If you've seen or spoken to me lately you might note that things are not going well. If you've been on other blog forums that I use you will have noted that even more. When the sad spell that wouldn't come eventually came it came with suicidal force and it seems it has come to stay. It's funny I guess, because to contrast how this year is going with how last year went - I don't think I was quite so bad. The huge thing that sticks to me was the constant state of anger and aggression due to sleep deprivation. I'm still experiencing bouts of frustration, but mostly I'm leaning towards the pointlessness of this entire exercise that I am putting myself through; and I guess that exercise is life.
I suppose it's difficult because you get one shot at life. And I find myself of the opinion that it is entirely wasted on me. I take at least an hour to get out of bed most days and then I drag my feet through the entire day and hope it somehow won't get worse. I'm not using my life for anything, just following the flock. I'm meandering aimlessly about vaguely hoping something will go right or something will happen and I'll find the direction I'm supposed to go in. But these things aren't happening. And I think about suicide a lot.
I don't know that I'd go through with it, but I certainly have a plan. A plan I've had for awhile. A lovely little plan B, if you like. But instead of engaging plan B I've leant heavily on my old cop out of self harming and that's a dangerous little game in itself. It's not a constant every day thing but it's happening more often than it's not at the moment. Towards the end of last year I said to myself 'this will not happen again'. And I went about fading my scars so I could wear shorts etc and I felt good for awhile and I thought I might have been happy. But there are scores of new marks over those faded ones now, and it's exactly like looking at a semi-permanent reminder of how much I suck and how little resolve I have and that things are not going to get better because I don't deserve it and no one really seems to want me anyway because I'm actually a really shitty person and no one likes to hang around with cynical, pessimistic depressed people. They're exhausting, I know. But I don't have the luxury of escaping myself.
I think that there's definitely a causal relationship between uni and how utterly awful I feel. I enjoy a really minute part of it and in a way the struggle to make friends and even some of the coursework itself has been triggering in that it reinforces my overall inadequacy. I walked out of a tutorial faster than anyone could get out of their seats yesterday because I mentally could not handle it, I could not hold it together anymore. And on the drive home I just thought that this was it. That I was going to go home and do myself some serious harm and maybe leave. I was wild, I was unhinged and I think in that moment I truly understood just how someone could take their own life.
So it's lucky that a friend who seems to have a sixth sense intervened. I had pizza and watched a movie with her last night instead of letting go.
To finish, I think that I should at least try to affirm myself for not being an unmotivated, life-failing piece of shit some of that time after all that. Because I finally did it, I finally lost all 15kg I put on during the roaccutane course. And further to that I have maintained my goal weight for more more than a month. I am healthier, my body (bar that piece of shit knee injury I'm still somehow carrying) is stronger and though I am far from happy with my appearance at this stage (that and my relationship with food) I can look at myself sometimes and see that I'm on my way to something better. Slowly.
In the centre of this eternally dark cave, there's a tiny light. I just have to make the extraordinarily difficult decision to pursue it. And I'm worried that I won't.
- Sky
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