I lie and I lie and I lie

Well, I am home again. My parents house. This week was not fun.

Last Thursday my psychiatrist basically insisted I go inpatient. It was more or less implied that if I didn't go voluntarily, I would be forced. I was taken by ambulance from that building to the psych ward at the same hospital, which was a bit ridiculous. Then it was discovered that she didn't bother to call ahead, and they had no bed. So I was put back in the ambulance and taken to the ER. I was there for like 8 hours. My potassium was low as usual. I was then told I was being transferred to another hospital.. and I was a bit of a bitch about it.. threatened to pull out my IV. But the whole point was to go to a new hospital and not be sent to one I have been to 3 other times.

In the psych ward.. I was crazier than usual. I tried to sign myself out AMA and was threatened with being court ordered. I then convinced the doctor to let me go Monday. Well, my parents got really angry about that. They visited and said some pretty horrible stuff.. like bringing up how much money they spent on me.. and my mom stormed out (which she later said was because of my dad not me) and my dad told me she found alcohol in my room and how much it hurt her. I cried and became more suicidal.

So I began simultaneously to develop a detailed plan to get out of the hospital and kill myself. I somehow managed to convince them that because of the fight with my parents, I should be discharged to my own apartment. I convinced my parents not to visit Monday, so they wouldn't know I got out. And then more details I won't go into. I lied to the doctor and had her convinced that I was better. She actually put in the discharge order. Then the social worker said that they should at least call my parents, and I just couldn't lie. I confessed that I had a plan. The doctor was shocked and upset that I had lied. I don't think it's that odd to lie? But I ended up staying 2 more days and agreeing to go to my parents house. My parents agreed I could come back if I didn't bring alcohol home again. This whole speech about it being my last chance.

So I am out. I am not as suicidal. I mostly am not convinced I want to get sober. I am just taking it a day at a time. I am still freaking out about the apartment and jobs and everything, but I am not dealing with it tonight. Tonight I am trying to take it easy.

Just FYI

Going back inpatient. Psychiatrist is letting me go voluntarily, but it is pretty clear leaving isn't an actual option. So I will update when I get out

Therapy.. just need to vent

I half wrote another post yesterday but didn't publish it because I was waiting to see what happened today. See.. I decided to tell my therapist how bad things are. Silly me thinking that would accomplish anything.

Here is the situation. I now have potentially 2 job offers. I am waiting for the restaurant to be close to opening, and they are supposed to call. I did a phone interview for a bank teller job and the recruiter was going to see if they had any full time positions and call me but pretty much offered me the part time job. I hung up the phone at the end, and then curled up in bed sobbing.. like legit sobbing because I can switch the depression off briefly but I know very well that I can't keep it off. It feels like an on/off switch except the time limit is maybe an hour sometimes. So the interview left me in tears contemplating death.

My therapist says she doesn't think I should be working. She said I should be looking at disability. I said that I don't know what I need to do and burst into tears. I really have no idea what I need to do. I tried to explain that I am completely broke and my parents have threatened at least once to kick me out, and I am scared. I told her I am still drinking because I don't think I would be alive if I wasn't, and my parents don't understand that. They refuse to understand that it's not fun. It's not me being rebellious. It is a survival mechanism. When I think about suicide >50% of the time, I am hardly sleeping, I need to be able to turn my brain off and the medications don't do that.

I seriously said more than once that I am suicidal. I even flat out said that the reason I am alive is that today is my mom's birthday, and I couldn't kill myself right before her birthday. That was because she wanted to text my dad that she was going to get the information about disability for me. Not that she was going to tell anyone that I said I was suicidal.. and I just didn't want her to talk to him today and start a conversation about this on her birthday. I don't want to try to explain this to them today. I said that I really see no way that I am not going to be hospitalized Thursday when I see my psychiatrist, and she said that was OK.

And she seriously let me leave her office at the end of the appointment without telling anyone what I told her. I really tried to get her to understand that I am NOT ok, and she just let me leave. She wants me to talk to my psychiatrist about TMS and she is supposed to give me some info about disability. She said we could call during my session if I wanted to use the time that way (with the tone of voice implying that was a waste of time) because like most people she doesn't comprehend how much I struggle with phone calls. I don't make phone calls, so I don't know how this is going to work. I told her that I don't think this is fixable. She kept trying to make suggestions about stuff like cleaning the apartment, and I just kept crying harder.

