I have today been able to analyse my feelings more than I have for months and months. I am trying to untangle them into seperate components, trying to understand why I feel pain, and where the pain is coming from.
I seem to have two seperate problems. My depression has got very bad, this has damaged the way that I am recovering from disapointments and knock backs, and the way that I view the future.
The second problem is that I feel heartbroken, from the loss of me and N's relationship.
When I begin to rationalise it, it seems clear that although I am bound to hurt from what happened with N, the circumstances aren't nearly as bad as my subconscious mind seems to be making out.
I realise that the thing deep down which is hurting me, is what I feel is the loss of identity, and the future that I wanted subconsciously. I wanted to have a family with her, to help raise her kids, and to be in a committed relationship. When these started slipping away, instead of being satisfied with what she was comfortable with, and backing off as she asked, I had to push harder to make up for my own self-esteem issues.
This wouldn't have been a problem earlier in the year, because our lives were still seperate, and although I was depressed, it wasn't of this nature, and feels different to the way I have been feeling lately.
Once I started to lose her, I reacted to everything with extreme negativity. This made situations much worse, made me paranoid and jealous, and made me upset about things that I needed not be upset about. She still craved the casual relationship we had before, and I kept pushing for more. But there never would have been enough, however close to her I was. I was trying to use my closeness to her to make up for my other problems, and the fading enjoyment I was getting from life. I thought the fading pleasures of life I felt were because of our relationship problems. But they weren't.
Now I am without her, the depression is much worse, because I still fail to enjoy other things in my life, so her being missing is all the more evident. I am trying to learn to seperate what are issues about my life, and what are issues to do with heartbreak. If I can learn to love myself, and the other parts of my life again, then I can put things in perspective, and start to recover my self-esteem.
It sounds so simple when I have moments of clarity like this. And I realise that I have linked my self-esteem to her being around so closely. Because she has been so supportive to me in some really difficult moments, when she's not around, I feel like I can't cope. I know that I must be able to, because I have been able to in the past, but because she has helped me so much, I see her as my savior, not my friend or ex-girlfriend.
Putting her on a pedestal like this has made me feel like I am losing my entire soul. It's not just about love - I love her, but I am obsessed with her, and expect her to be able to fix me. It would never happen, however close we were. I realise this now, and I hope I will continue to remember it, because it really is the crux of the issue, and the key to my recovery.
I think if I could stay stable for a few weeks, it might make the world of difference to me. I can see a path to recovery now, and although it is shadowy, the idea of being able to be a friend to her, a real friend, not someone unstable and needy, is important to me. And I want to be able to get back there. I want to be able to make jokes, laugh around her, and feel confident.
It's been almost two weeks. I expect the heartache to get better soon. The jealousy has almost completely faded the last couple of days, and the paranoia has definately gone. Now I realise what the problems are, maybe I can start moving towards solving them.
I still crave her in my chest. But the thing is, I could see her if I wanted to. She wants to see me. It's not her company I am craving, it's something else much more abstract, it's love for life, it's confidence to do things and be able to enjoy them, and the meaning I need to feel in life. None of these are things that she can give me, so why do I keep expecting her to be able to? She can't fix my self esteem, and at the moment has her own self-esteem issues to worry about.
Why I couldn't see this before, I don't know. But I see it now, and I know how to make it better. I know how to fix me.
I hope soon we'll be able to enjoy things together the way we used to.
I am ready to start fighting for myself, and I don't need anyone else in my corner. It's my fight, and no one else's. I know I can do this.
Wednesday, 29 October 2008
Big-D
Maggie's Farm
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
No, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
Well, I wake in the morning,
Fold my hands and pray for rain.
I got a head full of ideas
That are drivin' me insane.
It's a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor.
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more.
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more.
Well, he hands you a nickel,
He hands you a dime,
He asks you with a grin
If you're havin' a good time,
Then he fines you every time you slam the door.
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more.
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more.
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more.
Well, he puts his cigar
Out in your face just for kicks.
His bedroom window
It is made out of bricks.
The National Guard stands around his door.
Ah, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more.
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more.
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more.
Well, she talks to all the servants
About man and God and law.
Everybody says
She's the brains behind pa.
She's sixty-eight, but she says she's twenty-four.
