OH and I did badly on psychobio, which I thought I rocked.
Why try anymore?
My psychiatrist is pissing me off. It’s like she’s not taking this whole BP thing seriously.
I relapsed last night.
Are you disappointed with me? You should be. I don’t know if I am, though. It was so relieving, like a huge weight was lifted off my chest. And I relapsed badly. Like I think I’m gonna go to the doctor in school. Speaking of her, I need to have my blood pressure checked every day for a week then might have to go to a specialist for hypertension. That was one of the things that triggered me last night. Talked to my regular doctor, my psychiatrist…basically my BP is so shitty and my cholesterol is horrifying and unhealthy and my weight is a nightmare. All of that is just a recipe for disaster. My body is going to shit and I have no control over it. And I hate not having control. I hate not knowing what’s happening. I can’t deal with that. So I needed something to take control of. And I also wanted the pain because I hate myself so much. I just wanted to see myself hurt. Now how messed up is that?
The only thing I’m kinda bummed about is the fact that now on October 10th I can’t say I made it to 8 months. I feel like I let so many people down. Not me, but everyone else. Especially Rachel. She was rooting for me and I just let her down. It just so happens that I have a meeting with her later so we’ll see how that one goes.
I’m not sad for me. I deserved it. Maybe that’s what scares me though. That I just don’t care about myself anymore. I don’t care what happens to me anymore. Sometimes when I’m walking down the street I imagine myself falling and getting hurt…because I want that. Fucked up.
I wanted to cut on my forearm so badly. But I didn’t because that’s not easily hide-able, especially because I’m going home for so long. I settled for my upper arm again but it was 5 cuts and like big ones too. I was like…proud of all of it. Isn’t that weird?
The reason I called you like a hundred times is because I felt so alone and had a panic attack and felt like I couldn’t handle it alone, which clearly I couldn’t. So yeah when that happens I impulsively call people even though it’s annoying as hell for the other person. I just…needed someone and no one was answering.
Why can’t I do this? Why can’t I handle this? Why can’t I do this one my own? Am I stuck like this forever? Am I a hopeless case? Probably.
I’m sorry this is what happens when I write. I ramble on.
Please let me know when you read this. Because, again, I will freak out if you don’t.
The doctor at school put hydrogen peroxide on my cuts which hurt like a bitch then I went out and bought bacitracin.
Back to the old routine.
Like I can’t put a name on it. Am I regretting that I cut myself so badly? I honestly have no idea. Do I feel relief? Do I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of me? Actually yes. But at the same time I don’t want it to get bad again. Even though it helped me.
I don’t know what to do with these feelings.