Today it took me about three hours to actually get out of bed, shower, eat breakfast and actually just get ready to tackle the day. I woke up and I just couldn’t. Something as simple as showering seems as if its as big of a challenge as climbing a mountain.
All I want to do is sleep. But when I lay in bed this morning, not managing to get up, I tried to go back to sleep but I couldn’t. It was as if I had pins and needles in my veins and blood and organs, as if anxiety was in my body and it wasn’t a symptom that I was feeling – it was actually inside me – a part of me. And all I want to do is climb out of my own skin.
Would it effect you if you skipped your antidepressant for one day?
I just forgot to drink it.
And is it the placebo effect or am I really an anxious wreck?
I don’t know what it is but its hell and I feel myself climbing back into that dark hole.
I randomly thought about cutting today. For the first time in months the thought self harming. There was no trigger and there was no urge, it was just a thought and it was an attractive thought.
The thing is that I’m 26 years old and cutting seems childish? Its as if society has labeled cutting as a form of self harm that is associated with teenagers, but its definitely a form of self harm that is favoured among adults as well.
The last time I cut was in March when I was in Israel and I was going through such a rough time. I cut myself twice on my left thigh and I’m still bearing the scars and I’ll admit that I do feel slightly self conscious about them.
But yesterday I thought about cutting myself on that same left thigh. I though about the way the blade would slash thin lines across my skin and it would sting the blood would slowly start to appear, in the form of little droplets along the cut lines.
I am sad to admit, but it seems so appealing.
Sometimes I get scared because what if something goes wrong and I go to the really dark place again and A cant handle it.
They go hand in hand and I don’t think I can have the one without the other because I don’t find it effective.
I need to see my therapist some time.
I have been told by many a friend and family member that they are so proud of me for going off my medication. They are so impressed by how strong I am.
Well I’m not strong…
I’ve been back on my meds for 3 months already. I haven’t told a soul. Not even my mom and not even A.
Because I’m not strong for going off meds and I’m not weak for going back on either.
I have an illness and I’m drinking medication for it. And I am so happy that I am. Because drinking the medication makes the world of a differnece. And I don’t see why I need to explain that to anyone and why I need to be labeled weak or strong.
It is what it is.
I drink medication for anxiety and depression.
Who gives a fuck.
Things have been so much better since I’ve been on meds.
I feel light and calm and in control of my life.
I imagine this is what everyone feels like.
I go through bouts of feeling anxious, but I feel able to handle it and I tell A I’m feeling anxious and he is so supportive. Just gives me a hug and says its ok. He doesnt judge it or try to fix it 🙂
I’m going back on medication – I’ll start tomorrow.
My psychiatrist was so incredible today.
I explained to her that being on meds makes me feel weak because I feel I should be able to deal with these issues on my own by now. And then she told me that as unorthodox as it is to tell me this, she is in fact on medication for anxiety.
I’m gong to see my psychiatrist tomorrow?
I feel like it isn’t necessary but then I get moments of debilitating anxiety where I want to gulp down a bottle of antidepressants.
It really makes an appearance when ever it damn well pleases.