To not be alive anxieux synonyme

I’m hurting so much. I know I should be used to it by now, but it never stops hurting. I don’t know what the worst parts are, is it those moments where I thought it was getting better but it wasn’t? Or those moments where it hits me how I’ve spent almost my entire life living with this pain, running from this pain, trying to peel off my skin and exist outside of it because it hurts too much to be me?

Because being in this skin feels like every nerve is exposed and lit in flames. The shame feels like turning my skin inside out and crawling into a hole a hundred feet beneath where nobody can ever see. The self hatred used to be a balm that soothed the pain, a target for the anger, a direction to point the flames in. A distraction. Now I know it’s not really even self hatred, just shame and anger and so much pain there is no where else for it to go. I don’t hate myself, I just hate being me, I hate existing with this pain.

I don’t even have the energy for the same vicious self hatred I once held. I am exhausted. I am hurting. I am hurting again. I never stop hurting. I just pretend. Push it away. It’s like a game of how numb can we get. My therapist is right, nothing anxiety test free nhs will make the pain go away. No amount of starving or purging or drinking or isolating or cutting or pills or destruction will make it hurt less. I would know, by now.

10.05pm | tried with recovery today even though it’s been an awful day. Ate all my meals, had extra snacks. Ended up b/p-ing after dinner though.. And then broke down sobbing halfway through. Today’s conversation with katie & breakdown was too much. A reminder of everything that pushed me to the ED in the first place. I genuinely want to give up recovery because even thought the ED is hell, everything in the outside world is starting to feel anxiety disorder nos dsm 5 code worse. That says a lot. I haven’t felt so hopeless or lost in a very long time- to the point where I sobbed and just thought ‘I’ll give up. I’ll live with the ED forever. It’s something, at least.’

I’m not the type of person who just.. Gives up. If I fight for something, I never stop trying. But now I want to give up. I want to willingly walk back in. I cried all day today. I cried and cried and cried because the fear and isolation and abandonment is too much again. Even the grief. I mentally yelled at my therapist, asked her what she wanted. What does she want me to do? Why did she leave me here like this? It’s not fair. Everything gets taken away from me. I cried because recovery didn’t fix anything and it wasn’t a magical solution. I tried so hard to get better but look at me, I’m still here, struggling more than ever, alone without my therapist. How can I even start to try to convince myself I am worthy? Maybe that’s all I was made for, a life like this: with the ED. Being hurt. Trying to get by. Maybe that’s all I was meant to have and I’m being greedy for ever thinking I could eat or live or have a stable attachment.

Survival mode wants to kick in again. I want to let it. It would be easier, but I want to trust my therapist and all she’s said. I want to keep going in recovery. I just don’t know how right now. Maybe in-between can be good enough for anxiety attack treatment in er now. I’m going to try to follow the meal plan from the dietician, but count & measure everything. I need stability right now and hopefully I can get that from the numbers and weighing and measuring.

3.38pm | challenged myself to falafel at lunch 🐢 saw the dietician for the first time since the relapse and talked about it with her a little. I always like seeing her :’) she helped me come up with a meal plan to get back on track, which she thought was easy but honestly I don’t remember if I’ve ever really had 3 ‘proper’ meals outside of IP/program. Even when I was doing better at recovery. Looking back on recovery, the food part was always really shaky. I got a lot better in 2018 as a whole but there were so many small relapses and slip ups almost every other month.

I need to learn to how start coping with the ptsd & attachment triggers in other ways than the ed, instead of relapsing when they get bad- even though it’s understandable 😔 my therapist stressed on ED recovery first. You can’t feel if you don’t eat. You can’t heal if you don’t feel. I miss her so much. She would want me to get better, though. She would remind me I can’t live the life I want without recovery. No matter what the disorder says. ‘you’ve outgrown the disorder’- these survival methods have helped me, but they don’t work anymore and my therapist has helped me so much. I’m actually so much better (mentally) than I was before. The thoughts & beliefs are better. I know better.

It’s been 20 mins since I woke up and I’m already painfully suicidal. I slept okay but I think that’s because I take double the sleeping pills now and those take away the nightmares. I reach out for xanax. I stop because I can’t drink water before I weigh in. I go to the toilet, pee, strip and take out the scale. It’s a loss. Thank god. Then hypoxic ischemic encephalopathy diagnosis I take 3 pills. I calculate my bmi and I’m finally underweight again, barely. Life is a bit more bearable now. I worry about lunch today, I want to spend time with the interns. I worry about lunch/dinner tomorrow. I haven’t had a proper meal without purging in a long time. Maybe 3-4 times this month. I worry about dr lee weighing me on wed. Hell, I worry about everything on wed. –

I think about what grace said yesterday. That people around me care. It opened my eyes a little, to the love & support I do get. They don’t hate me. Grace reminded me a lot of what I feel now is the ‘felt sense’ of the past- I’m feeling the extreme abandonment, anger, loneliness, longing, panic & terror that I felt when I was 10/11 but promptly pushed away back then. I went into this extreme flight/freeze reaction and almost permanently stayed in that mode. Ironically I’m so numb on meds and starvation. But I think I am feeling. I think I’m processing the loss of my therapist and the pain of the past on top of the stupid incident. I’ve never had feelings about the past before. My therapist would be proud of me for this. But she wouldn’t be proud of how I’m coping. I talked anxiété définition to @effhlorescent last night and it reminded of how exhausting this is & how much better it felt to show up for myself. Even if the pain and fear didn’t change, just being here for my inner child/me. Accepting. Letting things be. I’ve been hurting too much and too tired to try. But I have to change or nothing changes. I have to believe I am worthy even if I might never feel it. I have to let myself feel. I have to be brutally honest with the team (yikes.) I can choose recovery and helping myself. I’m scared, though.

