After the unexplainable rage subsides I am left with a throbbing forehead and a bruised palm/knuckles.
I don’t know why I did it.
It felt invigorating. I felt in control.
Maybe, I thought to myself, my mind wanted to turn my rage-filled thoughts into actions. My Head thought, “maybe if I turn my actions physical they will leave my mental..”. it didn’t work that way.
After I engaged in self harm I thought I had really damaged something. I did. I popped a blood vessel in my hand from smacking my forehead so violently. I had bruised my knuckles as well as my face.
I didn’t care about the bruises.
I didn’t care about my hurt hand.
I just want these feelings to GO AWAY.
I was doing so great for a whole week I was getting back in control. Four days ago I felt it creeping back but tried to tune it out. I stopped going to yoga, stopped cooking my own food, and am on edge with everyone because at any moment they could set me off spiraling down again.
Waking up this morning and rolling over was painful. Just brushing my head against something hurts. I am so angry with myself for causing myself harm. I can’t explain it, but it almost feels good. I almost escape.
I’ve worked at Apple for two years and In that time have taken off 2 weeks in total. One week was for my grandparents anniversary that brings family from all over the US together on Cape Cod. And the other was for a trip to France.
I don’t take time for myself. I’ve always worked in the restaurant industry so I never knew what vacation time was and I’m not in the habit of using it. That being said, recently I felt like I was either working or not working-nothing in between like my own life. I didn’t have a life, I gave it up to commit to my job. My job is fantastic but I put so much passion into it and get so little back that it leaves me with an underlying feeling of unhappiness. My leaders could see I wasn’t the same bubbly Nicola I’ve been in the past and suggested I take a week off.. I had the vacation time to swing it so I did. I left work that day and committed to getting my life back.
My backstory is quite lengthy so I will save that for another time. In short, I have been battling depression for about three years and never knew it. It’s coupled with a substance abuse issue that has been significantly improved on in the last year. Like I said earlier, I found myself either forcing myself to be perky and happy at work or in and out of sleep on my days off. I moved and didn’t make any new friends and my passion for cooking and being creative died. I felt like I was dead most of the time. I couldn’t feel my limbs but I could feel my thoughts and they didn’t want to live with me anymore. They didn’t like my brain or its vessel- I didn’t like my brain or vessel. I wanted out. I frequently Engadged in self harm like punching myself in the head trying to numb myself from hating what I was thinking. I would drive myself into madness then try to shut it all out by drinking until blackout. It became my ideal way to cope- get drunk enough that my conscious brain would give up and some other part of me that I wasn’t aware of or interact with would take over and I’d wake up in bed alive. It was a vicious cycle and I felt like I had to suffer through the “new me”.
A few weeks ago I relapsed. I binged drank at a bar and drove home with no memory. My neighbors found me on my front lawn and helped me inside and into my bed. I woke up in the morning so disoriented and confused I tried to account for all of my belongings: wallet, phone, keys. Where are my keys? I see my car but there are no keys. I have to get to work, I’m shitfaced, and I can’t find my car keys. I’m bruised from head to toe (a different story) and have no control over my thoughts. I spin into a panic attack and begin vomiting. I put clothes on and start looking around where my car is parked to see if I may had dropped them when my neighbor come out holding my keys shaking his head in disappointment. I got the same talk my parents would’ve given me but all I could do was think about how I wanted to end my shitty existence. I grabbed my keys and told him that thanks to him i no longer want to live. He said the world would be better without idiots who drink and drive like me… little did he know I was drugged and assaulted that night. But my fault. Don’t worry, anything you say will never have the same effect I have over my own brain. You will never hate me as much as I hate myself.
I have been seeing a psychiatrist who has been helping a little. We are trying to figure out if my depression is stemming from the alcoholism or if it’s a neurological thing. I’d prefer no meds, but I also don’t have the ambition to tackle this shit.