I went to the gym again last night. I didn’t go because I wanted to. I went because there was a strong compulsion to go, a compulsion driven by the fish supper I’d eaten earlier as comfort, but couldn’t expel as OH was loitering around me.
I also went because I was disgusted with myself, and I was craving the intensity, followed by calm that burning would usually provide.
My chest is in agony from a pulled muscle but I attacked the cross trainer with gusto! It did not lift my angst, or ease the self loathing that persisted to penetrate through my blasting headphones. I could barely breathe as I struggled to hold myself together, wheezy chested and tears tricking down my face camoflauged with sweat under a peaked cap.
I attacked the spinning bike before I left until my body couldn’t muster anymore effort, and my limbs were truely exhausted.
It was not a healthy gym session. It served it’s calorie burning purpose but there was no endorphin rush, just sheer exhaustion.
I came home soaked in sweat, showered and in place of the burning I still desperately craved I swallowed 3 sleeping pills.
Still sleep eluded me. Tonight I’ll swallow 4.
I’ve never felt so flat at Christmas. I’ve never felt so isolated and alone. I’ve just come back from a 17.5 km bike ride to clear my head. It hasn’t worked.
We’re not doing Christmas tomorrow as OH is working all day. I’m going to be alone with little man. I know I’m not the only one who will find tomorrow tough so I’m sending hugs to all off you.
I’m going home on the 27th and I don’t want to. I don’t want to be here in 2019. I’m on 3 different meds, I’m exercising and I’m trying. But it’s not working and I’m tired.
It’s the hardest thing in the world to do, when you need it most. I do have numbers to call, but I can’t hit dial. I desperately need to talk, but I’m fearful of the conversation. I waited today until after 5, in the hope the answer phone would offer some soothing useful guidance, but the cold, monotone Irish (Dublin?) accent offered little comfort in ushering me to A&E. I can’t bring myself to A&E and I can’t shut down my racing thoughts.
OH and little man come home tomorrow, and I don’t want them to, nor do I want to be here when they do. I am actively scheduling activities to minimise time alone with my head, but really I’m just pissing in the wind, and I can’t do it anymore. I don’t even want to try.
Tonight I will sleep. I’ll make sure of that……….. Tomorrow? Don’t worry, I’ll still be here…….
My head is racing. Everything in my being is screaming at me to hurt myself. It’s not that I want to die, as such. I just want to sleep for a while. A deep undisturbed slumber, where I have no thoughts, worries or responsibilities.
I’ve tried everything today to distract myself. It was not a good time for pyschok8gy to cancel on me.
I almost bought alcohol this evening. I browsed through every wine bottle, eventually snapping out of it and opting for hot chocolate instead. I need the wine for courage.
I can hear my CPN’s gentle voice in my head; “Come on Loopy, what are you going to do this evening to ground yourself?”
“OK audible, it’s a date. I’ll run the bath, you light the candles……”
A black fog has descended and brought with it dark thoughts. Everything seems bleak. I don’t want to leave my house, don’t want to interact with others and don’t want to talk anymore.
I am still going out (got little man a haircut today), I am interacting (lots of appountments) I guess and as for talking; I’ll try, I really will.
The term “high functioning” was used in psychology today. Is that what you call someone who’s outwardly “living” but inwardly “dying”?
I’ve turned 33 today. Right now, I really don’t want to see 34. Put simply, I’m feeling really sad. I want to go to bed and never wake up.
OH surprised me with a fitbit this morning. It’s just what I wanted, but I’ll likely be returning it. I can’t read the display. I’m a little gutted and honestly I’m sick of my crappy vision.
Myself and OH went out for dinner, as mum is here to babysit. If mum wasn’t here I’d be throwing up right now. I feel absolutely disgusting. To quote my mum; “you’ve not gained weight on your face, just your gut!”
I feel really guilty about having dessert.
I love OH and my Little man but I really really can’t do this anymore. There’s that inner conflict again. I really want to give up.
I’m no good for either of them.
I do now have family leave. It’s odd though because although I was initially sectioned, I’ve not been under section for a while; however leave is not quite 100 =% up to me. It’s at the nurses discretion and today they found out I had burned myself. I was therefore not allowed to go unless I told my partner this, as he would be responsible for me when I’m off the ward. Makes me think that voluntary doesn’t really ever truly mean voluntary in these places.
As for the leave itself, it still feels odd. I’m finding outside these walls strange and if I’m being completely honest, I don’t quite feel safe out there yet. I’m perfectly o.k under the watch of my OH, but I’m not so sure I would be on my own.
Our chat this evening was nice though. It felt more natural than it has done for some time now. We went for a walk around a lake and he held me as we talked. it felt safe. I’m also oddly relieved to be back. Mixed thoughts of I still want to die, but a little more guilt this evening that it would hurt my partner too much.