I need a new living situation

I am currently on day 2 of tapering my meds, so I could very likely be overreacting right now. But I can’t deal with my roommate anymore, and this has been a common theme lately, to the point where I think I need to not live with her anymore.

Her mental health is a large problem, as is mine. The difference is, she seems to really enjoy the attention that comes from being sick, and doesn’t seem to be trying too hard to get better. And I am working hard every day to improve my health and my life. So in that regard, she’s a very negative influence in my life.

I honestly can’t tell if what happened today is that bad, but I feel really angry and upset. She’s on a day pass from the hospital she doesn’t need to be in, so she went to the gym with our mutual friend Lizz, they came back here, and now they’re going to the mall. They are both friends of mine and were in the same room as me discussing these plans while I sat on my laptop in sweatpants clearly not busy, and they didn’t invite me to join them. That seems petty as fuck, but even if I didn’t want somebody to join me in a similar situation, I would invite them just because it’s good fucking manners. I’ve told both of them that I’m having a rough time right now, but nobody asks how I’m doing, nobody thinks I might need to get out of the house. My roommate is the one being dramatic, but somehow she ends up with all the friends. I’m so over it.

I need to get out of this house. I need to get out of this school. I need to go somewhere where I am valued as a human being.

Sarah

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Today’s Crisis

I am low-key (high-key) freaking the fuck out, as I have been for around 3 weeks now. I’m sorry for unleashing all this negativity on the internet, but you don’t have to read it, so I think it isn’t my fault. Probably.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but my roommate/ best friend has been in the hospital for 2 weeks now. She started being super depressed 3 weeks ago, so that’s when the whole ordeal really started. I found out today she might be in the hospital for 4 weeks. I cannot fucking do this anymore.

I am having such a hard time, every single day, and I have no support. I didn’t realize until now that she was my support. And now I have no one. So I suck it the fuck up and rally every single day and remain the strong one because I don’t have a fucking choice. And she has a boyfriend and a million friends and her family and everybody in the whole damn world to support her, and it’s like she isn’t even trying.

I know that’s a horrible thing to say that somebody with a mental illness isn’t trying. And I don’t know if it’s just too terrible to think she’s really suffering this much, so I make myself believe it isn’t true, but it really fucking feels like she’s doing a lot of this for attention. Again, I know I am a piece of shit. But I can’t stop feeling this way. And I suffer from severe mental illness myself, so it’s not like I don’t understand depression. But I don’t see why she needs to self-harm in obvious places. I don’t see why she needs to tell everybody and their cat that she’s in the hospital. I don’t fucking know.

Now is where I become an even bigger piece of shit. She says she’s doing trauma therapy for a trauma she has never talked about before, and I don’t believe that it happened.

I realize how terrible I sound. I’m reading these words too. But for years, she has insisted that her only trauma was her step-mom dying of cancer. She was asked by doctors for years if anything like this new trauma had happened. And I know it makes sense to not want to talk about a traumatic experience, but we had multiple conversations about this. And why would she bring it up only to lie about it, if it really did happen? How could she seem so casual about it? I feel so strongly that she made this up recently for attention.

I am now re-evaluating everything that has happened since we became friends. And when I think about it, she does seem like an attention-seeker. She talks about having Bulimia with anybody who will listen 24/7. She tells everybody in existence when she’s having a hard time. She will casually talk about killing herself for a week. I’m not 100% convinced that this new analysis is correct; but it feels possible. Again, I know I’m a piece of garbage. But I know what it’s like to experience severe mental illness, and I still feel this way.

If this is the case, we can’t be friends anymore. I can no longer be friends with my roommate, my only support, and my friend of 3 and a half years. I have truly and honestly been fighting everyday to get better. And she seems very content to stay sick and reap all the attention that goes along with that. And that will hinder my efforts to improve my own health. But if I have to do that, then I really have nobody, and then my brain starts going to really dark places.

I don’t know whether these thoughts are true, some defense mechanism, or just me being a worthless excuse for a human, but they’re my thoughts. They’re thoughts I’m too ashamed to mention even to my therapist. I hate her and I hate myself simultaneously. Everybody is selfish. Everybody is a bad person. Everybody hurts people around them. I don’t know. Life has just been so hard lately.

The Ativan I took a while ago is really starting to hit me now, so I don’t know if any of this makes sense, and I definitely need to stop writing. I just needed to get that out there.

