This is what my Psychiatrist suggested today. I think telling a patient with suicidal thoughts (maybe not suicidal but definitely wouldn’t care if I stayed under anesthesia after my next surgery next month) is an awesome idea. Maybe I’m not being honest. It’s not that I want to die, I just don’t want to live. Does that make sense?
When you feel like you have never belonged somewhere you get to a point where you start to think “Why do I bother?” I’ve given up on almost everything I used to do including my appearance. I just don’t care. I don’t fit in. I never have. A magic pill isn’t going to fix that. I’m to tired to try and change myself or pretend anymore.
I have decided that my physical problems probably play a large part in how I am feeling. If my kidney disease has gotten worse this could explain a lot. I also need to be tested for Mono because I was around my sister when she was contagious and shared an ice coffee with her. My immune system is non existent so my chances are good that I could’ve gotten it from her. I haven’t done anything about being in menopause which screws with your hormone levels and can make you feel worse specifically if you are Bipolar.
These are all things I have to do but don’t feel like doing. The anniversary of my mom’s death is the 9th and I have a hard time every year around the anniversary. It wasn’t me who noticed this. Of course it was my family. Sorry for having a hard time because the one person that understood how I felt, the one person who hugged me and told she me she loved me no matter what every single day, the one person who touched my face and told me I was beautiful, is gone forever. I now have no one that does any of these things. Human touch is foreign to me now.