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more.
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
No, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
Well, I try my best
To be just like I am,
But everybody wants you
To be just like them.
They sing while you slave and I just get bored.
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
Bob Dylan
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
No, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
Well, I wake in the morning,
Fold my hands and pray for rain.
I got a head full of ideas
That are drivin' me insane.
It's a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor.
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more.
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more.
Well, he hands you a nickel,
He hands you a dime,
He asks you with a grin
If you're havin' a good time,
Then he fines you every time you slam the door.
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more.
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more.
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more.
Well, he puts his cigar
Out in your face just for kicks.
His bedroom window
It is made out of bricks.
The National Guard stands around his door.
Ah, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more.
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more.
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more.
Well, she talks to all the servants
About man and God and law.
Everybody says
She's the brains behind pa.
She's sixty-eight, but she says she's twenty-four.
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more.
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
No, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
Well, I try my best
To be just like I am,
But everybody wants you
To be just like them.
They sing while you slave and I just get bored.
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
Bob Dylan
Another Affirmation
You do not need her approval to feel good about yourself.
You are your own person and are allowed to be happy when she isn't here.
You are attractive and people like you.
You do not need her approval to be happy.
You do not need her approval to be ok with yourself.
She is not the only person who matters, you matter.
You are important.
People care about you.
You can enjoy new things without her approval.
You can be your own person.
Not everything you like is something she likes.
You have your own personality and interests, and they are valid.
She is not you and you are not her.
You are your own person and are allowed to be happy when she isn't here.
You are attractive and people like you.
You do not need her approval to be happy.
You do not need her approval to be ok with yourself.
She is not the only person who matters, you matter.
You are important.
People care about you.
You can enjoy new things without her approval.
You can be your own person.
Not everything you like is something she likes.
You have your own personality and interests, and they are valid.
She is not you and you are not her.
6.53 To London St Pancras
I've been waking up throughout the night, immediately with that heartache feeling that comes with lost love. And that sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach, like nothing will ever be ok again.
My mind is screaming all over the place, and I don't know if I'll be able to get back to sleep again. But making it through the day seems like an equally daunting proposition.
I have been thinking about suicide again. This morning I first woke up and decided I could slit my wrists in the bath, and let all the blood run out of me. I wondered if it would hurt a lot, and how sharp of a knife I would need. Would I need a special hunting sort of knife to make it easier?
Then I realised for whoever found me it would be horrible and thought that I'd have to contact the police to make sure they found me rather than N or my family. I tried to picture the letter I would write, and wondered how horrible it would be to read. But it's their job to deal with things like that I guess.
Later I thought it would be good to jump in front of a train, because they go so fast, and it would be over immediately. I know this really upsets drivers sometimes, but I would write a letter to make sure that they knew it wasn't their fault and that they couldn't have done anything to stop in time.
So I thought about the 6.53 to London St Pancras. The train I've been getting for a couple of years to go into the office. And all the business people on that train who would be late for work because the train plowed through my body like it was warm butter. And I thought that maybe I could make some artistic statement about the pointlessness of the rat race, and the endless search for wealth and efficiency whilst we leave out hearts rotting out on the newly dried tarmac. But it seems a little pretentious. Why should I be able to make that statement? What gives me the right to make my own death into a media story, or some sort of political statement? They'd probably say I was a victim of the economic downturn or something. An anonymous credit cruncher.
Part of me wants to go to America next week because they have guns. You can even buy them in Wallmart. And guns are the most perfect method of suicide invented. Click. Bang. Dead. The perfect killing machine.
That's not really why I want to go, but it's strangely comforting to know that although they are backward in a lot of ways, the ability to kill oneself easily seems to be a blessing to me right now, rather than a curse. It's strange how my mind works.
It's hard to do something with style and panache when you feel that way though. All of the famous suicides I can think of were pretty uninteresting in style, and even people who made political statements all of their lives, tend not to make one at a moment like that. I think because of what suicide really is. It's the inability to cope with life. It's not a positive action, and it's hard to imagine a positive action resulting from it. I don't know what Sylvia Plath wrote prior to sticking her head in an oven, (although admittedly, that's quite an unusual method these days) or what Kurt Cobain was thinking before he blew his head off.