12.41am | didn’t eat today, I realise. Everything hurts so much I can barely move. Today was hard and after being rejected for an extension of my internship, I just broke. It felt like losing a safe space, on a smaller level. It was like a re-enactment of therapy ending. It felt like another safe space was being taken away from me and I couldn’t bear it. I wanted control. So I went and told katie I was leaving as a client. I regretted it immediately but the fear and the shame was stronger. The shame of not being good enough, the shame of everyone knowing that I struggle. The rejection I feel. Katie reassured me over and over again that I am welcome, that they care, that nobody is leaving and nobody thinks I am incompetent. But no amount of reassurance changes the fear wired in my brain.

I hate how my brain is wired. I hate it’s extremes, it’s fears, it’s constant oscillation between I need you and I hate you. I don’t want to talk to anybody right now, I just want to be alone. I told katie if I left SACC I will also discharge from SGH. I don’t want help. It’s just the inability to trust. The fear. The self hatred. I would move to iceland alone if I could. I couldn’t promise her my safety either. I cried on the phone to kelly in the afternoon. I so badly want to die, but I am holding on for my friends.

1.45am | I can’t breathe. Sometimes physically but mostly emotional. It feels like I can’t breathe without my therapist. Without a safe space. It feels like I’m trapped in a lift with too many people and the doors never open. It feels like I’ve been thrown in the middle of the ocean with no lighthouse or lifebuoy. It feels like someone’s hand is constantly around my throat. I’m writing anoxie a letter to my therapist, I’m not sure why and I don’t know if it helps. But it’s stopping me from stepping out into the streets and off a bridge, by passing time.

I didn’t know it was possible to hurt this much. The song ‘breathe’ by taylor swift popped up in my head and I remember being 11 and crying to this alone after my helper left. I was going to say ‘how did I cope then?’ and then I remember my downward spiral after it happened. I think mine is already happening. I was on the side of the road half conscious, mostly drugged and drunk anxiety disorder meaning in telugu last night for a few hours. A stranger picked me up. I gave them katie’s number. I had a long talk with her at work.

8.34pm | I’ve only been awake 4 hours and it’s 4 hours too much. I tried to eat dinner yesterday and this was what I had. It was too much. Everything is too much. Woke up this morning to a nightmare of being on protocol again. Other nightmares include abandonment and assault. I tried to eat dinner with my sisters today. Couldn’t keep it down. Can’t keep anything down anymore.

I wrote this morning. About recovery. About my therapist. About needing to move forward. I cried again, sobbed again, screamed again. I genuinely do have to move forward, I’ve been trying to remind myself of everything I’ve learnt last year in recovery, everything I’ve worked for. My therapist spent years trying to help me validate myself. That I don’t need to be in distress to be validated. That I matter enough to deserve recovery. Those are things I’m trying to believe. I miss my therapist so much constantly. I feel so alone. I’m trying to be strong enough to choose to help myself and go on without her. I’m trying to choose recovery. I’m trying to not lose all I have worked for. But god.

I can’t get out of bed. I can’t exist for more than 30 mins awake or sober or unmedicated without crippling anxiety and memories and wanting to die. Don’t worry, I’m not drinking much. I don’t have access + there are too many calories. I swear all these years, my ED has probably saved me from alcoholism 😂 but I just don’t know what to do, I don’t want to survive. I can’t face anyone or anything right now. I have to conduct an interview tomorrow. I have so much work. All I want to do is overdose and die. I don’t know maybe if I disappear and stop severe anoxic brain injury survivor stories existing I’ll hate myself less. I also need to lose weight because I gained over the weekend and I can’t stand it right now. I’m despicable.

6pm | I just woke up an hour ago and I barely remember last night. I took so many pills and then I drank. I don’t remember how many, but judging by the number of empty pill packets, probably too many. I woke up in the middle of the night and cried I think. I’ve been sobbing every now and then. I woke up again and I forgot how much not-being-sober makes me vulnerable. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed for an hour, more than I’ve cried since my last admission. I sobbed about how much I’m hurting, how it hurts to always be alone, how it hurts to have to be strong, how tired I am. And then I sobbed about my therapist and how much I miss her and how terrified I am of everything. I sobbed and then I said sorry to my inner child because she’s obviously hurting so much but I’m so terrified I don’t know what to do. When I say I ‘sobbed’, I mean I scream into my pillow crying. I screamed and screamed and cried in utter agony. It hurt so much. But I know I needed it too. I needed to cry. Now I just took another question amount of pills so I feel really dazed and drugged again. But I’ve been eating and purging a lot of it and I initiated dinner with my grandparents so there’s that. Right now it scares me that the thought of being sober scares me. It scares me that I’m desperate for more drinks and more pills when I know nanoxia deep silence 120mm ultra quiet pc fan 1300 rpm I hate it and I know my body can’t physically process it well. –

I know I’m hurting. I know I feel fine and numb right now but it doesn’t mean the pain still isn’t there. And I know what my therapist would want me to do. I know what I should do. If I don’t pull myself out of this, nobody will. I need to take care of myself. Yet food makes me want to kill my self. Where is my inner child? I need her. I need her to remind me of why I started this. Because I am so worn and hurting. I can’t stop taking pills of binging and purging or drinking. I need to just fast and stick to it. Okay. After this. I’m giving myself till the end of the month to get it together.