My head is being annoying again. Just when I think things are good and okay, I feel that cloud roll in and darken things up again. It's frustrating. I'm tired of my happiness being so short lived. I know I'm supposed to keep an eye on triggers for depression, but how can you tell the difference between depression and just upset? I'm so sick of my brain. I should be happy right now. Things are looking up. I have a roof over my head, bills being paid, food on the table, 2 jobs when people are fighting to have just one and yet I'm starting to get depressed. Derrick and I had a long talk last night in regards to last nights post and about me showing signs of an emotional affair beginning with a close and personal friend online, but nothing is going on. But I feel like I can't even chat without my friend without Derrick making some excuse to walk by and read our PMs or he asks what we're chatting about, etc. I constantly feel like a little kid being monitored by a helicopter parent. Now I'm worried that my friend won't want to talk to me anymore because it feels like we're doing something wrong.
I want a drink. Really bad. And when I say drink, I mean, crack open the vodka bottle and put in a straw. I'm tired of being a right fighter, a people pleaser and a fixer. I don't know why I'm so worked up and worried about making EVERYONE I meet happy and satisfied. I don't know why I'm always so lonely and desperate for attention. I don't know why it starts out as something super innocent and escalates to something to outta whack that even I'm left with blurry vision. It's days like this that I miss cutting. I want to get drunk and take a pair of scissors and just carve up my legs again. There's something so comforting about the burning sensation, the beauty of the blood and the release of all the toxic emotional poison building up inside. I know I'm not supposed to cut, but there's something so warming about it. I know I'm not stable and I haven't been taking my meds like I'm supposed to. I take them sporadically and sometimes I miss them for days. I can only imagine what the Lithium is doing to my liver. I have no idea. I wish they had a Cutters Anon.
I wonder why I constantly worry about being abandoned. I worry about abandonment so much that I think I create it and begin to push people away, rather than wait for them to leave on their own. I think, partially, that's why it was so easy for me to have an affair, because in my mind, I never actually thought Derrick would stay with someone like me. A crazy, fucked up, mentally jumbled freak who panics over everything. So, I began scouting. Looking for something, someone, not necessarily someone "better" per-say, but someone just as fucked up as me, that understands me, accepts me and wants to help me like I want to help them. Where's MY fixer? Why am I always the one wanting so desperately to help other, to assure their comfort and to make them more self-confident, when I'm tearing myself apart, losing my own self-image and destroying my confidence? I'm lost. I am a lost little girl and I have no excuses or reasoning behind my actions. I know I'm not supposed to cheat and yet I do it anyway. I'm so desperate for affection, starved for it, literally and emotionally, that I create these atmospheres of trust that ALWAYS lead into something more, and I KNOW where it's going, and I continue to let it and sometimes ever encourage it. Makes no sense to me.
It angers me that people don't take me seriously about being a sex addict. They think it's an excuse-label for being a whore or slut. They seem to think, only men can be sex addicts because they can't control their erections. Wrong. Women can be SA too and it's harder for us because there's so many more scary consequences for us. But how does one manage being a Sex Addict when the Support Groups are only for men and women are considered a "trigger" and therefore, unwelcome to the meetings. Do you know how hard it is to be bisexual and a sex addict? Both men AND women are triggers for me. But I can't get the help I need, I can't learn to cope with my addictive behaviors with other like-minded individuals, who are also trying to cope and survive in this world, because I have a vagina and breasts? What, the, fuck? Really?! I need help. Granted, I have a fantastic therapist and she's doing all she can to help me, but one on one with a therapist isn't helping me around the millions of other people I could interact within any given day. Where's the groups for the Bi's?
Life is too short to be spending it so bitterly. Or drunk. But I can't help it. There's just days when my mind attacks me and the voices are incredibly mean and demeaning. I know that killing myself via alcohol isn't smart, but staying at home and drinking until I giggle, sounds like a great plan. And now another stressor shows up at my door--my grandparents show up, right in the middle of me blogging and trying to relax. But I have on a fake smile, I nod and politely agree with their meaningless and stress-inducing conversation. I hate to be like this with family, but I have no choice. I can't explain to them how I feel because they're too old-school to understand. That and they're from a time when Mental Illness wasn't a thing. Medications are a crutch, I need to learn to suck it up, snap out of it, move on and carry on. THAT'S one of the main reason I started drinking so young, because I was constantly berated, degraded and then told to get over it.
I need a drink.
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