Also now I’m in bed. I took two valium and two imovane. Waited and didn’t feel them. Took three more valium and two more imovane. Waited and didn’t feel them. Two more imovane and four Seroquel. Come to me sleep, please.
I am alone and I have no support people who I feel like I can share the whole truth with so here, take it.
Welcome to the things I want to tell my best friend but cant for various reasons.
Its been scary. There was a psychotic episode, full of visual and auditory hallucinations. Self harm was regular. Nightmares that had me trapped.
The depression that I’m hiding now hurts so deeply. But so that everyone thinks im okay, I have to pretend I’m functioning perfectly.
I wouldn’t share this one, but it’s a persistent thought. The pills sitting in my drawer that I’m tempted to swallow every night. I have so much valium, so many anti-everythings. They’d kill me for sure.
The most recent thing I need to share though is my trip to my psychiatrist.
I didn’t realise how badly I’m drowning right now because I’m so busy putting all of my energy into pretending I’m okay.
The psychiatrist made recommendations. We’re adding back in a mood stabiliser, twice daily, to go with the antidepressant and antipsychotic that are still in the mix. There was talk of lithium being an idea, however, it is a heavy metal and has several cons (physical side effects) and we’re going to try and avoid that for now. Still, a possibility.
So lamotrigine won. Next appointment we’re increasing that, and the antidepressant. And we’ll monitor.
But we’re monitoring and maybe changing the meds for the next few weeks with the new plan B being that if this times drug experimentation seems futile, we’re going to head down the ECT road.
I’m not scared anymore. I just feel alone in my depression. I need a hug and someone on my side, rather than being alone after having the ECT bomb suggested. I mean it’s a big deal and I have no one to share this burdensome thought with. I’m stuck.
But maybe I should be stuck and alone. It’s a burden to me to have had ECT suggested. But to tell my friend that ECT has been suggested would be a burden on him.
So maybe it’s good that I have to keep it to myself.
Depression is breaking me.
Been awhile since I wrote here.
I’m writing now because I’m not okay and I feel like I have nowhere to turn.
I mean, no one would actually even know that I’m not okay right now. This is my classic pattern. I have a major breakdown (most recently, last year’s suicide attempts and psych wards) then I go back to being “normal” (usually working a job and doing extremely well at it, getting promotions etc. Hanging out with people, not being eating disordery. Stable, I guess).
And then comes the part where I slowly unravel.
Outwardly right now, I am fine. I’m a normal sort of a person.
But when I’m alone, every night, I break.
Why am I still here? Why can’t I die? Why can’t I take a handful more pills? Maybe I don’t even want to die but I do want to hurt myself.
And I’m so fucking conflicted.
I know I’m a mess inside but I feel like I can’t turn to anyone about it.
My best friend who I normally talk to is also in a management position where I work. Not my direct manager, but still with influence over those who manage me. I want so badly to tell him, even right this second, that I am not okay. I’m crying, I can’t stop crying, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t want to do life anymore, I need a hug. Please please I need to be held.
But the other part of me is holding herself together for the outside world and is up for a second promotion in as many months. I trust him with my life, but what if he thinks I’m too broken to be able to handle the promotion? I’m nearly sure he’d tell those with the power to not promote me just yet. And then depression goes from bad to worse.
And then my family… I’m sure they know or suspect at least that I’m not totally 100% fine. My current desire is to go to them to ask for help to go back into an inpatient facility. And given their current lack of knowledge of my mental state, my seeking help would absolutely blind sight them.
So I’m stuck back in this hole of the cycle, the one where I’m broken, dying and know it, but also can’t or won’t reach out for help for whatever reasons I justify in my head. I can’t do it, I can’t ask.
Predictions? I’d say it’s a pretty strong chance that I’ll end up in hospital and it will only indirectly be my choice.
Tonight is a handful of antipsychotics and bed. The antipsychotics, I am willing to admit here that I am misusing. Not taking them often but when I do I’m taking a week or so worth rather than my prescribed dose.
Don’t even care. Self-medicating is kind of my thing.
One of my hobbies is taking a handful of PRNs then watching depressing movies, preferably something full of suicide.
Valium, sedatives, sleepers.
Just enough to float; enough to lose myself in the movie.
