It sucked in a few very specific ways and it sucked in some very general ways.

I started off yesterday crying. Basically the first thing I did when I woke up was start crying. I went into Tom’s room and I cried and talked to him. I told him about all the things that are overwhelming me and why I’m having trouble coping. He was comforting for a few minutes, but then he started backing off. He needs to develop space and I respect that. It doesn’t make it easier. He was also in the process of getting ready to go somewhere and didn’t have time. So basically, sucked to be me.

I had a friend over yesterday. I didn’t entertain her much. I was so tired and shitty feeling that I didn’t get much done and I didn’t entertain her very much. I felt like a failure as a hostess. We watched a couple of movies and we both got some relaxation time. Not really too bad considering that neither of us sleep enough. Eventually we got dressed and headed up to the QoH party. (It’s a sex party, for those of you who don’t know.)

I played with two people for most of three hours. The play really didn’t go how I wanted it to go. The girl and I were being lesbian sheep and there was a situation with the guy that resulted in me feeling really rejected. I didn’t manage to recover. (As I left one of the hosts of the party asked if there was anything he could do to make my next party better. I flippantly said, “Tell ‘x’ not to be an asshole.” I didn’t mean it. If it was repeated to the person, I apologize. I don’t think he is an asshole. The situation just sucked for me.)

So I started driving home from the city. I was crying. I was feeling really shitty. I started really wanting to cut. It is a pathetic coping mechanism, but one that I don’t seem to know how to get over. I liken it to being an alcoholic. You never stop wanting to cut/a drink. You take it day by day trying not to do it. It also comes back to something to something I said to a friend recently. She is going through a bad period in her life as well and she related that she had felt briefly suicidal and is now more conscious of some things. For me, being suicidal is like being a brunette. I can color my hair and try to pretend that I’m not, but I always am, and the roots will always show again eventually. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t suicidal. I don’t know what it is like to not want to die. I live with it every single day. I don’t think people realize that I really would like to die. Each and every day I think, at least once, usually most of the time, that I would like to die.

And when I’m doing well being suicidal and wanting to cut is still there. Just not as large or as obviously. When I’m not doing well, which I’m not right now, I have trouble going five minutes without thinking self-destructive thoughts.

I’m really ready to get over this piece of being depressed.