Down Down Down She Goes….

I’ve got a lot going on right now, I’ve been through some really tough times over the last few months.  My grandma started deteriorating in health and then died.  Her funeral was almost two weeks ago now.  It’s been so hard dealing with all those emotions and being strong for my mother at the same time.  I’ve been to way too many funerals in my life which just doesn’t seem fair.  This experience was different though.  I got to spend lots of time with my grandma while she was dying.  It was beautiful, and personal and deep and special and then she died.  It was so close to my heart.  It hurt so much.  The only problem is that I have barely cried.  I cried a lot during her grave side service and burial but after that, nothing.  No tears.  I can feel them in the back of my throat and behind my eyes sometimes, putting a tremendous amount of pressure on me but they just won’t come out, and it leaves me so tired, so worn out.  This is odd, because I am a cryer.  I cry easily, and I feel emotions deeply, and I take it all very seriously.  I let myself feel things, I let my body, heart, and mind experience emotions, explore them, learn about them, feel where they’re coming from, understand them.  I feel awful.  I feel unlike myself.

On top of that my younger sister and her husband are expecting their first child.  While I am extremely happy for them, it’s really fucking with me too.  I don’t cope well with change, that’s one of the many wonderful things about being bipolar.  Also, being the only single one left in the family creates this awkward dynamic where I am left feeling like the bottom of the totem pole, not as valuable for some reason.  I don’t think anybody means it.  They probably don’t even know that it’s happening.  My brother and his wife are also expecting their first child, they’ve been approved for adoption.  That won’t happen for another year or 2 though.  Are couples more valuable than single people? Do couples with children especially, always trump single people?  That’s not fair.  That makes me feel like shit.  I am valuable too.

I don’t know what’s going on with me mentally and emotionally.  I mean, I know my grandma’s death, and family stuff and grieving and my siblings having kids are all stressful things, but I’m wondering if it’s more than that.  On the other hand, it doesn’t have to be, I never really know when it comes to how I feel.  I’m in this really dark place.  I feel like I haven’t been here for a while.  Ever since I started taking medication a year ago, and I’ve been in this amazing graphic design/web design course, I’ve been really happy and functional like 90% of the time which is incredible.  I think I’m depressed.  It feels odd and scary and I don’t like it.  The last few days, the moment that I got home from school I’ve gone straight to bed and stayed there all afternoon, all evening, all night.  Yesterday I lay in bed for over 5 hours just shaking, wanting to cry but it wasn’t there, every muscle in my body tense and overwhelmed by torturous mental and emotional turmoil.

Today I found myself in bed again for quite a few hours again, in a very unsettling headspace.  I’m working on this video editing project at school with one of my classmates that I work with most of the time because we both have the same level of passion and drive, but this time it’s not going so well.  She hates video editing and complains about it all day every day.  She apologizes about being whiney but she doesn’t stop.  She doesn’t want to be creative.  Her ideas are boring, and she only wants to do the bare minimum.  It’s killing me.  I wish I could do this assignment alone, but I can’t.  It’s required we work in groups of 2.  I have all these ideas but she doesn’t get them and doesn’t want to try.  So that leaves me extremely frustrated.  I watched like 10 episodes of the Mindy Project on Netflix which was alright, I like that show, it’s cute.  I went out with a friend for lunch and that was ok too.  Finally earlier tonight I thought that I should do something so I decided to go out and see a movie by myself.  It was ok.  I saw a dumb movie on purpose because I didn’t want to further my depressing darkness but that didn’t really work.  The problem is that thoughts of suicide have been creeping in…and they’re getting louder.  It shocked me driving home.  I started thinking about a note.  I didn’t so much as think about what I would write in that note if it ever came to that, but rather I started thinking about how my parents and siblings would react when they found it.  It KILLED me.  I sobbed for one second, one single sob basically, in the car, and that was it.  I CAN’T FUCKING CRY.  I desperately need to cry.  Everything is building up inside of me so strongly and I can’t get it out.  I can’t express it.  I can’t even fully explain it other then that it’s wearing away at my core and I’m starting to crumble.  I don’t like thinking about suicide.  It’s terrifying.  It’s there though, and it’s very real.  Thoughts of cutting myself have begun to creep back in too.  With all this depression and emotional pain I always want to take it a step further and physically feel pain too.  I think about my razor blades that are in my nightstand drawer, right beside my bed.  They are within reach.  They are sharp, fresh and new, some are even unused.  I could tear into my skin and nobody would know.  I would probably target my upper outer thigh, or somewhere around my hip.  Maybe my legs but probably not.  Maybe my stomach.  I wish I could cut my arms but it’s way too hot out to be able to effectively cover them up.  Plus, I have enough scars on my arms that I’m sure other people see, but won’t talk to me about them because it makes them uncomfortable.  

I think that people who think that suicide is selfish don’t know what they are talking about.  It’s a means to an end.  It’s a desperate attempt to stop the pain, to for fucking once just feel better.  I don’t want to be placed under suicide watch.  I don’t want to go to the hospital.  I don’t want to let my whole world fall apart.  I wish I had a therapist to talk to but I can’t afford one.

I hate people.  I can’t stand them anymore.  I don’t trust anybody.  Yesterday a guy followed me onto the bus that I boarded to go home from school and when I sat down he came over and stood beside me blocking me in, cornering me and leaning in towards me.  I’ve seen him around before and even started taking a different bus in the morning to avoid him because for some reason he has it in his mind that we are “friends” which to him I think somehow gives him permission to stalk.  He cornered me in until I finally looked up at him.  I was purposefully ignoring him hoping he’d take a hint.  Nope.  He started asking me all these personal questions which I didn’t answer and finally I got up and managed to get off that bus before it left.  The bus driver had stepped off the bus before this had happened and there was maybe one or 2 people sitting in the back so I felt even more unsafe because we were virtually alone.  I walked briskly across the street and around the corner and hid until that bus left, making sure he was on it before I walked back to catch the next bus.  It left me shaken.  It brought up so many feelings and emotions about Joel, my ex, and what he did to me and it left me feeling traumatized all over again.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully trust men again but I really hope that’s not true.

I’m rambling a bit.  I guess I’m trying to distract myself from the suicidal thoughts again but it’s really not working.  I could “accidentally” cut too deep if I do decide to cut tonight.  I really don’t want to, but I envision my wrists bleeding and even though I’m still sitting here in bed typing this out, they are actually starting to sting and throb just thinking about it.  Nobody at school knows my struggle.  They all think that I’m just smart and silly and talented and sarcastic and funny and stuff, but they have no idea that there is this whole other side to me filled with darkness and despair and loneliness and suffering.  They don’t know I’m bipolar and they never will.  They wouldn’t get it.  It just seems that they wouldn’t get it, most of them aren’t in tough with their feelings or ever want to tackle any subjects that are deep and personal.  They talk fluff.  I think they’ve just never experienced anything like this so they wouldn’t know how to respond, or maybe wouldn’t care and write it off as me being dramatic and that I should get over it.  That happens sometimes.  

I have a bottle of wine sitting next to me that I’ve delved into.  Sometimes I wish I was an alcoholic or drug addict, and yes I know that’s terrible, but sometimes I just desperately want to escape my life.

This is getting too long.  I guess if I’m going to hurt myself I should just get it over with, or else get really drunk and pass out.  I could take sleeping pills and just render myself unconscious for a while as a way of protecting myself…. What I’ll probably do is turn my tv back on and lie in bed watching more Netflix and staring blankly and emptily at the screen with my thoughts a million miles away.  

 

Maybe, just maybe, if I hurt myself enough, I will finally cry.