I had a terrible insomnia night Monday. 32 hours without sleep, I felt plain awful. When I got home from work I took (a normal amount) sleepers, valium, mood stabiliser and codeine. I had the most peaceful sleep ever.
Today. I’m being triggered by the issue from maybe two posts ago? And all I can think of is that peaceful sleep. And if I multiplied the pills I took, wouldn’t I sleep peacefully forever?
Problems? No thanks.
I’ll take the handful of pills.
Ugh. I hate this.
I don’t get crushes on people. I don’t have relationships. I’m like a stereotypical boy in that I (used to, anyway) sleep around but am always single. New guy every weekend.
This is some kind of wonderful torture, because I’m way too socially anxious to do anything about it, like ask him out or spill my feelings or anything. But he makes me feel GOOD. I love being around him. I get butterflies and all excited and stuff. I love the mutual flirting and I love that we’re both so witty and sarcastic and give each other so much crap because we know we’re just going to get it back from each other. Seeing his name pop up on Facebook chat makes me smile. And don’t get me started on when he uses winking face emoticons.
His eyes. His smile. His laugh. When he touches me.
I don’t get crushes. I’m not good at this sort of thing..
At least, not like before.
I want to kill myself to escape one particular problem. Something that I could rationally face if I tried, but I’m so scared.
The worst part is that it wasn’t a problem when my mental health started to decline this time. It’s a problem that was caused because my mental health declined. A casualty of my life falling apart, of things having to be left by the wayside to help me “get better”. Other things became priorities which made this become a problem that wasn’t there (well, it was there but it was contained) before my ‘suicide attempts’ last year.
I’m not one to usually say this. But it’s just not fair.
Maybe they’re right. A and my pdoc and my family and my friends. Maybe they’re right that I have been trying. Proof? I put this one aside to focus on my mental health. And now I’m not sure that I want to die, except for this one problem. I want to kill myself to escape the problem, not to escape from life.
I’m not sure that I want to die but I’m not sure that I want to live, either. Which to everyone else I guess is an improvement on being set on my suicide. But ambiguity, indeciveness, is more confusing. At least when I knew that I wanted to die it was easy. It was a definitive thought.
Not sure I want to live… I still maintain that life is pointless and my depression will probably jump right back out and tell me that a million times if I decide now to stay alive.
But I’m not sure that I want to die…
I just read my last few posts and that’s the word that came to mind. Maybeeee it is escalating and maybe they’re right that I need another inpatient stint.
Saturday night ended up being an overdose. Oops. I took more of everything I’d already taken because I just wanted to be unconscious already. It worked. I woke up ten hours later – not even physically sick, as I normally would be with this type of overdose. Just really drowsy.
I even went and did a five hour shift at work. However, I was crashing from the valium/seroquel/sleeping med sedation for most of the shift and was incredibly out of it. I have no idea how I was conscious. I’d taken a lot and a good mix at that. The last hour of my shift I functioned great though and started perking up.
I haven’t told anyone about the OD.
I have blood tests scheduled for Wednesday anyway; I know my liver function will be off based on knowing what I took and past overdoses, but going in sooner isn’t going to change the outcome, or the course of action (monitor physical health & repeat blood work fortnightly).
I’m considering telling my best friend. I think he has an inkling anyway. I texted him afterwards (in a drug induced haze; I do not recall sending the message). I saw him the next day. I told him I was crashing hard off the valium (left out that I’d taken a bunch of other stuff too).
But I’ve got a lot happening. I called him and we’re meeting later so I can talk. I’m going crazy and he helps me get out of my head. Although the problem I have at the moment, I don’t believe anyone will be able to convince me to change how I perceive it.
Also the eating disorder has fired back up. Bought new scales today, started a new MFP account, have been successfully restricting to my calorie allowance and am planning a long gym session later. All because my head convinced me that I’m fat as fuck, the seroquel has made me gain ten kilos, I look disgusting, I have no control etc etc. I weighed myself and I’m not 10kg heavier than I was last time I was weighed, but my weight has gone up. Aiming for 8-10kg loss.
Stocked up on diet coke, gum and green tea. I will win this time.
200mg seroquel (if I’m still conscious in half an hour I’ll get more)
21 tablets washed down with one mouthful of water; is it sad that I’m a pro at this now?
I’m not trying to overdose, I just want to take enough to not be conscious anymore.