Therapy

I met with Jennifer yesterday for fifty minutes. I hadn’t seen her for a few months because I was being stubborn. I just wanted somebody that I could depend on EVERY week, but she was booked solid and got sick. But I’m glad I’m giving therapy another shot. I know it can help me, but only if I stick with it and be patient. I’m doing a lot better in general because my boyfriend and I are doing better. And also because school started, so I’m very busy with school, work, tutoring, and family. My mom’s gone for a month for work – she’s in Ireland and then will go to India.

I had quite the break down like a week ago. I ended up calling my mom and asking for help, which I’ve never done. She said she finally felt like a good mother because I felt like I could come to her. She ended up helping me calm down, which was surprising. The day before, I think I had my first panic attack. I couldn’t breathe and I felt unstable. I’ve never had the “not being able to breathe” feeling. That freaked me out. It was because of something with my boyfriend and me, which I can’t remember anymore. We were able to fix it and be good finally. But days later, things got fucked up again and I scratched myself. Then I burned myself another day with the end of a cigarette, which I smoked. I felt bad for breaking my sobriety. It felt worse smoking a cigg than weed. I didn’t even enjoy the cigg; I just wanted to hurt myself.

I haven’t smoked weed in a while. I even went to the Odesza concert SOBER. Well, I took Phenibut, which I regretted. It just made it hard to breathe there. But except for that, I was literally sober for months. I have a nasty purple puffy thing on my arm now from the burn. That night I did it, it felt AMAZING. I loved the stinging feeling. It was a great distraction. It was even fun. I’ve promised my boyfriend I won’t do it again. He’s promised to never be mean. We’re doing really good right now. We’ve had some “fights” in the past week, but we’ve managed to get to this awesome place we’re in, like we always do.

I feel like I need medication, or some kind of help. Real serious help. I really believe I have chemical imbalances in my brain. There’s times I feel like shit for no reason. But then sometimes I feel amazing the next minute. I have SO MANY ups and downs. And they’re real big highs and real big lows. On one end, I feel like I’m high and happy as fuck. On the other end, I feel like I’m a piece of shit and I want to hurt myself. I want it all to stop. Sometimes I just want to be numb, which is bad. I really want to see a fMRI of my brain. I want to see the dopamine and serotonin levels. I want to SEE the depression and love. I don’t know why I wanna see, but I do. I know it won’t really help me. I know I’m in love. And I’m pretty sure I’m depressed. But its the depression I’m not confident in saying. What if I’m a mild form of bipolar? Or I have OCD? Or an anxiety disorder? Or a combination of a couple?

I want to deal with things. Cope. Manage. But I seriously don’t know how. I feel like there’s no secret. You just do it. That doesn’t cut it for me.. My coping methods are as follow: cry a lot for days. Then when that gets old, then scratch. And when that’s not enough, burn. I know it needs to stop right here. I do pat myself on the back for not doing drugs (for the most part) anymore. I still think it’s quite the accomplishment. But I need to be 100% sober again, which I know I will do.

For two years, it was just crying. And lots of it. Then I just started this bullshit with the scratching for the past 2 months. And the burning was a one time thing. I DO NOT want it to escalate anymore. It’s scary. I know what my next thing would be most likely… I think about walking outside my apartment and going to the highway to get hit. Thinking about the harmful thing is what starts the process in actually doing it, so I try not to think about it. I rarely do now. I thought about it a lot before.

I don’t understand why I’m not happy. Or even a lil bit happier. School used to be the source of my happiness – if I did well and got good grades, then I was happy. Like actually happy. But I haven’t done REALLY well in school since 8th grade. I’m so shocked I have a 3.8 GPA now. This is a first in SOOO long. But I’m still unhappy, which is weird. I don’t get it. It’s just not the same anymore. I have a boyfriend now. When he and I are doing well, then I’m truly happy. It’s unhealthy. Toxic. But I’m trying to focus on me now. I’ve been going to the gym. I got some books, which I’ve had NO time to read because of school and work and tutoring. I also have taken on the role of the mother in the house because I gotta cook and take care of my sister. I really miss my mom. I feel bad that she’s been feeling miserable, which is nothing new. But at least we talk about it now on Viber. She and I are doing reallllllly good.

I just want to end this with saying that I know I will make it out alive. I also know I will end up happy pretty soon. I’ve almost always been able to push through no matter what when I really need to. I need to get over this mess I’ve made for myself. I really feel like I created the depression in me. I knew when it was happening and I didn’t take care of myself. I just kinda gave up and let it get worse. I’ve done something similar before where I’m very aware of what bad things are going on, but I do nothing about it. I can’t let it happen again. I won’t let it go any further. I love myself too much. I love my boyfriend too much. And I love my mom and sister too much.

I think about my boyfriend dying sometimes, which I told him. I don’t like to think about it, but I think it’s good to. I need to remember there’s a life outside him. If something were to happen to him (God forbid), I can’t just go kill myself. I have to keep living. He and I have talked extensively about it. I feel at peace with it. But I know I’d feel like I’m in hell for months. But again, I know I’d get through it with the help of family and distractions. After all, he’d be waiting for me in Heaven. We have all of eternity to be together. It’s a comforting thought. I don’t know if it’s true, but I believe it is. I hope I’m not wrong.