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Thursday, 30 September 2010
Wading through treacle
I am getting really frustrated with this tiredness. I got about 10 hours of sleep last night, which is about optimum for me, and still woke up feeling exhausted. Just opening my eyes feels like too much effort. The day took a rapid nose dive when I weighed myself and discovered I had gained a pound overnight. I really don't know how. I didn't even have *that* much to eat yesterday - I was expecting to have maintained, or perhaps gained 0.2 or maybe 0.4 of a pound. Not a whole bloody pound. So naturally I feel like complete shit. I then had to drag myself out of bed and get dressed because of having to look after my nephew. Thankfully it was only for about 40 minutes today, although it definitely felt like longer. I am supposed to go to a Carousel rehearsal tonight, but I don't know whether I am going to or not. Obviously I should, but knowing that I have the excuse of a bad back, and could therefore get out of it, is incredibly tempting. Yesterday I was planning not to go tonight, because I thought doing lifts etc would just be too much for my back. Today however, it is actually feeling quite a lot better, and I therefore could actually go, and just not do anything that I thought would really aggravate it. I just don't want to... I don't want to do anything. I am tired, I have a headache, I feel awful about my weight, I can't concentrate on anything. I need a way out of feeling like this, and I don't know how I can find one, except the obvious. There is nothing that could possibly happen in my life that would make feeling like this ok. I could never feel good enough to make these bad patches worth going through. And I suppose that is essentially the problem, and why I have so many suicidal thoughts. Because even if someone could promise me that after say 1 more year, I would never feel like this again in my life, I still wouldn't want to be alive. I would still want to kill myself. Even if they could make it 6 months. 1 month. The time frame is irrelevant. I just don't want to be here, and even if I felt ok, I still wouldn't want to be here. I think maybe some people just aren't supposed to be alive, and I am one of them.
I am a 24 year old female, currently embroiled in the Mental Health minefield. My diagnonsense is Borderline Personality Disorder, and I also have problems with Depression, Anxiety and disordered eating. Bippidee is my nickname for BPD, as stolen from the fantastic mentalnurse.
If you know me in real life, then please respect my wish for anonymity here.
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