Lying
I just got out of hospital after a manic episode. 6 days after being admitted, I managed to lie my way out, everyone (parents, therapist, psychiatrist, friends) convinced of my safety. I then, stupidly, made the mistake of telling my proc in our appointment 5 days after I got out that I was still feeling suicidal and my self-harm urges were high. He put me in PHP (partial hospitalization program), which I start tomorrow. I will be going to the program (which consists of therapy groups, skills groups, etc.) from 9am-3pm for a few weeks. It completely interrupts my normal life--my work, exercise, everything. Not that I really care anyway.
My psychiatrist doesn't think I have a plan (I do,) and also doesn't know that I have been cutting every day since I left the hospital. I don't like to lie, and I especially don't like to disappoint people. This, though, is worth lying for. I have date picked, the exact amount of pills I will need, the suicide note written. Now all I have to do is wait until the day comes. I would do it sooner, but have a friend visiting from Paris in 2 weeks that I know would likely blame and then kill herself if she knew I decided to commit the final act before seeing me.
I don't know. Part of me just doesn't care. After I finally do it, I won't feel any guilt, so maybe I should just do it. For now, though, I'm just going through the motions. The meds aren't working, therapy is a joke (which is 100% my fault, not my therapist's), and I ruminate about the same 17 thoughts over and over again. I am a fucking mess, and for the first time in a very long time, I don't want to get better. I don't want to stop thinking about killing myself. Somehow, I am comforted by these thoughts, and I know no one else could possibly understand this.
My psychiatrist doesn't think I have a plan (I do,) and also doesn't know that I have been cutting every day since I left the hospital. I don't like to lie, and I especially don't like to disappoint people. This, though, is worth lying for. I have date picked, the exact amount of pills I will need, the suicide note written. Now all I have to do is wait until the day comes. I would do it sooner, but have a friend visiting from Paris in 2 weeks that I know would likely blame and then kill herself if she knew I decided to commit the final act before seeing me.
I don't know. Part of me just doesn't care. After I finally do it, I won't feel any guilt, so maybe I should just do it. For now, though, I'm just going through the motions. The meds aren't working, therapy is a joke (which is 100% my fault, not my therapist's), and I ruminate about the same 17 thoughts over and over again. I am a fucking mess, and for the first time in a very long time, I don't want to get better. I don't want to stop thinking about killing myself. Somehow, I am comforted by these thoughts, and I know no one else could possibly understand this.