49
I attempted to do an online suicide prevention chat; I was number 49. Seriously? People are suicidal and have to be in a line to talk with someone? That is not right. It's been a rough night. It's been a rough few weeks. I'm having terrible withdrawals from Zoloft and I can't control my reactions. I am so quick to anger and rage. I am so sad and tired and can't sleep. I cry so much. I think about cutting myself. I've thought about driving my car into a tree at top speed. My brain is zapping me every time I move my eyes, which, as you know, people move their eyes all the time.
The people in my house suck. I love them to death, but they suck. We've had conversations about this. I have point blank told them that I need help, and I wrote down the ways that I need them to do it. They said they understood. They apologized. They had conversations about how they could support me together because I am almost not in control of myself. And yet they went and did the same things that they always do, with no regard for me, no respect, nothing.
Tonight I found a razor blade in Matt's tools when I was cleaning up the mess he has left out since SUMMER. I disinfected it with a lighter and tried to cut my thighs because it sounds so blissful to feel that instead of this. I did a small cut and stopped; it hurt and I am too chickenshit to actually do it.
In my heart I know that I don't want to hurt or kill myself. I know that this is temporary and that until my brain adjusts I have to stick it out. I've been here before. I never thought I'd be here again, but here I am. I don't know what to do. My insurance company denied the medication I was prescribed. The backup medication that my doctor suggested has horrific side effects; most people on it have to take Zofran to combat the nausea. So in order to take this to mask one problem, you have to take another drug to mask the problem of the drug that's suppose to help you? No wonder so many people kill themselves. There is no help. There is nothing.
I wish I knew what to do. I wish I were one of those people who could just go run their ass off and feel better. But I'm not that person. Right now I'm stuck with the brain zaps, the rage, the sadness, all of the tears, the fat, and skin that is so broken out that I'm concerned I have a disease.
I have no control right now. I hate this. And yesterday was such a goddamn good day.
The people in my house suck. I love them to death, but they suck. We've had conversations about this. I have point blank told them that I need help, and I wrote down the ways that I need them to do it. They said they understood. They apologized. They had conversations about how they could support me together because I am almost not in control of myself. And yet they went and did the same things that they always do, with no regard for me, no respect, nothing.
Tonight I found a razor blade in Matt's tools when I was cleaning up the mess he has left out since SUMMER. I disinfected it with a lighter and tried to cut my thighs because it sounds so blissful to feel that instead of this. I did a small cut and stopped; it hurt and I am too chickenshit to actually do it.
In my heart I know that I don't want to hurt or kill myself. I know that this is temporary and that until my brain adjusts I have to stick it out. I've been here before. I never thought I'd be here again, but here I am. I don't know what to do. My insurance company denied the medication I was prescribed. The backup medication that my doctor suggested has horrific side effects; most people on it have to take Zofran to combat the nausea. So in order to take this to mask one problem, you have to take another drug to mask the problem of the drug that's suppose to help you? No wonder so many people kill themselves. There is no help. There is nothing.
I wish I knew what to do. I wish I were one of those people who could just go run their ass off and feel better. But I'm not that person. Right now I'm stuck with the brain zaps, the rage, the sadness, all of the tears, the fat, and skin that is so broken out that I'm concerned I have a disease.
I have no control right now. I hate this. And yesterday was such a goddamn good day.
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