hsphaven

“Depression is

Living in a body

That fights to

Survive, with a mind

That tries to die.”

My dad has always said that full moon really knocks him about. He reports a “crash” after full moon. Apparently emergency departments are bursting on full moon. My friend and I definitely felt the recent full moon. We were both extremely depressed.

I have been journalling for a week now, and it’s painting a pretty grim picture of my life. I don’t fall asleep until sunrise and sometimes even later such as 10am. I am distressed pretty much every day and I experience deep, frequent lows where I rate my mood as 1/10 or 0/10. Depression has become normal for me. I have no quality of life and at this point life has become about surviving the days and trying to minimise my distress until I finally die.

On Saturday night I developed a new form of tinnitus which sounds like a mosquito in my room. Before bed I remember my ear feeling very tight, a bit blocked and I experienced some pain there when I lay against it. I also felt hyper, was buzzing and I could barely write as my pen couldn’t keep up with how fast everything was racing. As I wrote in my last post I haven’t been very well. I thought it was just very bad PMS, but I don’t know if I’ve had a virus on top of everything which has affected my ears. I also remember taking dexamphetamine to try and lift my mood on Saturday, although my journal said it was Friday I took the dex. I have been wondering if the dex caused the tinnitus, though I have taken it a several times before without any issues. I am now scared to take it, which is a shame as it really helps me. One day, according to my journal, it picked my mood up from a 0/10 to a 6/10, even at the lowest dose. It gives me motivation, and makes me more outgoing.

On Monday night, which was full moon, I was distressed, sad, so angry I wanted to throw things, my ears hurt from when the doctor inspected them that day, emotionally I hurt, I felt hopeless and I was sick of being so debilitated. “THERE’S NOTHING TO FUCKING EAT AS I’M TOO SICK TO SHOP!” I wrote. “WHY WON’T ANYONE FUCKING DO SOMETHING”. I lay in bed wishing I had someone next to me who would hold me and comfort me. As I’ve written before, I don’t know if I’ve ever really experienced proper loving, consensual physical touch. I’ve never had a partner, though a childhood friend of mine was a bit like a girlfriend to me when I was eight. I felt so alone. My suicidal urges had settled down the past few weeks, but suddenly, on Monday night, they came back with a vengeance. It was like a tsunami that had been building for weeks, the water receding and now this thing was headed for shore and ready to swallow me whole. I thought about going to the emergency department, but I’m terrified of the psych people there. They never take me seriously. They have slapped me with the BPD label which is, as Esther Joy Lane says in her video “bpd diaries“, seen a trashcan diagnosis where there’s not much they can do. It is too upsetting to ask for their help and be turned away by them. I didn’t even know what they could do about my tinnitus and ear pain anyway; I felt damaged beyond repair. I had absolutely no where to go and pretty much the only thing stopping me from a suicide attempt was that I didn’t have the energy to set it up. I also worried it might not actually kill me and leave me even more fucked up. That night it was as though a lid had lifted in me and all the contents of my dark mind was laid bare on Facebook for all my friends to see.

“EWWWW WHAT AM I EATING?????? Just thawed out a curry from the freezer which I thought was mine. I am vegan but I think this has some kind of dead animal in it. YUCK YUCK YUCK. And I swallowed some ” I wrote.

I then purged more upset posts to Facebook:

“So done with this shit!”

“I just want to be held. I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

“Why did I have to wake up from my overdose last year”

I posted songs about suicide, depression and eating disorders: “Hollow (Pull Me Under)”, “Cold (Anorexia Hospitalisation)”, “Dark Descent (Anorexia Nervosa)” and “So Low (Depression)” by ElysianSoul. “Hello” and “My last breath” by Evanescence. “Her Last Words” by Courtney Parker. “Just Another Girl” by Zoe Bestel. “World War Me” by From First to Last. “Ghost” by Badflower. All these songs can be found on YouTube.

Mondays seems to be a trigger for me. It’s the day I’m meant to see my NDIS worker Damien, who has jumped ship on me. It was also the day I used to see my old psychologist before she, too, abandoned me. Monday is also the start of the school week, where I would go to school and get bullied every day. Yes, Monday is my least favourite day of the week now, and with the full moon, it was hell on steroids. 

I was awake all night. I finally took some diazepam and fell asleep around 10am Tuesday morning. I got up at 5pm. My mood was still extremely low (1/10) and I remained distressed. I was only awake for 4 hours on Tuesday. At 9pm I knocked myself out with olanzapine and diazepam and stayed in bed until 4:30pm the next day. I was in bed for 20 hours. I lost track of what day it was and felt like I’d lost an entire day. I have been dissociative, dizzy and extremely out of it all day. I recklessly drove down to my mum’s during this state. I remember at one point sitting at the table with her and as she was talking I felt so detached it was like watching a movie where the audio doesn’t match the visuals. I think my sleep issues leave me feeling hung over all the time. I function like a self-driving car.

I finally managed to open some parcels that arrived the other day. I found a Stich jumpsuit I ordered. My inner child, or one of my littles, was very excited. Blue is one of her favourite colours. We put it on and she wanted to show people on FetLife. I told her those people on that site don’t care about her. We recently got a message from a man who we met up with over a year ago now. He disappeared on us, probably deciding we were too crazy. Then he wrote us a message over Christmas acting like nothing had happened and ignoring the contents of my last message where I opened up to him about my overdose. I don’t know where he’s been but I felt like I was just some kind of fall back plan to him. I do not want anything to do with anyone who doesn’t love all of me. It was more a mother I was looking for anyway. I gave my little a big picture book version of “The Enchanted Wood” by Enid Blyton. I found it in a vintage store when I was in hospital (the same admission I met up with the man on Fetlife), though it’s probably better suited to an older child as it has quite a few words in it still.

This is a post I wrote to Facebook today, which summerises where I’m at:

“I’m too far gone now. It’s like having some kind of degenerative condition that just gets worse and worse with each passing year. It’s like the point of no return with climate change, where the rising temperatures melt the ice, so less heat is reflected, which melts even more ice and everything speeds up. This planet is fucked. I am fucked. Doctors just leave me even worse. I have been so unwell this past week and developed a new tinnitus sound, which I went to the doctor about. He poked an instrument in my ears to examine them, which has now left me with pain in my ears like someone’s poured acid in them I am so sensitive. Death is the kindest thing for me. I’m tired of suffering.”