It's Been a Month

All the warnings galore:




There's a hole in the wall, from where I tried to smash my head through it.
A Puddle of blood, soaked through the carpet, and more than likely through the wood under it, that has dried by my bed. A box cutter, with Rust colored dried blood, is sitting open under a dirty clothes hamper.


I lost my mind.
I'm still healing physically, and emotionally.

Something else took over.
My inner demon.
The voice, that challenges every positive interaction, won.

It received validation, someone else saying I was the problem, and it got free.

I tried everything I could.
I bit myself, the bruises didn't become apparent until they faded over a week after. I was pinching, it wasn't enough.

It all happened in a blur.
I blacked out.
That voice reminded me that it was right, and I was wrong. I was so wrong.

I've been fighting my self destructive side for so long. I was exhausted mentally, emotionally, from fighting it.
Hearing someone validate that voice. Was enough, that time, to grow in power.

I blacked out.
I remember head butting the wall, in desperation, Then I regained control again when I saw the river of blood running down my leg.

That feral, blood lust part of me. Remembered where the box cutter was.
It had always taken a note of it.
Every time I saw it, I thought to myself "I need to put that away"
but I never did.

Maybe It didn't want me to.
I grabbed it, slid it opened and cut, deeply.

First time in six years.
First time hurting myself in three.
I sobbed.
I was drained.

It won.

I went to the hospital, after twelve hours it was still profusely bleeding.
They gave warnings on waiting so long for stitches, I spent three hours in the ER.
I lied to them to get me to go home.
"Do you have thoughts of suicide"
"No" I lied
"Did you do this to end your life."
"No.." I half lied.  I want to kill myself. I didn't do this to kill myself. I did this as a way to DESTROY myself.
"Do you have feelings of self loathing, self depreciation, etc?"
"No" Another lie.
I lied through my teeth to keep from being put into a hospital over night, or for a few days.
I had work. I didn't want to be alone. The fear of being alone, and being fired is greater than staying alive.

Four stitches, and five staples later...
That damn voice won. That demon had it's blood lust satisfied. So it crawled back.
But it was stronger.
I'm still fighting it.
Work is not helping.
I'm alone more often than not, and I can't get it to shut up.


I'll be seeking help when I can afford it. Maybe I'll be put on medications. Maybe a therapist is all I need.
The stitches came out, my scars are still healing.
I needed to get this out.
I needed to confront what happened.
The bill came out to over $1600, and I'm sure it's still counting.

I'm still depressed from this.
I'm still wallowing in my own self doubt.
I don't know if I can fix this
I don't even know if I truly want to fix this.

I just don't know.


z

As I Stare Down at the Brink of my Own Destruction

I will start this off by saying, I have friends who check up on me, and I love them for it. I appreciate it.
I recently met a friend who told me "I know how you feel, it sucks doesn't it?" That alone, has made this more bearable.



I crash after times of stress, happiness, and general activity. I workout, I see people, I go to things, but at this point in time it is all just temporary relief.
When I crash, it is almost as if I were going 120 miles per hour on the freeway and had to slam on the breaks to keep from hitting someone crossing the busy road.
I stop. Suddenly, and I cannot just restart.

I want to destroy all that I am. It's more than just suicidal thoughts. It's a total self destruction. I want to destroy my body, while my mind destroys itself. I want to erase myself from ever had existed.

I can tell when I'm getting closer to the inevitable breakdown. My moods flash through an assortment in a matter of an hour. My humor gets darker than normal.... Only a part of me isn't kidding.


This New Year has brought about the third year since I have self harmed, almost four years since I've taken a blade to my skin.
That is the highlight of my 2018

And it shouldn't be.

I'm getting listless, I want to sleep. Only sleep. Because if I am awake and alone, I can't deal with it.
I look forward to work, because it keeps me from breaking down.
I hate showers because it helps me to break down.
Drinking and being around friends makes me happy, but it's only temporary and in the end my brain asks me "Was it really worth it?"

I'm on the brink of my own existential crisis, and I hate it. I hate it when all I wonder is "What is the use of my being alive right now?"

As I pulled up this blog to write this, I have drafts, about how many times I've tried to kill myself and still am alive.
I feel like I shouldn't be.
I don't always feel like I shouldn't be.

I know I have people who care about me, and want me alive and well.
But right now?
Do I?


Or am I just an annoying little thing that people keep around out of pity?
My birthday, 2017 I crashed so hard from work stress, and was stuck at home, alone for a week straight. That for a few days my thoughts turned to "If I were to take a blade to my skin, and cut through the veins showing, how long would it take for me to bleed out? Would anyone notice?"

I will not ever do it.
Don't worry.

But that feeling is always nagging at me. The voice is sometimes more quiet, it is times when the levels of happy, levels of being "up" drop. It's screaming.
It's deafening.
The "Why bother trying" is all I hear.
I drink to shut it up, I drain my social batteries to be around people to quiet it down.




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Doug, doesn't understand.
He knows that this is a thing, and I hate putting him through the roller coaster of emotions. He doesn't understand that there is literally no cause.
It's not just one thing that tips me over the edge.
It is a lot of things that accumulate over time.
He understands circumstantial depression.
He doesn't understand that I don't know what's causing it. Or what can help.


Having someone say "I know how that goes." Is amazing.




I've been trying to be more honest about when I'm on the edge of the abyss.
I've started to ask friends for help.
I still feel a burden, a nuisance. There is not anything that can fix that.... I will always hear that voice.