my father has been in the hospital for the past week. i spent that past week picking at my face, and pulling out my hair. i rarely pick at my face, and i hardly ever pull out my hair. i realized i was having severe stress issues when i woke up one morning to find masses of hair strewn about my pillow. i was totally unaware that i had pulled out my hair. i did this while i was asleep. i did this after taking a rather large dose of atavan & flexerol so i could sleep. by all means, i should have been calm enough that i shouldn't have pulled my hair out. i should have been stable. there are a lot of should's in this equation.
about two days later, after this episode, i got up in a fog to notice that i had REALLY pulled out a ton of hair. that i had significant bald spots on my head. no one would be able to tell other than me, i do a pretty decent job of hiding my trich affliction, but i was none the less mortified that my father's stint in the hospital was causing me to loose it this much. it wasn't just my father, it was also what was going on with wynn, and worrying about whether or not i should tell his family that he has been using & when and where i should do that. it was ray leaving & my wondering if he was ever even going to come back. it was my mother taking every chance she had to belittle me and remind me that i am a rotten horrible person and an epic failure in her book.
all of this came to a head as i stared at myself this morning in the mirror. my face has those marks that people on meth get from picking at their skin incessantly. my eyes are sunken in & have circles under them. i had perviously been up for four days straight with no sleep due to mania (to which i got the usual from my family "well if you are going to be up at all hours of the night why the fuck can't you do something useful?" my mother can admit that i am depressed & crazy but not bipolar and crazy). my roots are showing & i need to dye my hair. put simply, i look like i fucking feel -
like shit.
staring at the mirror, i started to get the image in my head of what it would be like to put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger. i stared back at my eye balls as i thought about this. i didn't feel even remotely bad for thinking the thought. i felt, to be honest, relief. relief because it would all be fucking over. but such a violent and final way to die. and not, by any means, my preferred method of death. i wondered why on earth that had come into my mind at that moment, but i didn't really wonder. i have been struggling with suicidal thoughts for months now, as i often do every winter. i don't talk about it with anyone, i don't say anything, because there is no point. i thought about what i would do if i did, actually start to plan my own suicide.
because the truth is, not all that much has changed since the last time i attempted to get help. since the last time i spent a week staring obsessively at the pills i wanted to eat to end my life. if i am honest with myself, nothing has changed. i am pretty much in the same fucking position. my life hasn't gone anywhere, my depression is just as dismal as it was back then, and i am about as motivated as a fucking corpse. i am still making crappy choices. i still don't have a fucking job. i know i need one. but i so sucked in by my dismal family life, so sucked in by my father and his guilt trips, that i just... i don't even try. i haven't even bothered to try to fix the situation with school because frankly it is a disaster and a loosing battle. the only way to save my situation there is to move & go somewhere else. and i am fucking up the chances of getting a loan monthly because i can't pay off my other loan.
i don't even know who i am anymore. i don't even know what it is i want. if i am truthfully honest with myself, i am somewhat jealous of wynn & his fuck it attitude & the fact that he just gave up and decided to do drugs. for some dumbass reason, i have this thing inside me - self preservation or guilt, which one i am not sure - that won't let me go that far. i do not believe i could ever get to that point, get to that point where i would ever use again, ever go back down that road that i was once on. i am just over it. but there are days, days like today, where i really want to kick back & fucking destroy myself.
if a person is a culmination of all of their life experiences, then who does that make me? i have a lot of stories, and i never lack for something to write about. but i am serious when i say that i have no idea who i am anymore. one day i just woke up and i was no longer angry. it took so much effort to be mean, to be upset with the world. to dislike everyone who ever disliked me. to hold a grudge against the friends who hurt my feelings. i had to get the fuck over it. so i did. and in the process of doing that, i mellowed out, and i grew up. i found that i valued my family a lot more than i ever thought i did. i valued them because through everything, they stood by me. i also realized that a lot of the reason why i am so damaged has to do with them. they did the best they could, and it is only me who can fix me, but it's going to take years to undo that damage. and its also going to take leaving them, cutting the cord, distance, if you will.
how do i even begin to figure out who i am? i am 30 years old and i don't have a clue as to how to begin the self actualization process. most people do this at 19 years of age when they go away to college. i started that process when i left home for the first time, but, i had to come back. i started it again when i left again, but i came back. and i needed to come back. i needed to get my shit together. but in the process of getting my shit together, i have also become a glorified teenager who never has to worry about anything because mommy & daddy will take care of it. i have no idea what it is like to be independent. i desperately need to learn this.
what i am afraid of, is that, if i leave, i will feel guilty that everything with my dad & grandmother will get shifted onto my mother. i am afraid my dad will want to die because he will be left alone. i am afraid my dad will die & i will feel an enormous amount of guilt because of that. i am afraid that if i leave, i won't know what to do when i am by myself. i am afraid that if i leave with ray (and thats a big fucking if) he will proceed to destroy what little self esteem i do have (which i am coming to find out i don't have all that much to begin with.) I am afraid that if i stay here, i will kill myself, because there is nothing here for me. even on good days i know there is nothing here for me. i am afraid that if i leave, change won't do me any good & i will still flip out and want to kill myself & i will still be as lonely as i have ever been and because i will be away from my family, it will be easier because i won't feel the guilt. what it comes down to, seriously, is that the older i get, the worse my disease gets, and the more crazy i feel. the more i find myself wanting to die because i can't live up to my own expectations & i don't even know how to fucking begin to love myself & forgive myself. i can't live up to my own expectations because i can't get a goddamn do-over card. there are no do-overs. i fucked up, and i fucked up epically, royally, really goddamn good, and i have to live with that, and so now i am a 30 year old fuck up without a college degree who has an interesting life story and nothing to show for the fact that she knows a ton of people who also fucked up their lives and who are all dead. and, you don't get a pat on the fucking back or a congratulations for knowing that information. the world doesn't reward people who have made epic mistakes.
i am my own worst enemy.
i don't even know how to begin to fucking fix that.
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