I’ve been on a path of self destruction via the means of alcohol, consumption of that makes me blackout drunk and forget the voices in my head for a little while. I’ve recognised I have a problem and I have done in the past as well. I’m going sober for a month to try and tackle it.
The voices in my head are getting louder despite the medication the doctors have me on, my sleep in restless or overkill. Too short to function or too long causing lethargy and lack on motivation.
The hangover pangs ring throughout my body not just my head, the bruises and the cuts are vivid and clear all over. I am a scar.
I feel fear even to those I love. I feel fear which feed the voices, heightening them until I reach for another bottle to silence them. The next morning they are always louder and more frightening. I have no idea what I should do.
I haven’t slept well for the past week or so and it’s starting to affect my head just a little. I cried because I was so tired and I couldn’t sleep. Like an infant.
I bought some valerian root herbal pills to help me sleep, they work alright, although the small print does say not to take them if you’re on anti-depressants.
I’ve signed up to run a 10K race in May for Mind and also I’m seeing friends tomorrow, so I’m hoping my mood will elevate.
I’ve found out I have anemia, due to a lack of hemoglobin in my red blood cells and an iron deficiency, so am now on iron tablets. I’ve also been prescribed Setraline but have to continue taking my Citalopram until I can wean off of it. I’m on five pills a day and I’m 20 just to be normalised.
I’m losing at this. I’m losing so much. I can’t see any finish line to a victory just a spiral of depression, anxiety and fuck ups. I don’t know my blood test results, my pills aren’t working as they should be and even my counselor can’t handle me, so yet again I’m being passed on and shifted around. I can’t handle this.
I haven’t posted in a while, mainly out of pure business doing other things and also lethargy. Here’s a catch up into the life of Dija.
Last week Saturday I almost passed out at work, I went grey and lightheaded, as the lights blurred together and the room began to lose solidity. I laid in the staff room, on the floor with my feet on a crate. It supposedly took half an hour for me to regain normality, even then my hand were still shaking. The reason behind it, I hit my elbow on the counter top at the till point, when turning round to ask a customer to come over to my side. I hit my elbow and almost fainted.
The bruise is still visible. It’s been joined by a wrist bruise. I can’t remember how I got that one. My legs are battered too. I look like I’ve been in a fight, which I’ve obviously lost. I feel aged with my aches and pains far beyond the twenty years I am.
I had my doctor’s appointment, she disregarded my pleas to change my antidepressants from Citalopram to Sertraline once more. Apparently I’ll get used to it, eventually. She wrote up a blood test referral and another prescription for 30mg of Citalopram. I went home and laid in bed, nodding off only a few times, before mustering the courage to go to the hospital. I hate the hospital. I hate the smell. The clinical feel. The lights. The crowds of people.
When I arrived at the hospital, 30 minutes before the blood test area closed for the day. I sat nervously waiting, scratching my wrist wishing the ground would suck me up or that I would spontaneously combust. My number was called. I took off my jacket and my hoodie, rolled up my sleeve and waited for the “little scratch” as the nurse described. My veins were difficult to surface and shared the same reluctant feeling as my mind. The “little scratch”, by no means little or a scratch, took five full tube with different coloured tops, left a mark and yet another bruise for me to add to my collection.
I rushed out of the hospital as soon as I could. I went to the library. I sat reading in a secluded armchair at the top of the stair, as my mind drifted between words on the page and the throbbing in my left arm. Two hours passed. I’d finished reading and decided it was time to start homeward bound to familiarity and the comforting solitude of my bedroom.