Sena's DW :: Watermelon Life

On top of everything else, this is around the time I attempted suicide last year.

I failed, obviously.

I don't really know how I feel, coming close to that anniversary, I don't even actually remember the exact date(s) (because I tried twice), which I feel like... might be really weird? Like you would think something like that would be SEARED into your brain, right, but for some reason all I can think is "around February 9th-10th-ish?"

I wonder if it's my brain's way of protecting myself. To spread out the grief and depression over the course of a few days, rather that focusing it intently on the two specific days. Like a built-in airbag system for my psyche.

Or maybe I'm just that scatterbrained, idek.

Anyway, like I said, I don't really know how I feel about Right Now. I guess I'm kind of numb to it, it feels like it happened to someone else, even though I know I'm the one who took the pills and barely made it through the night. Twice. I think it's weird for me because I still struggle with suicidal ideation on a daily basis, and a part of me wishes I had succeeded a year ago: that part gets louder when I'm going through particularly bad times like I am now.

And it's complicated by the fact that I have a phobia of therapy/therapists, unless the appointments are remote, like over the computer, not that it matters because therapy of any kind isn't covered by OHIP or ODSP and I can't afford it otherwise. Seems like something that should be covered, but mental health stuff is really overlooked, unfortunately.

But yeah. The next couple days are going to be strange for me, I think. Maybe I'll just try to drown myself in Fringe episodes or my writing. Or sleep. Sleep is always good.

A couple of days ago I somehow ROYALLY buggered up my knee, and basically my whole left leg from the knee down hurt like FUCK, but especially the top of my foot for some reason? And only when I walked, when I STEPPED DOWN and put pressure on my leg. It wasn't sensitive to the touch or anything, it just hurt like fuck to WALK. And I was like, cool, you know, sounds like a plan, body, what else have you got for me? Luckily it only lasted a couple days, and this morning it's (mostly) back to normal with just some minor pain when I walk, which I hope will be completely gone in another day or two.

Next week Mom and I have to go back to the house in Baysville to haul furniture and boxes some more, and I think Mom plans to go twice in the week so that's going to suck but I guess it needs done so LET'S DO IT. It's just hard because of my back/hips/knees/wrists/hands/lungs BASICALLY MY WHOLE BODY, hauling heavy stuff up flights of stairs is like torture. But we have to get as much of it out to the garage as possible so that I know what's left to go to Dad's for storage there, since storage units are like $500/month now and I CANNOT afford that. :|

Last week when we were there we discovered that the mice that Grandma allowed to run rampant in the house for years had gotten into my couch and love seat so I had to throw those away. I have a chair down there still that I have to inspect but my hopes are not high for it, which SUCKS because it's the best chair EVER.

I have a lot of regrets in my life, but moving out of my last apartment and in with Grandma is one of the biggest ones. I was having mental health crises in that apartment, but if I had just stuck it out and gotten on the right meds it would have worked out and I could have stayed there. Then my stuff wouldn't be destroyed and I would have my own apartment, still. But I guess there's nothing I can do about it now, except wait for the subsidized housing people to get to me on the list, preferably some time this DECADE.

It's been twenty days since Poe last emailed me, other than to tell me that they couldn't email me for a while because of the whole mentioning TW thing. Sometimes I feel like our crazies match up, and other times I feel like they just look for excuses not to talk to me. I'm starting to wonder if we just weren't meant to be friends after all, considering all that's happened, even though we're basically the same person. I want to send them some Juna pics to cheer them up, but I don't know if that's allowed. I just don't know anymore. I just want them to be happy.

I still haven't gotten the wiggly foxes up on Etsy even though I said I was going to. I looked at the pictures I had taken and decided that I needed more of them, but then I've been procrastinating over actually DOING to pics, because I always do that, so they're just sitting here, staring at me.

I think I'm depressed right now and my motivation is just... not there for most things. I should be making candles, too, but I just... meh. I dunno, maybe I'll get out my candle stuff so I can make a couple later in the day when Jessie's room is closed up (that's where all my candle supplies are stored.) I really want to check the Dollarama for more of the super pretty Thanksgiving mugs to make into candles but I had to buy printer ink with my Trillium Benefit so I'm broke now until the end of the month unless I take money out of my jar again, which I shouldn't. Sucks.

I started writing three more Hijack one-shots last night, Switch, Paris and Violets Are Blue, all of which are Chemistry side-stories. I'm really enjoying writing Hijack in-and-around my SPN stuff lately, it's nice to get my head out of the Destiel for a while on occasion. I mean, I'm still working on Storm Season and When Lightning Strikes at the same time, and I also write a couple of blurbs for The House this morning, but, you know, variety is the spice of life and all that.

I really do want to write something for Valdemar soon, too. Maybe I'll finish Not Horses or Wander, or possibly Knowing? I don't know, I always have SO MANY Valdemar one-shot ideas it's hard to narrow it down to just one to work on. I'll figure it out, though.

Writing seems to be one thing I can still focus on despite the depression creeping back in, and I'm sure that's because of the ADHD meds. I think without them everything would just be me laying around thinking about the sweet embrace of death (again) and just generally being horrible. At least with the writing it gives me something to focus on and keep my mind of the CRUSHING DESPAIR, for part of the day, at least.

