(no subject)
This discussion is interesting. I dislike the term "service user" very much. And i've been scolded for referring to my problems as "mental illness" about as many times as professionals have called it that. Some people call it "your demons" or "your difficulties", but i'm not sure about those either. I have a feeling that "mental illness" as a term is not used as much as it would because it builds itself into ones identity and makes it harder to let go of.
The strain at home is difficult. Everyone seems to be going downhill, and are brought down further by being upset about the others. There's been fighting (terrifying physical variety included), bitching, relapses, tears, and a general feeling of yuckiness.
I'm going downhill too. SI is nearly a daily occurrance. And last night i made the mistake of thinking about stuff, and it got too much, far too much. It resulted in drink and pills. My support worker wants me in hospital but i refused. I'm just sat on my bed while the waves of side-effects flow by. It's not too bad. Parkinsonism, faintness, drowsiness. I'm pretty much okay as long as i stay horizontal alot. I feel rather stupid really. Haven't i been down this road a few too many times now? I know all that an OD does is just complicate things. Unless i were to die, which would decrease the complication for me, but amp it up for everyone else. I think the amount i've taken is on the verge of enough to kill me, but i have more under my bed that if i added it to the mix would definitely be enough. I won't take it though, because i'm not done with living yet.
I'm not quite sure how to explain to Simon why i'm in this state, or just cope with the next few days in general.
The strain at home is difficult. Everyone seems to be going downhill, and are brought down further by being upset about the others. There's been fighting (terrifying physical variety included), bitching, relapses, tears, and a general feeling of yuckiness.
I'm going downhill too. SI is nearly a daily occurrance. And last night i made the mistake of thinking about stuff, and it got too much, far too much. It resulted in drink and pills. My support worker wants me in hospital but i refused. I'm just sat on my bed while the waves of side-effects flow by. It's not too bad. Parkinsonism, faintness, drowsiness. I'm pretty much okay as long as i stay horizontal alot. I feel rather stupid really. Haven't i been down this road a few too many times now? I know all that an OD does is just complicate things. Unless i were to die, which would decrease the complication for me, but amp it up for everyone else. I think the amount i've taken is on the verge of enough to kill me, but i have more under my bed that if i added it to the mix would definitely be enough. I won't take it though, because i'm not done with living yet.
I'm not quite sure how to explain to Simon why i'm in this state, or just cope with the next few days in general.