I’m fucked. I can’t cope. Life is so difficult. For what gain? Why do we struggle and try to be better, try to grab hold of our mental health, try to control it. I can’t control my bank account let alone my mental health.
Last time I was here 2015, well posting. I’ve been lurking off and on. Since then I’ve engaged with MH workers, Drs… Psychiatrists & Im on meds. I spend 3 hrs a week working directly on my mental health. I feel worse than I did before I started. My emotional outbursts are horrific. I’m a shaking crying violent mess 🙁 I feel homicidal & suicidal. Before I engaged I was just suicidal… But as the process continues, I become more hopeless.
There is no cure for being a fully fledged fucked up individual. My brain has been wired up wrong due to my upbringing. I’m never going to be right.
2 years later… Still have no friends. Minus a bunch of selfish cunts who want to fuck me.
2 years later I’ve crushed the man of my dreams and broken his heart to the point of no return. He left me and started fucki someone else. I can’t blame him. I’ve been self harming (not cutting, there are many ways to self harm) and making myself so mentally and physically sick for about a year of our 2 year relationship.
We’ve been trying to be friends. I love him, he loves me. But tonight I went to his and saw a lipstick his new fuck buddy had “accidentally” left . I tried to hold it together. I smashed it into a door and stamped on the case, she won’t be using that again that’s for sure.
That might have been ok, but I then stormed off got my bag with a nice leather strap and well .., no methods hey, so I better not say. Let’s just say it was very close up there on a slippery thin bench.
He picked me up from where I was sitting on the ground. Brought me home.
He’s downstairs now and I’m up here with a multitude of pills and a burni desire to be away from this godforsaken world.
I wanted to tell someone. It used to help. But now…. The struggle is too great.
How is someone with MH problems supposed to survive this dog eat dog world? I haven’t had a working oven for 3 fucking months. My landlord is shit. My walls are crumbling around me and the fucki agent has the cheek to tell me I need to paint. Are they blind there’s fucki holes in the plaster… All fucking over the house. Mound damp it’s cold and I spend a fortune on heating.
If I stay I can’t stay here Bing responsible for everything, living alone. Struggling.
I used to visit a cult. If I am still here come the summer… I’m going to live with them.
2 comments
There’s that belief that before things get better, they have to get a whole lot worse..
I’m not exactly sure how true that is. But it makes sense that when you try to fight with things head on to figure it out, they’re going to have a bigger punch.
I can relate to the emotional outbursts.. life is too much sometimes. But you do have support, however Rocky things are.
Now that is a rough living place..
Maybe if it comes to it the cult could be a bit of a spiritual retreat, so to speak. Who knows. Hopefully they can fix the apartment at least a bit so you have less to worry about.
I’m curious about the cult. Can you tell a bit about it?