Journaling

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I look sick.. I am sick .. dark circles, not sleeping or eating well and just withdrawn.
This is NOT ME, NOT the real me.

Its been a few days as Ive had no interest in even blogging. I havent been good at all. BUT I guess its time I journal some.

Today was the first day aside from group that I got myself up and out of the house. Ive become physically ill.  I have been isolated and withdrawn. Burying myself in books of others lives to not think of my own.. reading so much that finished ‘amy, my daughter’ in two days and 1/4 of the way through Sammy Hagars book. I got myself to ford today to have a chipped doorhanfle repaired.  Only slept 2.5 hours last night. Drove to Ft worth to see about getting windows tinted on new truck and came home.  By the time I got home anxiety and fear had escalated and Im still shaky.

I’ve spent all week just me, the cat and my patio with the nook. Driving and leaving home scare me and make me anxious.  Which has caused me to also be unable to work.  I wish I could feel better. I wish I could let people in.. but Im afraid of affecting them. I have become so bad that all I can bring myself to do daily is shower.  I cant work, focus on tasks and I just sit, hiding myself and my poison.

Today I had Miguel, Ricky and Trudy, all of who were in the hospital wi th me call and check on me.  Its good to know Im not alone.. its a support group of people who understand, offer help and advice and are there for me.  Its like we are each others sponsors.  They all didn’t fall for my fake it till I make it act of Im fine and could tell I wasnt doing well.

Other than going to partial outpatient hospitalization I hide like a turtle in my shell.. alone and quiet.  I don’t even participate in group sessions and know when I discharged from Springwood I promised to see the early warning signs.. isolation the biggest.

My aunt calls me daily to check on me and her and my grandma stay readily available for crisis.  My mom is not strong enough right now with her health problems to be supportive and she has told me so.  I know she doesnt need the ‘crap’ so I am considerate of that and out of love will not place any more worry or stress. I dont want to be her cause of death.

I have not drank in two weeks, tomorrow.  I was drinking at home and drowning myself everyday for about a week prior to my suicide attemt. That nigjt I had a bad binge and then OD’d. Figuring one would kill me.  But that day I put on a show.. grandma thought I was fine as I visited her.

Tomorrow will be the true test as I got to the family bar for my favorote cousins going away party. I will be around family to help me. Getting out and around people scares me. What happened to the social butterfly, the one who feared very little. Did she die that sunday?  I feel like Im just a shell.

I so desperately wish to have me back. The one people love. The one everyone truely knows. And inside I slip further into regression of the severe Major Depressive disorder. And as I am on this long road to recovery its gonna get worse before better, as we surface things deep down in me and repair the damage done.

As my next tattoo will read and what I try to tell myself to get through a day alive.. “we must fall before we can learn to fly” I will be getting that done over the next couple days.

When Im feeling discouraged I tell myself “I. getting help, it wont be easy, Im doing my best

Author: Dana Gidner-Kristal

perfectly imperfect

Spill your brains...

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