For the Love of All That is Good!

Just be thankful, be happy! Surely it is not that hard?

I am thankful, really. I am thankful, albeit a little puzzled, at how hard some folks at Comprehensive have been working to see that I get some assistance since my OD a week ago (yeah, y'all didn't know about that, sorry *blush*). Just this morning one of them called the Powers That Be and learned that I have been approved for DL benefits (what I have been describing as sort of a temporary disability). This is good news, for heaven sake, and yet when I hung the phone up I burst in to tears. And not happy, thankful tears either. Tears because, good news or not, this is another change. Tears because while it is good it is not exactly what was (is) wanted. Tears because it means more waiting, more wondering, more worrying. It means starting one 'program' of sorts (I guess) now (because even that which was not hoped for is still better than nothing) but still hoping the other funding will come through because that will allow for that which was preferred (which would allow for DBT) which will mean another change.

I'm starting to feel like I'm at sea in a perfect storm (seen the movie? If you haven't you should because it's great... be aware, though, it made me cry and I really don't succumb to tears as often as it sounds)... a boat tossed from one wave to another. Add to that it means changing who I will be working with... it's not that the two aren't nice, in fact they are both very nice. But one of them ticked me off when be made it sound that along with all the other WONDERFUL traits that folks with BPD share another one, in his opinion, was narcissism. And the other one's cute and my age to boot *blush* Oops. That's not exactly helpful either *shakes head at self*

You know, I'd really like a good cry but having managed to stop myself (really before any real crying happened, if you want the honest truth) I don't think I can start up again... I will write now, as I would sign, and that is 'hate hate hate' *sigh* Pour l'amour du ciel juste être heureux, et cesser d'être aussi stupide. Soyez reconnaissants!

The Minutes Tick by like Hours

Why does tomorrow have to be Mothers Day? Why must this be prolonged? The minutes tick by like hours and I feel helpless. I want to do something but I cannot bring myself to do anything.

I simply wait in agony.

Denied

This letter is to inform you that you have been denied benefits. We simply cannot assist you and continue to support the individuals currently in the system1. Nor would we be able to offer social security benefits to all the drug addicts we currently support2 3

You are mentally ill. While we appreciate that this must be difficult for you and while we understand that it is not your fault we did deinstitutionalize for a reason. You will have to learn how to navigate in a healthy world on your own. It is, after all, the least restrictive environment as well as allowing us to spend the money on those who really need the help.

Sincerely

The Powers That Be






1 Many of whom are in the system for the simple reason that they do not want to work. Seriously, my grandma actually had a woman ask once why she worked when she could just be on welfare... this coming from someone in the welfare system
2 99% of whom made a conscious decision to start their drug use, therefore being responsible for their own addicted situation
3 Most of whom will spend the money on more drugs and then go to rehab three, four, five times on the states dime

Will You Remember?

I cling to this slender thread of hope for you
For you I fight the impulses and the urges
I endure this unspeakable pain so that I will not cause you more

But I wonder...

If I lose this battle with myself
If I eventually give in
Will you remember that for so long it was you I put first?
That I put you ahead of myself and the only relief I saw?
Or will you forever demonize me as the selfish person who caused you pain
Because I finally let go of my own?

Taking Too Long

I know how melodramatic this sounds but this is taking too long, folks, and I'm not sure how much longer I can go. It has been over a week since I signed the correct paperwork for DSHS (thanks SO much, hospital records, for being so picky) and I still haven't heard back from them. I've been rolling down hill at pretty much a steady clip since my incapacity evaluation. I need to know what is next. Will things move forward? Or do I go with 'Plan B'? Because 'Plan B' and 'Plan A' (where things move forward in a positive direction) have been trying really hard to switch places. I seriously cannot wait much longer, not feeling as I do. When you add to that the uncertainty regarding the assistance I am applying for... *shakes head* It's not good.

Dear lord, someone please tell me: yes or no, accepted or denied, another appointment or the pills? Because pretty soon I'm just going to default and it won't be to anything good. Well... I suppose that would depend on your own opinion. Right now it seems preferable to me...

Ah, the melodrama that is my life...

If You Love Me

If you love me, let me go. Please don't ask me to continue as I am. When simply existing hurts. When living life, smiling, laughing, behaving as if everything is fine chips away painfully at my soul. There's not a lot left, you know.

Lord, I hope you never have to feel this way.

Do you know how often I think of death? How I long for a fatal accident? How wistfully I think of sleeping forever? Do you know how many times a day the thought that I might take my own life comes unbidden into my mind? I don't like these thoughts. I don't want them. At the very least they are all small betrayals of those I love. At most they're blasphemous, a 'Screw you, you haven't fixed me yet, bet it's just because you can't' to God.

But I hurt so badly. I'm dying on the inside, slowly, and very painfully. Some days I feel closer than others. And I've done this 'living death' before. I don't want to do it again. Please don't ask that of me.

If you love me, let me go.

The closet. The razor. The pills.

Three different choices, they haunt me at almost every turn. Daily the thoughts torment me. Usually one method per day which I suppose is a small blessing. One day it's hanging. The next it's overdosing. Or exsanguination. Strangely enough bleeding out has actually become the choice I ponder the least. Once my 'method of choice' I now find I lean more toward an overdose or hanging.

But you know what I would most like? I would like these thoughts to stop stalking me. Daily. Hourly. By myself it feels like there is only one way to accomplish that. And that is to choose.

The closet. The razor. The pills