Wednesday, January 20, 2010

I have reached the bottom of the well of logic & rationality today ~ and it is bone dry!

Gosh, it sounds like you had a really *scary* night last night.
Really?  I hadn't noticed Dr. Obvious!  I don't need "validation" about how hard the night was!
I WAS THERE!  At least for some of it!
And the most fabulous thing is...if you hang on till the next day, no matter how much it sucks, you get a quick pat on the back for not "hurting" yourself.
***NEWSFLASH # 2***
Doesn't make it suck any less!!!!!

I have reached deep into the well of logic and rationality today and the well is dry.
So I'm done!  FINISHED! 
It doesn't matter.  It never did. 
I can't do it.  I am not strong enough.
And it seems as though it doesn't matter how difficult it is as long as you don't cut yourself - then everyone thinks everything is fine.
And I want to just scream out: NOTHING IS FINE!!! CAN'T YOU SEE THAT?
But it wouldn't matter if I one listens. 
If there are no external scars - no one listens - so it doesn't matter.


  1. I'm sorry you had a bad night. I would have stayed up with you if it hadn't been for all of the vodka and klonopin. They knocked me right out and I managed to sleep for hours, thank goodness.

    I think "not hurting yourself" is overrated. I hurt myself yesterday, and I felt much better today. How is it different from taking legal or illegal meds, or drinking, or screwing strangers? It works, otherwise people wouldn't be doing it.

    Not that I am encouraging you to go this route, I know you have resisted for a long time and I admire that so much. I'm just saying, well, I'm not sure what I'm saying. I've already started drinking again today. I'm sorry.

  2. Harriet, You're RIGHT! I'm breaking out the fucking benzos, booze and razor tonight and ALL of Grace is having a fucking maladaptive party!
    FUCK IT! It doesn't matter enough to the therapist to fucking call me back.
    I am so hoping tonight is the last night I have to live. please let me be the next brittney murphy!
    No one understands really. How hard it is to even keep breathing. I don't want to anymore. I think I'll take the easy way out. WTF! No one'll notice for at least 3 days anyway, maybe longer - and by then it'll be too late.
    I don't want to do it anymore. I thought I could get help - but clearly, I'm just a continuous burden on everyone else too. even the therapist. all she sends is inconprehensible bs that doesnt even make sense - like she cut/paste it from a psych book! I'm counting out my "winnings" which consist of a bottle of ativan and over 3000mg if seroquel - and some misc anti-anxiety meds and some antidepressents (which don't fucking work - just as an FYI!) I l/m earlier w/my T to call me back..but she doens't care - and why should she. I woulndt etiehr. I don't! in fact. I'm so done! I just want it to be over. I just need to it to stop. There will be no late night phone calls - no pleas for help. Not anymore.

  3. Grace, please find a way to not let your therapist dictate wether or not you live or die. Why do her actions or inactions get to determine your will to live? Please, please find another measure of your worthiness. I guess you got another 'fortune cookie' email? Kinda like the one Old Guy sent to make Rambo start calling him Aesop? Defend yourself, Grace. Put down the pills and defend yourself somehow. You could call me, you know? I don't have any fortune cookies or fables to read to you, I just have myself and I'm willing to talk.