I haven't written in a while. Last year sucked, a lot. A friend who was like another mother to me when my husband and I first got married killed herself in the spring. Then I lost a friend who was like a mentor to me (he became borderline abusive towards me). Then I had another close friend, but I got too close. I didn't respect their boundaries. I didn't understand boundaries (I've been going through a book on boundaries though (I've almost finished it)). My mental health has been getting worse. In early November, I had to be hospitalized for a few days. I hadn't made a plan to kill myself, but I was in the process of coming up with one. They put me on Lithium, which pretty much did nothing for me. It didn't make me better, but it didn't make me worse either. I was taken off that and put on Tryleptal. That was a disaster. My BPD episodes were more frequent and more severe. I was having several episodes a day - all day. I'd be extremely emotional, then dissociate, and it'd just keep going back and forth between the two - no middle ground. It was absolutely exhausting. I couldn't keep up with it anymore. I tried calling my psychiatrist, but he didn't return my call in time. The day after Christmas I told my husband that if I went outside I was going to jump off our apartment building. Honestly, if I did, it probably wouldn't kill me. I'd probably have broken bones, though I possibly could become paralyzed. Many times I nearly drank bleach. I probably wouldn't drink enough to kill me, but it would cause some damage to my organs. Anyway, my husband was really scared. He told someone what I had said and next thing I know, the police is at my door. They took me to the hospital (which was a disaster there). I was there for a few days. I got taken off the Tryleptal. I haven't been put on anything as a replacement yet, but my episodes aren't as bad as when I was on it at least.
My mental health seems to keep getting worse the older I get, and no one seems to be able to help me. I've wanted to just disappear since I was a kid. I've been in therapy since I was 12 years old (that's when I was diagnosed with depression). Ever since I started therapy, I've been bouncing between therapists. I keep getting transferred to a different therapist because I'm too much for them. I'm in a lot of therapy throughout the week.
I've been fighting for my life for a long time, and it's tiresome. Sometimes I get to the point that I just don't want to fight anymore. I get tired of fighting in a losing battle. There is a war in my brain and I'm losing. I just throw my hands up and say, "That's it! I'm done! I can't do this anymore!" I've been very nhilistic, and there's just not much I really care about anymore.
Recently I was taking to my mom on the phone and she asked me, "You really want to kill yourself, don't you?" I had a difficult time answering her. You see, I'm an empath. I feel and take on the emotions others have. When she asked me that, I could feel pain coming from her. It made me think, "If I were gone, maybe people really would be sad. I've really been thinking about things and I've decided, I'm going to keep fighting for my life as long as I can. I can't promise I'll make it out of this alive, but I'm not going to give up. I have to keep fighting - if not for myself, I need to at least for the people who care about me. If they haven't given up on me, I need to not give up either. The enemy isn't going to destroy me, as much as he would enjoy doing that. I'm not going down without a fight though. So go on ahead 2019, bring it! I'm putting my boxing gloves on and I'm not tapping out.
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