feeling terrible

I feel terrible and weak. My menses of course have to drive it up a notch and my doc is on vacation just like I thought she would be *huffing puffing*. I was supposed to meet up with a friend today but I am still trying to catch up from sleep I lost yesterday as I had been up almost 24 hrs before taking a nap for a few hours. By few, I mean 3. It was a hard day yesterday. I didn’t know if I was coming or going and I still don’t.

My therapist and I have tried to work on what to do should Mr. Hyde shows up while she is on vacation. Maybe to text the call for help people or something. But the thing is, other than feeling really suicidal, I don’t feel the need to ask for help. I feel totally normal. I go about my business like I normally do. Except I am writing dark stuff and planning the end of my life. I am beyond hopeless so what would be the point of reaching out? I don’t feel the need to talk to anyone. All I need is a pad and pen or my laptop and I am good. I express all the dark stuff on paper or send off messages to people that I care about telling them I love them and not to worry that I will be in a better place. It seems NORMAL to me but I know it’s not normal when I wake up from this dream/dissociative state. Only when I am out of it do I really feel the sting of the pain because I am still living. I really feel like during these episodes that I am going to die, that I will fall asleep and not wake up. Then I wake up, rested and wonder if I dreamt all that, but then the yellow legal pad or messages I get in the morning are my tell all. That it wasn’t a dream. That I wasn’t in my “right” mind at all. And every time this happens is after 2100 hrs. It starts usually about then and ends whenever I fall asleep which is usually around 0300-0400 in the morning. I use military time because it is easier to write for me.

I am supposed to write something for the AAS blog but other than the piece I did write and was rejected, sort of, I have no clue what this person is looking for. And I am tired of trying to please someone. I wrote a three page blog last night at five in the morning because I was up and had all these thoughts in my head, but apparently, chronic pain and suicide doesn’t fathom her taste either. I am going to hold off on posting the blog for now as I want to re-read it and maybe make some edits. My therapist almost went apeshit on me when she found out that this person was going to rifle through my blogs. I don’t care. I really don’t. If a million people can have access to it, why can’t she. My therapist I have had to throw limits to because there are some stuff I just don’t want her to read. That is limiting just one person. And it’s not like people I know really read my blogs. There is a person in Taiwan that reads them and I don’t know him or her. That is the beauty of being anonymous. But when your therapist reads your blog, you know you are no longer anonymous and that frightens me. I know I post my blog on Facebook and a couple of my real friends have read it. But they don’t call me on it. Some people do. My sister had her friend over the other night and we were talking about Facebook and she called me by my real name (which still shocks me because I never get called that at home except by my mother) and she proceed to ask like WTF is wrong with me. In FRONT of my sisters and her friend. I kind of got embarrassed. I was like WTF. I post what I post and I don’t censor it all. Hell, if I censored my blog, all of them would be private and not available to help someone who is feeling the same thing I am feeling so what the hell is the difference. Just because you think your life is all happy and shit doesn’t mean that my life is. My life is miserable and I know that I can make it better by not being a part of the world but that is not going to happen. I have an eight year old that looks up to me and to tell her that I have died would just break her little heart. And knowing that I would be the cause of that is why I can’t go ahead with killing myself.