I hate what my life has become. I don’t shower regularly. I don’t brush my teeth every day like I am supposed to. I just hate being this glob of a person. I miss working though I can’t anymore because it hurts too much physically. Plus it was causing me to have severe suicidal thoughts every day, sometimes every hour. But it at least provided distraction from being miserable. I have tried to do what is right but I just don’t care any more. I have given up trying to live a life. I don’t go out anymore unless I have to. I barely make it to my psychiatrist’s appointments. I have a hard time waking up in the morning. And though it’s easier to get it out of the way in the morning, it sometimes sucks because I will have nothing else to do for the day. I write about my miserable life in hoping that someone will take solace in knowing they are not alone in what they are feeling but I feel alone because I no longer have people contact. I know I should probably join a group therapy group or something to get me out of the house but I just can’t think of it and I do nothing. I try and read but my attention span is just not there. I try and play my Facebook games but they bore me now and frustrate me. I should probably clean my room but I have no energy to get out of bed. I keep my laptop on my bed at all times because I need its accessibility for my thoughts. I journal pages and pages of things that run through my head of a day of nothingness. It really sucks being disabled.
Category: mental disorders
today’s therapy session
Like every Tuesday afternoon, I had therapy with a crazy therapist. Today she really annoyed the crap out of me because she wanted to know what was inhibiting me from seeking help. I had asked her why I was in therapy. I don’t feel like I need therapy anymore yet I am chronically suicidal and depressed at times. I constantly think of ending my life. I don’t know why I asked her this. It started a fight as she got into one of her raves and it killed me hearing her listing all the reasons I need therapy. Made me sound like a big psycho. I just feel like I am wasting her time. I feel like I am a worthless loser who just is never going to get better.
I told her I told my sister I wanted to be Mike. I thought she was going to have a breakdown. She got so happy and said that I am making progress. But then I told her the downfall of it. I overdosed most of the weekend to escape from the pain I was feeling and I don’t mean the chronic physical pain I normally deal with. I was just overwhelmed with everything I didn’t want to face the world. SO I didn’t. I drugged myself to oblivion. I honestly don’t remember much about this past weekend. I know I wrote four blogs in one day. I don’t even remember what they were about. I totally checked out in my own way. I think I dissociated. It was the most painful experience I ever had and the weird part of it all was that my sister was accepting of it. She was ok with me being Mike but she told me the unpleasant side of things with my mother and my other sister and that I just couldn’t face. That was what I felt so painful. I just wanted to check out. I couldn’t stand myself for saying something. I was completely mentally exhausted from the conversation with my sister. I couldn’t and still can’t really do much of anything but stare out into space. Not working doesn’t help. I have no place I can go to get away from my feelings or from myself. I no longer have the luxury of losing myself in a pile of samples. SO I did some self harming. I checked out by taking a bunch of pills to deal with the pain of coming out as a transgender.
I told my therapist all this. She was happy but not really that I had checked out most of the weekend. But I didn’t cut like I had wanted to. I knew that if I did there would be no stopping me. I wouldn’t stop. It would be like cocaine, once I started I wouldn’t be able to stop. I would need to cut more and more to get the feeling of nothing. Those that cut know what I am talking about.
The end of the session my therapist got tearful and I’m not sure why. I think she was happy I was progressing along with the transgender stuff but I am not sure. I know two months ago I wouldn’t even think about it. But seeing as I set a date on killing myself, I want to see how far along I can go with this transgender transitioning. If I can progress toward it maybe I won’t have to kill myself, but that is no guarantee that I will not kill myself sooner. I still have thoughts and urges of hanging myself. I hope that I don’t but you never know.
ramblings 22
I don’t know where this day has gone. I had a disastrous appointment with my therapist in which I accidently hung up on her and we both we trying to call each other back at the same time, which just lead us to each other’s voicemails. Stupidly, I was looking for my psychiatrist number and accidently dialed it during our session. But no matter, she called me back and after I explained that I panicked and hung up on her she laughed.
My therapist is worried because of what I wrote in my last blog (mental anguish) and she wanted me to tell my psychiatrist so I emailed the blog to her while we were talking. We have phone sessions because I don’t have a car and she is now thirty miles away from me. She used to be closer but then decided to have a life outside of our therapy (AKA have a kid) and consolidated her practices to where she lives. Which sucks for me because unless I can borrow a car, there is no way I can see her. I might end up seeing her next week but it is a hassle. I have to wake up early to take my sister’s car from my brother in law who leaves around 7 every morning. That is a long day with someone who has nothing to do and then I have to pick him up from work. I can’t wait till he gets a more reliable vehicle for his own use rather than my sister’s. That is why we have phone sessions.
I got my new glasses today and seems like I will have to go back as one of the lenses is scratched. Just what I fricken need.
Having trouble with tomorrow’s writing challenge. I am supposed to write about something that I am proud of but I don’t feel like I’m proud of anything because I feel like crap right now. How can you feel proud of something when you feel like killing yourself? When you feel like you are the biggest loser on the planet? Or feel like a big piece of shit? I just want to crawl under a huge rock and hope it crushes me to death.
mental anguish
I feel like I have a terminal illness except it doesn’t kill you. That truly is what depression is like. An illness that takes your life away from you without killing you. The only way to end it is by you taking your life.
These are the thoughts I have been pondering for the past half hour. I just feel like I am sick but physically I am well. I am on disability for an illness that no one can see or hear. I hate this suffering every day. I feel so worthless as a human being.
My therapist thought I had my day of death in the fall. She couldn’t be more wrong. I just set a date because I just can’t go on anymore. Does it mean that I will go through with my plans? I don’t know. If the day was tomorrow, you bet I would. I feel cheated that I have to wait it out until this day. I am not going to mention it to anyone because I don’t want to be stopped.
I always plan my death. It helps to calm me down. Imagining how the knife will feel or a rope around my neck. That is gory I know but when you are in so much pain you can’t imagine happy thoughts to save you. It just doesn’t work that way. I feel suicidal so I am going to think of suicidal things. It helps to have options out there. That is all that I am doing. Giving myself options on how to die and break free of this awful cycle of being ok and being six feet under.
midnightdemons7 
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