Well, it appears my new psychiatrist isn’t on my upcoming health insurance plan. SO this means I will be cancelling the appointment. I’m not going to start over with someone new. I’ve already decided that. I guess it’s not a total loss, as last appointment all she did was go down her handy dandy list of antidepressants and ask if I had tried a particular one yet. The first one I hadn’t tried, she decided to prescribe for me. A primary care person could do that if I so wished. Plus she keeps asking me whether I want meds in the first place, like why else would I be sitting in her office wanting someone to oversee my medication management if I didn’t want medications?
I’m not even sure I’m going to keep seeing my counselor. It’s just I’m tired of fighting this. Of putting energy in to being better, but not getting there. What’s the point of wasting what little money I do have extra to talk to someone? Is talking about what little I can make of the emotions going to make a big difference for me? Doubt it. I’ve suffered through the feelings too long to even believe that my life could change. That I could wake up one morning and be happy to be alive.
How much do I have to endure before dying is justifiable? I’ve always wondered that. I guess in a way it doesn’t really matter. I don’t believe God would want me whether or not I was killed by someone else or whether I was killed by me. So in a way, it doesn’t matter to me. While I don’t want to hurt anyone here, I really don’t want to keep on struggling. No, it’s not just not wanting to continue struggling, it’s physically and emotionally not being able. I feel drained, empty, alone, hopeless. It’s really hard for me to keep going. To keep pretending everything is okay. To know that no matter what is going on in my life, I’m going to feel like shit. To know no discernible difference between the best and worst day of my life.
Even though I know I’m not, I feel so very alone. Like no matter what, no matter how many people care about me, I will still be alone. It’s hard for me to reconcile this feeling with the fact that I know there are supposedly people out there who care. It’s hard for me to know that I feel one way, even though the reality can be completely different.
I feel like self injuring more and more. Why? I don’t know. I don’t even know if it helps. I just want to feel the pain though. I guess in a way, it’s one of the few ways I can put into physical form how I am feeling emotionally. I don’t expect that to make sense to most of you, or even to some of you. Hell, it doesn’t even make sense to me.