I know I'm depressed. It's figuring out how depressed I am and how much my CF plays into this and if I can pull out of this with therapy or if I have to have another psych med to help me. My insides hurt a kind of hurt that is so hard to describe. I know I am in there somewhere fighting to get out, but this sadness is blocking the real me.
I am a picker. Two years ago I was able to get it under control and it is only an issue occasionally any more, but in high school and the start of college it was terrible. It went along with my PTSD and OCD and control issues, and I've been having more problems with it lately.
I am having problems dealing with my lack of energy and the fact that I am bleeding so often - like everyday, despite being on the pill that is supposed to make my period go away completely. And I just don't have the energy or the drive to pick up the phone and call the gyno to get an appointment to try and figure out what's wrong because I feel like they aren't going to figure it out anyways, so why should I bother?
I've been picking again and I don't know how to stop. There's nothing there but I pick at it and get it infected so that there will be something there to pick at. I think this has to due with me feeling like a failure. My friends are graduating and all I want to do is push them away because I don't want to think about all those people getting what I really wanted. I don't know how to express how much I really wanted to become something. I wanted to overcome my disease and do something.
I'm failing. I can't get out of bed for very long during the day, let alone get anything accomplished. I want my place to look presentable when my parents get here next Friday, but I have no idea how that is going to happen. I need to pick up clutter and do dishes and maybe laundry and it's all just a big mess. The floor needs vacuuming and dusting and I just look at it, think about how much work it is and go back to bed.
Not only am I failing here but I am failing everywhere else too. I am supposed to be a good Great Strides team leader - and we're not close to our goal of $5,000 yet - no where near it! And I am supposed to be doing the media stuff for the Great Strides Committee - and I haven't done anything. And I'm failing as a captain of the dance team. And I am failing so hard I can't even pour my meds and realize I'm missing my iron, which could be why I'm so tired.
And I'm so depressed that I'm thinking of going to the hospital for my IVs after the showcase just so I can avoid the world for two weeks - I wouldn't even be able to blog since my laptop fails hard. Seriously it is dying hardcore. I just want to avoid the world and be curled up where no one can get to me - well the hospital isn't the best place for that - people walk in and out of my room all the time - but at least I wouldn't have to do anything myself. And Mom and Dad would clean my place.
I can't stop the urge to hurt myself. Being a picker is like being a cutter - the physical pain is a compulsion and in some ways feels better than the pain inside of me. Sometimes it's like I'm punishing myself for failing, and sometimes I am causing physical pain to ignore the emotional pain.
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