Wikipedia says on Plath's death: 'Plath took her own life on the morning of February 11, 1963. Leaving out bread and milk, she completely sealed the rooms between herself and her sleeping children with "wet towels and cloths."[9] Plath then placed her head in the oven while the gas was turned on.'
I don't know how she could do that. Although she seemed to have asked when her neighbour would be leaving the next morning, some people think she meant to be found because of the time she started her attempt. I think she perhaps started earlier so her children would still be asleep. The attending officer was sure she meant to die, as she thrust her head into the gas oven.
Something I didn't know before today was that Syliva's husband, the poet Ted Hughes had an affair with a woman called Assia Wevill. On March 23, 1969, Assia Wevill took her own life and that of their daughter in a manner that closely echoed Plath's suicide. Dragging a mattress into the kitchen, Assia sealed the door and window. She then lay her sleeping child down on the mattress and dissolved some sleeping pills for herself in a glass of whisky. Taking the pills, she turned on the gas stove, and lay down next to her daughter.
It's been said that Assia couldn't handle Hughes' consistent infidelity and inability to commit to her and her children, yet at the same time treating her as a housekeeper. It sounds like Hughes was a real piece of work, who used his lovers to his own gains, but without regard for their feelings. A lot of feminists still see their two deaths as a signifcant example of an abusive patriarchal relationship that ended terribly, and for a long time, people scratched his name from her gravestone, to try to honour her life without him. Perhaps feminism as the result of her death is some sort of positive action that has resulted from a suicide though.
I think if I were to be assessed this morning, suicide ideation would be one of my symptoms of mental disturbance. But today I am genuinely interested in what made people kill themselves, and how they did it.
On April 8, 1994, Cobain's body was discovered at his Lake Washington home by an electrician who had arrived to install a security system. Apart from a minor amount of blood coming out of Cobain's ear, Smith reported seeing no visible signs of trauma, and initially believed that Cobain was asleep until he saw the shotgun pointing at his chin. A suicide note was found that said, "I haven't felt the excitement of listening to as well as creating music, along with really writing . . . for too many years now". A high concentration of heroin and traces of Valium were also found in his body. Cobain's body had been lying there for days; the coroner's report estimated Cobain to have died on April 5, 1994.
From reading the articles on him, it seems Cobain again was a victim of lost love, and hope. Courtney Love is reported to have broken down in tears at his funeral and chastised him.
A lot of people pertain he as murdered. But I doubt it. It's reported that he had two prior close calls, one with an overdose of Rohypnol and champagne, and one where the police were called when he reportedly baricaded himself in a room with a gun.
The interesting thing about the suicides of famous people is that often their work, journals and thoughts prior to the event are all available to the public. Their private thoughts and feelings, especially when they are considered artists, are for public consumption and debate. I wonder how often that really happens with normal people. I think that normal people's sucicides just fade away. No one really remembers them but their friends and family.
I found a few interesting things about suicide. Having had previous sucicide attempts this makes me 23 times more likely to die of suicide than an average member of the population. Females make more suicide attempts than males, but apparently males are 4 times more likely to die from an attempt. It seems that 12-37% of people leave a suicide note (why it's such a range, I don't know) which means the majority don't.
When I took the overdose last time, I didn't write a note. Mainly because my thoughts were torn, I didn't really want to die, just to stop the pain. I wonder if this is the same for many people. That there is always an element of doubt, and that is why they don't always succeed, or leave a note. I described my first attempt to N as a 'failure' to commit suicide. She disliked the way I had described it. It told me a lot about the way I saw it.
My mind is screaming all over the place, and I don't know if I'll be able to get back to sleep again. But making it through the day seems like an equally daunting proposition.
I have been thinking about suicide again. This morning I first woke up and decided I could slit my wrists in the bath, and let all the blood run out of me. I wondered if it would hurt a lot, and how sharp of a knife I would need. Would I need a special hunting sort of knife to make it easier?
Then I realised for whoever found me it would be horrible and thought that I'd have to contact the police to make sure they found me rather than N or my family. I tried to picture the letter I would write, and wondered how horrible it would be to read. But it's their job to deal with things like that I guess.
