This thought has come to me before, but it got drowned with the other noise in my head. Is it not conceited that whenever news comes to light with my family or job, it is always somehow my fault. My noise takes any and EVERY opportunity to blame me for the particular issue. That seems selfish, conceited. How can someone who hates herself be conceited. If you are old enough to remember the soap opera As the World Turns….you could call my psyche as the onion peels haha.
Why am I here?
Why am I here? What purpose do I serve?
I forgot to mention that I do love twisted movies. So I will spend the day drinking with movies such as “May, ” Frailty,” “Fragile,” “Sling Blade,” “Silence of the Lambs.” Maybe even “Hellraiser.” I find them to be a step above “Saw.”
They give me a rush much different than thoughts of sleeping and never waking up.
Whatever works …..
Be Well…Find what works for YOU
I drink with half a seroquel. I have done it for so long that instead of making sleep all night like I used to…. I sleep three hours. I drink with a XanAx when I want to take a “nap.” Even an old friend told me, “never drink with Xanax, you may not wake up.” I have been doing so for over a year and I am still here. I am thinking this is where some type of legal disclosure should be inserted. I think when u started this blog years ago, I put somewhere, “warning this sight may be triggering.”
YES I am tired. Tired does not begin to describe what it takes to get through every day. I don’t think I want to die. I just want to stop thinking. Stop pretending. So it would appear that I have made great strides over the last year.
That is bullshit. I read my DBT workbook. I absorb what it says. It makes sense. I did not intend to pretend. I really felt like I was getting better. I believed I was better. I now believe one can dissociate to the point where you believe your own lies. This is not one of those guilt yourself into misery things. It is a twisted way of my essence forcing me to survive.
Can my essence teach me how to feel peace. Real peace. Not temporary vodka, rum, and pill laced peace. Let me see…. I can lay in bed and play with my daughters dog all day. I can cook all day. I can lay in my boyfriends arms all day. I can move in with my psychologist all day. Ummm I don’t think he and his wife would go for that …. Besides the fact that he would lose his license lol.
One of life’s jokes. I now have insurance on my new job. Yet I have no money to pay for therapy.
My head hurts from thinking. My body aches from exhaustion. Time for another drink. Another nap.
I will never be better. I will just go through various levels of coping.
I don’t want to…
Get out of bed
Go to work
Pack for moving in with my daughter
Eat, because I over eat and get sick
Hear the noise in my head
Work overtime even though I need the money super badly
I Do Want to…
Peel my cuticles until they bleed
Cook… It settles my nerves
Stay inside for eternity
Prevent the wound on my stomach from healing
I am tired of being strong
I am tired of not being able to go to therapy
I am tired of not sharing with my family that I am on the edge….they must be tired of the same cycles. The same issues over and over. It is not that I get better and then backslide. It is that my level of pretending gets better and then wanes. It is that I get sick and tired of discussing the same issues….over and over and over.
This is me. It will always be me. So I protect them by not discussing it. I make them feel better by pretending I am better. It is the least I can do.
Can someone tell me what to do with my pain? I don’t want to write in a fucking journal. My pain is beyond that. As the tears flow down my cheeks. Some land on my phone, as I am blogging this from my cell phone. I feel hate. I feel pain. I feel angry. I feel worthless.
What does one do when reality echoes self loathing and self loathing echoes reality? I am so close to making it to the time when I am eligible for insurance on my new job. I am so close to the edge.
I don’t want to watch the news. I don’t want to go to work. I am tired of pretending I am not miserable. I am tired of fighting my hatred and pain with logic. WTF for? What does logic solve?
Maybe it’s true. Maybe my life doesn’t matter.