I want to get off my face. With what? Alcohol? Drugs? I don’t care! Although I think drugs would win as I’m really after being calm, sleepy, dopey and peaceful.

I can say I don’t do drugs with a snooty air of superiority but that’d be misleading. I don’t do illegal drugs. Mine come from the pharmacy, which is fine when they’re being used correctly. Actually I do take my prescription meds as I’m told as I know that if I dick about with them then it’ll make getting prescriptions harder in the future, especially with one significant overdose in the bag already.

Instead I play about with OTC stuff: promethazine and cocodamol. Occasionally I chuck in a lorazepam but that’s prescription and if I use it too much it’ll get taken away. One of the reasons for starting quetiapine was to stop this polypharmacy meddling I indulge in.

Thing is I’m tired. Tired of being ‘on’. The static in my head makes me grumpy and short with the people I love. My self-hatred means that their touch is like being prodded with a red hot poker. They shouldn’t be touching me – I am rotten. I swallow down my discomfort and add it to the already seething volcano. I hate myself further for being like this. F-u-u-u-u-u-u-ck! Listening to the children requires the kind of concentration that I imagine a code breaker has to employ. I listen-take in the info-stifle my reaction-process the info-decide on an appropriate response-give said appropriate response. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. All the stifling and pushing emotion down makes the poison inside bubble more furiously and panic begins. A quiet panic that no one sees. I need to escape. I can’t. This is where DBT skills are pretty lacking to be honest. The urge is to be dead. A completely nonsensical reaction but there it is. Can’t be dead. Can’t escape. Can’t get drunk. Can’t go out (it’s dark, I’d be scared and my husband would stress). So here I am: DRUGS. 

I have all manner of distraction techniques but I’m past that point. This happens all the time. Why can’t they help me with this because I don’t know what to do?! 

The overdose urge is strong but I can’t. It caused such a breakdown in trust in my marriage last time that I just feel trapped. Like I want to scream help me help me help me but I can’t because all of the ways I scream help me are destructive and just asking in a normal person manner doesn’t yield results either.

And then…is it passing? Am I settling? Even if I am the enormity of recovery feels too much, impossible. I can’t. I’ll go to sleep, have nightmares like I do every fucking night, and then I’ll wake up and wait to see what-the-hell mood I’m in when I wake up. Then I’ll begin planning how to manage that emotion, to get through the day, to function, to be as good a mother as I can be. Enormous.

Shhhhhh the static. Quiet the volcano. Sedate the monster.


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