’m on the edge of a nervous breakdown, but, I know that the mental health facilities I’ve been to have never helped, and, I’m scared to even think to try the one in this city, with how I’ve been treated by the GP I’ve been seeing out here….
I’m pretty sure I’ve only told Brian, but, a couple mornings ago, I almost cut again. had the knife out, ready, and everything. I was putting it towards my leg when his alarm went off and I stopped because I didn’t want him to see me doing it, and I know he always turns to cuddle me when his first alarm goes off in the morning, so I rushed to quietly put my knife back in my drawer and I sat on the bed, hugging my stuffed animal and rocking back and forth. I confessed when he asked what was wrong, and had a mini break down, and he talked me through it, said he was proud I stopped and everything, but, he still doesn’t know that the only reason I was able to was because I didn’t want him to catch me…

and that was just a week or two after wanting to actually die…
I’m not doing well…I’m doing really fucking bad…and I don’t know where to turn…
I’m seeing my psych whenever I can to get meds adjusted as much as possible, and we just did another med change, but, it’s been only a day, so, no idea if it’s going to help yet. I just wish I could actually get my fucking meds from the pharmacy. they didn’t fill everything, like I guess they didn’t read the whole thing or whatever? I don’t know, but they didn’t give me my anxiety attack meds, or even tell me why they weren’t giving them to me. and the sleeping pill is waiting on a doctor/insurance approval, so who knows how long until I can try something stronger for sleep.
I have a week and a day until my new insurance kicks in, and then hopefully I can start seeing new doctors that may actually try to help me once the first appointment is over or whatever, but, for now I have to stay with the ones that aren’t helping much if at all.
I just…I need some fucking help…or out of this damn apartment for more than a few hours…something…fuck.

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