I am not in a good place at the moment. Have I ever truly been in a good place? I don’t think so, but that’s a question for another day.
I’m not doing very well at all. Old habits are resurfacing. Panic attacks are happening very frequently and lasting a lot longer than usual. My behaviour is terrifyingly erratic. Self-loathing is a constant feature, I absolutely despise myself. Self-harming. Lots of crying. Poor concentration. Memory loss. Fear of living, fear of dying. Suicidal ideation. The feeling of utter dread, fear and panic at the thought of living another day.
I am more angry than I am sad. This is obviously depression, but I am so angry at so many people, at so many things, at myself. I have been hurt by too many people to count, and I have been unable to forgive a single one of them. Because I can’t forgive, I can never move on. I will always harbour this hatred towards the people who have broken my heart. Sometimes I can’t even remember how they hurt me, I just know that I hate them. All this bitter resentment is killing me but I can’t let anything go.
So I take it out on strangers. I take it out on myself. I have phoned the mental health crisis line several times in the past few weeks but nobody has helped me. Nobody is helping me. I am not helping me. Everything hurts. I am so tired of absolutely everyone and everything. I hate myself for complaining. I hate myself for feeling like this. I am tired of myself. I am tired of being alive.