I feel like shit. I look like shit. I am shit.
Those are horrible things to think about yourself, aren’t they? Constantly, nonstop. Day in and day out.
I had been doing better, much better recently. My moods had improved, I was finding enjoyment in things that I haven’t for a while, and I was really championing myself again.
Then I missed ten antidepressant doses in the trot.
I’m not sure why I did that. I think at the start it was because I was busy rushing around after everyone else, overtired from night shifts and then day shifts without an adequate break to adjust… but then the apathy set in, the ‘what’s the point’ view crept back that I had fought off before. The flashbacks reappeared and kept me up, the headaches and the withdrawing from the world took hold.
I’ve really not missed the flashbacks. They are so prominent and it’s like I’m right back there again, with him on top of me, me sinking into the sofa, pushing at his arms, begging him not to, the shearing pain, the smells, the rain on the window, all of it. The flashbacks are even more horrendous than they sound. They make me cry for hours afterwards and hate myself even more.
My eating also took a complete nosedive as well. Back to restricting, craving control over what goes into my body, obsessing over tiny details in private, while acting normal in front of everyone else concerned. The meds had stopped that, they had brought my appetite back, they stopped the destructive cycle of self hatred that I was committed to.
I have started taking them again and now trying to rebalance everything. Why does everything have to be such a fucking struggle, I didn’t ask for any of this, you know?
If I’m on the way up, then just let me keep going in one direction.