diary

I read my handwritten diary of scribbles and notes and prayers and thoughts; and I cry at the level of sadness pain anguish that must have been present for those words to take shape, and over so much time. I know I should not be saying this, but the next time I try to die, I will make sure I succeed. What is holding me back right now is not the absence of suicidal ideation, but the roti jala net of friends and parents and promises to stay alive and get better. I still feel like dying to remove this pain and sadness. I have been sad all my life, all my life, and even on meds, I still feel the sadness seeping through sometimes. It is inherent. In the end, isn't it still all about keeping up appearances?

KL this weekend

With my two best girlfriends.

With the D man as our escort in KL.

With my dad chauffeuring us from Singapore to JB to the Bas Stesen in Larkin.

With my meds, with coffee, with prayers, with friends - I should be fine.

recovering is tiring

Opening up to people is tiring.
Talking and replying calls and smses is tiring.
Acting normal is tiring.
Proving or disproving my relevant talents is tiring.

I just want to cocoon up.

I am okay, I just need to stop being a people-pleaser.

I am trying my best to get better.

I am tired of trying my best.

I need a break.

Recovering is fucking tiring.

rage and pain

I have a lot of rage in me. Right now. Often.

This is why I need exercise.
This is why I crave alcohol daily.
This is why I need Xan*ax.

This anger has no reason. It just IS. It just exists. It just remains.
Until I medicate.


Yes, I am still sad. Despite functioning normally and living life in a seemingly hyper-elaine, energetic way.

I am still sad.
I still hurt.
It still hurts.

I am still angry.

I am still sad.

I just can no longer do very much about it.

finally:

I will write a novel.


I envision it will read like Amrita meets Prozac Nation meets Emily Dickinson meets Working Hot.


I will try my best to finish it within a year.

exercise

I have been exercising. I bought two 1kg weights. I bought an exercise mat. I went for brisk walks (still too weak to run). I have been exercising, everyday. Gets rid of a lot of rage. Gives me a nice ass. Nicer legs and arms. Hopefully, flatter tummy soon. And I hope I get my boobs back because I lost weight recently.

I have a thing for ginger flowers

I have a thing for ginger flowers:
Their unbloomed, phallic shape
Their hardiness
The blush-red colour of the flower
leads me to stroke it along its petal grain
A creation that gives me a tad reason for living

wtf, no wonder

Suicidal ideation should be assessed during regular intervals throughout therapy (every week during the therapy session is not uncommon). Often, as the individual who suffers from a depressive disorder is beginning to feel the energizing effects of a medication, they will be at higher risk for acting on their suicidal thoughts. Care should be used at this time and hospitalization may need to be again considered.



Yeah, it was a period I had just increased my anti-D doses and taken on new meds as well. So it wasn't just the lousy relationship and the resultant OD-ing on meds and alcohol because I felt like shit. I was in extreme danger all this while since I stepped into that psychiatrist's office.

lost for words

I really am. I have talked so much about myself these few days to my doctor, my parents, my friends, that I AM TIRED of talking. About. Myself. It is tiring and stressful and I have to keep it up because people feel weird being around a psychotic ex-suicidal clinical depressive.

hobbies- updated

I need to regain interest in my hobbies. Slowly but surely.



Buy books --- check
Write --- check
Read --- check
Music --- check
Play guitar --- check
Paint/draw ---
World of Warcraft --- slight
Exercise --- check
Shopping --- check

milestones for todayish

Today I will go browse new books to see if I can regain my interest in reading again.

I will start on a new book. For real.

I WILL GO TO TOWN. On Xana*x of course, under doctor's advice.

bored yet scared

So anyway I managed to do a few things I haven't been doing properly:

I went out and met friends and replied text messages and answered phone calls.

I took a train ride! Although it is only one stop but I managed to do it. I felt a bit crazy doing it but I did not have a panic attack and I told myself it was okay and actually believed me even if it was slight. And I did it without Xan*ax.

