A summary of a few kicks in the buttocks

Dearest fellow bloggers,

I have not written in a while, so I feel I must first provide you with the briefest synopsis of the past few weeks of my life. Basically, the last few weeks have been characterized by depression and anxiety and fast flip-flops of emotions. There have, of course, been good moments, but in general life has not been so easy. Two weeks ago I almost tried to overdose on Klonopin. I didn’t and instead sought out my friends. The next day I started to write a suicide note but stopped because I realized I didn’t actually hate life enough to leave it. Each day after that was a struggle to stay on top of things mentally and emotionally. I did a pretty good job of it, meaning no self-harm, but I was certainly tested. Among those tests and trials was the hospitalization of one of my best friends, Kate. Kate was hospitalized because she was suicidal. Wow- that was a big hit to me.

Kate’s hospitalization was painful not just because she was struggling to stay alive at a time that I kinda was too, but also because of what it said about our friendship and her lack of honesty and respect for my emotions (based on conversations we had just a few days before her hospitalization).

What a pattern.

Seriously— during weeks when I am really struggling emotionally, I get hit over and over with emotional pain and drama regarding the some subject (depression). One week I was battling to stay positive and not think about suicide when BAM I end up talking to my seriously suicidal friend and calling the non-emergency police line to check on her. Then the  next day there is a murder suicide on my campus. And this week, I have been struggling to move above bad “coping skills” like self-harm and suicide ideation, when BAM my friend ends up in the hospital because she thinks she wants to take her own life.

So this morning I walked into a session with my therapist feeling fresh self-contempt. Before this appointment, I had confined myself to my bed and missed two classes and a psychiatric appointment. I was not happy with myself, and I had a lot to talk about considering everything that has been going on in my life. Well, I talked a lot. And my wonderful therapist listened and gave me some tips and insights. Good tips, good insights. However, I walked out of that session feeling more depressed than I had felt walking in (or at least close to the same level of depression). And let me tell you—it’s a real kick in the butt to leave your therpist’s feeling that down. It’s also a kick in the butt to be painfully processing through your friend’s hospitalization and friendship when your therapist asks you “So why are you still friends with her?” Phewww…. I have a lot to think about. Unfortunately for me, that’s a bit of an issue when I already have a hyperactive brain.

…OK, I’m done throwing myself a pity party. I promise my posts will not turn into martyr pity fests. Just bare with me now, it will get better.

And of course, being a critical perfectionsit, I must remind myself: The reason I created this blog was not to have people like my writing, but to use it as a coping skill. And that is what I’m doing right now.

Ten points for Tanya.

And now I am going to go hold my guinea pig until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.

Peace, truly,


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