An 180º turn.. for worst.

My life just took an 180º turn.. for worst.

So I had my appointment with the psychologist today. Needless to say that two minutes in and he was already giving me paper tissues. I was crying my heart out. I told him pretty much everything. Concentration problems, trouble sleeping, depression, lack of memories, suicidal thoughts (I explained I wouldn’t do it because of my mom tho). And according to him, I should had seeked help a long time ago, as now I am so deep into depression.

Result from appointment: Tomorrow I have another appointment with the psychiatrist so I can start right away taking antidepressives and something to make me sleep. After this improves a little bit, I will start treating for ADD (which apparently I have – what he said made sense, the description of someone who has it, is pretty much the description of myself). So, starting a cocktail of pills now.

Now the really freaking awesome part! (sarcasm for those who didn’t get it)

So, obviously I had to tell my mom. I told him I didn’t want him to tell her, to worry her, but he kinda encouraged me to tell I guess. Anyways I had to. The problem was the final result. A little background: I was living abroad with my mother, and as I was about to go somewhere else for uni, she was diagnosed with cancer, so we came back to my home country to have her treated. I started uni here. Now, she is better and since I’ve started uni here, I might as well finish it here. My mom is going back to where she was working (in another country) – well, she is going in two days (well, we are. I’m doing the trip there with her – won’t be on SP for a week). Now, I didn’t want her to know because I know she will worry, because we are each other’s world. She was finally doing better, recovering from cancer, being able to manage her depression a little bit better (she has chronic depression since about she was my age), and I knew she wasn’t going to take it well if she knew how I am. And.. I was right. So after we talked, she started saying how she wouldn’t go abroad, she would be here with me. Obviously I said no, she needs to be happy, to take this really good work opportunity, to prove to herself that she is so much stronger than what she thinks. In between tears, silent screams, she told me either she wouldn’t go or I’d move in with my dad or with my grandma until I got better (since she is leaving, I’d be living alone – which I was really looking forward to, I’m sick of people, I just want to be alone). I screamed and said I couldn’t believe she was doing this to me, that I’d be fine on my own – I’ll be medicated anyways. But then something struck me, and I realized that if I want her to be happy and not in a constant worry, I’d need to go. So I said fine, I’ll go – until I get better. This is going to be hell. I love my dad, and he loves me, but we have very different ways to be, and he doesn’t understand what I am going through. I’ll have my life fucked. I’ll be outside the center of the city. I only have classes in the afternoon but since I can only get a ride from my dad in the morning, cus there are not really many buses where he lives (it would take like 3hours to get to the center). So pretty much from 8am till midday I’ll be doing nothing when I could be sleeping. Just because. I’ll still need to get a job. Fuck, don’t they understand this is going to kill me? He’s gonna spend all his time on the phone with his girlfriend, and I’ll be even more alone. I just fucking need the meds to work so I’ll be able to get out of there. Oh and yes, other good news, I won’t have internet there! So how the hell am I going to be able to come on this website? Pretty much the only thing that has helped me through this time..

I’m getting medication which should make me better.

But I feel like crap. I want to die so bad. (didn’t tell my mom that part obviously).

I know I’m lucky to have parents who care, I never said the opposite – but this is NOT going to help me. It’s going to make me be more frustrated, more irritated.

I don’t know what to think or feel anymore, I’m exhausted.

Why the hell did I even consider telling my parents about this?! I should have kept my mouth close, gotten the medication myself and did things my way. Why do I always make the shittiest decisions? I’m so mad at myself. I want to scream, to pull my hair, to punch something.

My arm is still burning from the cuts.
I’m so sick of everything. I want to be done with all of this.

I guess the only good part from all of this is that I think I might be able to work with him to try and remember stuff from when I was younger, and try to find out what the fuck happened to me that broke me and scarred me so badly for life (although I’m pretty sure I know).

Thank you for those of you who had the patience to read this huge dreadful post.