[Just all the trigger warnings]

I know the blog posts here are becoming increasingly, “I am not okay, here.”

I was thinking about this just this morning. How I don’t fucking know how to fix this anymore. How I should ask for an appointment with my old therapist so I can catch myself before I fall too hard. What this might be because of. What I could do right now to help myself.

I am so tired all the time. The kind of tired I should possibly be calling fatigue. It feels like it should physically hurt. Like every muscle in my body should be aching but it doesn’t. It feels heavy and oppressive.

I forced myself into college today and could barely talk to my lecturer properly, my brain was skirting around the ideas I wanted to communicate and I couldn’t zero in on what I was trying to say. I tried to crack a really bad joke about my concept for my project to my lecturer and realised once I’d done that, and was laughing stupidly at my own joke, the blank look on her face wasn’t because the joke was bad but because I’d skipped half the explanation.

It hurts to be like this. It feels like lumps are being carved out of my chest, I’m walking around with parts of myself gouged out, trying to pretend to be normal and like nothing is happening.

I’m being smothered by self hate. Part of my brain is constantly being taken up with critisizing myself. I’m fat. I fucking hate my double chin. I feel it constantly, like I can’t breathe properly. I’m disgusting.

I caught myself thinking of ways to hurt myself. To kill myself. It felt like it did five years ago when these things were regular. I’m scared.

I’m noticing how many walls I put up. It’s fine to whinge on my blog and hope to dear God in Hell that someone sees and understands but actually talking about it to someone? Oh hell no.

At the same time I am so sick of being by myself. I feel so alone in this. I feel like the fight is constantly mine and no one is here to hold my hand or hug me when I need it. And part of that is because I’m not saying I need it, my mouth won’t let me. But at the same time I want to be held for a while. I want someone to focus some time on me. I don’t want to feel like I’m fighting this alone. Again. Like always.

But the fight has always been mine and mine alone.

It’s suffocating.