I’ve chomped my nails, down to the stumps, I’ve binged and purged. I’ve burned and tonight for the first time since discharge, I want to knock myself out with zopiclone and diazepam, both of which I have in my possession (not loads)
I can’t explain it but a huge wave of sadness, hopelessness, self doubts and self destructive urges have hit me hard this evening…
And so the cycle begins again……………
I’m still on a psych ward. I’m still feeling suicidal and I’m still struggling with facing up to all my little demons.
Covid 19 has been tough on me, with no visits allowed. I’ve not held or played with little man in weeks. I feel so guilty for dumping him again. I feel so scared about mapping out a future that will not damage him. Some days I doubt my love foe him. Some days I want to give him back, but everyday from in here i face time with hum.
And I do it because I want him to know I love him, and that I’m trying to be better for him.
There is a long and difficult path ahead for us as a little family. It’s one tonight, that I want to run from. I want to ligature, but no loopy, not tonight. Fight for your little man. Fight for what could be fun fullfilling future for you all.
Come on Loopy, no more “setbacks” please.
I’ll be flung out tomorrow
I suspect. All the nurses hate me I’m difficult and I keep trying to ligature to stop my thoughts and to end it all.
In their eyes I’m putting us all at risk off corona virus.
The staff find me, Rip the ligature off and the bolt. I’m not even asked if I’m ok, but I have now had 3 bollockings for it.
I can’t help it. All I want is to die and allow my boys to.continue their happy lives without me.
I don’t want to be albino and visually umosired anymore. I don’t want to fail at work. I don’t want to get fat. I don’t want to look at myself in the mirror and continue to hate the image staring back.
I’m a horrible, selfish person, which this world
could do without.
No one can help me and apparently “your not trying hard wbough”
I am though but I’m done
I started this blog around 2 years ago, when I was first sectioned and subsequently admitted to a psych hospital.
I can’t believe it’s post 400, but worse I can’t believe I’m writing this from my bed on a different psych ward.
My mood is low today. My future hopes are well not exactly hopeful.
I’ve not seen little man in weeks (damn covid 19). What I have seen thought is that little man and OH do well without me.
They’ve moved back into granny’s for a bit. That’s where they belong.
Little man deserves a happy home, and all the love and care and support that I can’t offer him.
I love you little man, but you deserve so much more.
This drug addicted, self destructive, self centred mum is no good for you.
I’m not leaving you buddy, I’m freeing you…
The plan these days seems to be “keep her doped with lorazepam”
Any little sign of anxiety and BAM!!; “Loopy will you take some prn”?
I will, but so far they’ve done nothing for my mood. I’m more zombied now but still, I’m done, I’m done, I’m done.
My whoie day is spent scanning for ligature points and ways out. My mood is dark. My voice is flat, and my flaws are endless.
Your a stupid, selfish, horrible bitch loopy, and you should do the world a favour.
My thoughts are not enttirely rational. I want to die. I just want to die. I need to just do it.
This is new for me. I’ve never had such a high level of obs before.
It’s frustrating as I want to puke, I want to burn and I want to try again.. I’m getting better now, the ligatures are anchored and tight. If I could just get a little peace I can do it.
I should never have come in, I should have followed original plan.
I’m really sorry OH and little man. I do love you, but I can’t live life anymore. It’s too hard and I guess I’m too selfish.
Those 3 little words bellowed continuously through the bathroom door. The handle squeeked and juddered as tiny hands kept twisting it. Toddlers are relentless!!!! Actually is he even classed as a toddler anymore? He’s 3, and a sturdy build at that.
I’d already locked it.
“Just go away, please please just go away.”
Fingers sticky with strands of stretchy saliva, eyes reds and puffy, and my stomach contracting, as hard as I could muster. It’s getting harder to throw up now. My gag reflex has almost gone completely, but I’ve not been to the gym today, and I can’t afford to absorb the calories and fat from those delicious hot dogs (OH lovingly prepared), that I ravenously consumed earlier.
I’m sorry little man. I’m sorry I can’t do better. I’m sorry for ignoring you and for wishing you’d go away. I’m sorry I’m such a crap mum.