I left and went home and pretended to be fine. Well.. my mom and brother went to lunch, and I went back to bed. I don't think I ever fell asleep. I just pretended to sleep to avoid talking to anyone. I somehow have to make it through tomorrow and then I guess try again with my psychiatrist. I imagine my psychiatrist will respond differently. I mean it's not even like having this conversation a few months ago prior to the suicide attempt. Then maybe I could understand her not taking this seriously. Now? WTF?

So it hasn't been a good day. I really hope I can sleep tonight. Maybe sleep would help. I just can't bring myself to say anything to my parents. I know I should. I just feel so worthless for thinking this way, and I don't know how to explain this. I don't know how to make them understand that this isn't my fault. I don't even really understand how I went from a relatively normal person to this fucking mess in 6 months. I don't know how to fix it either. But I think I can make it one more day.

Rigorous honesty

I have not had a great day, but it could have been worse if I had done what I planned.

It started poorly because my parents asked if I wanted to go to breakfast. I declined because my stomach has been acting up for several days. I don't know if it's a result of the last time I drank rubbing alcohol or the drinking in general. I stayed in bed a bit longer then got up to vomit, and *TMI* threw up some of the salad I ate for lunch yesterday (and stood there trying to remember when I had salad because for dinner I had a veggie burger). So I guess my digestion isn't great. I had some milk and went back to bed.

The plan was to go to my home group for a meeting and then to my apartment to get my computers... and any pills I could find. I ended up crying and saying in the meeting that I don't want to be alive. Several people talked to me after. I told the friend that I didn't think I should go to my apartment because of what I wanted to get. She asked what, and I told her I wanted to grab pills. So obviously that plan was cancelled. Instead, we went to get food for her lizard. I managed to go straight home after. Thankfully my parents didn't ask why I didn't go to the apartment because I didn't want to explain. I see very little chance of making it through the week without going back inpatient. I am trying to at least make it until I see my therapist Tuesday to see what she thinks I should do.

I now have several people who know what's going on, so I am a little more accountable. I drank this morning, but I haven't touched the vodka this evening. I am trying to avoid it, but I also don't want to throw it out in case I start having withdrawals. I don't think I have been drinking enough to have a problem, but I can never be sure. My body is clearly not coping well with how I have been treating it. I am a little worried about it, but I am still pretty suicidal.. so not that worried. I am just trying to keep it together for a few more days. I am back to my parents house where my medications are safely locked away. I think I can manage a few more days.

Digging a deeper hole

**TW** please read at your own risk

I feel like good things are happening, but I am sinking lower. I feel my life expectancy should be measured in days or maybe weeks. I do not see a happy ending because I do not want a happy ending. I am mainly weighing the consequences and trying to minimize damage.

The good... I have a job offer for a restaurant. I also have a phone interview for a bank I worked for before. I would prefer the bank because I would prefer something I have done before. It might be a different location, but I know I have done it. The other job is a cashier job, which I have experience with, but at somewhere I have never worked. Not going to lie.. I worry a little that I ate at the restaurant and have had an upset stomach ever since. Likely, the upset stomach has to do with the rubbing alcohol I drank a few days ago and not the food.

The question is if I can manage any of this. I saw my new psychiatrist yesterday and cannot honestly say I want to be alive. I am exhausted, and I want out. I do not see any way of fixing everything I have broken. I am terrified that I will never be able to find all the medical bills and pay them. I am still scared to even check my mail, so keeping up with everything is terrifying.

I am also just miserable. I am sad. I tried to explain it all to the new doctor, and I can barely keep track of when I was in each hospital. If I had full control of my meds, I wouldn't be here. However, I don't have full control, so I have to come up with a plan. Plus, my mom's birthday is next week, and I cannot decide when would be the best time to lose a daughter in reference to that. I am thinking after...

