Sometimes I feel trapped. Trapped inside of my own head, like my mind is holding me hostage. It’s holding itself hostage. I feel depressed, I feel suicidal, I feel like I’m never going to escape. I want to cry but I can’t, when I do it comes in floods, like my eyes haven’t seen water in years, I gasp for air as if I’m drowning. It’s better when I can’t cry, at least I can try to pretend that I’m okay.
My doctor increased my anti depressant today. I told him that I wanted to overdose on Paracetamol. Just like last time only this time I would succeed. He told me that I wouldn’t die, that it would take a week for it to kill my liver and in the mean time I would have thrown most of it up. So I told him I would think of something else, another way.
I’ve been good though, I’ve been resisting. When I find myself home alone I go for walks, I go to the store, avoiding the paracetamol aisle. I visit my employment worker, I see my doctor every week. I’ve called lifeline three times this week. And texted them. But none of it is ever enough. I still feel trapped, wherever I go, whatever I do.
I feel as though it’s never going to go away, even when I’m manic I’m still trapped inside of my own head. Forever trapped. Forever trying to escape. I grasp at anything I can. For something tangible that I can hang on to. Luckily I have my husband. Because no matter how hard it gets I’ll stay for him. I’ll always stay for him.