Today I woke up feeling grumpy with the world that I had to be alive. I tried to sleep for as long as possible to delay the living part of the day. A politician came to the door mid morning which woke me up, and I couldn’t get back to sleep after that, as I was kind of eaves dropping on my flatmate Kaitlyns conversation with him, while I lay in bed trying not to be anxious about it.
When I finally got up, i was in such a gloomy grump. But i made myself go and say hello to Kaitlyn, or else I would have spent the whole day in my room by myself, and probably would have made her feel like I was grumpy with her or something (which I wasn’t). Funnily enough I ended up hanging out with her pretty much all day watching Out-lander and doing my crochet.
So I started cheering up a bit being around Kaitlyn, didn’t want to be a grumpy pants for her all day. Still had a lot of very intrusive thoughts though, which made it very hard to concentrate on the movie. I had to stop and ask what was going on so many times. But she was lovely and was happy to pause and explain it to me. She must think I am really dumb/ slow!
I tell you, I am usually reasonably bright and able to comprehend things easily. But it feels like lately half of my brain power has been taken away from me. Its like a big fog in my mind. Either that state of blurry nothingness, or a rampant trail of intrusive negative thoughts and images, that I cannot, no matter how hard I try, get rid of.
For instance, while watching the movie, about 5% of my brain power went into my crochet, 15% into the movie, and the remaining 80% was imagining my own gruesome death, or cutting major arteries, or watching my friends and families reactions after my death etc etc etc. It is so incredibly vivid, that I feel the emotions, imagining what it would feel like at every stage of my death. But then also, encompassing the raw emotions of the aftermath in the feelings of those who know me.
This kind of thinking goes on almost all the time for me. I have only just realised, that in reality, i spend pretty much 24/7 thinking about suicide. Or at least, major self harm.
I imagine myself in the shower, cutting, and accidentally (or not so accidentally) hitting an artery. I watch the blood spurt up to the ceiling and make a right mess. I watch myself scream out to my flatmates to call an ambulance, whilst trying to control the bleeding, and failing. Trying to wrap a towel round myself, and then regretting calling out to my flatmates. I then imagine what would happen if i hadn’t called out to them, and picture myself crumpled naked in the shower, surrounded by my own blood. I see my flatmates knocking on the door, wondering who was in there. I watch them wait, impatiently, and then get concerned. It takes them over an hour before they go to the measure of trying to get in through the window. Then they see the horrible frightening scene, and totally panic, screaming, crying.
At this point, i start feeling guilty, and then i feel embarrassed at the thought of anyone seeing me naked. But the vision goes on. I jump to seeing the rest of my friends, and my family, absolutely distraught and very angry. I see them trying to make funeral arrangements, but nobody wants to take it, because it was a death by suicide. When they do finally find someone, they have to be very careful about the wording of the talk, because there’s no promises for those who commit the sin of self murder.
I could continue on, but I think I will stop there.
I got a letter in the mail, mid afternoon, and it pissed me off to no end. I read it, then in a moment of rage, furiously scrumpled it all up and threw it across the room. Giving Kaitlyn a heck of a fright. It was a letter from the hospital saying I had a cardiology appointment with this dumb arrogant doctor. The one who wrote to my psychiatrist and said that he doesn’t think anythings wrong with me, and that I don’t have POTS (which I was diagnosed with a year ago). Now in the letter to the psychiatrist, he said he wasn’t going to see me, nor was my POTS specialist, who also apparently now thinks i don’t have POTS and that I was just lying about stuff. I have actually never seen this cardiologist before, so i don’t know why he has now made an appointment to see me. I bet its to “explain” all of the correspondence and their thoughts about the POTS thing. Which will make me SO angry that its not funny.
Even after just getting the appointment letter today, I was really angry. Still am!
So right now Im in a bad state, really really really feel like cutting my arm. Which for some reason feels preferable to my leg right now, as its a different kind of pain sensation that I’m after. But cutting my arm is no good, because I cant stitch up my own arm. So I would have to go to ED. Which totally sucks, and I really don’t want to spend the night there.
I think Kaitlyns worried that I might self harm, she keeps coming in and checking on me and saying “don’t do something stupid”. Which is the exact terminology I used to explain it to them the last time I cut my arm and had to be whisked off to hospital by ambulance. My flatmates don’t know that I have been self harming since then.
Anyway, I’ve just realised this post has become very long (sorry)! So congrats and thank you if you have read it this far!