I am trying. I am just trying to keep going. I want to believe that I will want to be alive because I just cannot imagine decades of this. I honestly think I am defective, and I wasn't meant to be alive.

My parents are struggling to cope with me. I stupidly talked to them drunk, and my dad mentioned it later. I mean if they kicked me out, it would make the choice easy.

I am still trying. I am planning to tell my therapist everything and see if she has better ideas. If I cannot work and function, can she find another option? I am willing to try other things, but I don't know what to try. I only know how to go on interviews and go to work.. until I don't. Until I can't. Then I don't know what to do.

So yeah.. my life is crumbling around me. I need any bit of support I can get. I am sad and scared and I don't think I can show it. I am trying to hide it. If I weren't with my parents, I would just stay in bed. I wish I could just stay in bed. I don't think I should have to act like I am functioning and doing ok. I want to be able to act like the crumbling mess that I know I am. Pretending is only making the suicidal thoughts worse.  So I guess we will see what happens. I love all of you that read this and have commented before. I have loved this chance to be honest. If I don't get to write again, I wish you the very best.

**Edit** I am continuing to take the right step. I need to go home tomorrow and get my computers. I texted 2 friends to say I will be at an AA meeting. I told both I am struggling, and I asked B to go to my apartment with me. That way I am far less likely to leave with a bunch of pills. This may not make me less suicidal, but it makes me less likely to come away with an excess of pills. It also means I am less likely to lie about how badly I am doing, so I can hopefully be honest. I will continue to try.

Reaching out

I had a terrible day.

After the disagreement with my parents, I didn't want to go to ECT. I don't think it's helping. I am terrified about the possibility of my parents kicking me out when they are almost my only reason to live. But I went to ECT. The doctor wants to keep doing this for next week too. I argued it's pointless but agreed because I don't have a lot of options.. and I didn't want to say I was suicidal and be put inpatient.

Well, the thing about ECT.. for me at least waking up from anesthesia is really confusing. I know where I am but sometimes have gaps in my memory. Like today I looked at my phone and saw the message I sent someone yesterday about the fight with my parents. I then looked at my last post and remembered the overdose. And so this week comes flooding back with all the fears about finding a job and cleaning my apartment and having a place to live. This resulted in me crying hysterically with the nurses trying to reassure me that it will get better. I kept thinking that it won't if my parents kick me out and I lose my only real reason to live.

Of course.. I couldn't mention the drinking or the overdose because I risk getting put back inpatient. And being inpatient only complicates things like cleaning the apartment and getting a job. I ended up having to swear to one nurse that I will be back for my treatment next week (meaning alive) because I was curled up in a ball crying but refusing to really explain why. Meanwhile thinking all sorts of terrible things.

Afterwards, I got myself put together enough for lunch and shopping with my mom. I also when I got home called my friend B from AA and told her about it. I tried to call one other friend later when the hopeless feeling came back. She didn't answer, so I texted a non AA friend to basically explain where I have been for the past few months. I haven't gotten a response.
I am still feeling very hopeless and alone. I just don't see things working out for me. I truly don't. I mean I applied for a bank teller job because I have experience, and my mom's comment was that I didn't like working at the bank. That's true to some extent, but also I doubt I will like being homeless or unable to afford my medications.. and just the other day she made it sound like those are possible outcomes. I am just trying to take any step that I can to keep myself from saying fuck it and giving up on life. I may not want to be alive, but I am holding onto the assumption that someone cares about me.

And the downward spiral continues *TW*

Not even sure where to begin. I don't remember if I mentioned that Monday I had the brilliant idea to take approximately 30 benadryl.. maybe 40? Shortly after my mom and brother came home, and somehow my brother being there made it too weird to OD, so I purged as much as possible. Nothing really happened. I didn't even feel sick or tired. Then Tuesday and Wednesday I drank rubbing alcohol.. and on top of that my parents mentioned the bottle of vodka in my bathroom last night.

My mom basically said I would have to find somewhere else to live. But then also was talking about me needing to apply for jobs. My dad seems to want some way to test me to see if I am drinking. I didn't say a whole lot because I can't explain how much I am only alive because of them. I also wasn't the one who originally suggested moving home. And I haven't actually lied about the vodka. I just haven't mentioned it. I basically said that the depression is worse, I am not sleeping well, and I don't know what to do. The drinking isn't fun. It's survival.

