It was definitely a bad day.

I don’t know how I ended up here. Last night I didn’t go to bed until after 6am. I had a final exam to take at 10:30 and it was not pretty. I woke up with a horrible migraine, but still managed to go. I don’t even remember taking the exam. It was one of those migraines where you feel so nauseous, but getting up to go to the toilet is an even worse plan. So instead of taking medication on a completely empty stomach, I tried to go back to sleep. I woke up every half hour and still felt as bad. I felt really awful because I had all these plans to do that absolutely needed to be done but I couldn’t get out of bed. Finally after hours and hours of laying in bed suffering, I asked my roommate for an ice pack for my head. About an hour later I was feeling fine, but that was around 6:30pm. My whole day was practically wasted. All I did was go to the dining hall to eat and do some laundry. I didn’t have enough energy to do anything else. It makes me feel 10 times more anxious when I don’t do anything I was supposed to do. I also knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. Which is completely true.

On a side note, I’ve been listening to classical music to go to bed. I think it’s something about the instrumentals that calm me. There are no words I have to pay attention to. Just soothing background music that distracts me long enough to get tired. I’m not sure how long it will last, but it’s just another thing on my list to scratch off for my therapist. He needs to believe I really am trying.

I have to get up at a reasonable time tomorrow. That’s going to be extremely hard for me. I have to pack all the stuff I was supposed to do this week into tomorrow. That gets my anxiety level up to about a 10 out of 10.

I don’t know, it’s just been a really bad week for me.


Sleeping with an active mind

I can feel my anxiety level rising just as I’m trying to go to sleep. This happens every single night. I feel as if I’m forgetting important things I have to do. I got a new app on my phone. It’s just like a to do list that I can separate into different categories. It’s actually working out pretty well, except I forget to do everything that’s not on my list. Every time I cross something off my list, 4 more things get added on. My list gives me anxiety. Every time I unlock my phone, I see that stupid little icon with a red “12” in the corner of it. It’s a constant reminder of all the shit I don’t want to do. It’s infuriating actually. I shouldn’t have to do those things, but I do. I want help. I want to be taken care of like a child but treated as an adult. It doesn’t work both ways and I understand that. It’s just harder letting go of the last chance at a childhood I have.

When I go to sleep at night, my list runs through my head over and over and over again. My heart starts to beat twice as fast. I feel a pressure in my chest that seems to come from somewhere deep in my diaphragm. I want it to stop. I want to sleep before 6am. Once I’m asleep, I can usually stay asleep. I have extremely vivid and sometimes horrifying dreams that wake me up all through the night. When that happens, I’m usually not alert enough to examine what those dreams mean at the time. I’m not awake enough to start to feel my anxiety building.

I sleep until 4 in the afternoon. I could probably sleep longer if I wanted. I feel guilty because my roommate probably feels uncomfortable. She probably thinks I’m some lazy slob. I really hope not. I can’t deal with her opinion of me right now.

It’s 5:30 in the morning and I’m not even tired. It’s a damn shame.

Depressions kicking my ass

As a hurting individual like myself, I feel as if one of the most important things during the healing process is for the pain to be acknowledged; not by the person hurting themselves, but by the people around them.

I just want someone to understand how hard this is. I want someone to agree that yes, this indeed fucking sucks. I feel like I’m constantly being dismissed by the people around me. It’s hard to compare pain. Pain is not relative. My mother is making an active choice not to be a part of my life. Your mother is an alcoholic. Who is qualified to determine who gets to hurt more?

When I explain how awful it is not to have my mother, I always get the same response. “Why would you want someone like that in your life anyways?” That’s not the point. Just because she’s a horrible person doesn’t dismiss my natural instinct to want a mother. As shitty as she is, sometimes I think it would be easier if I never moved out and was stuck in that little room in that little town. That was routine. It was what I knew. I knew my mother for what she was and she was never going to change. But at least she had some kind of bearing on my life. Now it’s easier to tell people she’s dead rather than explain that my mother hates me so much, she once tried to kill me. At least I get sympathy that way, and not horrified, confused looks.

I don’t understand how depression works. I don’t think I ever will. It’s like getting in your car with the intent of getting away and realizing there’s no air in any of the tires. It’s being physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted but not being able to go to sleep. I’m trying to tell my brain what I need to do but it’s not listening to me. It’s scary how my body reacts in a way I can’t control, no matter how hard I try.

Sometimes I stay awake at night going over all the things I want to tell my therapist. When I actually get to my appointment, I never have enough courage to say exactly what I want, in the exact tone I want. I always try to sugarcoat it. But I want him to know how badly in suffering right now, and it’s hard to do that when I’m always downplaying everything in my life.

If you can’t spill your guts to a complete stranger, who can you?