Well, I was feeling a bit better - I got up, had a bath, washed my hair, listened to some music... and thought that instead of waiting in vain for someone to reach out to me, I would, (again,) be the one to reach out... let's get back on track, I thought... or at least try.
But then I made the huge mistake of reaching out to my mum. Bad idea. What started out as a promising conversation about maybe getting my car back on the road (I thought it was beyond repair) turned into her saying all the wrong things about how it happened, and about the txts she had sent me (basically she'd got all at cross purposes with the txts and had ended up getting pretty nasty) - but she just wouldn't listen to me. Of course it was all my fault, and I push people away. Right. Anyway I try to tell her how I feel, and actually tell her I feel really bad, emotionally, that I'm not coping, that I'm not in a good place - but she's totally not understanding what I'm saying or where I'm coming from. Long story short she starts shouting me down, and I start crying and trying to be heard, and she hangs up on me. In anger, I slam the phone and kick things around, but then I take a minute to breathe, and actually put myself out there again by trying to call her back to put things right, even though inside I am furious. She doesn't answer. I ring again. She doesn't answer. I ring again. She's unplugged the phone.
In a fury at the 'rejection' and in my despair I send her a txt that basically says something to the tune of - 'nice parenting, mum. Hang up on your suicidally depressed daughter. Nice going. F--k the car, I won't be needing it.' With the intention that this. is. it. I've had it. 'Nobody cares...' Ironic thing is, she probably won't even get that msg until tomorrow, because she never has her mobile on.
So I took a knife to my wrist. Again. Over and over and over again. I tried to really do it - and I meant it - but it is actually crazy hard to try and exert the amount of necessary pressure to do such harm to yourself, it's like your survival instinct takes over and won't let you, or something. And, also, cutting that part of your wrist - really hurts. So I get mad with myself, because all I have is lot of pathetic shallow cuts. So I start to wonder about other ways - but I've been here before, there is no easy way out that I can think of/find - and by now, I think with all the endorphins from all the cutting, I wasn't feeling as urgent about ending it.
Dad came home, and I wound up going downstairs in an effort to reach out to him instead. It ended up being a ridiculous, and very one sided 3 hour conversation, which was basically me saying how awful the world is and how I have no place in it, and all the ways I'd contemplated ending it all. Which, I don't suppose, is stuff he wanted to hear... but he didn't react, which made me feel even worse. I felt like I was flogging a dead horse. Here I am, baring my soul, spilling my guts, waving my bloody arm at him, and he's just like 'what do you want me to do/say?' I'm like 'how can I make you CARE?!' I finally, finally, got a hug from him, after I basically begged him to show me some love and support. Hollow victory, really.
Which allllll makes me sound very needy and desperate and attention seeky, I'm well aware... That's not really who I am.
So, I'm now very tired, worn out, and sort of emotionally numb. Everything seems so ridiculous - life, death, therapy... (As I ranted on and on at my dad I found myself getting really sarcastic about the whole process, very negative. Which, I know isn't the rational me thinking/speaking - because I really value therapy... I'm just mad because my T is away ) When I'm really depressed and hopeless my sarcastic, negative, pessimistic, *****y side really comes out and mocks the part of me that's trying to cling on, hope, and be positive...
So, I'm no longer in the mood to actually kill myself, but I still wish I could fall asleep and not wake up. Because really, my life (whilst not being 'worse' than the lives of so many others, I know) just doesn't feel worth living. For a lot of years I've been trying to convince myself that things will get better, but they never do. Thing is, they get worse. At 16 I thought I had problems, but looking back, I laugh at 16 year old me - problems? What did she know? I'd do anything to go back to that time. Things weren't nearly as messed up back then. I can't believe it's been a whole decade of my life, with little respite or happiness. How did I let things get this bad?