The medicine is supposed to help, but it doesn't anymore.

I think I'm losing my mind. Maybe the lack of sleep – maybe the combination of drugs and alcohol…I don’t really know. It always comes back to the fear & anxiety - the rage and the sadness – drifting in and out of the past and the present. I’m sitting here with a glass of wine (2nd one this hour) combined with a few klonopin – and I’m starting to feel a bit of numbness. I’m doing everything I can to keep from hurting myself tonight. It’s been brewing for over a week now, I don’t know how long I can keep it at bay. It sits behind me, taunting me, breathing down my neck, “Grace, you know you can’t resist me much longer – just do it – you’ll feel better, you know you will.” But it’s lying! I may feel better for a few moments, maybe even a few hours, but it’ll all be back. I don’t want to cut myself, I don’t think I have the energy to deal with the blood and the bandaids – I don’t think I can even stop the bleeding tonight. And last time that really took effort! As much as I want to see it, to feel the pain, I’m doing my best to hold it at bay – the tools I’m using are: alcohol and anti-anxiety meds. Back to the wanting to give up stage. Why does it always come back to this? No one believes me – no one believes that the boogey man – he really does exist. He is here! He comes here all the time, but no one believes me – DT thinks I just need to “self-regulate” my emotions, I need to “self-soothe” myself back into the present. Fuck! At the “present” I don’t even know what year it is! He is here! He is around each corner, he is right here! And he is clawing me, ripping me apart, limb by limb. There isn’t much left – I’m in pieces already. But no one will believe me. Each day more pieces of me fall to the ground, neglected, forgotten.

But no one understands. I want to rip her out of my body! I scream at her, “Leave me alone, you stupid whiny baby! Go suck your thumb or whatever it is you do and leave me alone! I hate you!!”

But no one gets it. Shit happens! And when it does, some of us can’t deal with it! It’s not manipulation – it really is an inability to deal with the overwhelming voices and feelings, hands on my body. And yet no one cares, no one understands. Does it ever stop? How do others cope? What the heck is wrong with me?

I took an internal inventory and there’s nothing of value left in me: He took my heart, my soul, and my body. He destroyed my hope, my trust…what’s left?