So I’ve not posted since March LAST YEAR! I’m only back because I feel like I’m slipping back and that is terrifying.
I just crashed my parents car. Great, as if our relationship wasn’t strained enough as it is.
I finally braved the journey to my pdoc. I’ve never been a confident driver since crashing just after I passed my test (4 years ago) and this really has confirmed I should never be in control of a moving massive metal death machine ever again.
So it was due to mistakes of my own and the other driver… Basically I was in the outer lane and not knowing which exit to take, the driver on the inside lane assumed I was taking the exit when I wasn’t and he slammed right into my side of the car. I was in the wrong lane YES but I didn’t indicate to leave the roundabout and he should of seen I wasn’t exiting and slowed down.
I feel absolutely terrible. The car still functions fine but it most defiantly needs some bumps removed and a new side mirror. His car is fine, just a few scratches. I’m glad I was driving really slow!!
My dad says it seems like it was due to error on both our parts. After a bit of ranting at me he calmed down when I explained what happened.
I’m surprised I managed to coherently exchange insurance details and drive the rest of the way home before having a full blown anxiety attack and hyperventilating.
I just feel shit now. I’ll never drive again, probably will never afford insurance, and stay stuck at home forever like the recluse I should be.
15mins prior to the crash my pdoc was pleased to see how I was choosing to leave the house, even if it was to only get food. Well that’s now put to an end.
I hate myself and I hate my life.
Im so very unhappy.
I dont know what to do with myself. I can either do nothing and continue living in the literal darkness of my room (i never turn lights on or open the curtains, continue to see my pdoc who doesnt know how else to treat me as i dont like therapy and drugs are not working, or just do anything i can to kill myself – ive lost all hope in overdoses after many failed attempts and i just see any option as being destined to fail.
I stare at my phone or tv all day, i dont exchange more than 6 words with people per day. No on calls or texts and ive deleted myself from all social networks.
okay i lie, i had an argument with my dad yesterday. I saw a new suitcase downstairs and questioned my dad why he had bought one as for two weeks ive been told my parents are no longer going on holiday because of me. i imediatly got angry and shouted “so youve made me feel like shit for two weeks, beating myself up thinking i ruin your lives, why have you purposely made me feel shit?”
My stepmom – “you make us feel shit too”
cue tears and locking myself in my room, i ate a whole pizza in about 2 minutes also.
Later on my dad came to my room and apologised, said he hadnt gone about things in the right way, said they are going on holiday still, wanted to know if i had any suicidal thoughts. I was honest and said i didnt trust talking to him anymore because of our last argument (conversation actually – they leave me alone in my safe place of my room apparently).
Obviously i am glad they are going on holiday and i am not stopping them but i cant help feel overwhelmed with pressure and responsibility. I can in no way harm myself while they are away, it would just be me and my younger brother alone. He cant drive, he can barely cook and he doesn’t feed the cats. I guess my parents may put me on their car insurance, i have not drove in over a year, ive always been an anxious driver. I cant burden him with my actions, the pressure of responsibility having to look after the household, the cats and my brother while i cant even do basic things for myself is horrifying. Then again perhaps i’ll just have to suck it up.
Writing has stopped the tears – im glad, but i know they will be back.
Three months that’s all it took. I’ve all ways had an amazing metabolism, I’m used to being able to eat whatever I wanted to.
I feel the rolls of fat whenever I move. I’ve never been bigger than a size 10, now I’m probably a size 14. I live my life in old baggy pj’s so I wouldn’t know.
So I’ve been on 45mg of mertazapine for two months(ish). A week ago I stopped taking it all together.
I wasn’t doing me any good other than making me drowsy all day. I loved it but it wasn’t getting me anywhere. For a while I’ve been longing for the motivation to end my life and I figured that not being drugged up and drowsy I would find the motivation.
Rather than drowzy I now just feel zapped of all energy while my mind runs riot. I’ve also developed a burning dull pain over my entire body, especially in my back and knees where I’ve had physiotherapy for previously. I’m sure this pain is because I’ve barely moved from lying in bed since November.
Also my anxiety chest pains have returned. Hoorah.
No, I didn’t tell my pdoc that I’ve stopped taking the meds. I have two weeks till I have to see her again. I don’t think she will be shocked if I don’t turn up.
A month after last talking to my friends and they have suddenly asked me how I am. I’ve ignored them. We met up once over Christmas and I left me feeling even more alone with fake friends. I used to depend on other people a lot. Now I don’t talk to anyone. I ignored the texts I got yesterday, they all texted at the same time so I assume they have been talking about me. I’ve also deleted Instagram so I have zero social networks anymore, I love it.
I want to be as far away from people as possible.
I wish i had the courage to do it. To end my life.
This past two weeks have been full of anger, upset and quietness between me and my family. It started with a conversation between me and my father, all because i confessed i didnt want to receive anymore treatment for my mental health, hes a psychiatrist and didnt take it very well to say the least. To please him and to avoid anymore arguments i agreed to go to my psychiatrist appointment and then to meet a therapist yesterday.
My therapist spent the majority of our appointment staring at the wall past my head and appologising for not knowing how to treat me further. I raised my thoughts of not wanting treatment and my presence being fully due to emotional blackmail from my parents. I even opened up about longing for the courage to do it, to kill myself. She expressed her sadness that i feel so low. The appointment ended with her urging me to see the therapist she recommended and we agreed to meet in two weeks. She thinks i am still taking my medication – im not.
So i went to the therapist, obediently went with my stepmother. We sat in the waiting room and i told her how i didnt want to be there, felt forced to be there and in return was told my parents are no longer going on their holiday because of me. Great.
The appointment went rather smoothly. I told her how i didnt want to be there and i had no intention of “getting better”. I spewed out my early childhood story, its dramatic and comes easily, ive told it a million times (so often and its so lengthly i cant be bothered to type it here, most people who know me know of it). She told me i was by far her client with the most complex and troubling childhood that she has ever come across – this leads me to believe i am more of an interest to her due to my fascinating life, probably saving her from her daily encounters with bored housewives rather than actually wanting/knowing how to fix me (maybe a bit of both). In the first meeting she told me of how i have abandonment issues and a lack of self. She aims for me to discover my own identity away from the apparent 16 year old obliging girl (i am actually 22 but apparently i act and speak like a 16 year old) to two emotionaly black mailing parents.
So yeah im not very into this therapy thing, especially with her. In an hour and a half she made me feel somehow worse than i already feel about myself. She also made me feel negatively about my father and my stepmother who i adore. Why would i want to feel bad against my parents? I now feel underachieving and childish and honestly id rather not know anymore about my “true self”, it all sounds like im pretty messed up.
I somehow have to break the news to my parents, maybe i’ll just be honest and say i dont want to see her again because i dont want to think negatively of them. I really dont think they will take no for an answer though… Yesterday i was told to either get better or get a job and move out. Ive spent six months being comatose in bed, i dont think they will allow it for much longer.
ergh. Its heartbreaking but i think they will be the ones to push me. I wish that wasnt true. I am a cowardly lion.