I am back to having crying spells. Twice I have left AA early to cry hysterically in my car. I have all kinds of suicidal thoughts. I am barely keeping myself alive and reasonably safe, and I am supposed to find a job? I am not sure how to safely pack up my apartment, which I know is full of pills and knives. I am not sure I can even safely go get my laptop. My parents are still not allowed in the apartment, so I would have to take friends.

ECT isn't working. Meds aren't working. I saw my therapist but how is seeing her once every week or two going to fix this? I can't imagine ever being able to work again. It was the job hunt that put me in the hospital this last time. I know part of it is that I just don't want anything badly enough. I am only trying not to hurt people too badly, and I don't know how long I will care. So I may end up in hospital again, but is it going to matter? Is a week inpatient going to make it better or make it worse by just further limiting the time I have to do everything?

I don't know. I can't sleep. Everything is fucked. I don't know if anything can fix it. I have ECT in the morning, and I am going to do my best to tell the doctor that things are getting worse. Vodka would help, but I am out. I don't know if I can buy more and just hide it better. Do I just say fuck it all and go back to my apartment and begin drinking myself to death? I just don't know.

Insomnia

OK so I really think I might end up back in the hospital soon. My head is all sorts of fucked up, and I don't even know why. Like I have been drinking everyday.. I am pretty much constantly buzzed. I was dumb and finished my vodka this afternoon, which means by bedtime I was desperate enough to drink mouthwash. I of course can't sleep.. and it came down to either drinking isopropyl alcohol or taking a handful of benadryl. I settled on a splash of rubbing alcohol and water.. which tasted awful but took the edge off. I may get caught if anyone smells the glass or my breath.. but I don't really care? Like I almost need someone to say something so I can come clean.
What I really don't understand is why I am so desperate to be numb. My life is not so terrible. I was thinking about the counselor at rehab saying I probably have a lot more secrets than I told them... but I don't? My therapist was half convinced that I have repressed something because it just doesn't make sense for me to be this fucked up. I mean honestly.. I don't have as many memories of my childhood as most people do. I also had this weird thing where I told stories in my head.. but what's weird is that they were almost always about a girl who was horribly abused. But I wasn't abused. My parents loved me. Sorry that was a weird tangent. I have to be up for ECT in a few hours.. I don't even see the point anymore. It isn't helping. Meds aren't helping. I promised my therapist not to attempt suicide again before I see her.. but I don't know if I can keep this up.

Cats

So I really don't know if this makes me a fucked up human being, but I really feel like cats keep me alive more than people. Like I really have an abnormal attachment to my cats. In high school, I truly believe Mudge kept me alive. She would sit and watch me when I cut. She was somehow always there when I was upset. Now it's Odd. He grew up with a crazy owner. It was totally expected that I would carry him and cuddle him when I was upset. But he still is always there when I am upset. Like I had a bad day and last night he just laid down behind me and put a paw on my shoulder. He was just there. And I honestly wonder if he understands better than my parents. I don't think they get the philosophical crisis going on in my head. Or at least they don't know how to respond. Odd knows to just place a paw there and occasionally make some funny, sleepy sound. Nermal is still young and is more funny than understanding. Still I feel like I have to live for them. My parents could understand my death. It might change everything and be terrible, but they have an understanding of mental illness that would eventually allow them to cope. My cats might never understand why suddenly I wasn't there. I can't explain it to them because we speak different languages. So a paw on my shoulder helps me live. Funny noises keep me alive. I know I should care about people, but I feel more attached to these little animals I raised. They are mine.

Today I feel like I have to decide. Am I going to kill myself or not? If not, I have to stop drinking. I have reached the point of dependence that I cannot function without alcohol. So I think I have to give it up.. and I just don't know if I will end up in the hospital. I honestly care so little about life that I will take whatever happens. I have thought about picking up the pills. I really don't know. For now the only positive is the cat that chooses to sleep in bed with me and not the many other places that exist.