Earlier, I had words. Now, I’m not so sure.
I have about half an hour to write this post to the best of my abilities as we’ll be heading out soon to go to the OCD support group tonight. *chews on lip* I worked on writing down some quotes for an old book review, and have just one last book to write down quotes from.
I’ve also found out that I’m doing an IOOV at BMC (a hospital setting for a bunch of the workers there) this Thursday. Figuring out the whole directions thing was a bitch, but my Mom’s gonna just drive me. A lot easier, lol.
I saw my psychiatrist today. I spoke pretty openly about what I blogged about here the other day to Craig yesterday. I kinda vented a lot. But it was good.
Speaking with my psychiatrist today pretty much as openly has given me a lot to think about.
My current status in recovery is … uncertainty.
I feel partially intimidated by my brain and what it will do to me if I don’t listen to what it tells me to act on.
I can see into the future a version of myself in recovery.
I can see a version of myself ending her life. (Or trying to).
I don’t know which one to follow.
I know what I SHOULD do, but what I want to do is different.
I feel more assured that I won’t be trying to kill myself this week–at least til Friday. I was thinking I could act on my plans on Friday. Go to South Station in the morning, buy the sleeping pills, ingest them there, then proceed forwards. I could even pass in my material to my drawing class then go to the hospital. If need be.
Or I could wait til next Wednesday, it’s a long weekend, that’d be a good time to miss some school.
Or I could just stow away the plan for later.
Part of my brain’s enemy is time. Because I KNOW that I’ll change my mind about suicide. But my brain wants me dead (or near dead) or just numbed out.
I’ve been using my mental health issues and suicidality as a way of avoiding reality lately. I don’t want to think, I don’t want to feel, I just want to curl up and wallow in depression and not have to do anything. It’s not comfortable yet it’s familiar. It’s a twisted kind of comfort.
But it means I have to push away recovery Raquel. It means I have to self-harm and do bad things to myself, to keep myself in that suicidal state so that finally, finally I can act on it. I can follow THROUGH.
But I suck at following through.
And I hate it.
Partially, but hate it all the same.
I wish I could kill myself, and I can’t. Or at least, I operate on the thought that I cannot. I may be surprised one day if I actually die instead. Which would suck, inherently I know that.
But… it’s SUCH an adrenaline rush. I have so much POWER and CONTROL, it feels SO GOOD. It’s also incredibly SHIT but … I’m addicted.
But when I plan so much and there’s the concept of not following through by acting on my suicidality? Then I just feel like I’ve completely wasted my time. So to me it makes more sense to just finish the job–to ingest the pills. Or whatever it is that I’ve chosen that time.
It scares me that twelve pills could do me in. It’s also incredibly tantalizing.
I want to dance on that edge. I love the power, the control, the … twisted JOY that comes out of it. I like having the answers. I live for the rush.
Even if I feel terrible, consumed by uncertainty and NOT knowing what to do.
Safety contracts, they mean something to me. And if I were to act on my suicidal thoughts, I would HAVE to break a safety contract. I don’t feel comfortable doing that.
But if that’s what’s between me and acting on suicide… I know I could find a way to act on it anyways.
I just don’t know what to do exactly. There are other things I can do other than overdose, but, I don’t know how much I want to do those things instead.
It’s like, I’ve done the recovery bits before, I want to try the more dangerous routes.
But if I think too much about it, I won’t act on it.
It’s such a precarious balance.
Maybe what’s worse is that I don’t have to die by suicide.
But I want to.
For what reason though? Nothing good, nothing reasonable, nothing RATIONAL.
I could reach out for help, or I could act on it.
I can’t do both.
I don’t know which I’ll choose. I’ll likely blog about it before I do whatever it is I decide. Why?
It’s a dick move either way. Either I tell someone I’m suicidal or I don’t and either way, I’m acting like an asshole. I really want to overdose…if nothing else than to realize once again that my brain is full of bullshit and that I don’t actually want to die. I don’t want to die now. A few days ago I did.
How can it change so much just hours later?
My psychiatrist said if I broke a safety contract it would make it harder to trust me with other ones. And if it became a continuous thing that he’d kick me out.
So is this a one time thing or a continuous problem?
I have a lot to lose. Not even considering the side effects… I feel really stuck.
I don’t want to face the wrath of my brain if I go against what it’s telling me to do–telling me to kill myself.
Do I listen to my brain or the countless people who are on my Recovery Raquel’s side? Do I get help? Or do I try to have conviction this time? I hate that I can’t take myself seriously.
I have a lot to think about and consider here.
I am pacing at the top of Kill Yourself Road. I’m looking down the abyss and the light I see at the end of it, my brain says is suicide, my heart says is recovery’s freedom. I don’t know which is which, they look the same. But their results are very, very different.
So the question is:
Which will I choose?
Think of this post as a working understanding. Remember the song lyric I posted the other day? “Someone stop me please from hurting myself” If you want to, this is me asking for help. I clearly don’t know what to do, and am just waiting for the next crisis to come. You absolutely have the power here to influence me one way or the other. It’s my choice in the end. But, I am easily swayed.
Take care of that power, please.
I’ll keep you guys updated, tomorrow.
Thank you for reading. ❤ ❤ ❤