Trigger warning: talk of suicidal and self harm thoughts.
In case anyone is wondering how I’m doing, it’s not going well. I’m not coping.
I’m still trying to catch up with all the blog posts I missed, but it’s taking a while and my concentration is bad, but I will get up to date soon I hope.
I am not really posting like before because I don’t feel like writing. I don’t feel like doing anything. I’m going through the motions of life, but I’m not living.
I feel lost, empty and so so so tired. I want to give up. I know it’s not an option, but now it’s starting to creep into my mind as an idea. I want out. I want it to be over. Every night I wish that this will be it, the end.
I wake up in the morning (or afternoon quite often) and I ache. I’m still tired. I drag myself out of bed. The willpower it takes is insane. Sometimes I don’t at all. I am coping – to the public eye. I am attending lectures, seminars, meetings, even some socials. But I can’t carry on. I can’t run on nothing forever. I don’t want to do it. None of it. I am taking on lots of things. I know I can’t do it. But I need to. I want to prove I can do it, I am coping, I’m fine – I’m good. But I’m not. It’s all a mask. It’s all pretend. It’s catching up with me. I’m going to drown.
I don’t know if anyone notices. In real life or on here. My blog stats are very low at the moment, I guess that’s because I haven’t been here much.
Or maybe no one cares. My friends are clueless. They know I’m “depressed” but I don’t think they even understand what that means. I don’t think they know the extent of how shit and awful I’m feeling. And if they did, I don’t think they’d do anything anyway. How many of my “friends” are real?
I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want someone to tell me to “get over it”, or that “everything’s going to be fine”, and I especially don’t want anyone to tell me “you’re over reacting” or to “man up.”
But I can’t do this by myself. I am so thankful for my amazing boyfriend. Who answers the phone at 1:30am? He does. Who talks to me whenever I’m feeling down, and won’t take “I’m fine” for a response, because he know’s when I’m not? He does. I’m so lucky to have him, it’s just a shame he’s so far away.
I just want to fall asleep tonight and not wake up. I keep thinking about taking my knife and dragging it down my legs and arms. I can’t stop fantasising about the bag of tablets I have downstairs (I’m on 4 medications and just came off 1 so have a lot) but something stops me. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Except me.
I wonder, would he ever find out? If I got my knife again? I’d feel guilty. I’d tell him. He would be sad. He would be angry. And he would be disappointed.
I just can’t believe I’m feeling like this and I’m classed as low suicide risk. Do I have to try and kill myself before anyone will help me? Why don’t they listen?
Sorry about the rant. It’s all mismatched and it doesn’t make sense. It’s disconnected. My brain feels disconnected from the world.
I just sit. Or stand. Not looking at anything, not doing anything. Just there. I switch off. I drift out of conversations. I don’t know what’s going on.
Every time I think I’ve hit my lowest point
I fall further.
Paranoid. Lost. Lonely. Tired. Sad. Empty. Angry. Negative. Hopeless. And it feels like my brain is broken. I can’t think.
Let’s sleep away the pain.