Solitude of my Room

Solitude of my Room

I woke up in a terrible mood. It was too early to do anything. I just really wanted to go back to sleep, for good, but couldn’t. Around nine, nature was calling so I went downstairs to answer it. My mother was in the bathroom and made a snarky comment. It was too early for me to respond. So I just took the abuse, did my business, and then went back up to the solitude of my room. I had several hours before therapy, and after my mother left the house, I breakfasted. By the time I finished, it was too late to catch the bus to get coffee. Starbucks just came out with S’Mores frappucino. I am dying to try it. But I have been nauseous for most of the day with post nasal drip. And migraine activity. When I went out, the sun was bright, and I instantly got a migraine. I hate when bright light cause migraines that quickly. I really can’t wait to get my sunglasses Friday.

My therapy session was surrounded by my thoughts and feelings about my death. I really wanted to end my life tomorrow but I have no method, no quick and dry method, anyway. This depresses me more than anything. How can you kill yourself if you don’t have a plan of action? I am a failure.

My therapist was happy that I published my psychosis story. I am glad I published it too as I got a lot of likes for it within the first hour. Then it kind of tampered off, like it usually does. I thought of sending it to my psychiatrist but still not convinced I should. I know she likes my writing. Everyone seems to like it even though I think it is crap. My therapist asked if I read it before I posted it. I told her I didn’t. Why would I? I know what it is about, I wrote the thing! The thing that bothers me most is that I get no parental support for my writing. My father doesn’t or wouldn’t even know what a “blog” is, nor would he read it because he is illiterate. My mother doesn’t like the topic of suicide so she wouldn’t read my writing. Course, it would bother her. And it’s not like I would like her to read my blog, anyway. But she made it clear she didn’t like my book and that hurt more than anything.

My therapist then proceeded to hound me on what I am working on for my second book. Here I am in a suicidal mood and she thinks I am working on a second book. What for? Why bother? She then hounded me about my writing. I can’t catch a break with her. I am all out of ideas to write for my second book. The psychosis piece was my last addition that I thought of. I have another idea to write about my delusions but I am not sure if that will be triggering to me or not. Last thing I need is another psychotic break. I didn’t tell my therapist this. She went on about drivers and such. Drivers is her new word for suicidal impulses. It is the reason “driving” the suicidal thoughts. She wanted me to increase my pain medication or at least take it more regularly. If I take it anymore than I have, I might be overdosing on it. And that will defeat the purpose of saving my life. She knows my physical pain is what is “driving” me to think of ending my life. I just can’t get away from the pain. Every single night for the last month, I have been suffering terribly. And every night I think about ending my life. But I never think about the “how”. I am an idiot, I know. But my other methods have always failed me so I need something that will work. And I am tired, so very tired of just wishing my death.

I have been very solemn around my game. It ends tomorrow, I think at midnight. There has been no time frame given as to when it will end. I have been trying eagerly to get the pop up to end missions but have not gotten it yet today. I keep playing hoping it will appear. I am going to miss this game so much. I am close to finishing a couple of missions I have been working with for the last few months but I don’t think I have time to finish. Time is just not there to collect the stuff I need. It is really depressing me. I have played this game for years, annoying as it has been at times. But it passed the time adequately and gave me something to do during the day. It was a distraction that I needed from my thoughts. Now it is no longer going to be there and I am not sure what I am going to do with myself.