Not long after something changed. I've been describing it as if someone took a scraper and just barely removed the top part of my brain. I'm still depressed but not as much.
The suicidal ideation has never left the building. Yesterday it was a real scream.
Here's the thing... I don't know how to laugh anymore. Like, really laugh. I think joking around is stupid. I'm so fucking angry. Like, I could cut you, angry. The crying bullshit is back. I cry all the fucking time and for seemingly no reason. How do you explain to the people closest to you that you think all of that is a waste of time? They'll shake their head and walk away. Or they throw out there... You used to this and that. And I say, well I don't know how anymore. And that's the fucking truth.
Who wants to live this way?
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Totally. Fucking. Edited. |
I mean seriously. I live with my husband and two of my kids.
Taking extra Ativan and throwing back a few drinks does not make anything better. It makes me numb and I need to be this way in order to make it through. That's not to say there's an addiction involved. I've had an unopened bottle of wine for over a week in my kitchen. Half the time I don't take my third dose of Ativan.
I looked into the mirror this morning and my eyes started to drool. I don't sleep much anymore, my eyes are sunken and dark beneath. I need to lose weight and I need to figure out how to put one foot in front of the other or I'm not going to make it, man. I'm just not.
I had an assignment by my doctor to take a discount card for some medication he wanted me to try. I got in touch with the powers that be and my portion of the payment would be $190/month. Thanks but no thanks. Continual upsets like this make me want to smash shit.
I had no choice but to go to work today. After looking at my reflection, I decided the only thing that would make today work is red lipstick and passing the day as quick as possible.
Back to the psychiatrist on Wednesday.