Later I thought it would be good to jump in front of a train, because they go so fast, and it would be over immediately. I know this really upsets drivers sometimes, but I would write a letter to make sure that they knew it wasn't their fault and that they couldn't have done anything to stop in time.
So I thought about the 6.53 to London St Pancras. The train I've been getting for a couple of years to go into the office. And all the business people on that train who would be late for work because the train plowed through my body like it was warm butter. And I thought that maybe I could make some artistic statement about the pointlessness of the rat race, and the endless search for wealth and efficiency whilst we leave out hearts rotting out on the newly dried tarmac. But it seems a little pretentious. Why should I be able to make that statement? What gives me the right to make my own death into a media story, or some sort of political statement? They'd probably say I was a victim of the economic downturn or something. An anonymous credit cruncher.
Part of me wants to go to America next week because they have guns. You can even buy them in Wallmart. And guns are the most perfect method of suicide invented. Click. Bang. Dead. The perfect killing machine.
That's not really why I want to go, but it's strangely comforting to know that although they are backward in a lot of ways, the ability to kill oneself easily seems to be a blessing to me right now, rather than a curse. It's strange how my mind works.
It's hard to do something with style and panache when you feel that way though. All of the famous suicides I can think of were pretty uninteresting in style, and even people who made political statements all of their lives, tend not to make one at a moment like that. I think because of what suicide really is. It's the inability to cope with life. It's not a positive action, and it's hard to imagine a positive action resulting from it. I don't know what Sylvia Plath wrote prior to sticking her head in an oven, (although admittedly, that's quite an unusual method these days) or what Kurt Cobain was thinking before he blew his head off.
Wikipedia says on Plath's death: 'Plath took her own life on the morning of February 11, 1963. Leaving out bread and milk, she completely sealed the rooms between herself and her sleeping children with "wet towels and cloths."[9] Plath then placed her head in the oven while the gas was turned on.'
I don't know how she could do that. Although she seemed to have asked when her neighbour would be leaving the next morning, some people think she meant to be found because of the time she started her attempt. I think she perhaps started earlier so her children would still be asleep. The attending officer was sure she meant to die, as she thrust her head into the gas oven.
Something I didn't know before today was that Syliva's husband, the poet Ted Hughes had an affair with a woman called Assia Wevill. On March 23, 1969, Assia Wevill took her own life and that of their daughter in a manner that closely echoed Plath's suicide. Dragging a mattress into the kitchen, Assia sealed the door and window. She then lay her sleeping child down on the mattress and dissolved some sleeping pills for herself in a glass of whisky. Taking the pills, she turned on the gas stove, and lay down next to her daughter.
It's been said that Assia couldn't handle Hughes' consistent infidelity and inability to commit to her and her children, yet at the same time treating her as a housekeeper. It sounds like Hughes was a real piece of work, who used his lovers to his own gains, but without regard for their feelings. A lot of feminists still see their two deaths as a signifcant example of an abusive patriarchal relationship that ended terribly, and for a long time, people scratched his name from her gravestone, to try to honour her life without him. Perhaps feminism as the result of her death is some sort of positive action that has resulted from a suicide though.
I think if I were to be assessed this morning, suicide ideation would be one of my symptoms of mental disturbance. But today I am genuinely interested in what made people kill themselves, and how they did it.
On April 8, 1994, Cobain's body was discovered at his Lake Washington home by an electrician who had arrived to install a security system. Apart from a minor amount of blood coming out of Cobain's ear, Smith reported seeing no visible signs of trauma, and initially believed that Cobain was asleep until he saw the shotgun pointing at his chin. A suicide note was found that said, "I haven't felt the excitement of listening to as well as creating music, along with really writing . . . for too many years now". A high concentration of heroin and traces of Valium were also found in his body. Cobain's body had been lying there for days; the coroner's report estimated Cobain to have died on April 5, 1994.
From reading the articles on him, it seems Cobain again was a victim of lost love, and hope. Courtney Love is reported to have broken down in tears at his funeral and chastised him.
A lot of people pertain he as murdered. But I doubt it. It's reported that he had two prior close calls, one with an overdose of Rohypnol and champagne, and one where the police were called when he reportedly baricaded himself in a room with a gun.
