With the exception of while I was at my eye exam, I spent the whole day binging and purging, as has become my norm. My last purge was especially violent and I feel weak and shaky and too tired to keep binging and purging, even though I have a few more hours left in the day to pass. I don’t want to not binge and purge. When I’m not binging and purging, I start thinking about my ex and I start feeling and I can’t handle it and I start feeling suicidal. I just want to stay numb.
I spent my weekend with my brothers. For the most part, it was great. We play games, we drank vodka, we caroused, we enjoyed each other’s company. The was only one down side.
As you may know, I was on a restrictive diet when I left for the weekend. While drunk, I ended up eating. I woke up the next morning, remembered eating a sandwich, and was suddenly filled with dark suicidal thoughts. You don’t know regret until your regret comes with the knowledge that you need and deserve to be dead because of the mistake you made.
Luckily the suicidal thoughts only lasted an hour or so, but it was a rough morning.
So, tomorrow, I am starting the diet over and it will be a fasting day.
My brother is now making “adult money” as he calls it. He told me the first big purchase he wants to make it to buy a gun.
In thinking about it, I realized I can’t own a gun. On my bad days, it would be too much of a temptation.
My uncle shot himself in his basement. I am scared I would do the same thing if I were really struggling. It’s hard enough to keep myself alive without a deadly weapon in my possession.
It’s dark and I’m barefoot. I’m sitting on the front step of my brothers apartment crying, wishing to die, wanting to claw my skin off. I stand to leave, knowing they won’t notice. I walk away from their apartment in tears with no plan in mind. I just need to get away. Away from myself. I walk and walk, the tears blurring my vision. I walk past the liquor store they frequent. I walk past the dollar store. I need to DO something. I see the brick pillars in front of the stores and I start hitting my arms against them, trying to produce bruises. I continue walking, the crying is now sobbing. I get a text from my mom. “Are you ok?” I respond, “No.” I explain that I’m walking around barefoot, sobbing, suicidal. She asks where I am. I say near a specific bus stop. She says to go there and stay. I do.
Shorty thereafter, my brother arrives. He sits next to me and wraps his arms around me. I lean into him and cry. We sit like this for I don’t know how long. Then, he quietly asks if I want to go home. I say yes. He stands and grabs my hand. He leads me home. The ground I was too distraught to feel earlier I feel acutely now with my bare feet so the walk it slow, but he just silently guides me home.
When we arrive home, he puts me to bed in his bed and closes the door. I feel alone, closed off, but safe. I cry myself to sleep.
The next morning, we act like nothing happened.
I was having a conversation with the boy about how my disordered thoughts have been getting worse lately. Then I showed him this picture. It’s the lock screen on my phone. A reminder of how disgusting I am, just in case I were to forget.
He told me that I am my own worst enemy.
I said I know. I just don’t know how to change that.
Right now, my hands are stinging. In an extra effort to ensure I remember not to eat, I cut all over both hands, assuming I can’t eat without seeing them and being reminded how undeserving of food I am.
Today was also my late sister’s birthday. I worked hard to ignore it. However, despite my best efforts, I felt suicidal and self-destructive all day.
It’s getting harder to hang on. A friend’s father committed suicide today. I felt like a total ass for being jealous.
I’m trying to at least get past the holidays. I know they’re hard enough for my family after losing my sister. I’m trying, but it’s getting harder and harder to keep going.
I spent New Year’s Eve in the ER last year, I’m trying not to repeat that. Plus, my mom’s birthday is in a few days.
People say that those who commit suicide are selfish. Suicidal people almost always think of their families and friends. Each day, each moment is, “Can I hold on for now, for them? Can I keep going? Can I do this to spare them the pain?” But I know that sooner or later, the answer will be no. I can’t do this, I can’t hang on any more. I’ve lost too much footing and I’m about to fall and be swallowed up by it.
Because I am my own worst enemy…and I don’t know how to destroy myself and remain intact. One of these days, one of us has to go. And if one of me dies, we both die.
All I can see are they.
The blue veins of life…of death…
I have the blade in my hand, ready.
But I am scared.
