Hahaha.

I hadn’t intended to write something funny, but I felt so pathetic I felt ridiculous… and I had to laugh at myself.

Chain of events, but I will try to keep it as short as possible. So my doctor…never mind. Just know that I was so frustrated I started getting dizzy at work and had to hold back tears but that was really okay since I was just about to leave the office, and my friend suggested a psychiatrist. I was so RAARRRR I said it’d probably be the same… and he told me it wouldn’t. So I listened to music on the ~1h drive back home I decided I needed to try… I can’t be afraid forever, so I would try, and I treated myself to a happy hour drink (cranberry limeade) and some Chipotle, because it had been a long time and i wanted to gorge myself without feeling too horrible greasy and vomitacious afterwards (I got a bowl with chicken and all the vegetables I could get).  I felt a little better.

So I come home and I eat, and I feel nice and full, which was nice since I hadn’t felt full in awhile.  Then I start doing my research… and there seem to be a lot of psychiatrists, in my area… hm…all of a sudden I don’t feel like typing up the whole boring story.

I was originally going to call this “Implode.” Because that’s what I feel like. I feel like I should implode. I’m half way between imploding/self-destructing, and just acting out.

Here’s how the two of them worked in my life:

1)Implosion/Self-destruction:

self-harm

restrictive eating

drinking too much (recently in secret)

taking pills while drinking.

taking pills and pills and pills just to feel something

taking rx pills

being a whore (I don’t know how to sugar coat it,  but I’d like it if you didn’t judge me, but you can if you feel you need to)

*including getting money from various men for being a whore, and also instances of not getting any money.

shopping shopping shopping.

Pushed almost everyone away. Cut off contact with most.

I don’t remember right now.

Ugh. I guess needless to say, my self-worth sucks. I did that to feel something. And now here I am. A fat, 30-year old, unlikable, much less unloveable, mess.

I’m just trying really hard to find out what needs to change, and what I need to be doing to make sure that I don’t need anyone to help me. Because that’s what I would like most of all but like I said in a previous post, it isn’t going to happen, so I’m going to have to do it alone.  When I try to reach out…there’s never any time for me. Why can’t I be like that? Why can’t I put everything else over my “friendships”?

I just wish I were dead. But I’m shallow and stupid, so I don’t want to be dead until I’m beautiful. I want to look like a fae that subsisted off of honey bread and dew drop tea~~. I want to be small and beautiful, and then I want to die.

Man, I’m weird. bleh.

Anyways,

I forgot what was supposed to be so funny about this. lol.

But I think maybe I’ll be able to call for a psych that I will hopefully be able to afford. And then hopefully she can lead me to a psychiatrist I can afford…

I just wish I were dead, is my main point, I guess.

Sorry, this was more useless than I thought it would be, but I just felt like I needed to write something.

Feel free to ignore.

Good night.