It’s scary how quickly a descent can occur. There was friction with my father yesterday, on Fathers’ Day no less, and from there my thoughts just spiralled. Instead of then just being about the present issue, it became about the past where I didn’t get what I needed, and it became about the future where it felt futile to hope or want for anything more.
I’m glad to report that today was a better day. Because what terrifies me the most is if it’s not just one bad day, but one after the other in succession, which then turns to weeks. It’s funny that it used to be the thought of getting better that scared me, particularly the loss of support it might entail. But now that I’m not seeing any mental health professionals in the first place, there’s nothing to lose and only something to gain. I’ve had months of predominantly wellness and stability and there are no words to describe how much I fear losing that. It wasn’t that long ago I was very unwell that I’ve forgotten what a painful and lonely place it is when in the grips of depression.
It’s been over five months since I last overdosed, and five months since I was last in hospital. In the past almost 2.5 years I’ve never been able to go more than 4-5 months without overdosing and ending up in the ED again. I’ve been crossing my fingers that things don’t go downhill and that I can keep this up. Please let me keep this up. I have no options if things go downhill. Therapy makes things worse because of my fear of rejection and abandonment. I have no doctor to play around with my meds. So I can only hope, and keep hoping, that it doesn’t.