Panic Attack
Previous - this entry written on February 04, 2006 at 11:30 am - Next

Must not kill. Killing is bad.

Said I wouldn't do this again for a while. *twitch* Can't self-medicate any other way.

Hormones... gods. Don't even get me started. I saw an icon of the box cover for Brokeback Mountain and started crying.

Conversations. Really. Before noon, when I've already got my f'ing away message up, when I'm not initiating them. Fuckoffandpainfullydiekthx.



At this point I'd like to know where I screwed up, because it's getting more and more obvious that I did, somewhere, and I can't sort it out.

I want to scream. Caleb's still sleeping.

I want to go Out. There's nowhere to go and we couldn't afford it if there was.

I want protein. Jack-all in the house but tuna.

I want to go back to sleep. If I go back to this fucking dream I'm going to slit my own throat when I wake back up. I'm tired of it. Very tired of it. What, a week now, and every time I'm not holding myself in check and fully conscious, wham, right back in it. The things I could write.

But they scare me.

A lot.

I don't care how rational I am and how well I deal with shit normally, I can see myself slipping. Fast.

And I know what I'll lose in all of this. WHO I'll lose. If I'm going to lose them either way, I should do the responsible thing.

At least maybe then I'll have some pride when it's all over.

I told myself I should stop making vague entries because right now, there's a fairly high risk that I won't remember what the fuck I was talking about the next day. While that's all well and good, I don't think I have the courage to write about all of this in any more detail.

It boils down to this: I feel like the depression I normally deal with and the level of bizarre and seemingly-insane things going on in my life are both right at the edge of being Too Much For Me To Deal With. As in, I'm honestly considering seeing what it would take to check myself into somewhere before I lose it. I know if I do that, I'll lose a lot of respect for myself, because I won't have dealt with this on my own, in my own way, on my own terms. I know if I do that, I'll lose contact with just about everyone in my life for a while - and despite how intense many of the friendships and relationships are, I know that a prolonged absence is likely to spell the end of them. I may be able to pick up distant friendship, when I return, but it won't go back to this, to being what I need and want and crave. I know it'll likely be a finantial problem; if I were back in Portland, on OHP, I might have been able to figure out a way to do it. Married to Caleb? I can't stick him with this kind of a bill, particularly if it's a bill for me-not-being-here-with-him.

But I'm afraid if I don't get some sort of help, like I said, I'm going to lose it. This isn't the first time in my life that I've been scared I was going crazy. It's just that the other times, either I got fairly immediate proof that no, I wasn't imagining it... or I waited too long, and ended up trying to take a much easier way out.

I will NOT fall into that again, dammit. I want there to be at least one thing I've gotten past, and I want it to be that. I want to know that I'm at least strong enough to keep going.

This is an overdramatic entry. Aren't they all? But like so many other things I do, it's all I know how to do. Write it, get it out, blow it up huge and spill out every drop of it, so that I CAN forget it, CAN get past it, CAN keep going.

It's funny. It really is.

(No it's not. I've already gone too far.)

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