The interesting thing about the suicides of famous people is that often their work, journals and thoughts prior to the event are all available to the public. Their private thoughts and feelings, especially when they are considered artists, are for public consumption and debate. I wonder how often that really happens with normal people. I think that normal people's sucicides just fade away. No one really remembers them but their friends and family.
I found a few interesting things about suicide. Having had previous sucicide attempts this makes me 23 times more likely to die of suicide than an average member of the population. Females make more suicide attempts than males, but apparently males are 4 times more likely to die from an attempt. It seems that 12-37% of people leave a suicide note (why it's such a range, I don't know) which means the majority don't.
When I took the overdose last time, I didn't write a note. Mainly because my thoughts were torn, I didn't really want to die, just to stop the pain. I wonder if this is the same for many people. That there is always an element of doubt, and that is why they don't always succeed, or leave a note. I described my first attempt to N as a 'failure' to commit suicide. She disliked the way I had described it. It told me a lot about the way I saw it.
Tuesday, 28 October 2008
Over and Away
Time to let go. I have been so selfish the last few weeks, and I keep hurting N. I hope that one day she'll forgive me and want me back. But for now I don't know what to do. I need to leave her to her own devices and stop being so clingy. Last night I went round to her house asked to sleep on her sofa, and then crawled into bed with her, and came on to her. Today I felt like shit. My heart is buried under a mountain and being crushed by rock and will never escape. And I know I have to stop pushing right now. So I choose not to push anymore.
Tuesday, 21 October 2008
Numb
I have started to let her go. And it still hurts, but maybe soon my heart will be numb, and I won't have to feel anyting anymore. And I will never let anyone that close again. Never.
Saturday, 18 October 2008
Short Version
The short version of what is happened.
- I get paranoid about N cheating on me, read her MSN conversations.
- I find she is very sexually flirting with another guy
- I confront her on it, she admits she shouldn't have done it
- After lots of fighting she breaks up with me the next day
- She says she still loves me and wants to see me.
- Later I become extremely unstable and have a psychotic episode.
- I keep getting paranoid
- I keep writing her love letters asking for her to come back
- We keep spending time together and sleeping together
- I start to go more and more insane and jealous.
What happens next? Tune in for next week's exciting episode.
- I get paranoid about N cheating on me, read her MSN conversations.
- I find she is very sexually flirting with another guy
- I confront her on it, she admits she shouldn't have done it
- After lots of fighting she breaks up with me the next day
- She says she still loves me and wants to see me.
- Later I become extremely unstable and have a psychotic episode.
- I keep getting paranoid
- I keep writing her love letters asking for her to come back
- We keep spending time together and sleeping together
- I start to go more and more insane and jealous.
What happens next? Tune in for next week's exciting episode.
Wednesday, 15 October 2008
Anger Rears
Maybe N reads this. I don't think she does, but she keeps asking me if I love her, over and over. Today she even sent me links comparing infatuation to love, in a typically unscientific way. I even admitted I was infatuated with her too, but that doesn't mean I can't also love her.
I get frustrated she never trusts my judgement, and now I am really angry because I have told her it upsets me, and she 'thinks is it important to question our feelings'. I do question my feelings for her, everytime she upsets me like this. And every time I have to try to be understanding and caring because I love her. But I wish she would just stop saying it like she is doing it for me. Thinking she knows what is better for me emotionally more than I do is just another way she doesn't trust my judgement.
The worst thing is I am really insecure at the moment, so when she does something that makes me feel worse, supposedly for my own good, I question her motives. But she won't admit she asks me out of insecurity. She pushes me away, and waits until she could take the negative answer, that I don't love her, and then repeatedly asks me if I do over and over again.
What's annoying as hell is I have never loved her more. I feel so much love for her this week, and frustratingly that is now overshadowed by the anger at it not being enough for her. She was being really supportive, but I feel she is going to get needy again. And she will make is all about me, like it's what I need. I need to feel secure, and cared for. Everytime she puts her insecurities on to me I feel like she isn't respecting my feelings and so I feel even more insecure. This time I just feel angry though.
At least I can feel angry though. At least I am feeling something.
I get frustrated she never trusts my judgement, and now I am really angry because I have told her it upsets me, and she 'thinks is it important to question our feelings'. I do question my feelings for her, everytime she upsets me like this. And every time I have to try to be understanding and caring because I love her. But I wish she would just stop saying it like she is doing it for me. Thinking she knows what is better for me emotionally more than I do is just another way she doesn't trust my judgement.
