On reviewing this
post I find there’s a fair amount of not so passive aggression – sorry. I blame
drugs and pent up frustration. Also, the writing sucks, but I’m not trying so I
don’t really care.
I am reduced to
drinking instant Nescafe decaf coffee as I type. I’m not in a rooibos mood and
as sleep has been challenging lately I don’t want to drink real tea or use one
of my coffee bags. I’ve been here 33 days and I’m on my third box of 28 pack
coffee bags.
I was supposed to
be discharged today but as my psychiatrist came to see me last night and caught
me in a murderous rage he decided against it. In store is a reduction in my new
antidepressant; the agitation, rage, extra suicidal impulses and plotting to
destroy the entire world coincided with the dose increase. I think I scared him
last night. I told him off, swore a lot and when asked what I’d be feeling as I
blew up myself and took the whole world with me I replied that I’d be laughing.
Looking back on this I can see why I’m still here.
My three friends
in here are all gone. Only one said goodbye, guess I won’t be seeing them
again. I struggle so much to make friends and I scare the ones I manage to make
away with the whole being a super introvert and having BPD thingy. Also there’s
just not enough happy stuff to share, people don’t want to be hearing about all
the crap, they want kittens and teddy bears. I have a stat counter on this
thing – the happy titled posts get a lot more hits, my happy, shallow facebook
comments get more comments. I could say “I just spent the last 5 hours crying,
does anyone want to come over for a cup of tea” and no one would reply. But “My
cat just chewed right through my knitting yarn” 5 or so comments and a dozen
likes. I’m not popular okay – 5 is a lot for me!
One disgusting
tasting antibiotic left but the cough persists. I’ve had my annual dose of
radiation and then some this year, I hope this doesn’t result in a chest x-ray.
The final ever
episode of Dexter has aired and I haven’t been able to watch it because there’s
no wifi in here and I’ve almost reached my monthly data limit on my phone. I’m
waiting for mum to bring it in but not sure when that will be. Really this
season has sucked, but I want to know how it all ends and I refuse to read
about it
Questioning what
to do with my life – very slowly finish the masters and then do who knows what
with it, give up on study and just write something and see where it goes, die?
Even if it’s small some part of me wants to live, or I wouldn’t have sought
help before this admission or told my nurse yesterday about the perfect hanging
point I found in the hospital – it was promptly removed.
I wrote this on
Tuesday night:
Tue 24th September
I found a hanging point in the hospital;
tomorrow I will show it to my nurse to hopefully save some other depressed,
hopeless soul from using it. I made the noose – they’re bloody hard to get
right! I wrote the letter, including passwords to everything. I tested the
hanging point and then feared that my cord may not hold my weight and the
involuntary thrashing would attract attention before death. Surviving a hanging
may result in permanent brain damage – no thanks!
Nine weeks until
the family trip to the UK for a month. I am terrified.
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