29 going on 15. Seriously. I thought I had adjusted to the tough and tumble of life by now, I thought I had learned enough coping mechanisms to see me through. Nope. I resorted to a habit that I thought I kicked a few years back. You'd think I'd just pick up the bottle and start drinking again. Instead I picked up the blade and carved into my flesh like a melodramatic angsty tweenager. I have the outline of a 3 by 3 square on my chest with horizontal stripes, had I thought before cutting I could have just called it a bar code and done vertical stripes. *sigh*.
I'm overwhelmed. Period. With the problems with my back injury, financial stress, the move in of my fiance and her kids, and my own anxiety I've hit overload. I haven't been suicidal for a long time (or maybe it just feels that way), but the other night I had dreams of killing myself.
I didn't dream about the means or the methods. I didn't dream about how easy it would be to just fade into the distance. What I did dream about was my fiance, and how upset she would be. (aside from the fact that the house needs to be in her name before I even consider actually doing anything). No matter how much *I* hurt, or how numb *I* feel, I have to remember that I have people who depend on me to keep going, to keep pushing forward, to keep fighting now matter how hard it gets (and man, its been hard these past few weeks).
I'm going for a psych eval tomorrow. It's going to be an all day thing, I already know. I'd really like my fiance to come with me, but the house being in a giant state of unpack with all the boxes triggers her anxiety. Yesterday we fought over a roaster. She threatened to move out over a roaster, and the idea thatI got my britches in a knot over something so insignificant as this makes me sad.
I told my fiance last night that I was struggling with depression and suicide, she knows about the panic attacks, the nightmares and the anxiety. I guess long story short, I'm a mess.