"One thing you can't hide - is when your crippled inside." John Lennon
The depression has taken on a life of its own. Today the full
force of hatred I feel for who I am seemed to close in around me, threatening
to suffocate the life force out of me.
I used last night,
second night in a row and I am using again tonight. I don't know what exact
thought or situation has triggered this need to get high every day, but here I
am drowning in my addiction again. I hate it. I hate the power it has
over my life, the lies it creates and the pain it causes. I no longer enjoy the
buzz, I just still manage to convince myself that escapism is the only way to
feel better. It isn't and I don't feel better, I feel worse. I have failed at
controlling myself, I am spiralling further into debt and my body is screaming
at me to take care of it before it gives up altogether. My thoughts become more
intense, my anxiety throbs through my chest like an angry sword and my mood
shows no signs of improvement. I willingly fall into the trap that destroys me
and I have no idea how or why I can't stop the abuse.
I was meant to go
out for a meal with my best friends tonight, whom I have also been choosing to
distance myself from for fear that they will finally see me for the useless mess
I am and I'd sooner leave first than face more rejection. I attempted to get
dressed and put make up on but as I sat looking in the mirror the full
realisation of my worthlessness hit me and I sobbed hysterically at the person
I have become. The outside is just as disgusting and horrid as the inside and I
could not face the prospect of leaving the house. My mum came and sat with me,
her loving words attempting to heal the broken soul that lay crying in her
arms. My family are so wonderful, so good, they don't deserve the constant
battles I put them through. Though they would never admit it I can see the toll
my illness and addiction has had on them. I see them fight back the tears as
their daughter sinks further and further into the darkness of the world she has
created. It kills me that I can't be the true reflection of their goodness. I
pray for happiness for them, and know that when the dark thoughts of suicide
start filling my broken mind, I still have the knowledge that while death may
comfort me, it would only cause further hurt to the family who love me. I will
fight for them, for their happiness and as the thoughts get worse, I force
myself to see their faces and gain a small morsel of strength to fight back
with.
I'm so sick of
reading and watching other peoples lives. The books and TV programmes I escape
to, now sit mocking me as I realise the world they inhabit seems so far out of
reach to me. I am a human too, I came here the same way so why can't I figure
out how to make something of this life I have been given. Most frustrating of
all is the fact that I am fully aware of the changes I need to make in my life.
I have been writing the same goals for the past twelve or so years: exercise,
eat regularly and healthily (no more binging), keep the house clean and
organised, spend time with friends and family, make people see them in the
beautiful light that I view them and essentially leave this world in a better
way than I found it when I arrived. It is safe to say that I am failing
miserably in all these areas. I no longer work ten hours a day so the excuse of
no available time will fall on deaf ears. I am just unable to follow anything
that has a chance at making a positive difference in my life.
I sip my cider, I
wipe away the tears and I make the same promise I always do: It will be different
tomorrow. Tomorrow my real life will begin. At least I still have hope.......
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