I know I’m unstable. I’m not pointing out the obvious… I’m talking about being more unstable the last few days which has been leading up for a couple of weeks.
I didn’t drink alcohol for 2 1/2 months or so. Since, I have literally not had a sip of it. Even the smell of any alcohol makes me retch. But yesterday I drank a bottle of wine and now I’ve had too. Not as much as yesterday as I still feel the remnants of yesterdays drinking that made me feel as nauseous and disgusting this morning… But since it’s worn off and I’m back to it.
I need to escape. I need to do anything that is going to change the reality. I know that is not changing the reality of my life in the sense of it helping me make friends of whatnot. The here and now. I can’t take it. I’ve never felt the urge to scrape my skin off so badly. But as strong the urges are, I can’t do it. They WILL put me in the closed hospital where I was at and it is absolutely hell there. People are so sick they are on the floor in a daze looking for ants, someone else has stripped her clothes off and comes in to the tiny room I am in sharing with 4 others, she gets the bin and squats down and does more than a pee pee in it and leaves the room. I could go on but you see what I mean. I can not take it there. It makes me feel even worse, in ANY case. The staff are nasty too because they put everyone in to a box of being out of it and not being able to stand up for themselves so the staff don’t care too much.
And this is all I can do. Is drink alcohol. I want to cut so bad it’s crazy. But I can’t. I just can’t.
I met with my psychologist today and it was obvious that I was totally unstable. Probably still a bit drunk but half falling asleep because I took a few Clonex in the morning and double the beta blocker as my blood pressure was 142/something and a 118 pulse. It wouldn’t stop so I took the meds and it calmed things down.
I told my psychiatrist this is not a game or me trying to seek attention. That there are plenty of things I am not saying and that is also not me trying to play mind games either. Just that I know if I say all the shit on mind, well, it comes across as me just asking to be put in the closed ward and things could be misconstrued to mean something else that I had meant or more so and intense than things actually are.
She said that alcohol is another way of self-harming. I guess she’s right. This one I can get away with though at least for now.
But I ended up telling her about my ‘death book’ I am writing. I know that obviously isn’t a good sign but I put across well enough the truth that I have no plans to end my life. I just know at some point it will happen and end that way so I’d hope to leave something behind. I’d hope that it wouldn’t make things worse for my family. But can it get any worse really, nope, I know, not.
I also didn’t go to work yesterday and cancelled my meeting with my care worker. Just wanted to be alone and have a day off of all the crap. Isolated myself. Then today I just met with the psychologist and came home and didn’t go to the mental health group. Don’t want to be in fakeness around people. Don’t want to have any potential for triggers, for something crazy happening. For anything. So I am home again.
It came up in the conversation about the nightmares that I am having and it’s all death related, mostly suicidal, and nightmares about my dad because of what happened in the past for example last year when I was in England… I was in hospital. I tried to strangle myself a certain way (won’t go in to that) on the Saturday night. My dad and his wife came to the hospital on Sunday and we were due to have a meeting with the head psychiatrist. I’d been in hospital for 5 days. I knew that before going in to the meeting I had to tell my dad and his wife what had happened the day before.. I guess they didn’t see the bruising. I told them and it was in the day room of the ward. Loads of patients and staff around. My dad screamed at me and said that I am a coward and many other things which hurt a lot, and then said that if I try again and end up dying, he will hate me forever and even now it is difficult to see me as his youngest daughter that he loves. Turned out in that meeting, nobody spoke about the suicide attempt and they discharged me that day.
I’m already feeling guilt about failing in general and affecting others as well as screwing me up awfully as it is. I feel guilty about killing myself. I’m having nightmares about it all playing it all out in my mind… Awful things. But they are not things that would be particularly stop me from ending my own life.
Loads came up with the psychologist and all the signs are there that show a higher risk of suicide attempt/success. She said that I need to NOW speak to a doctor about it all. I said I don’t need to. She asked me if I can promise to not kill myself until I see her on Friday (she added extra time for me – I am grateful). I said that all I can do is my best and nobody can promise me anything and I can not promise anyone too. She asked me if I will call for help if I am going on the direction to end my life and I said that if someone wants to really kill themselves is not going to call someone. She didn’t take to that idea too well. I can understand. Somehow I wangled my way out of it all. Basically what will be will be. I said unintentionally or intentionally it will happen but once again I have no plan or don’t want to do it now. That got me out of the shit.
She said maybe I need to be in hospital for a short time as it’s helped me in the past. I said I highly doubt that is not going to happen again. If I am suicidal then it means one thing = closed ward hell which I am NOT going to do. And if they bring several nurses to thrown me in the back of a van… I don’t know what I would do about that. But now, they have not enough of a reason to cart me off. I laughed a few times at things. Obviously unstable. Really unfunny things I think but that’s what happened. Oh, and then I burst out crying and wonder where the hell that came from.
They won’t let me be in the emergency department that I’ve been in a few times as I was never really suicidal before. I was there because I felt a lack of control with the self-harming or doing something bad… But suicide is something else obviously and anyway obviously fuck going off to hospital again even for a few days. Nothing to do. Bed or chair. Eat. Bed or chair. Eat. Trapped in. Ugh.
I quite frankly DO give a shit and I quite frankly DON’T give a damn so we’ll see how this works out.
Fuck it. Pardon my French.