Content – Anxiety, Suicidal Ideation, obsessing, food, hatred for mother
I know I’m not just my normal anxious self, I’m dissociative and hormonal.
Not so long ago I thought to myself, I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to die.
I’m obsessing over stuff.
There’s a place in my house where I can mess around with soil and mud and make the worst mess ever. It looks like the carnage I feel inside, like parts of me smeared here and there in a murderous craze. (saying stuff like this may be why she won’t come and get her painting or respond to communications.) After I looked at the muddy mess I didn’t feel satisfied, I felt suicidal.
Take me away.
In a few hours Snow will be here. We have to go to the grocery store. I don’t want to but I need to. yesterday I had the best roast beef sandwich known to man. It was roast beef, sliced tomato, cucumber, green peppers and a bit of feta dill dressing on the side. That sandwich was awesome. I purchased stuff to make the tuna sandwich I used to get from Subway. I’ll have that here tomorrow at a fraction of the cost. I’m using pita bread which can be difficult to use if the ingredients are wet or you over stuff it. I put the dipping sauce on the side. I’ve got White American Cheese, shredded lettuce, banana peppers, bell peppers, cucumber and black olives for the mock Subway sandwich. I’m looking forward to it. I can’t eat a tuna sandwich if I’m dead, right?
I’ve drawn sunflowers again and again and again. I draw one then turn the page and draw another. Eventually I added a girl in a field of large sunflowers. I turned the page and drew another girl in a field with large sunflowers. It felt…. necessary……authentic. I didn’t feel like I was hiding anything in the art. I drew what was in my head. I know large looming flowers is a negative image for me when dealing with art therapy, but sometimes a large sunflower is just that, nothing added to it. So I drew until I felt I’d put every sunflower in my inner field on paper. Beside two single bloom sunflowers is the word ‘hope’. Even though I feel suicidal or I feel like I want to run away from everything (not medically possible) I know in my heart there is hope….I do know that….
I don’t want to be dead, I want to stop feeling what I’m feeling. I want to feel sane. I want to ………apologize if I scared the lady who wanted to come and pick up her painting. I’m humiliated by this whole thing…….that has nothing to do with feeling suicidal…..it’s just that it popped in my mind again. I want to rest my head. I don’t want to feel like a burden to others. I don’t want to be a burden to myself and I want to be in bed before this feeling starts to eat away at me.
My eyes are bad. I really need to see the doctor about this but I can’t fit him in this month. There are too many other appointments like fixing my stupid jaw bone, again. Ridiculous. I It’s doesn’t hurt any worse than anything else.
It’s true that I said I hadn’t seen the family friend in a while, but I did this evening. I was able to make it to the first half of the meeting but I had to come home. The family friend was there. I didn’t get to talk to her but I did give a note with my phone number on it. I’d like to do some volunteer work with her if possible. My head has to be better for that. I can’t go to homes with my mind like this. Thank goodness perfection isn’t what is required of us to receiver love from our Father.
You know what? I’m hungry. I should eat something quick. I’ve got to go to sleep so I can be ready for Snow tomorrow. I want to call Dr. D tomorrow. I want to know he’s still around….. Robert get his time when we go to see Dr. D. I’m not sure if Dr. M is going to fill the Klonopin script.
I’m not going to buy ice cream at the store.
Mary Jane is fine and so are the frogs.
The feeling of wanting to die is just that, a feeling. We understand it to be a symptom and will address it with Dr. D with all the seriousness it requires.
Just to say, I hate my mother. I hate her. I can still feel her touch on my skin. She’s disgusting to ever touch her child, disgusting.
I should go now.