- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Genres
- Romance, Yaoi, Fantasy, Historical, Modern, Horror; anything really, I'll try my hand at something once.
Yeah... they've been happening a lot more frequently, my panic attacks... and they've started to affect me physically. I've called my doctor, because coughing up blood after having a panic attack is not normal. I've gone to see him and, again, I've been given medication. I have so many pills to take. Two for stabilizing my mood, one anti depressant, two brand name pain killer's for the migraine and now another tranquilizer, along with the first one, to take just before I have a panic attack... But I don't want to take them anymore. I know it'll help me, I know this, mentally I know these pills will help me... but I hate how I feel after I take them.
It's like my whole body becomes numb and I can't feel anything. And this terrifies me... I can't feel happiness or joy or sadness or anger or empathy... nothing... this is truly terrifies me. It's a fear that coils up into my body and spreads through my arms to my finger tips. My body quakes from it and then comes the desperation... to feel something. And I want to turn to my old method.
I want to go to the store and buy razor blades and spend hours just carving into myself, not to see my blood, not because I want attention. Because I want to feel anything, even if its pain. Like an addict experiencing withdrawals.
It's at this point, I get into the shower and turn on only the cold water and let the icy rain beat into my body and bring me a small amount of sting... but it's no longer enough. Diving into a book is no longer enough. Talking with the only friends I have is no longer enough. Writing is starting to not be enough... I don't have anymore reasons not to just do it... cave like I've done so many times before and hurt myself. Relive those painful memories of kids teasing me at school. The image of them laughing while pretending to cut their wrists still haunts my mind on these bad days.
And I have an idea of what you might be thinking. I know, this is not a good thought to have. That I need to learn to control the memories and the urges and maybe even change my medication.
But... It would be a waste... I always think I deserve to suffer... that everything done to me or I experienced was for a reason and my own fault. I can't kill myself because living this life is my punishment... for being born, for hurting my mom... for taking up space... I don't know the reason, but it's deserved, my punishment.
It's sick to think like this isn't it? Just the darkness in my mind... just the depression talking... but even on my good days I think like this. Because... There is no "low self esteem" with me... there is no self esteem. I am drowning in my own mind and I am not reaching out for help... because I don't want to pull anyone down with me.
So... when people tell me that I've made their day... or made them happy... I feel like I'm paying for my badness... in a good way.
All I want is for others to be happy, whether its a stranger on the internet or one of my closest friends, that is all I want... and when I can achieve that... it gives me a few more inches to breath... a few rays of light to keep the darkness from completely consuming me...
It's like my whole body becomes numb and I can't feel anything. And this terrifies me... I can't feel happiness or joy or sadness or anger or empathy... nothing... this is truly terrifies me. It's a fear that coils up into my body and spreads through my arms to my finger tips. My body quakes from it and then comes the desperation... to feel something. And I want to turn to my old method.
I want to go to the store and buy razor blades and spend hours just carving into myself, not to see my blood, not because I want attention. Because I want to feel anything, even if its pain. Like an addict experiencing withdrawals.
It's at this point, I get into the shower and turn on only the cold water and let the icy rain beat into my body and bring me a small amount of sting... but it's no longer enough. Diving into a book is no longer enough. Talking with the only friends I have is no longer enough. Writing is starting to not be enough... I don't have anymore reasons not to just do it... cave like I've done so many times before and hurt myself. Relive those painful memories of kids teasing me at school. The image of them laughing while pretending to cut their wrists still haunts my mind on these bad days.
And I have an idea of what you might be thinking. I know, this is not a good thought to have. That I need to learn to control the memories and the urges and maybe even change my medication.
But... It would be a waste... I always think I deserve to suffer... that everything done to me or I experienced was for a reason and my own fault. I can't kill myself because living this life is my punishment... for being born, for hurting my mom... for taking up space... I don't know the reason, but it's deserved, my punishment.
It's sick to think like this isn't it? Just the darkness in my mind... just the depression talking... but even on my good days I think like this. Because... There is no "low self esteem" with me... there is no self esteem. I am drowning in my own mind and I am not reaching out for help... because I don't want to pull anyone down with me.
So... when people tell me that I've made their day... or made them happy... I feel like I'm paying for my badness... in a good way.
All I want is for others to be happy, whether its a stranger on the internet or one of my closest friends, that is all I want... and when I can achieve that... it gives me a few more inches to breath... a few rays of light to keep the darkness from completely consuming me...