Sunday, July 18, 2004

Lost my post dammit

Maybe this isn't the format for me to journal in. I started writing a post at 4 am because I couldn't sleep. Probably wrote for a good 45 minutes and then the blink of an eye it was all gone due to the server being down or some shit like that. I was so fucking pissed I couldn't see straight. Thinking maybe I should write this crap on paper & copy it on here, or even type it up in Microsoft first and then just cut&paste it here.

I don't remember much of my original post. My memory these days sucks ass. Which is primarily the reason behind why I journal so much. If I don't write shit down, I don't remember any of it. It's interesting to go back and read my journals, because I don't remember doing any of the stuff I wrote about. Never had a memory problem before, wonder if I'm just disassociating more than usual or if the meds are causing it. Maybe it's really early Alzheimer's...who fucking knows.

Anyway, I was still up at 4 am because once again, sleep has eluded me. My brain wouldn't shut down or quiet up enough for me to sleep. It's like having a crowded nightclub in my head. There's music playing and I can hear all these voices, but can't make out the conversations. Supposedly the Seroquel is supposed to help with this problem, but like all the other meds, it's just not working. It's times like that I think about ramming my head into a wall, or hitting myself in the head with a hammer, in hopes of making all the noise stop.

I actually got right out of bed today. No lying there wishing the day were already over or daydreaming about how I'm going to kill myself. Even got into the shower right away instead of sitting around all day smelling like a week old pile of garbage. It's odd, but on the nights were I get no sleep, I seem to have more energy the next day. After awhile I do become mentally void and stare off into space a lot, but I'm not tired at all.

I've been doing a lot of daydreaming about how I'm going to kill myself. I have set a tentative date of February 2005 as my "give up & fucking die already" date. I'm planning for my death as if I had a terminal illness, which is exactly how I feel...terminally ill. I may become completely distressed before then and do it, but if that doesn't happen, I'm checking out in February.

I picked February because of my daughter. She goes back to live with her father & his new girlfriend and her family in about a month. Then at the end of next month she starts a new school. At the end of October, they're all moving yet again into a bigger house and she will have to transfer into yet another new school. She'll have time to get acclimated to her new environment and plus she will be in therapy herself by then. After that come the holidays and at the beginning of January is her birthday. I don't want her to associate her mother's death with any of those dates.

Now a miracle could happen and I may not go through with it. I do plan to continue therapy and DBT until that time, I'm not giving up until the end. Maybe over the course of the next 6 months something may click and I decide I'd rather live. I don't expect that will happen, but you never know. I'm just tired of fighting. I think there comes a point where it's ok to just give up; and I've come to that point. I never asked to be brought into this world, I don't see why I can't have the choice to remove myself from it. (By the way, don't ever tell the paramedics this if they show up at your house....they'll definitely have you locked up. I learned that the hard way.)

Things never seem to change. I obviously don't possess whatever it takes to live a productive, happy life. Don't think I ever will.

I was looking through my stacks & stacks of journals today and found an old book of poetry I had written. Most were just the immature ramblings of a preteen & teenager, though there are a few that I will conceitedly admit are very good. There was one in particular, though not very good, that reflects my early years as a borderline...long before I ever knew what was truly wrong with me. Even back then, though I felt so completely alone, as if I were the only one going through the pain I was, I still wrote it from the perspective that others were suffering as well.

I don't know which is worse. Feeling all alone in your suffering; or knowing that other people know all too well that same pain you're going through.

The Inevitable
Fragile are the ones
Who sit here and weep
Fragile are the ones
Whose pain runs so deep

Struggled so hard
To hold onto hope
But now finally realize
They're at the end of their rope

They reached out for help
From those they held dear
But no one seemed to notice
Now they sit here in fear

Can't go on living
But not yet ready to die
Why is everyone so oblivious
To the tears that they cry

Happiness is all
They ever wanted to feel
But instead they live with this pain
They know time will never heal

So they sit and they wait
For the inevitable test
That finally ends their lives
And puts their pain forever to rest


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