Monthly Archives: May 2014
Every time I get high, the harder I crash.
I have episodes, short lived of pure euphoria. And it’s great. But it’s short lived, very short lived. And the higher I was during that episode, the lower I sink into this hole.
I hate depression. I hate that I’m messed up like this. I like to feel high even if it were for a little while, but I’m not ok with the crash at night. It’s hard to sleep. It’s hard to think. I’m mad all the time, at everyone.
The only time I feel halfway normal is when I’m with my mom. We don’t even have to be doing anything at all, and I’m happy. I’m ok. I’m not exactly happy,but I’m not anxious, or depressed, or pissed off. I’m just ok. And then I come home, and I’m depressed. And it’s hard to sleep, to get to sleep, to stay asleep. I’m tired of living like this. And then I think that it would just be better if I weren’t anywhere at all, if I were just to pass peacefully in my sleep. It would be easier than dealing with the highs and lows of what’s been going on here.
I don’t like feeling like this, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if I need new medications, or therapy, or if I’m just losing my mind.
I’ve been thinking about babies again. Remember when I had that whole episode last year? Well, now I’m on the opposite side.
I’m living with a friend who has a toddler and what I’ve learned about myself and toddlers is that it’s not going to fucking work! Why? I have intense anger issues.
Toddlers get on my nerves. They stink, they are loud, obnoxious, and cry over nothing. Oh, sure, there’s some fun stuff like when they are being silly, but mostly, I get mad.
I don’t think that I’m anywhere near ready to be a mom. I’m not stable enough to even possibly consider being a mom. When I get mad at the toddle running around my house right now, I imagine horrible things. And, yes, I try to stop the ideas that pop into my head, but they don’t go willingly. I get visions of evil things that could happen with my own hands and then I think how horrible I am. I want to scream and cry because of the things that I think of, but what if I’m just becoming this evil person that I don’t even recognize? I mean, those thoughts, aren’t my own.
I’m not ready to be a mom. And I’m glad that I’m not one. I think that it would be catastrophic if I were to be a mom. I would be horrible, and mad all the time. ANd I know that being a mom isn’t easy at all. With a baby, you have sleepless nights, if that were to happen, and me being me, what kind of life would that child have? It wouldn’t survive and I would be in prison for a very long time, unless I had a lawyer that likes insanity pleas. It’s horrible that i’m thinking about this. But I just couldn’t keep the thoughts to myself anymore. I’m not ready to be a good mom and I won’t be a good one should the occasion arise.