A semi-nightly blog about my uninteresting life, and how mental illness touches it.
Parallel
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The fog lifts, if for a moment, in burning alcohol and garnet pearls glistening against skin. Clarity and stillness beget by measured pain; weakness as safe haven.
More than anything, this blog is feeling less like a record of my experience than a gaping hole to toss thoughts I can't otherwise express into. Hardly anyone will read these, so whatever I say here is more or less shouting into an infinite void that will never respond, no matter how much I want it to. I know that a lot of people talk to themselves more or less continuously in their minds, but I wonder how many have to endure a constant internal war between two mutually exclusive perspectives. A constant war where you have no idea which side is real, or if either side is real, or if anything that goes on can be trusted in any capacity. It's a miracle that I'm able to function at all when I can't trust any thought that crosses my mind. She doesn't give a shit about you, and she probably never has. Probably wants you gone, out of her space, out of her life. She does care, she just needs space. You know exactly the toll you've taken; she deserves to take...
Yes, this post is late. Day 64. Mood: ~3.5. I spent approximately twelve hours in my lab, starting to work at 4pm 28 Apr and leaving around 4am 29 Apr. I told myself that it was because I wanted to finish processing specimens before the weekend, and that's what I told Favorite Person and Curly, who both inquired. In truth, though, I needed a long distraction from the mounting sense of being a failure. You see, from an early age, much of my sense of self-worth was based on my academic performance, and my involvement with things. I had praise for my intelligence heaped on heavily from the beginning, and that praise somehow eventually generated extremely high standards set for myself, standards that I've never been able to meet. Then, I befriend Favorite Person, who I watch meet and exceed the bar I set for myself, achieving what I expect of myself but am never able to accomplish. I'm always happy for her successes, because that's what friends do, but watchi...
I'm not getting any better. This morning, the intense, desperate desire to die was a horrible complement to the empty hopelessness that I'm all too familiar with. For the first time in a while, I was completely unable to attend any of my classes today, and didn't have the energy to leave the house until nearly 6pm. I'm used to this sort of thing happening over the weekend, but having that sort of smothering, heavy distress come over me on a day when I have responsibilities to attend to is frightening. I already know that I struggle to take proper care of myself, not eating, drinking, socializing, or exercising nearly as much as I should, but having this kind of nonfunctionality during a time it doesn't typically happen makes me afraid that I'm slipping into being completely unable to care for myself in any regard. I'm deeply afraid that I'm getting to the point of needing to be admitted. Favorite Person has asked if I've looked into inpatient trea...
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