I’ve known it for a while; I am on a slippery slope down back into destruction and misery. I am self harming almost as if I am on auto pilot. I have stopped caring about the consequences. I have cancelled my appt with my warfarin nurse on Monday – I can say it’s because I can’t fit it in around work but that’s bullshit. I just won’t be able to explain if my INR is too high (which I would expect it to be after the increased dose I’ve been taking for a while now). I am considering cancelling my appt with my social worker next week. Logic and experience tell me that she won’t have spoken to the surgery/my GP/warfarin nurse about it but you never can tell. She can be pretty efficient at times. There is no one in my real life who knows what is really going on. It’s been easy to avoid it lately as there is so much else going on. I just find it odd that I haven’t told my therapist and best friend – I tell them everything.
I recognise that no one can take this way, no one can make it stop. That is down to me and me only. The problem is that I can’t fix it or make it stop either.
Where does that leave me?
“I fear I am in trouble. Could call my social worker tomorrow, not going to. Planning on cancelling next INR test as don’t want to explain – maybe it won’t even be too high. I WANT to self destruct. I’m exhausted yet I am out drinking. Stopped wanting help, just need it to end now. Haven’t told my therapist about the warfarin or that I want to die. That in itself is strange. Think mum knows something is up. Hmm.”
I typed the above into my phone about an hour ago whilst at the pub with a friend. I wasn’t having an awful time, quite the opposite in fact. The problem is that my mind is set on self destruct and I can’t seem to get it to focus on anything else. Moreover, I don’t want to focus on anything else.
I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. Jan 2014 will be 15 years since I was first diagnosed with depression. Surely that’s enough. It’s almost half of my life. How is that fair? It’s a serious question – how the fuck is that fair?
There was a point in time when I didn’t care about consequences. Back in 2005 when I was really ill, I didn’t care at all. I had no responsibilities and I was too ill to care about anything or anyone outside of the circle of hell I was living in.
Now, I wish I could stop caring. I am so fucking tired, so fed up of talking, asking for help, saying the same things over and over again. It’s just too much.
Sometimes I surprise even myself with my stupidity.
It’s Trustee week, I have known this for months. I had planned things to do. Our Young Trustees were going to organise to buy Krispy Kreme doughnuts at their discounted price and sell them around uni and work for a profit. There is a pub quiz on Sunday. I needed to ensure I was posting on FB & Twitter about it being Trustee week.
But because I am a useless idiot, I only realised it is Trustee week this week about 2 hours ago. I haven’t facilitated the Kris[y Kreme venture and now I think about it, I am not even sure it’s doable due to the money needed up front. The quiz is organised but I have no idea how many people are coming. I need to create answer sheets and do several other things before Sunday – I should already have done this but I haven’t.
What have I done? I have wallowed in my own fucking misery for the last 10 days, forgetting about anything or anyone else.
Seriously, what a waste of oxygen.