I fight every night the urge to text the guy I like, giving him all my problems hoping he will save me. I cry because I want so badly for someone to come over and just be with me. I have day dreams that turn to nightmares. I can’t sleep at night. I can’t wake up in the morning. I can’t laugh like I used to. I can’t even smile like before.
Is this because of my depression? Or, is this because of my medication? Because, ever since the day I accidentally skipped, a week ago, I haven’t been the same.
Before I skipped, I was happy. I was myself for the first time in years. I was motivated! I did all my laundry, cleaned my apartment, I was happy. Sure, depression found its way back to me each night. But if I’d just had a little bit of weed, I’d been fine. Nothing I couldn’t handle.
The morning after I skipped my medicine, I woke up as any normal day. Then, as time went on, I became worse. I broke down. I couldn’t function. I had an anxiety attack. All the harmful words that have ever been spoken to me, all the harmful actions ever taken against me, I felt them all in a wave of abuse pouring over my soul. I couldn’t get up.
I self harmed that day. Not for my usual reason, because I felt numb, but because I felt all too much. The pain was overwhelming me. I couldn’t bear it. I needed to feel something other than the sadness. I cut my arm. Because I believed I deserved it. Because all the abusive things stuck in my head, they were telling me how worthless I was.
The next day was a little better. I took my medication and was for the most part, stable. But something has been off since that day. Something has drastically changed. I thought, “oh, maybe it’s just building back up in my system.” It hasn’t reached that high point I was feeling since my attack.
I fight to stay out of bed, I struggle to keep myself from napping. I sit outside, overwhelmed by nothingness. I’ve made endless plans, how I will recover. None of them happen, that motivation I had is now gone. I’m afraid I’ll never get it back.
The only time I ever feel relief is when I’m with someone else. That’s it. If I’m hanging out with a friend, I can ignore the bigger issues. But, friends can’t always be there.
I hardly even have my will to write anymore. This has been fairly easy to write up until now. Now, I’m not sure if it makes sense, if it means anything. There must be a better way I can write all of this. But, I’ll stick with it. I’ll give this piece my best.
My joy is gone, that damn medicine stole my light. It gave it to me, all at once, then took it away. I’m lost, I don’t know where to find it again.
I sit here, with my fur baby. I wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow brings hope for me. Tomorrow I have an appointment with my psychiatrist. I can tell her all that’s gone wrong, maybe she can fix it. I hope she can fix it.