I want to describe the two parts of me.
sweet, smart, empathetic, gentle, inquisitive, semi rational, always self conscious
then, there is the me that is unbearably sad, full of sadness disguised as anger and hate,completely dependant but hates it, you are either mean and you dont care about me, or you love me and care about me and will always be there for me, irrational thinking constantly.
I can be manic, I can be too depressed to get out of bed. WHO AM I? I started tapering off my meds and that was a bad idea, so I’m back on. I want to see the grey area, I hate the splitting. Why can’t I just be normal and not need people? I hate needing people’s affection. HATE it. It makes me weak. I panic when my therapist doesn’t email me back…I got a book in the mail today and was all of a sudden convinced someone put anthrax in it to kill me. I have such strange thoughts. I thought I could handle my raging emotions off the medication, or at least at a lower dose but I started feeling crazy again and I’m terrified of that me. Thwas the me that ended up in the white room with the cold white walls and the stiff white sheets and a bathroom that has no soap or locks and a person watching a camera recording every move I make in this solo bright scary room. I just sat there scared and crying and wondering how on earth did I end up in the ER on the psych floor?!?!
I’ve been trying. I’m frustrated because I feel like no one cares, no one REALLY cares, ya know? And maybe I need to learn that, no one is going to take care of me, make me feel better, I’m 24 now with my own place, my partner, my job, my pets, no one is there to take care of me.
I’ve been writing, talking about it, found a therapist, on meds to regulate my unstable moods, I’ve read…what am I doing wrong? I WANT to get better, but I’m not having progress. In fact, my self injury has only gotten more severe. My partner told me last night while she was hugging me ( I was upset, REALLY upset) and she said to me “I wish you would try to not be so miserable”. I was kind of shocked. Then hurt. Then mad. Does she think I want to be like this? Does she think I enjoy my stupid self destructive acts? NO I hate it and I’m ashamed of myself and thats why I’ve reached out for help! I want to feel better, I want to do better. I reach out to the wrong people apparently, and then they tell me to reach out to other people, and those people tell me to…fill in the blank. The point is, I’m frustrated. I can’t be honest with anyone without being cast aside for someone else to deal with. I hate that I’m too much for people to handle and I drive people away. hate.hate.hate.
I just want to feel better and I want someone to care and understand.