new things in my life:
- I fell in love with my boyfriend
- we slept together a week ago
- I’m moving out on saturday
- I don’t wish I was dead as often as I used to
I’m not like this anymore, although sometimes I wish I was.
My ability to regress entirely now is almost nonexistent, I have entirely new people in my life and I’m going to university in the fall. I have a wonderful boyfriend and best friend, but I’m still having trouble knowing that they love me, no matter how much they show it. It’s hard to believe now. I’ve been through too much friendships, relationships, social workers, psychiatrists, and nurses to be normal with human relationships again. If I ever was. I’m sick of attempting and it going nowhere. I don’t want to be halfway to anything, to being better or being dead. I want to be either one, I’m in limbo. Either make everything to back to when my mother didn’t care that I was seriously mentally ill, and when my best friend told me to kill myself, and when my bmi was 16.7. or take me back to when I didn’t have all these awful memories looming over me, and let me keep my boyfriend who has been nothing but wonderful to me. But he’s not supposed to be here, and no one was supposed to know I was attempting. I’m supposed to be dead I’m supposed to have died with the 10,000mg of ibuprofen in my stomach or during grade 11 biology when my biology teacher was explaining that self starvation leads to your body eating it’s own heart (looking pointedly at me), while that exact thing was happening within me. don’t make me want to attempt again don’t make me want to starve again because it won’t work and even if it does people will find out before anything happens anyways and I will be stuck in an even worse position than i am now. I don’t know if I’m dreaming and I don’t know if what I’m saying will make sense in the morning and I don’t even know if I’m going to publish this but I’m so grateful for you and I hope you never leave me and I’m sorry I’m too much to handle for you sometimes, sorry I stress you out with my cutting and I wish I had never met you because I know I’m just going to make your life worse even though I’m making it seem like I’m making it better by going to university for biology and saying I want to go to medical school and become a physician. it’s not happening. I’m not smart enough and I’ll probably kill myself before that happens. I can’t handle life. Talking to people is too much even though I’m a lot better than I was before, I can’t afford medication even though I live in fucking Canada and i’m sick of people who don’t even bother to know what’s wrong, telling me what treatment methods “”“”“work”“”“”” and that fucking medication alters brain chemistry. my brain chemistry is altered by itself you insensitive pricks. it’s supposed to correct it. sorry, I’m 17 and can’t make my own fucking decisions. I want to die i want to die i want to die i want to die i want to die
but you’re the greatest thing that ever happened to me and I can’t stand the thought of hurting you more than I already have
i know it’s been tough the past couple years but i kept
pushing through, waiting for the days to get better
well they’re supposed to soon but somehow
keeping my head up for so long only meant
slowly drowning, instead of quickly
i suppose then, life is the poison
and what saves you is
death, and as we
all know, nothing
is worse than a
I just need to talk/rant/whatever and I don’t know where else to go. So my followers can deal with my pointless rambles about my shitty ass boring life. It’s probably not even going to have much structure to it, so I apologize.
I hate how everything’s different ever since I attempted. Even in the good ways. I got an iPhone (which I’m currently typing on) and a MacBook on the same weekend; the weekend I was on a pass from the hospital. I’m going to Mexico next Thursday. All these are from my parents trying to buy my happiness. They think my mental illnesses are their fault, it’s not. I can’t control depression. Yes, you did something to set me off to actually attempt, but I’ve been considering attempting ever since I was 13. Not anything new. I’ve been on and off depressed and self harmed since I was 14. Again, nothing new. I haven’t been depressed for awhile, about 6 months, until now. I had depression and anxiety meds prescribed to me at the hospital, my parents don’t want me taking them. I also had some for sleep, but same deal with that as well. If you actually wanted me to be better, you’d let me fix this the way I wanted to. I don’t know what caused/causes my anxiety and depression and self destructive tendencies. Therapy at the hospital did shit all. I’m 17, moving out in 5 months. I know what helps me, and I can make my own educated decisions. It’s not my fault you’re in your own little world, thinking a phone and new laptop and a trip someplace warm will somehow be a magical cure for my mental illnesses. I’m not 8, I can’t be made happy like that. You know what would help, at least a little bit? If not almost all the people in my life treated me like shit. My friends were great, all of them, up until grade 12 started. My school friends began ignoring me for god knows what reason, and that made me incredibly anxious on top of what I already was. It got worse after I came back from the hospital. All my friends knew everything because my parents told one family they found advil on the floor and razors on the coffee table. She told everyone, but I didn’t know it suspect it until after I came back to school and no one was talking to me or acknowledging me, at all. I went into one of their facebooks and found out all if them knew everything. And on top of that, making plans for prom without me and purposely leaving me out. In fact, one of them was “so happy Sasha isn’t in our cabin that I could pee”. That took anxiety to a whole new level. Instantly, I had no one. Everyone I trusted at least a little bit at school was gone. Everyone I hung around with, gone. I began sitting alone at lunch and on my spare. It’s incredibly lonely, I’ll admit. The highlight of my day is when an acquaintance walks over to my library table and talks to me for 5 minutes while they’re waiting for someone or something. My depression’s back and I don’t know if it’s because I’m lonely most of the time or what. And I really can’t stand it anymore. I’m distracting myself from it by writing this, actually. I’m hoping I’ll pass out once this is finished. There’s only one person who’s keeping me here right now, barely. If you’re reading this, you know who you are and I promise that, even though I do somewhat wish you weren’t in my life so it would make ending everything so much easier, you are easily one of the most important people to me and I’m still overly glad you’re with me at the same time. I’m sorry I don’t treat you the way I should and I’m sorry I’m triggering the way I talk about certain things. You mean a million times more to me than what I mean to myself and I never want to see you in pain, especially if I can control it. You’re a beautiful human being, not only in what you look like, but in what you are to me. And I’m sorry for complicating things by saying I liked you when I was in one of my manic phases. I didn’t mean to make things awkward, although in the back of my mind I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I hope if you got anything out of it, you understand that you are something to someone. You are important and there are people who need you here. I’m sorry I don’t know what to say sometimes. I’m sorry there are people who hurt you and I don’t know what to do to help. I’m sorry I drag you down with me sometimes. I’m sorry I’m distant and cold to you when you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong and I’m sorry I have to be apologizing for so many things. I mean the best and I never want to hurt you. It’s difficult sometimes, and I hope you understand. I love you so so much, more than I’ve ever loved anyone else and I just want you to be okay. And I’m sorry I can’t help you in the way other people can and have, I wish so so badly I could do that. I love you dear.
Sorry for the rambling. I’m done.
so i guess i should probably say where i’ve been for the past while
I was rushed to the hospital on december 31st because I tried to kill myself. My new years, half my christmas break, and a week and a half of school were spent in a “child and adolescent mental health unit” as an inpatient. I was evaluated and medicated, but my parents aren’t taking me to see the psychiatrist anymore. They’re not getting me my meds and they’re not taking me to a therapist; they want to forget everything happened. God forbid their 87-average-child be anything less. My friends know because my parents told them, I never wanted them to know. They treat me like shit and the fact that I attempted suicide didn’t change anything in them, not that I expected it or wanted it to. My marks dropped after exams, my friends don’t bother anymore, my family’s ignoring me, my mind’s gone back to what it used to be. Now I’m running out of meds the hospital gave me and I’m getting bad again.
Why am I dealing with this? I’m supposed to be dead.