I said I would write because I was informed I hadn’t blabbed in a while, so I am. It’s been months, per my usual trend of on and off; and again, I’m not sure where to start. I read my previous post before I started this one, and holy fuck, how much has changed.
I wrote a post prior to this one a few weeks ago, but was actually smart enough to not post it because I’d have cops at my door for a wellness check every hour on the hour. I can say it now that I’m a little better that I’ve been severely suicidal. Like my medication was being doled out to me to make sure I didn’t have access to everything at once. Including my over the counter shit. Like a cocktail of Vitamin C and Unisom was gonna do something. I was borderline waiting for my internet privileges to be taken away to deter me from Googling pill combinations or filling my Amazon cart with the supplies necessary to make a suicide bag (yes, that’s a thing). Reading that, you may wonder why I’m speaking so nonchalantly about suicide. If I’m being completely honest, it’s because I don’t care. I don’t care that people know how I’m feeling, I don’t care about their opinions on how I’m feeling, but I also don’t care if I die. There might have been a few seconds of hesitation, but only to decide if I wanted to chase that shit with Patron or Tito’s.
Now I’m a little better. My doc gave me some sort of extra med that kept me off the ledge and (great news!) she’s recommending me for that new ketamine or whatever treatment for people with my kinda crazy. I refuse to Google too much into it because I’m scared – everyone keeps calling it a horse tranquilizer or basically molly – so I will remain in the dark until I go in for my lengthy interview. It’s the one time in life that being THIS bad actually benefits me because, to even be considered, you need to have 1.) Chronic depression, so not just a few bad weeks, but 2.) Have to have tried at least 4 different meds that have failed. Doc told me she just prescribed me my FOURTEENTH medication. So not only was this shit made for me, but insurance better cover every fucking dime.
More good news. My lazy ass has gone back to kickboxing and I LOVE it. Maybe that’s why I’m better. Endorphins. Happy. Happy people don’t shoot their husbands. Or because I really enjoying hitting things. Or because the instructor is adorable. Either way, it’s forcing me to go, and I’m loving it. I know I also talk a lot about my diet. If it seems like I’m always on one, I kinda am. It’s more so just how I eat now. I’ve lost the initial 30 lbs, but now I’m working my ass off before my upcoming bff’s wedding festivities so I can rock that maid of honor dress. Even been drinking less. Don’t be too shocked – it’s still way too much. But I’ve probably dropped a few points on the alcoholic spectrum.
Final note: I put $900 worth of Jonas Brothers on my credit card yesterday. Mostly because I’m an amazing big sister. And I was too medicated to care about the total amount. But also because Joe Jonas.
have fun at the concert,koke