So we have moved out of our rented house and into the flat underneath R’s parents house. We’ve been here for 3 days, and I already want to leave.
Its a nice flat and I appreciated them charging us reduced rent to live here, but I can already see that his mother is going to be a problem.
She can be a bit clingy and nosy, which I relly don’t need.
So I’m going to start looking for a new place, cos I don’t want to be here much longer. I’m not interested, I’ve had enough already.
So I’m still crazy. Which probably isn’t a good thing.
I haven’t been at work all work. I went in on Wednesday for 20 mins and had to go home cos I got upset. Didn’t go in on Thursday. Then this morning (being Saturday) I went in for 3 hours and had to come home cos I had a panic attack.
Why am I feeling like this? Short answer: wouldn’t have a fucking clue.
I’ve been trying to think why I feel like this. What started everything off. I guess it could have been the really shitty boyfriends that I had. I’ve been out with guys that really made me feel crap. One even called me ‘Thunder Thighs’ when I was a tiny size 8. Others have just played mind games. I’m not sure that is everything tho. I think I’m just crazy.
I haven’t been very well the past week.
Friday I freaked out and my mum had to come and get me to take me to the doctors. I got my meds increased to 1 and a half pills a day. Friday night I kept R up til 5am because I decided that I wanted to go for a drive. And then I had a panic attack on Saturday.
Sunday was mostly ok, but Monday I was so tired and stressed I didn’t go to class. Tuesday I went to the supermarket to do the shopping and ended up having to get R to come meet me there cos I started freaking out and couldn’t remember where I was.
Wednesday I had two panic attacks and didn’t go to work. I went to the doctor again and am now on even more medication (yay…).
I struggled through work yesterday, but burst into tears at the gym after work. Poor Dan (R’s mate) didn’t know what to do, and probably thinks I’m completely mad. I know he’s only nice to me cos of R and that he doesn’t really like me.
Anyway, last night I refused to get out of the car cos I didn’t want to go inside. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t. Then I decided I wanted to go for a walk, so walked for 20 mins in the freezing cold. R caught up with me and managed to get me into the car and take me home, where I burst into tears and was a bit hysterical.
To top things off, I took one of my new pills last night which knocked me out, and I was asleep til 2pm this afternoon.
I really don’t think I’m doing very well, and I need more help. I think I need to be locked up.
So I’m having a bit of a bad night tonight. I feel sad and lonely and like i want to just run away. I felt like this last night too. I woke up at about 1am and decided that I was going to go lie on the couch by myself because I wanted to be alone. R was so knocked out he didn’t notice I was gone until he woke for work.
Now I’m doing the same thing. Trying to hide from everything.
So I didn’t really want to put this in the same post as my last one. It’s related but not.
So as I was thinking about starting this blog, I was also thinking about the bad thoughts I have every now and then. Its things like, ‘…I’m at this red light, I wonder what would happen if I just went through…’
Probably not the best thought for someone who is depressed to be thinking.
I started thinking a bit more about it, and came to the realisation that I just don’t have the guts to do it. I mean, I do think about it sometimes and think about the easiest and most painless way to do it. Some nights I cry silently to myself and pray that I don’t wake up tomorrow, just so I’m not in pain anymore. It never happens and I wake up feeling glad that it didn’t because when I roll over and R gives me a kiss and says he loves me, the pain goes away for a little while.
But I still think it. I feel ashamed to think it. Yet another thing I haven’t told R about. Why? Because I don’t want him to worry, I’m afraid that if he knew how screwed up I really was he’d leave. He probably won’t because he loves me so much, but its still there in the back of my mind.
A guy at my work took his life around this time last year. It was a shock cos everyone thought he was a happy go lucky kind of guy. I sometimes think about him. How sad it was that he had to do that, that he felt that it was the only way to stop all the pain and to take control.
In some ways, I feel like I can relate to him. I know what its like to feel like nothings working and you’ve lost control and you don’t know what to do. How it feels to feel like you are alone and noone cares and there is nothing anyone can do to help you, so you bottle it away until it eats you up inside and you can’t take it anymore, and you snap. One difference between us though, is I can’t go through with it. I always chicken out at the last minute. I’ll be driving through the ‘country’ on winding roads going 80km/h and taking the corners too fast, and hoping I’ll go off the road. I try to suffocate myself, but take the pillow away before anything happens. I’ll drink a bottle of wine after taking some headache tablets, hoping I’ll have a bad reaction. I’ll think about taking the knife I’m using to make dinner with and stabbing it into my chest or slicing open my wrists. But I always stop myself.
I think, does that make me a chicken or does that make me stronger than I think? I think I’m just afraid of doing it. And I don’t want to hurt R or my family. I guess its love stopping me from doing it.
In alot of ways, I hope that it always stops me. That things are never so bad that even love can’t help.