At rehab they taught us not to seek happiness from people, places or things. I withdraw a lot. I listen to music for long hours to soothe me and I'm online several hours a day to distract my mind. I smoke marijuana and it brings that spurious feeling of contentedness that doesn't last too long. I watch emotional movies probably to allow myself to wallow. I stay up late at night after everyone's slept so I can allow myself to feel what it is I feel then sleep longer than I need to in order to delay the feeling of emptiness when I wake up.
I feel shame for pitying myself and that makes it worse. I put on masks in public and act detached and haughty when what I really want is to cry in someone's arms. But then that's temporary as well. Antidepressants help but I never feel like I'm at 100%.
In my hypomanic phases I get very excited over nothing and I have to conceal that too. I'm ashamed of being euphoric because I know how ugly I am on the inside.
I attempted suicide twice in two years and sometimes I fantasize about death. I don't have the resolve to kill myself but I have fantasies of being shot down or dying in an accident. At extreme times I think about hanging, slashing my neck or stabbing myself repeatedly in my heart since those methods are less likely to fail. But those are just fantasies.
Sometimes even when I'm not going through any crisis I wish that my suicide attempts had worked. I'm constantly frazzled and that interferes with everything I have to do. I'm miserable and I don't know what to do.
The promise of serenity was alluring in rehab but at the back of my mind I knew alcohol was just an excuse to act out. When I stopped drinking is when the depression really hit me. I am such a piece of work.
Comment