I’m having a fucking miserable night. My coworker taunted me because of my self harm scars then offered me a knife to go and do some more. And hey, surprise, now I REALLY want to! I’m just so miserable and I wish it had worked. I’m envious of those with completed suicides because mine failed and now I have to live this horrible life that I don’t want to live anymore. I just want my boyfriend but he’s busy so i guess I’m crying myself to sleep tonight, alone. Better start preparing for the rest of my life.
For those who don’t know, I attempted suicide last Tuesday. I was hospitalized. Got out yesterday. And here I am. I’ve been admitting that I’m happy to be alive for the past two days but it’s late. I’m in a house where every other person despises me, resents me, and makes me feel like we’d all be better off if I had gone through with it. My boyfriend is asleep. I’m tired. I’m sick. And god fucking dammit… I wish it had worked.
Anonymous asked How does it feel to be bipolar? No offense
how does it feel to be bipolar? well fuck. this is quite a difficult question to answer. a lot of the times, it feels like your brain is fighting against you, trying its best to make sure you suffer. it feels like jumping off the high dive and getting a wonderful high when you’re at the top, like you’re invincible and the world can’t hurt you and nothing will be bad again, but then you land in the cold water and it all comes rushing back to you and you realize that your high was a fake and nothing is ever going to be ok again. and the higher you jump, the further you fall, and the harder it is to kick back to the surface. it feels like a huge identity crisis. who am i? am i manic Erika or depressed Erika? is there even a normal Erika? or am i just major depressed Erika, dysthymia Erika, hypo manic Erika, or manic Erika? and how do i KNOW? every part of me is determined by my mental illness. i’m this or that, up or down. i don’t know what it’s like to just walk down the street like a normal person. i’m either walking down that street wanting to jump in front of a car or walking down that street wanting to jump on top of a car and go for a ride. it consumes. that’s what it does. bipolar consumes. that’s why i don’t say i have bipolar disorder. i say i am bipolar. because i am. everything i do and every decision i make is because of bipolar disorder. should i drink this soda, eat this cookie, watch this movie, take this class, stay up this late, read this book, talk to this person? will this trigger my mania or my depression or my anxiety? i shove five pills down my throat a night and go to weekly therapy because of this disorder. it’s really fucked up because my life has to revolve around bipolar disorder for me to get any sort of relief from bipolar disorder. so to answer your question anon, it sucks. count these 300+ scars on my body and read my journals and track the tears down my cheeks and observe my lack of sanity, my lack of friends. hop onto my ups and downs and ride this roller coaster with me and try not to throw up at the end of it. but it’s not the end, it’s never the end. get an endless supply of barf bags because these roller coasters will last forever. we’re never free. we’re forever slaves. welcome to bipolar disorder.
Recovery isn’t perfection. It’s not never relapsing again as long as you live. It’s not being happy, healthy, and sane 100% of the time. Recovery is buying razor blades and throwing them away an hour later. Recovery is crying yourself to sleep and getting out of bed the next morning with a smile on your face. Recovery is relapsing and making mistakes and learning from them. Recovery is making a conscious decision every day to fight; fight for a better life, a realer smile, a reason to keep going. Recovery is living a shitty life but still seeing beauty in the sun, the smiles of others, and, most importantly, yourself.
is there anyone out there who knows tumblr user this-darkness-i-became in real life? she just sent me a message saying she’ll be gone tomorrow and i don’t know what to do. i feel so helpless
my grandma reacted better to my suicide attempt than my sister coming out of the closet
IF THAT’S NOT FUCKED UP, I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS