i just sent this to my shrink. and now im posting it here. because i need to keep typing. and typing. and typing. i have this stupid thing? on the internet. and in life i have this thing where i have this fragment of hope. its a shard. its really small. but i think thats why people read these things. that i have that. and i get that its rare. and its why im alive. but i just really dont want it now. i just want it to go away so i can kill myself like everybody else. and i know that disappointing. im supposed to be the strange exception to the rule. the girl with all the heavy labels and the fucked up childhood and the whatever whatever but hey look how well im coping. i get that tats my public persona. thats why people tune in. thats why people hire me. but this is an anonymous blog. and im tearing chunks of flesh off with my finger nails and pens and any random object no one thought to hide yet just to take he edge off. im going to lose my job. im going to fail my thesis. i cant function. im jsut this. for weeks now. just this. cant be left alone. terrifying everyone i know.waiting in queue until the health care system deams me worthy of help.
im aware this makes me a bitch
but the mental health mobile crisis line is fucking useless.
its 3 am. they answered for the first time ever. the girl was snotty. she wasnt even remotely calming. she repeatedly told me her job was to make suggestions and then said that i wasnt even taking them so what did i want her to do. which is reasonable. except she suggested i drink warm milk and have a ‘relaxing shower’
fucking.. what the fuck.
this is emergency care? that? take a shower. take a shower while youre trying not to slit your wrists. showers. thats where you send the suicidal people. to the fucking shower. thats definitely not the most common place to kill yourself ever.
this is what ive fuckign been saving as some sort of last ditch effort? are fucking kidding me?
she also suggested i try watching television. or perhaps i could try laying down. then she told me shed made a list of suggestions and i seemed to be refusing to see the value in them. 17 minute phone call. she didnt ask what was wrong. she didnt ask how to help. she didnt even ask why i called.
im legitimately already bleeding and pacing. and sorting things. and bawling. and talking uncontrollably. totally should have tried watching some fucking tv. i definitely never thought of that one!
i cant do this.
i cant spend 5 hours every night screaming and tearing my arms up and pacing until my feet blister and combing through garbage and scribbing when im trying to write words. i cant. do. this.
our fucking emergency help line didnt even tell me to breathe. she didntdo anything remotely active. she made suggests of calming activities that arent even fucking calming. is it wrong to expect that there will be people who know how to deal with crisis at the end of a crisis line? is it wrong for me to expect people charge of lookign after these things to capable of fuckign looking after these things?
im losing my shit.
im not going to make it through this. im not going to. i cant do this alone and theres no one with any idea what the hell to do. i may be alive at th end but im going to be gone.
this is the moment where our health care system lets people down. this. this moment where the emergency room isnt open and the back up is useless and the only thing i can think of to keep me from slitting ym wrists it to keep typing and pacing and counting all at once. right now. over and over and over again until all the drugs kick in and knock me unconscious and if that doesnt work ill just add liquor.
which is fucking ridiculous because i havent woken anyone up or called my friends or done any of that shit because it doesnt fucking matter anymore they cant make it better they cant make it stop they cant. they want to and they cant. it doesnt matter. nothing matters. its just this. this and worrying about this. theres no you at 3 am. theres no doctor with some fuckign magic pilsl that will improve anything for me. ive taken all the fuckign pills and this is all there ever is. im not like brandon. i not going to take some effexor and be all my anxiety is entirely gone! i may need to up my dose because i experienced a mild level of social anxiety once since starting my fuckign pills 8 months ago.
im never going to have that. i dont get a fix. i dont get to not have this. i cant do life. with this. i cant.
i thought i just didnt trust people to want help so i didnt say anything. but really. i just dont trust people to be able to fix anything and im tired of letting my hopes up. there are no real supports. other people cant fix this. this is on me. and i have done everything. everything. and it wins.
ive done my share. i do everything i know how to do. theres no out. theres just this.
and i wish this last ounce of self preservation instinct would just fucking die so i cold stop suffering already god dammit why cant i just stop.
but i cant. its there. this stupid fuckign beleif that somehow someway if just work harder if i just do better that somehow ill get to be better so im still here just wishing i had the balls to slit my wrists instead.
im never going to really get better am i