Sometimes I wonder if you ever think about me. Because sometimes I think about you. It’s funny how the person who said he’d never leave no matter what, left. The psychological damage has been done. Now I am trying to pick myself up and heal. After what went down and how it went down, I don’t know if I can love or ever even trust someone again.
I loved you unabashedly. I was always there for you, as you grew increasingly distant, because you didn’t have the balls to tell me, you didn’t feel the same. I wish I could get the two years you stole from me back. I don’t miss being in love with you. I miss our friendship, but I know we could never be friends. I would always have trust issues with you.
I am slowly working to get over you, it’s taking a lot of therapy with a lot of setbacks. Although I wish you well, I am still very angry with you and very hurt.
I know you will never read this and even though my blog is a public thing and I even have it linked on all my social media, I doubt you even miss me or think about me.
Now that I have vented, I am awfully tired, because I was (and still am) crying. I can sleep now.
“When you slouch, you are trying to hide your heart, protecting it by slumping over. But when you sit upright but relaxed in the posture of meditation, your heart is naked. Your entire being is exposed—to yourself, first of all, but to others as well. Through the practice of sitting still and following your breath as it goes out and dissolves, you are connecting with your heart. By simply letting yourself be, as you are, you develop genuine sympathy towards yourself. When you sit erect, you proclaim to yourself and to the rest of the world that you are going to be a warrior, a fully human being.”—Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior by Chögyam Trungpa (via cougarchild)
I am so lonely. I feel as if nobody understands me, my situation, or even wants to. I find myself having to shroud myself from hurt, so I’ve just closed my doors to trust and love. I am a hopeless romantic…keyword HOPELESS.
I know that things take time and my medication is getting dicked around with all the time. Which is actually not as bad as it seems. I think I need to stop being so melancholy and go downstairs for a little bit to look at the Christmas tree and be with my mom and brother so I can vent.
Don’t worry, I won’t be doing anything stupid, I just got out of the hospital last Monday. My doctor put me in, saying he knew how miserable I was. And I was. It’s gotten a little bit better. I still have pain deep down inside, which I am working with my psychologist on. Both he and my psychiatrist are seeing me every week.
My mood is still all over the place, but I am calmer in general. Maybe one of the medications is giving me an overall anesthetizing feeling, also with it being a holiday coming up I miss my daddy so much more than normal.
I don’t even know why I am writing this, maybe for…I don’t know. Maybe I like the clickety-clack of the keys on my MacBook.
I just got off the phone with 1800 SUICIDE. I just really needed someone to talk to. My voices are flaring up again. I saw my psychologist yesterday and I will be seeing my psychiatrist today. I don’t know how I am going to make it from week to week. I see my psychologist weekly and now my psychiatrist is so fucking worried about me that I have to see him every week too.
Why does everything have to be so hard. Right now I am not the model of emotional stability. I have been crying for over an hour and I can’t sleep. Well I suppose I am just going to cry and cry and rock myself back and forth.
I put Married With Children on for some white noise if I ever get some sleep, plus it’s funny.
This lyric is how I feel: leave me here in my stark raving sick, sad little world.
I can’t believe how hard it is to even grab a toehold of my life. I kept this a secret for over a week, but I attempted suicide again. I am very lonely. I don’t have many friends and I don’t have a best friend anymore. Which I am trying to get through ever since she told me that I was basically the reason and source of her feeling like shit. I don’t need that in my life.
But I can’t tell you that I lie awake at night, just wishing I had someone to talk to and so many take it for granted. I cry myself to sleep so often that my eyes are are swollen and puffy.
I am not sharing this to get pity. Fuck pity and the shitty horse it rode in on. What I do hope is that somebody, somewhere will look at this and know that they are not alone in how they are feeling.
My psychiatrist wants to see me weekly. He is so worried about me. I also see my psychologist once a week as well.
Thank you to those who actually care. It means more than you know.