i'm not really sure where my headspace is at the moment. I think in one way the up in the meds MAY be working, but i'm not sure. I enjoyed having the house to myself the other night. During that night I managed to down two bottles of wine before I died. I also took 3 valium afterwards. I got to sleep around 3am, only to be woken up 9am by the stupid employment people. I didn't answer the call. I couldn't get back to sleep either. I spent most of yesterday feeling incredibly tired. I couldn't even manage to get onto the net yesterday night, as i just was so tired.
I'm reading a book at the moment called "Handle With Care" by Jodi Picoult. Those who aren't familar with the name, might know one of her other titles "My Sisters Keeper". Anyway, i'm not going to go into alot of detail about the book, as I don't want to give away anything to anyone that is reading, or might want to read it. But there is a part I would like to quote. When I read this bit, i read it over and over again. It rang so true to myself… To set the scene this is a 15 year old girl, who has a sister who has a britle bone disease.This is the first time she cut herself. She has the begining of bulimia also.
…"The first cut stung. I watched the blood rise like a tide and spill down into my elbow. Shit, What had I done? I ran the cold water, held my forearm underneath it until the blood slowed. Then I made another parallel cut. They weren't on my wrists, I don't think I was trying to kill myself. I just wanted to hurt, and understand exactly why I was hurting. This made sence: you cut, you feel pain, period. I could feel everything building up inside of me, like steam heat, and I was just turning a valve. It made me think of my mother, when she made her pie crusts. She'd poke holes all over the place. so it can breathe she said. I was just breathing. I closed my eyes, anticipating each thin cut, feeling that was of relief when it was done. God, it felt so good- that buildup, and the sweet release. I would have to hide these marks, because i'd rather die than let anyone know i'd done this. But I was also proud of myself, a little bit. Crazy girls did this- the ones who wrote poetry about thier organs being filled with tar and who wore so much black eyeliner they looked egyptian- Not good girls from good families. That meant that either I was not a good girl or I did not come from a good family. Take your pick"…
I could relate to this so much. Like almost exactly. I don't think i've ever read a piece of fiction that i can relate to soo much. It made me think alot about myself, why I cut, when i cut. But in the same thought, it made me want to cut. Kind of a catch 22 I guess.
Anyway, havn't done anything much today, appart from read this book. i'm over half way though it, and its so intoxicating. My sister had a friend over last night, and for most of the day today. I spent most of that time in my room. reading, or watching movies. I watched "The Lovely Bones" which was nice.. sad.. but nice. 2012 (again) and 1408 (again).
I came really close to telling mum about me taking valium and anti depressants. I guess the first step would be telling her about the therapist and psych. I don't know if i'll ever get the courage. I was going to tell her, as I went to get some more of my pain killers, and she brought up how I should go to the drs and get a script for them. The valium actually helps my knee also, and I was going to say that, but then i realised she didn't know about the valium, so I didn't say anything.
Really wanting a drink tonight. Though I can't. I MIGHT be able to go out tomorrow and get something, but I'm not sure. Sundays are a hard one to get out, due to hardly any busses running.
Anyway.. thats enough blabble for now.