This weekend has been confusing.
Sweet, wonderful family moments and time with the hubster interrupted every so often by my urges to self harm or thoughts of ending it all entirely. I've been popping more anti-anxiety pills than I have in the entire last week and feeling pretty miserable, tense, and worthless.
The hubster brought me an anti-anxiety pill with a glass of water and I asked him to get the glass away from me and he asked me to take the pill and I asked him again to get it away from me and he told me take the pill and I started sobbing and sob-saying "get it away from me!" until he did and gave me my plastic Nalgene and asked what was up with the glass (after I took the pill). I told him how I've been envisioning breaking the glasses around the house and using the shards to cut my wrists.
You know that point where you cross over from, "I'm having a rough time" to "Man, am I fucked up?" That's me right now.
What a weekend.
What a frickin' weekend.
Another day or two of this and I'm back to the ECT. Yipee-freakin'-yee
Did I post a link to this article yet? I can't remember. Oh well. Here it is again.... "When You're in the Gray Area of Being Suicidal."