I want to, but I can’t bring myself to.
The finality.
Tonight, I am afraid of the finality of it.
Other times, I long for that.
I crave it. I need it.
But tonight, I am scared.
I’m overdosed on effexor last night. It wasn’t a fun night. It’s not a fun morning. More to come.
It amazes me how many times people do or say something that they think is profound or helpful when it’s really not.
I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed and saw this:
I kknow so many people think this is fantastic. “Oh, if I just wear a shirt that tells strangers that they’re needed, instead of investing any time in their lives, and despite whether anyone in that person’s life treats them like they matter, I can save a life!”
I won’t say that CAN’T happen, but I will say it’s unlikely.
Why?
This is how someone who is in that position is likely to take such a shirt:
You see, a flippant remark on a t-shirt by a stranger is highly unlikely to “convince” someone to not be suicidal. I think it also shows an ignorance of suicide. It’s not like someone just “feels” suicidal because they “think” the world doesn’t need them. It’s so much more complex than that. Suicide will never be solved with a “happy thought” or a phrase printed on a t-shirt directed at anyone and everyone.
What do you do when you’re a train wreck?
What do you do when you sit in a room of people playing Rock Band 3, all enjoying themselves, and you feel absolutely alone?
What do you do when all you want is to be alone, cut, and binge and purge, and who knows what else?
What do you do when you just want to talk to someone about how your life is falling to pieces, and you mentally go through the list of all the people you know, and none of them are people you feel you can tell?
What do you do when you have company from out of state and you just wish they would go home so you can fall apart with some semblance of dignity?
What do you do when you can’t keep from crying, no matter what you try?
What do you do when everywhere you turn for help tells you to go screw yourself?
What do you do when life just doesn’t seem worth it?
What do you do when you hate yourself more than you could possibly hate anyone, including people who do horrible things to other people?
What do you do when you don’t know how to keep going, but don’t know how to stop?
What do you do when it feels like you’re actually going insane?
What do you do when you wish tomorrow would never come?
What do you do when you can’t even get through a single day without some kind of meltdown or mental breakdown?
What do you do when you have all the questions but no one has the answers?
What do you do when you are the train and you can see you’re about to derail, but you just can’t do anything about it?
What do you do once you finally derail?
What do you do?
Does it even matter?
I noticed a trend in myself this morning. I backpedal a lot. But only in situations where it’s important, and mostly when others are trying to help me.
I remember, when I did residential in 2010, I was there for almost 8 months. About halfway through, I was really struggling. I was having a lot of hallucinations and I was very suicidal. I wrote a note about it and put it in the program director’s mailbox. (That’s about as direct as a I get.)
I was summoned to her office to talk about the note. When confronted, I backpedaled. No, I wasn’t reallyworried about hurting myself. I that suicidal. (I’m not sure how suicidal you have to be to be considered a risk?) I wasn’t really having hallucinations. Blah, blah, blah.
Because I couldn’t be upfront and honest, I ended up not getting the specialized help that I needed, and my stay there was probably longer than it would have been otherwise.
I noticed this morning that I do this a lot. I put some information out there, wait for the professionals to react, then retract my statements. I don’t know why I do this. I did it this morning.
In my session this morning, I mentioned in passing how much I was struggling, and the finger indecent. He was, naturally (and rightly) concerned. He wanted to call an ambulance and have me admitted in the hospital to keep me safe. He was very worried about my safety.
So, I did the only logical thing, which was to downplay the whole event and to minimize the extent to which I was struggling. I’m, apparently, really good at this. I’m great at assuring mental and medical health professionals that I’m not really a danger to myself and that I’m not really struggling. And I convinced him. Well, at least enough that he didn’t call the ambulance.
He did schedule another meeting for Monday, but I wasn’t admitted to the hospital today.
The thing is, I do this with myself. I have thought every day this week, at some point, “if I’m feeling this way tomorrow, I’ll go to the hospital.” But when the next day comes, I talk myself out of it. I convince myself that I’m really not doing that badly and that I don’t really need to go.
Again, I don’t know why I do this. Maybe I should tell him on Monday…
a2eternity 