Sarah

Overreaction

My mood has always depended on the little things.

This fact is often helpful. If I’m slowly dying from an eating disorder, but I bought cute boots and my coffee is delicious, then I’m in a good mood.

Unfortunately, the inevitable flip side is that if everything in my life is going well, but my bus is five minutes late, it’s a disaster.

Today is an example of the latter case. Sort of. Pretty much everything is going well for me right now. I’m making friends, I’m earning good grades, I’m getting #thosegains around three times a week at the gym. I also feel incredibly lonely a lot of the time, and my depression is much worse than I would like. But I’m not overdosing anymore, so my doctors are thrilled.

Anyways, here is the actual story. I made a burger for dinner and put it in my room while I used the bathroom. I knew Zoloft (my cat) wasn’t in my room, so I figured I had time before she tried to eat it. I came out of the bathroom and looked around for the cat, and my roommate told me she put Zoloft in my room because she was digging in the garbage. I ran into my room to find Zo eating my burger. So that went in the garbage and I had no dinner.

This story probably sounds like a bummer, a minor inconvenience. But tears are streaming down my face right now and I am considering just taking some Ativan and calling it a night.

Here is the event in my brain. I am exhausted. It has been a relatively long day. I’m really not feeling great emotionally. I came home feeling weak, and looking forward to eating. I spent around ten minutes making this burger, which is about nine minutes longer than I usually spend preparing a meal, and I was going to eat it in my room and watch YouTube videos. This was going to make me feel okay. I was in the bathroom for maybe thirty seconds, and now all of that is gone.

I could go make another burger and continue with my plans ten minutes later than I had anticipated. But instead I’m crying in my bed without dinner because that wouldn’t be the same. My expectation of eating THAT burger and watching YouTube videos and being happy is gone. And I did nothing to deserve this.

I understand how unreasonable I am being. I don’t understand why I am reacting this way. But I am. And I have done this before.

Maybe I have been approaching this breakdown all day, and this seemingly- innocuous event was “the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Maybe my happiness is just fragile, always a cat-eating-a-burger away from shattering and becoming depression and loneliness and sadness.

Maybe this is a symptom of my Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder,  which had irreversibly fixated on having THAT burger when and how I planned to have it.

Maybe my control issues have been triggered by this sudden change of plans. And the fact that I can return from a trip to the bathroom to find a different reality than the one I had expected is what’s crushing me.

Like I said, I have done this before. When I was younger, I would attribute my extreme reactions to something “serious” happening in my life at that time. And adults understood. My childish meltdown was the outcome of bottled and displaced emotions originally caused by a “real” problem. I have a specific memory of getting unreasonably angry with my friend Lacie on the same day that my dad was moving out. I remember crying to my mom that “I don’t want daddy to move out.”

But that wasn’t why I was upset. I was just angry with Lacie. And I always felt that I was lying when I blamed my emotions on a larger problem. Even today, I don’t feel like ongoing stressors finally caught up with me. I feel like I wanted that burger.

So, I don’t know why I reacted this way. Maybe there is some meaningful psychological reason, or maybe I’m just a piece of shit who flips out over nothing. Either way, it feels like shit.

Sarah

Word Vomit

I am feeling a lot better than I was a month or two ago. But things are still hard. And I am working my ass off everyday to make things as good as they possibly can be. So I have no patience or sympathy for people who don’t do that for themselves and complain about how shitty their lives are.

I’m aware I’m about to sound like a huge bitch. I AM a huge bitch. I have no idea where this rage is coming from, and it’s probably misdirected, but I need to let it out somewhere.

My best friend is so fucking dramatic. SO. FUCKING. DRAMATIC. First of all, while I worked my ass off in Anorexia recovery, she wasn’t even trying to recover from her Bulimia, and complains about it all the fucking time. If she was trying, that would be one thing, but she isn’t.

Today, she seemingly decided to actually start trying, and she’s being dramatic as fuck about it. This is day one of not bingeing and purging, and I get that it’s hard, believe me. But she was fine until her boyfriend came over, and then she stopped studying and ran into her room crying and he’s comforting her, and she’s already had Ativan so she shouldn’t even give a shit anymore. Like, you don’t need to be crying like a child.

I get that I’m being an asshole. I fucking hate myself. But I can’t make it go away. So whatever.

