I’m not a monster

I want to put words on a page right now but everything sounds so incoherent in my head.  I think I might be heading towards my rock bottom, I guess the good thing there is if I make it out alive there is no where to go but up I thought I’d already hit it but this is worse and feels different.  I don’t even understand how my shrink can actually think that I’m doing good making great progress when I’ve taken sprinter steps backwards, I think that last year was so hard that I could only work on so much and now the shit that I didn’t work on is catching up with me and fucking with my head big and my body and the sad thing is I was just starting to genuinely love myself thought I’d found an answer. I was in bed by 10pm on new years 08 because I didn’t care and how could 2009 be worse than 2008, or worse than the dreaded 2003 memories.  I’m just sick of it, I’m sick of not letting things just slip off my shoulders I’m sick of smelling bad and how greasy my hair is, I swear you could cook an egg with it. I haven’t bathed since last Wednesday but you will be happy to know that I changed my underwear. I’m sick of my stronger meds that make me sleep till eleven everyday when I used to get up at seven, I’m sick of watching my body waste away again, watch the clothes that I thought I’d worked so hard to fit back into falling off me again, I’m sick of two dumb fuck assholes who have the audacity to take credit for the original snap what like eleven months ago now, I’d imagine they are taking credit for the continuation as well, welcome to your front row seat. I’m sick of keeping myself alive for my husband and my cat when I can handle no affection right now and I’m sick of that too I want to be held so badly but I don’t know how and yet I’m torturing their heads and scaring them both.  I hate the terrible things I say about wanting to die to my husband when he just doesn’t deserve this shit whether he thinks he knew what he was in for or not. I’m sick of suffering from something that some people don’t even think is a problem let alone something that requires treatment, yet I find it crippling like that stupid fucking commercial depression hurts everyone, yeah my friends and my cat and my husband depression hurts everywhere fuck my back is killing me I’m SICK of abusing prescription drugs to the point I fell over and smashed my leg into the coffee table last night and now I can’t stop running my fingers over the bump it gives out a nice shot of pain when I touch it. I haven’t wanted to write about how shitty I’m feeling because it all sounds stupid in my head and stupider on paper. I’m sick of the fact that PH’s suicide doesn’t get easier to deal with each year while the anniversary fastly approaches it seems to get harder because I think I get it now it would be easier to just press delete and live in my own head silently not screaming out loud and I’m sick of knowing how much worse other people have yet here I sit whining the fuck away. I’m sick of people being afraid of me because I have a temper, I am FUCKED right now but I am still trying trying trying trying or I wouldn’t write this stupid dumbass dribble. I hate myself, I hate myself so much I feel I deserve nothing, other than marrying the best man on earth and I KNOW the jury is still out on how the fuck that happened. I’m sick of hating myself, I’m sick of starving myself to punish myself I’d rather have an eating disorder so at least I’d have an excuse for why I’m so tiny and ugly.  I’m sick of being sick of it all and the bottom line is I’m sick; I’m sick IN THE HEAD.