The worst thing is I am really insecure at the moment, so when she does something that makes me feel worse, supposedly for my own good, I question her motives. But she won't admit she asks me out of insecurity. She pushes me away, and waits until she could take the negative answer, that I don't love her, and then repeatedly asks me if I do over and over again.
What's annoying as hell is I have never loved her more. I feel so much love for her this week, and frustratingly that is now overshadowed by the anger at it not being enough for her. She was being really supportive, but I feel she is going to get needy again. And she will make is all about me, like it's what I need. I need to feel secure, and cared for. Everytime she puts her insecurities on to me I feel like she isn't respecting my feelings and so I feel even more insecure. This time I just feel angry though.
At least I can feel angry though. At least I am feeling something.
Cuddles and Jealousy
I had a good and bad day today. It started off well, and I was positive. I went to see N this morning, and I actually cried in happiness when I was cuddling with her. I am so, so in love with her and I really think it will last between us, despite some of the problems we've been having lately.
Then later I had a swim and things, and started to feel down.
I was really pleased to find out that I will be ok to go back to work part time. This didn't lift my mood as much as I thought it would though. I don't know why.
Later I started to get paranoid about N. She said she'd been talking to an old friend, and I decided to believe it was a boy, and she was interested in him too. I made it all up in my head. I am so insecure at the moment, and I keep getting deep pangs of jealousy when I am away from N. The weird thing is I don't feel the same way when I am with her.
I trust her, but I have a big trust issue with women. I don't trust women at all, I have never truly trusted a woman with my heart and am constantly scared about losing her. It drives me mad that I feel this way, but I don't know what I can do about it.
I am so scared of her cheating on me right now, and it's completely irrational. I don't know where I get the idea from, other than that she has lots of male friends.
I need some therapy to sort out my head. I don't know what to do exactly though. God.
Then later I had a swim and things, and started to feel down.
I was really pleased to find out that I will be ok to go back to work part time. This didn't lift my mood as much as I thought it would though. I don't know why.
Later I started to get paranoid about N. She said she'd been talking to an old friend, and I decided to believe it was a boy, and she was interested in him too. I made it all up in my head. I am so insecure at the moment, and I keep getting deep pangs of jealousy when I am away from N. The weird thing is I don't feel the same way when I am with her.
I trust her, but I have a big trust issue with women. I don't trust women at all, I have never truly trusted a woman with my heart and am constantly scared about losing her. It drives me mad that I feel this way, but I don't know what I can do about it.
I am so scared of her cheating on me right now, and it's completely irrational. I don't know where I get the idea from, other than that she has lots of male friends.
I need some therapy to sort out my head. I don't know what to do exactly though. God.
Monday, 13 October 2008
Reflections...Again
I was released from the hospital on Wednesday following a review by someone from the DPA team. For the last week, things have been up and down. I don't know why I haven't written here. The last few days I have been very low, but I seem to have come up with some solutions on how I can move forward with work and my life.
I had an appointment with C today. I talked over everything that's been happening in my life, and all of the problems with N. I hadn't told him I'd been seeing her, but due to his lack of good memory and note reading, I'm pretty sure he ignored that. Either that or he was too polite to complain that I had never brought up the relationship before, despite having been with her the whole time that I had been seeing him before. I told her I hadn't told him about us, and she was a little shocked. I don't know why I hadn't. Except maybe that I was scared that he'd disapprove.
She said maybe sometimes I need people's disapproval. I told her then I didn't want to talk about it, and got upset. I guess she really got through to me though, because soon after that, the tears started and a lot came out. I had to say I was sorry for what I had put her through. It's so hard to be honest with myself even now. I keep pretending, and pushing up walls. I let go for awhile and it felt amazing that I could tell her how I really felt. I don't think anyone has been able to get through to me the way she does, and I genuinely feel so in love with her again. Now I am missing her, as we agreed that we need more time apart. It's like pulling teeth knowing I could be with her and am choosing not to be though.