Not to mention, she has her boyfriend to support her. Some of us have fucking nobody. Even if I wanted to throw a hissy fit for attention, nobody would care. But how about you show off the fact that you have everything in the world by crying over nothing?

I’m having a shit time every day, but I am putting a regular face on it and doing the shit I need to do. WITH NOBODY TO SUPPORT ME. But now you have all the attention in the world and I get to sit here having actual problems with fucking nobody to give a shit. I can’t even take Ativan because I have academic responsibilities that I actually attend to.

I honestly was so much less dramatic around the time I attempted suicide twice and overdosed a total of three times. Whatever.

I don’t know why I’m so fucking angry, but I am. I am a piece of shit and the scum of the earth and maybe I should have waited a little longer to go to the hospital after I did those things last month. That’s all.

Sarah.

Great Fucking Night

Warning: Author is tipsy. Reader discretion is advised.

My sarcasm game in the title is strong.

Hello, everybody. It has been a little bit since I’ve written. I think I always say that.

I’m pissed. I’m fucking pissed at everyone and everything and I hate it. Tonight is Math and Stats pub night (Sorry, I can’t be tamed). I had to miss the last Math and Stats pub night because my ex went and rounded up a whole group of her friends to go with her. I was determined to go this time, and I still am. My roommate agreed to go with me earlier this week, but she’s having a pathetic meltdown because of a midterm she knew was today when she agreed to come with me.

I have OCD. I get incredibly triggered when plans are changed on me. So I know I’m being a colossal fucking bitch, but how about you rally because it’s a midterm? The professor uses different grading schemes, so that midterm doesn’t even need to count. Get a grip. She didn’t even tell me she wasn’t going with me anymore until I asked.

I have been looking forward to this event all week because I have zero time to socialize ever. And now I’m going alone and I may not know anybody and my ex may or may not be there, but that’s neat. Did I mention I have Social Anxiety Disorder? So my roommate wrote a midterm that doesn’t even count, and that is grounds to trigger everything.

Not to mention the fact that I am actually lonely as fuck. I miss having somebody so much, and it’s incredibly hard to meet queer women because they’re a much smaller proportion of the population than straight men. Part of me just wants to take some guy home to feel better about my life, but I’m really not about that life right now. Unless maybe they’re trans and I don’t have to deal with a penis. I’m being really inappropriate; I apologize.

I’m just really fucking sad and everybody is letting me down which was my entire fucking childhood because I’m an idiot. Wish me luck at finding somebody to love me because I’m going to be a sad, pathetic asshole until then.

 

Sarah.

PS: Probably more drunk than tipsy at this point. Let’s pretend I live in a timezone where it isn’t 6:46. It was 7:46 at this time a couple of weeks ago? I’ll stop.

I Can’t Today

When I left the hospital Sunday, I was the happiest I had felt in weeks. I had no desire to contact my ex again, and was happy to be alive. My ex can still go fuck herself, but so can my life.

Maybe I didn’t sleep enough last night, but I hate everybody today. Even my best friend. Especially my best friend.

She decided yesterday that she could be pregnant because she fucked up her birth control earlier in the month. Despite how unlikely this was given her shitty eating patterns, she took two tests. I was supportive. It’s a scary thing. I guess it made sense to take a test, just to be 100% sure. But two? Whatever. You do you. This morning, I got a message from her saying she was missing work to take another test at the Student Health Education Centre. I decided to meet her there after class, because still, I’m supportive as fuck.

But she messaged me back saying she was with her boyfriend, so it was okay. First of all, why message me then? For attention? You’re not fucking pregnant. And she’s turning this into a whole thing where they’re bonding and discussing what they would do if anything ever happened, but NOBODY IS PREGNANT. Stop looking for attention from your boyfriend and everybody else over a pretend issue. Some of us have nobody in our lives and want to die all the time. You’re lucky you have somebody to impregnate you.

I know I’m just a bitter bitch because nobody gives a shit about me. But I am over this day and it isn’t even 10:30 and I have linear algebra in 15 minutes, which I don’t want to go to. And then I have to go home and read a million textbook chapters and then possibly buy shoes and then go to a Social Anxiety group (room full of people not wanting to be in a room full of people? sounds like a blast), and then go to comedy night at the pub.  And some asshole in Calculus kept putting their feet up behind me, and that’s fucking disgusting. It isn’t related at all, but I’m pissed about that too.

That’s it for right now. Time for some fucking linear algebra.

Sarah