WARNING: May be triggering. This is password protected because I don’t want people I see every day to know the truth. I don’t want them to feel obliged to help me because I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve anything.
…but I don’t know what to say or how to say it. I can’t get the words out from where they’re tumbling round inside my brain. THe pressure is building again to the point I want to scream, cry, run away, curl up under my desk and never come back out. I found a sentence I wrote a while ago and never got round to publishing which sums it up in a way;
If despite feeling happy, your brain is telling you it would be a good time to chuck yourself out the window as it’s better to die happy than to let it go bad again?
I have no reason to be down right now. I’m on my course, I may not be enjoying it that much but I’m getting through it and it has the potential to take me to where I think I want to go. I have people who, in moments of unbridled optimism, could even be referred to as friends before pointing out to myself there are no reasons on this earth why people would want to know me.
I’m still self-harming. It’s getting to the stage that between that and natural clumsiness, people who I’ve met for the first time are asking what’s happened to my arms. And I lie, look away, change the subject but deep down they probably know and yet they never ask any further. Even ‘friends’ have stopped asking if I’m ok because they just don’t want to know anymore, don’t want to deal with me.
It’s taking me hours to get out of bed each and every day. In bed I’m safe, nothing can hurt me there, not even me so I wrap myself deeper into my duvet and disappear because I don’t want to be held responsible for myself. I’m my own full time carer and I’m attempting this on top of a second degree and I just can’t do it all. Something has to give and it’s always going to be me because that is all there is.
I’ve still got my escape in crafting. I love to create, it sets my mind free, I can lose myself for hours in it and it’s bliss. But I won’t allow myself to, there’s too much guilt – I should be doing course work or cleaning the flat or anything – so instead I achieve nothing. If money were no object, it’s what I’d do forever. Create and sell my creations at small craft fairs but I can’t begin to convince myself that anyone would be interested. And besides, if it ever actually happened, no doubt I’d fail at that too.
It’s nearly a year since I overdosed – 13 days to go in fact. I don’t know why I wanted to write that, it seems so real and relevant at the moment.
This post is descending into a series of disconnected paragraphs with none of the smoothness and eloquence I was after. Incidentally, why does every drs/psych letter about me refer to me as at least two of intelligent, eloquent and insightful? Is this code for ‘knows too much, is a pain in the arse to deal with’? I still haven’t heard anything from the alleged crisis referral that went in just before Christmas. This really shouldn’t surprise me, the system has failed so many times in the past, why would I dare to suspect that this time would be any different?
There’s so much more to say, words that need to come out, feelings too painful to express but it just isn’t working. My mind won’t shape the sentences I feel so for now let’s leave it at that.