Today, April 1 2013, makes 1 year since the first time I cut myself. I cut myself that day to see what it would feel like when I committed suicide, like I planned to do, two days later. These two things led to my first psychiatric hospital stay.
The two cuts I made that day opened the door to what is now a serious addiction. The two safety pin ‘scratches’ which I left visible for a long time, are now unrecognizable under the hundreds of deep razor blade cuts and scars on my arms, legs, hands and sides.
These are the wounds of my soul turned outward. They are my battle scars, from a battle I fight with myself every day. They will never go away and I will never be the same. I believe that day ruined my life, ruined what I thought it would be.
I may not have committed suicide, but I definitely died that day.
When I first started this blog, I posted journal entries every day if not multiple times a day. At first it was from a psychiatric unit and then continued from home. It has been months since I updated this virtual journal. I am diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Severe Anxiety Disorder, and OCD. A lot has changed gone back and changed again, so following this post I will be posting my journal entries from the past couple of months.
I’ve also realized in all of my posting and reblogging, I’ve never posted a picture of myself, maybe that should follow as well.
I love feed back and really just like to make new friends on here since I think a lot of us are going through the same things.
I have been trying to put together a collection of thoughts to post but it’s impossible. My mind is racing and I just can’t get it together. However, I did have a relapse in the way of cutting and I’m really depressed. I hate feeling like I’ve moved backwards.
I’m having a really hard time. I woke up wanting to go back to sleep. I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. All I want to do is sleep. When I sleep my head is filled with weird dreams and when I wake up it’s difficult to tell if it was real life or a dream. I have this overwhelming feeling of helplessness and I am not hopeful for anything. I’ve gained so much weight from the friggin meds and its really starting to bother me. I want to work out but I want to go to bed. I feel like all I’ve done in the past few months is put a strain on my family, cause change for my family, cost money for my family.
Also, my ocd has been bad lately. I feel like if I don’t do everything exactly the way I always do it something horrible is going to happen to someone I love. Catastrophizing. I won’t delete any of my texts, I have to make my lunch a certain way, I can’t think about a tragedy because then I’m responsible for my family’s fate. That’s a heavy fear to add to my already dreadful mind.
In the month since the I got out of the hospital, I’ve been in the DBT program a prison of a psych ER, back to the program, severely depressed, hypomanic, severely depressed. I wish the mania would last longer. I stopped cutting for a while but here I am again, up and down my arm. It’s never enough. What to do? What to do? Keep busy. Go back to bed.
Go back to bed.
I’m sorry for the delay in posts. Every day has been spent going to the program I never wanted to go to. I have gotten worse every day. The depression is engulfing me. The cutting is just as bad. And all I think about is killing myself. All I’ve done is think about different ways I can do it. Where I would do it. How I’d express my pain. How I’d tell my family how much and how desperately I love all of them. I want it to stop. I NEED it to stop and I NEED help.
I am terrified
My sister and I had a meeting with my therapist at the program today and came to the conclusion that the only option, given the severity of my case, is to go back inpatient care. So on Monday I will be back in a psych emergency room. It’s the last think I want and have contemplated running away but what will that do?
I am terrified.
So today marks 1 month in this hospital. Yet again, I’m sitting in the dayroom, bright and early, waiting for the chaos of the morning to begin. Nurses rounds, doctors rounds, morning meds, breakfast, doctors/patient meetings. Well thats what I’m waiting for, doctor/patient meetings, hopefully to hear my doctors say they will let me spend the weekend home with my family before starting a new program next week. That is definitely what I need so lets hope.
Things just haven’t been good.
I’m terribly depressed.
I want to go home.
So its 8am, I’m fully dressed and ready to go, only an hour and a half early. I’ve been up since about six. I had weird dreams all night. I’m going out today for the first time in 3 weeks. I have an intake for a program outside of the hospital. I’m not nervous or anxious about the meeting. All of my anxiety is about going outside. I don’t really care about any of this. I just want to make it home.