I’ve been fighting. Fighting, struggling, and lashing out at the faceless, formless thing that chases me ever since I can remember. I’m so very angry now, tonight, all day, – technically a lifetime…whatever. Angry and tired, I sit with my hands on my knees and my head bent, rocking…weak but wishing to be strong; held captive but wishing to be free; alone and afraid, wishing for comfort and courage.

I am sad as hell and I have no one in real life to talk to because no one cares or understands and whatever I know that it’s my “fault” that I don’t have the support system in place when I am in dire need of it…which would be now. I know that I ****. Got. It. I am a bit on the ‘not-lucid’ side tonight and a wishing I was drunk! It is so hard to stay sober and I am starting to doubt the worth of it.

There is a part inside who has been researching how to die…quickly and painlessly. Last Friday it was an overdose of medication (I won’t say what med it was because it is now in the past and I don’t need some well-intended person yelling at me OH MY GOD THAT COULD **** YOU in all caps - sometimes we are still in quite a fragile state.) I write this because I feel like those of you who have been a part of this journey with me should know what’s going on. This is what’s going on: I do not feel better. I do not have a good support in place here. Shame. On. Us. We have not done a good job at getting this done. I have continued to pretend like everything is fine when there everything is so very un-fine. not-fine…so very opposite of fine.

I can’t cope with the frustration and invalidation tonight. I can’t cope with the screaming. I am not coping at all. I’ve tried. I can’t. I am struggling right now, tonight, to make it minute to minute. I’m not sure what I’m doing. I feel like I am fighting a losing battle and I have no coach. And I do not feel better.