I told people my problems. Let me be self-absorbed for the moment please! Sorry if I repeat stories I don't remember who I confided in and what. I am not good at this problem-sharing business still, now I just blurt out everything. Eventually I will find my place between the continuum of isolation and diva-dom.

I feel happy. Serotonin is a beautiful brain-chemical to regulate.

--

What hasn't changed:

My memory is still poor.

I am still very weak,
my hands are shivery, I can't write,
I feel tired, I feel cold.

I can't sleep well.

I still haven't regained interest in reading, gaming or writing.

I still haven't regained my appetite.

I still feel strange telling people about myself, warts and all. I feel very diva-like now and I hate it.

I still fear going back to work. Any work.

Plumb - Lie Low

You didn't care about me
So I packed my bags
And left you to wonder
What you could've done better
To make our love stronger
We could have lasted forever and longer

But we'll never know how good it could be
This isn't how it should be

I couldn't laugh
I couldn't cry
I couldn't waste another day
I couldn't live
I couldn't lie low any longer
I couldn't laugh
I couldn't cry
I couldn't waste another day
I couldn't live
I couldn't lie low any longer

Did you ever care about me?
I remember the time
You looked in my eyes and promised
We'd stay together
Our love would grow stronger
The storms we had weathered
Wouldn't last any longer

It could've been so good
But there was something else for me

scary elaine

I am sorry for my behaviour the past few weeks.

Alarmingly impulsive. I tried smoking (no I didn't really smoke but I acted like I did). I cut myself. I was high on Xana*x and alcohol. I took sleeping pills even in the day if I didn't drink. I overdosed on meds, twice. I broke up with Calvin. I used others to hurt him on purpose. I had no self-love. I was ecstatic or hysterical. I screamed. At people. In my house alone. I was crazy.

I don't remember a lot of things I did, were did to me, I said, or was said to me. I don't remember puking in my bathroom. I don't remember my suicidal threats. I don't remember my seductions and propositions.

Pardon my behaviour, that really wasn't the real me.

I was in so much hurt and pain and physical despair, I really wanted to die.

But I am still on meds. I cannot live med-free at the moment, just like I cannot be left alone. I am just sorry for all the scares and scathes I might have inflicted on anyone who was in contact with me the past two weeks.

i survived my attempt

Look I am sorry.

I hurt you all badly.

I really almost died.

But I won't do it again.

And I have to give up drinking,
for the sake of my liver, which I almost killed.

I am sorry.

I am sorry.

I am sorry.

I was desperate.
I really wanted to die.

But now I know
when I am desperate
I have to call my doctor
I cannot be alone

I have to let people care for me
I have to let people do things for me
I have make demands.

Please check in on me regularly.
I really am very sick.

It is hurting very badly. I don't know why. My sickness is degenerating? Alcohol? I am no longer responding to my medication? What?

All I can say now is that I really need to die.

Please publish this blog in print for me when I go.

and the reasons why...

I can't cry in front of him without him feeling guilty and responsible and therefore angry at me.
I can't be sure he will not abandon me. Again.
I don't want to live with the fear of losing someone because he might leave out of his own will.
He will not marry me while I am depressed and I might be still be depressed when I hit 30.
I can't be sure I can fulfill my dreams and calling together with him.
I don't want my kids to grow up playing tennis in the country club.
I don't need my kids to fly first class travel. I want them to ride various modes of transport cross-Asia with me.
I want to minister to Asia's poor and damned and inspire others to the same.
I want to mother kids abandoned by AIDS, sickness and poverty, more than I want to bear my own children.
I need to learn how to be independent again.
I need to reforge my alliances.
I can't drag him down any further.
I put him through enough shit.
I no longer trust him to be my best friend.
I no longer love him because he no longer makes me feel safe.

I left C.

updates

Psychiatrist visits - 2, superb
Break ups - 1, and another 1 by me this time