Okay, so friday was awesome! I got to hang out with great friends and be me. I got to take off my mask and not be afraid of judgement. But after a great day at the lakes, i come home and find another nasty note from my mother waiting for me in my room. She basically said that my dog needs to shape up and i need to put him in his “cage” (i hate that word, i prefer kennel) all the time. First of all, he doesnt need to shape up because he is very mature for a puppy. Really mature! And second, it’s inhumane to keep an animal locked up in a “cage” all the time. They need to be out to exercise, to run and play, to be petted and played with, and to socialize. And i just realized that by living in my parents house, i am living in a cage. They try to treat me as if i am still 10, but im not. I’m almost 20 and almost fully independent of them (im still dependent on health insurance and home insurance for my personal belongings). But she also said that if i dont follow their rules, (THEIR RULES!!! IM AN ADULT NOW!) they will get rid of my dog while im at work one day. My dog is really about the only thing that makes me smile anymore. I don’t draw, i don’t do my photography anymore, i dont write my poetry anymore, i dont do anything anymore. have i relapsed? or am i just stressed out and exhausted from dealing with my family life? I know that they can be a trigger for my depression, but i never knew that just my mom could be such a threatening trigger.
Next, are some issues that are really hard for me to talk about, and there is no need for alarm, so please, please, dont freak out when you read what follows.
On a different note, i saw my gp doc today and he’s been the one prescribing my meds. Well my therapist told me that i should let him in on my past history with depression and such. well i told him about how i tried to commit suicide 3 different times a year and a half ago (no worries, no such problems now) and that i started using self-mutilation/cutting as a frequent method of release at the beginning of my freshman year of high school, and still use it to this day but less often (more along the lines of every few months as opposed to the every few days i was doing it 4 to 5 years ago). i think that kinda freaked him out. he asked where i had done them (my upper arms and high up on my thighs) wanted to check the cuts i had already made and so he did. he saw my most recent one, and then looked at my other arm for more and all he said was yeah i can see you’ve done this before. He also checked my back and my legs but didn’t see the ones on my thigh cuz those, as well as my other ones, have completely healed. all that is left of them are faint, pale scars that blend in with my pale skin. he, as well as the few others who know, have been really concerned, and to me, the cutting is something i have grown used to. I dont mean to say that im not ashamed of what i do, because i really terribly am, but sometimes its the only way i can find relief. and again, no worries, because i havent used this for quite some time, nor do i plan on using it any time soon.
this is such a hard topic for me to talk about, so please dont be freaked out. it is part of the darker/darkest part of my past. again, please dont freak out.
well, it is getting late and i need to be up for work in the morning, and i have yet to take a shower. g’ night.
oh, p.s. i do have an appointment with my therapist thursday and im working on setting up an appointment with a psychiatrist.
