I'm on my way to an appointment with my psychiatrist, trying to think of what I want to say vs. what I should say. There is a fine line between saying too much and too little. And I'm in an emotional state because of yet another embarrassing hookup last night that did not go as planned. Which led me to spiral and text him and make myself feel like a fucking asshole. If I say too much, if I'm very honest about how I feel - like I have treatment resistant depression and I'm not sure if I even believe in medication for me - it will become a whole thing. Try another drug. And I have decided that for right now, the last thing I want to do is try another medication. Anti-depressants fuck with you physically and make you wonder why it has to be so torturous when you're just trying to help yourself. It's not that I don't think they have potential, that they are simply bad. I have just been trying to medicate myself correctly for 7 years, and it has been an exhausting endeavor that has sometimes brought me to the brink. I don't want to be a guinea pig for right now.
When I drive I think about things like crashing into oncoming cars - what really is a good way to kill yourself? But it would just be another one of my impulses that leaves my life worse off than I was before. Suicide attempts are not fool-proof, and then if you fuck it up your life is irreparably changed. All of a sudden people will care about trying to fix you. I'm not going to do it. I just fantasize about it in these moments.
My therapist commiserates with me regarding my dismal dating life, and it actually makes me feel better. I need an outside perspective regarding all of this, to know I'm not just incredibly unlucky and not meant for love. I need to get out of my own head.
I'm supposed to write a letter with all of the things I'd like to say to him. My therapist told me to do that before I started talking to him again. "Write it all down and see if you still want to say it to him." I know it would be a good exercise to do. I know it would help. But I have been avoiding it because I'm afraid of how emotional it will make me. Maybe I just need to trudge up all of my emotions about this relationship one last time, and then I can inch towards the path of feeling free.
I didn't know I'd be so upset for this long. I didn't know I'd cry every day for weeks. I tell my psych about the crying spells, but this isn't news to her. She asks me if I want to up my klonopin intake: of course I do. But I know I shouldn't. I don't want to become like Lena Dunham. So I say I just need my normal refill for "safety." That is what they are to me, protection from myself in my darkest moments. But I know better and I don't want to develop a dependency. Benzos are no joke and they fit well with me. This is what they were talking about when they said "I wanna be sedated" But I don't want to be tired and numbed all the time. What would that solve.
I wish there was some timeline I could google for how long it takes to get over heartbreak. I wish my birthday wasn't next week and I wasn't dreading it. It reminds me of my last birthday and how we spent it together, and I wonder if I'll ever have someone to spend it with again. That was the one and only time. I don't want to be so sad about this person anymore. Losing him has made me realize just how much I cared about him, dare I even say, loved him...Love him. I don't know if it's true but it feels that way. I am just trying to be rational and parse through my emotions, analyzing them to see what is an overreaction, what is distilled from a fantasy I created. What is making me hold on so tightly. Seeing him as this unconditionally lovable being that I don't want to get over. That I want to be with. Still.
I know if I just hold on long enough things will change. Can improve. I almost completed another year of my life and that is something to be proud of. Because I know how trying every moment of it has been.
It just feels like other people's lives are wrapped up into pretty little packages with a satin bow, and mine looks like it has been slashed with a machete.
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