I have asked to go part time at work. I'm not sure what they will say, but I hope it goes ok. I am dreading going back, and feel sick when I think about it. I know I need to soon though, and that it will not get any easier. I want to use my last few days to get my head sorted out, and start putting in place some real support and new activities to keep me occupied. I need to stop isolating myself from friends. I can't remember the last time I went out without N. It's hard though. I feel broken, and like people wouldn't want to hang out with me.
I have an appointment on the 30th with the psychiatrist to discuss meds again. He suggested sertraline is an option, but we shall see. I am neither for nor against using new medication. Still, the side effects are never fun.
I am getting tired, so I'll call it a night for this entry. I am going to see N again tomorrow morning, and can't believe how much I have missed her after not seeing her for one day. Crazy.
I had an appointment with C today. I talked over everything that's been happening in my life, and all of the problems with N. I hadn't told him I'd been seeing her, but due to his lack of good memory and note reading, I'm pretty sure he ignored that. Either that or he was too polite to complain that I had never brought up the relationship before, despite having been with her the whole time that I had been seeing him before. I told her I hadn't told him about us, and she was a little shocked. I don't know why I hadn't. Except maybe that I was scared that he'd disapprove.
She said maybe sometimes I need people's disapproval. I told her then I didn't want to talk about it, and got upset. I guess she really got through to me though, because soon after that, the tears started and a lot came out. I had to say I was sorry for what I had put her through. It's so hard to be honest with myself even now. I keep pretending, and pushing up walls. I let go for awhile and it felt amazing that I could tell her how I really felt. I don't think anyone has been able to get through to me the way she does, and I genuinely feel so in love with her again. Now I am missing her, as we agreed that we need more time apart. It's like pulling teeth knowing I could be with her and am choosing not to be though.
I have asked to go part time at work. I'm not sure what they will say, but I hope it goes ok. I am dreading going back, and feel sick when I think about it. I know I need to soon though, and that it will not get any easier. I want to use my last few days to get my head sorted out, and start putting in place some real support and new activities to keep me occupied. I need to stop isolating myself from friends. I can't remember the last time I went out without N. It's hard though. I feel broken, and like people wouldn't want to hang out with me.
I have an appointment on the 30th with the psychiatrist to discuss meds again. He suggested sertraline is an option, but we shall see. I am neither for nor against using new medication. Still, the side effects are never fun.
I am getting tired, so I'll call it a night for this entry. I am going to see N again tomorrow morning, and can't believe how much I have missed her after not seeing her for one day. Crazy.
Tuesday, 7 October 2008
Night Stay
I am sitting in a hospital bed after overdosing again on anti-depressants. I've been here for than 24 hours and am waiting for the DPM team to speak to me. I feel stupid and I don't really understand what was happening again, other than it felt like I had to do it. I am still figuring things out in my head. I didn't want to die, just for it to stop hurting.
Monday, 6 October 2008
This Again
Me and N have been having some problems and some bad arguments. I think she is about to break up with me. She says she loves me but she isn't ready for a relationship. And it's killing me that I was being so demanding of her when she has obviously slipped into a deep depression. I feel shitty for asking stuff of her that she told me she couldn't give, and I am now so scared I will lose her.
I made a bag of pills and I looked at it for a few minutes because I don't know if I will be able to take this rejection again. And I know just like before that it is bad because I am in a calm, almost psychotic state. I don't want to be helped, I want her not to leave me. I love her so much, and she says she loves me too, so it is senseless. I can't tell her this. It is too hard for her.
I don't know what to say to her.
I don't know what to say to anyone.
It seems to have come to this again without me noticing. The hard thing is that I have learnt how people will respond from last time, and it doesn't matter. I will try again and I will succeed this time. Or I will seek help. But I don't know how to ask for it.
I made a bag of pills and I looked at it for a few minutes because I don't know if I will be able to take this rejection again. And I know just like before that it is bad because I am in a calm, almost psychotic state. I don't want to be helped, I want her not to leave me. I love her so much, and she says she loves me too, so it is senseless. I can't tell her this. It is too hard for her.
I don't know what to say to her.
I don't know what to say to anyone.
It seems to have come to this again without me noticing. The hard thing is that I have learnt how people will respond from last time, and it doesn't matter. I will try again and I will succeed this time. Or I will seek help. But I don't know how to ask for it.
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