Sunday was a hard day for me. we asked my grandparents for a loan so that we could purchase a larger home… the answer was no. so, being in the extreme mode i am in currently, i felt completely hopeless. i felt like our family of six would always be in this three bedroom home. it’s so crowded… and my eldest daughter (8) deserves her own space. i wish i could give them everything– i want to give them the world! but i can’t. and i felt like a terrible mother since i couldn’t provide a larger home for us- one with a backyard for the kids to play in. one with a garden in the front… and a white picket fence.
since i couldn’t provide the home, i cut. and i cut deep. and then i realized i needed help. i drove myself to the hospital… shaking the whole way there. due to my history, i was moved to the 5150 area of the ER and everything was taken from me (including my-gasp- phone). && after about three hours, i finally received my sutures. just before the doctor was finished, in walks my best friend && hubby. (i’m so thankful for those two. they’ve been by my side through SO MUCH over the last couple of years. but they are still here && i just can’t believe the luck i had in finding such a great husband and a wonderful best friend) 8 sutures && lots of talking to doctors & psych’s later, i got to go home. Hayli drove me. we talked the whole way. and that was that.
now, two days later, here i sit with a very painful cut & a reminder of what i did. reminder of what i am capable of. but also a reminder that my people aren’t going anywhere so i need to stop fearing they are. damn ‘fear of abandonment’ part of BPD. so i’m going to try a little harder next time remember my people aren’t going anywhere. & i’m good enough no matter what my mind tries to tell me.
&& love always, Aimee
Friday: January 18, 2019
I’m gonna kill myself tonight. Or i won’t. It’s currently 7:11pm and i’m enjoying a diet cherry 7up vodka soda.. And smoking. Within the next hour though, i will go inside and get my valium. And i’m going to decide one way or the other. To live or to die. To swallow the bottle full of pills and end this pain.. Or to continue to yet another agony filled day. I just don’t know if i can do it anymore.. I fear the pills may finally win tonight. I have fought for so long, i’m weak. And tired. And simply want to rest… to sleep peacefully and say goodbye to this world. My children will heal. My husband will have no problem moving on. The insurance money will cover our debt and my funeral. About that- i know i said i want to be cremated. I’ve reconsidered and want a burial site. I want my kids to be able to visit if they ever forgive me enough to be able to. I’m so sorry for all the pain i’ve caused each one of you and if i could’ve fixed it.. I would’ve. I fought long and hard. And i’m weak. And just done.
It’s tomorrow… 8:21am. I failed.
After being handed my prescription and appointment card, i sat in the waiting room quietly crying for ten minutes. Waiting for someone- anyone– to ask if i was okay. Because if they would have, i would have told them no. that i need help because i’m going to kill myself otherwise. But nobody questioned so i eventually walked out. I sat in that damn car for thirty minutes debating on going back inside to tell my doctor my plan for the night. But instead of going in, i took a breath, made my decision & calmly left the psychiatrists office. I picked up the girls from DJ’s and then spontaneously picked the big kids up from school early for a park playdate. We had so much fun at the park- even weston, though he was upset he missed dodgeball at school. For dinner we ordered pizza… something everyone would like. & we ordered the good kind (Round Table). Walter wanted supreme (which he doesn’t know i really dislike) so i said sure… and we had a nice meal as a family. After, i proceeded to head outside. Cup of ice in hand ready for my bong (and extra for the drink i planned on making). I smoked. & i drank. And wrote that sob story up there. After, i came inside, i cut a few times and showered- made sure to shave & put on nice panties since i planned on not waking up again. And honestly… i poured those pills in my hand multiple times. Never could get myself to take them though (i wanted to wait until the kids were asleep and i could just fall asleep peacefully in bed next to my husband… and drift off to nothingness). I did manage to drink 2 ½ strong cups of vodka soda though. Enough to where i told walter about my plans so he took my pills. Ended up falling asleep in hopes the valium that was already in me would be enough with the alcohol. But it wasn’t. Because i woke up this morning. Head pounding. Nice little reminder that i did not in fact get to finally rest but now will feel my eyeballs pounding out of my head all day. Awesome sauce. I’m still alive– yay.
today is 5/28/19. I feel differently (most days) than I did up there. but it’s been hard. and i’m still on this long journey to recovery.. seems I will never make it- but I know I will. just gotta keep at it!
I’m tired. so tired. my body physically aches and I yearn to crawl in bed to hide from it all. most of today has been spent existing. staring into nothingness & simply doing nothing. because I can’t muster up enough strength to do anything more than keep the kids alive– which is no easy feat. it seems like the things that make me happy are few and far between. I love my people fiercely but i’m just so tired. and most of my day is spend wishing I can escape– anywhere but here. whatever this is… is weird for me. i’m used to feeling this way… numb to the world and exhausted beyond belief but it’s always paired with crippling depression. depression so bad that I don’t want to live. and since the latter is absent, I don’t know what to make of these feelings. I hate living like this. it’s a wasted life. i’m miserable. and I just want it to stop so I can enjoy life.. supposedly that’s what I should be doing anyways. but right not I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to be awake. I don’t want to talk to anyone or see anyone. I don’t have the energy to do anything- a shower barely happened today. can it all just stop?
these marks are from my last stay at the mental health hospital. Aka: the
looney bin. (I can call it that- I’ve been FOUR times now… I’ve earned it.) These are the marks of a girl who had enough. she couldn’t survive it any longer with such pain inside her.. so she did what she needed to do. do I recommend this? ABSOLUTELY NOT. it is a very unhealthy coping mechanism I learned at the age of 15 (15+ years ago) and has crept back up in the last couple years. But at my most recent stay, I self harmed (no, i’m not going to tell you how) the day before I left. the doctors & nurses never knew- I made sure to wear long sleeves because I knew if they found out, I wouldn’t be going home anytime soon. but I should’ve told them. for the betterment of myself. I should’ve thought about what was best for ME in the situation && not worried so much about what was going on at home. but I didn’t. and I got out. & i’m not gonna lie- I’ve self harmed multiple times since. it’s my go-to, always.
These wounds will heal in time but my insides seem to never heal. one step forward, two steps back. most days I wonder how much longer i’ll make it… at this point I simply beg & pray to make it through today. && tomorrow will just have to worry about itself.
&& love always, Aimee
&& please know, it isn’t only me suffering from borderline personality disorder. my husband suffers with me too. daily. it affects our entire family. I did not choose this illness any more than they chose not to have it. but that doesn’t excuse me giving up. I know firsthand the monsters were never in the closet but in my head.. so I get up and I fight– every day. I cannot give up. it’s no longer an option. but it has taken a long time to get here. and it’s been exhausting. i’m still fighting- some days i’m not fighting for myself but for my children, my husband or simply what I want for their future. it doesn’t have to be about me- just as long as i’m fighting. and I never stop.
do I regret it- the cutting & all the harm I’ve done to myself over the years? no. I don’t. each and every scar holds a moment of pain, of agony & anguish. each scar holds a moment when I was broken and falling to pieces and had no other way to escape than to cut it out. my scars are victories that I’ve made it through it all, ALIVE… && they are just that- scars. not new wounds. memories of old ones. so I don’t regret it. if I didn’t go through it all… I wouldn’t be who I am today. and I kind of like her now.. she’s growing on me.
&& love always, Aimee