I went out last night and got pretty drunk. I tried so hard to relax and have a good time but my stitches were stinging like mad which kept me constantly aware of the damage I’d done to myself. The pubs were busy and I got to see some friends I hadn’t seen in a while, which was nice and yet at the same time it was so depressing when they ask what I’ve been up to lately and as usual I had nothing much to say for myself. Then of course I ask them what they have been up to lately and they all have stories about work or their kids or their relationships – all the things I don’t have. I decided the best move was just to get as shit faced drunk as possible and downed shot after shot until I could barely walk. At one point I saw the drugs nurse out with her friends and threw my arms round her – that’s going to be embarrassing when I see her tomorrow. I don’t have much to say to her, I haven’t taken any drugs not even smoked a cannabis joint in weeks, hence why I haven’t felt the need to carry on with the relapse prevention work – but she likes to ‘check in’ with me every so often. So she is coming here tomorrow at 1pm and bringing a student with her which I reluctantly agreed too.
This morning I woke up feeling extremely hungover, threw up, lay on the sofa crying my eyes out just feeling so emotional and depressed. My male friend appeared down mid afternoon which was probably a good thing as I was very much starting to think about going to the DIY shop and acquiring more blades. Instead I left him to play about on my laptop whilst I went for a shower and calmed my head down.
I went up to give my Dad his Father’s Day card and present and then met up with my best friend for a couple of hours. We went up to the cemetery and took some flowers up for my little man and then went and got dinner (which I subsequently vomited up again) and then I made my excuses to leave and come home. Since I walked through the door all I have done is cry and cry and even raked through the bin bag to find the blade I used yesterday, cleaned it up and for the past hour have just sat here clutching onto it like it’s some sort of safety blanket. And again I am in tears, again I don’t know what I’m crying about, I don’t know why I feel so fucking low but I am scared I am heading into another depressive episode.
My emotions seem to be a hell of a lot of anger (towards myself) and very tearful. I don’t feel as though I am in control of them, I’m scared because I feel so mixed up and I don’t feel as though I can tell anyone how bad I feel. I am seeing my CPN on Tuesday but I might phone tomorrow and ask if she can see me then instead because my head feels seriously fucked up. I think I’m at a real risk of hurting myself again and I can’t put my family through all that when they are going through such serious stuff with the cancer. Everyone is solely concentrating on my Aunt and rightly so, how can I be so selfish to worry my parents about my crazy head at a time like this? The answer is that I can’t. I must deal with this myself and pull myself back out of it before it gets any worse. Maybe it’s already at the ‘worse’ stage as all the thoughts of hurting myself just flow one after the other through my mind. When the doctor in the a&e asked me if I was suicidal I said no. And that was the truth at the time.
Is it still the truth now? I really don’t know.