Being borderline is smashing a mirror up in the hopes of using a shard to harm yourself – and using the handle of a very sharp knife to smash up said mirror, despite the knife being much sharper but you’re so damn focused on that mirror…
(Yes, that actually happened.)
I was in A&E last night with the very real desire to end my life if I didn’t go there. For a Friday night it was actually pretty quiet, so we didn’t have to wait long to see a psychologist from RAID (the crisis team) which was a bonus. I spoke to her about how I’d been feeling about some things that have been affecting me in a very bad way. This was after I’d spent a few hours with Husband talking and calming myself down. I even asked one of the A&E doctors if I could just go home – but when you go in during a crisis, understandably they can’t just let you walk away. So I saw the psychologist who cleared me to leave as she was satisfied that I was well enough to go, and then I went home.
Today, I quit my job. It was the best decision all round, and I feel lighter for it.
Now I’ve got to start the long, possibly painful process of putting myself back together. I want to get back to doing the things I enjoy and that make me happy. Whilst visiting my in-laws during the week I painted for the first time in months. I don’t write any more – something I’m hoping to change during November with NaNoWriMo – and to be honest, I can’t remember the last time I found anything truly enjoyable. I feel drained of all positivity, exhausted right down to my bones and generally like a husk. I want to get rid of that feeling.
It’s going to take time. Bear with me, world.