My Amazon cart currently has $145.09 worth of stuff in it, but to be fair there are 4 DVDs (Abigail, The Mitchell's VS The Machines, Sting & Kung Fu Panda 4) and two things of Halloween candy for next month, so it makes sense that it's that expensive. I can't pay for it until the 30th, and even then I might have to defer some of the stuff until my other government payments come in around the 15th of October. I also need to mail Poe's parcel when those come in, and the TINY PACKAGE is going to cost me like $118CAD WHAT THE EVER-LOVING FUCK.

Literally I remember mailing SUBSTANTIAL parcels to the UK back in the day and it costing me like $38CAD to do it, I have no freaking idea why everything is so much more expensive nowadays. INFLATION, MAN.

P.S. I did manage to get about 3 hours of sleep last night after all. I am freaking exhausted, obviously. Going to go get candle stuff and then have a nap, I think. Hopefully I can sleep for real this time. *fingers crossed*

EDIT: Also, Mercedes Lackey is running another kickstarter type thing for a deluxe leather-bound book of like 30 of her short stories and I want it SO BAD but it's $100USD and it ends in like 15 days so WAY before I'll have the money to pay for it. I hate when people run kickstarters (etc.) for really short periods of time, it means people like me who have to scrape together the money get left in the lurch. :(

I've been thinking a lot lately about all the fuck ups that have happened during the course of my mental health treatment. All the incorrect medications and incorrect dosages, the misdiagnoses, the psychiatrists who would NOT listen to me about ANYTHING, but especially about the fucking ELECTROSHOCK THERAPY that one of them convinced me to try.

First of all, I should say that electroshock therapy is not like it is in the movies and on TV. It's very easy to go through. They basically knock you out completely for the procedure so you don't see or feel anything, you just wake up a while later and go home having had your brain minorly fried. I should also say that I know electroshock therapy works for some people for some conditions, not everyone has the shitty experience with it that I had. It's a legit therapy, but not for everyone, the same as any treatment or therapy.

But for ME...

Basically, I was scheduled for twelve sessions, one a week for twelve weeks, all of which were naturally at five am. Because reasons?? Anyway, I went to four of them before dropping out BECAUSE AS SOON AS I STARTED THE ELECTROSHOCK THERAPY I LOST THE ABILITY TO FUCKING SLEEP. To be clear, this is NOT, apparently, A SIDE-EFFECT OF ELECTROSHOCK THERAPY. Or so they say. But as soon as they started shocking my brain I stopped sleeping. I would stay awake for days on end, and then, as it later turned out, when I DID finally sleep, I wasn't going into REM sleep, so I wasn't getting any proper REST.

This went on for YEARS. At one point when I was going to the sleep lab, a lady was talking with Mom and Mom explained what my problem was and she went "oh, did she get ECT?" AND WE WERE LIKE !!!!! (The sleep lab just told me that I wasn't getting REM sleep, the same as the OTHER sleep lab had told me previously.) But the second sleep lab was able to prescribe me medication to get me to sleep, if not get REM, so that was a plus, even if that medication gave me horrible side-effects.

NOW I'm on a new med to help me sleep, just in the last few months, and it seems to even get me into REM because I'm having dreams again, which is cool. But I mean... the electroshock? Definitely not worth it. It didn't help with my bi-polar and just FUCKED ME in other important ways. If I could go back and do it again I would absolutely and emphatically say no when that stupid psychiatrist suggested it. =/

The simple truth is that if I had access to a gun, I wouldn't be here anymore.

When I first quit my job, back in January, there was the vague thought that I would get myself sorted out and then get a new part-time job (preferably not at McDonald’s) come the summer time.

I originally quit because I was having a mental health crisis because of everything with Poe and I just couldn’t hack it anymore, but I had been really struggling for some time, basically the entire time I worked there, because of the strain the job put on my body and the fibromyalgia, the scoliosis and the arthritis, not to mention the panic/anxiety attacks and how shitty my lungs are with the longhaul Covid…

And since I’ve started on the Vyvanse and I’m thinking clearly, possibly for the first time in my life, I’m realizing that it might not be realistic for me to work at all, with my health the way it is. I’m still dealing with the mental health crisis from January on top of everything else for Christ’s sake.

I’m in constant, agonizing pain every single day, and that’s just going about my regular day-to-day business, never mind trying to work. I would have to find a job that would let me sit for 90% of my shift and not have to deal with people or the public, and DEFINITELY not do any lifting or twisting, and there’s nothing like that out there for someone with my lack of education.

I want to talk this out with Mom, but I’m so afraid that she’ll get upset with me and think I’m being lazy or whatever, but I’m NOT. I WANT to work, I just physically and mentally CAN’T, and I don’t think she understands that. I don’t think she understands the amount of pain I’m actually in. I think she thinks I’m exaggerating it and I’m NOT, I just… I don’t know how to explain to her because she’s not living in my body so she can’t experience it first-hand. And it hurts, knowing she doesn’t believe me or thinks I’m being a drama queen…

I miss Poe, and I miss being able to talk to them about this kind of thing because they GOT IT. The pain and the way everything was fucked up in my head. They were SO good for me. Until they weren’t anymore. And I still don’t know what happened, don’t understand. All I know is my friend is gone and I have to deal with all of this on my own now and it sucks.