before -- tired. need to stay safe.
Posted: Wed May 23, 2007 4:02 am
Hi.
Me here.
I want to not cut.
I want to SI, too, often. But, ultimately, I want to not cut.
I need to not cut.
I want to play viola.
I want to paint.
I am a good violist.
I am a good artist.
It's been 5 months, 3 before that, not that I'm counting...
It gets easier. Then it gets harder. Today's harder.
So, I had a good meeting with my T today. I started a job three weeks ago, and it's kicking my . I've been exhausted, haven't been doing laundry, haven't been eating... basically, sliding downhill, fast. I've been trying hard to do all the things I've talked about with her and others -- keep a good attitude, work with my supervisor, ask for help, rest, bring snacks, drink lots of water -- but it's not enough.
I'm exhausted. Not the good kind of exhausted.
The wide-eyed, dangerous kind.
I remember it from before.
Most of all, the urges are back, big time. Not that they ever really went away, but they're back, they're graphic, and I'm close to giving in. I had tools out the other day; thank goodness the package was idiotproof, and I couldn't get it open quick enough. I had locked my cat out of the room and everything.
I don't do this anymore.
I want to.
But I want my life back. I'm going to school in the fall, and I can't if I'm still cutting. If I'm cutting, I'm going to Binghamton Psych.
DAMMIT.
I have a good life.
So, I'm going to quit this job. I'm going back to frickin' disability benefits, and freelancing. I'm tired.
I want to cut.
It gets easier, right?
-Lycander
Me here.
I want to not cut.
I want to SI, too, often. But, ultimately, I want to not cut.
I need to not cut.
I want to play viola.
I want to paint.
I am a good violist.
I am a good artist.
It's been 5 months, 3 before that, not that I'm counting...
It gets easier. Then it gets harder. Today's harder.
So, I had a good meeting with my T today. I started a job three weeks ago, and it's kicking my . I've been exhausted, haven't been doing laundry, haven't been eating... basically, sliding downhill, fast. I've been trying hard to do all the things I've talked about with her and others -- keep a good attitude, work with my supervisor, ask for help, rest, bring snacks, drink lots of water -- but it's not enough.
I'm exhausted. Not the good kind of exhausted.
The wide-eyed, dangerous kind.
I remember it from before.
Most of all, the urges are back, big time. Not that they ever really went away, but they're back, they're graphic, and I'm close to giving in. I had tools out the other day; thank goodness the package was idiotproof, and I couldn't get it open quick enough. I had locked my cat out of the room and everything.
I don't do this anymore.
I want to.
But I want my life back. I'm going to school in the fall, and I can't if I'm still cutting. If I'm cutting, I'm going to Binghamton Psych.
DAMMIT.
I have a good life.
So, I'm going to quit this job. I'm going back to frickin' disability benefits, and freelancing. I'm tired.
I want to cut.
It gets easier, right?
-Lycander