a 3 am blog

a 3 am blog

It’s 0300. I just woke up a few minutes ago. I took some more pain meds to try and calm down my foot. I still have RENT songs in my head. Before I went to bed, I emailed my psychiatrist. I told her I was doing lousy and that I was constipated. I haven’t gone in quite a few days. It is really going hurt when I go. I have been taking fiber pills to make my stools softer, I hope.

I can’t believe the cake I made last week is almost gone. I have one slice left and it will be my breakfast. It came out really good. Now I got to make another cake when I see my psychiatrist because she wants a slice. I don’t mind making it again. I really love this cake.

I don’t understand why I am up at this hour. I took enough pills to kill a horse, not saying I should be dead (I didn’t take that many) but I should at least be sleeping through out the night. I wrote a long journal entry before going to sleep. It was a long time since I last wrote. I had to get my feelings out about my therapist. I didn’t cry this time. I think the more I write about it, the more I am getting comfortable with the idea of her being gone.

I also can’t help thinking of the material that I wrote to her would be great for a book or something. I wrote her some pretty awful things, both in letters (which she’ll probably keep) as well as my journal entries. I shared my journal so she could get a better understanding of me. Not that it helped much in the end. I keep thinking that I will have boxes of stuff but maybe I won’t. I don’t know what she will be giving back to me and what she will be keeping. I wrote to her a lot over the 16 years. She’ll probably keep those letters.

Published by

G. Collerone

suicide attempt survivor writing about the hopelessness that accompanies depression that no one likes to talk about. also writing about my daily struggle with chronic pain and how it affects my suicidality

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