I was late for session, time blindness. I shouldn't have been late. Session didn't go so well. I wasn't feeling really good anyway these past week. I guess we should have talked about it rather than go into cbt/dbt.
I felt very discourage when I see them. Hearing that I was resistant made me felt more discourage too, even though I was unaware of it. He's right that I kept justifying what she did. It's not that I don't recognized the abuse, I guess I just felt bad that I have been saying so many bad things about her.
I just ... I don't know. Her birthday is coming soon. I used to buy her flowers and cakes. I didn't last year. This month I'm kinda broke with all the medical bills from counselling and imh, and my room light just had to suddenly stopped working, meaning I have to spend money to replace them.
The cuts on my wrist really hurts. The scare are getting ugly and I hate them.
The suicidal thoughts were quite persistent for the past few days. I was looking up where to cut, how deep to cut, overdosing on pills since I have a bunch of them now.
When the session started with Michael asking me How I've been, I felt bad because I have backtracked to my suicidal thoughts. I shouldn't have felt bad about it, and should have tried talking about it. but instead we went right into cbt/dbt. I think I didn't have enough time to adjust myself into starting to talk about what I've been feeling.
I really felt like zoning out just now, but he seems uncertain on what to say. Which made me feel bad, so I tried to look okay so that he wouldn't feel so bad. He always knows when I starts getting emotionally overwhelm, so instead of zoning out, I tried to bring back my focus.
The session was ending anyway. How could I say I was not okay, that I feel like just giving up and killing myself. I think that would be a bit overstepping on his boundaries and time limit.
He said he would send me the test and the dbt details later when he reached home. I wish he would keep to what he said. but he didn't. Like the imh doctor who asked for my report book and then forgot about it.
Like my mom or sister who never really cared about me since I was a kid. Like my father, who cared about me, but was simply always not around or sleeping because he was tired from work. He used to work 2 jobs.
Sometimes I really wished for the simplest thing. for someone to give a damn about how I felt or to care a little bit about me. but no one did. When I finally grew up and when someone finally did cared for me, I just threw it away because I was messed up. Why is this kind of life worth living?
I know, maybe the depression is talking. but i did seek help and I didn't get better. go through another round of seeking help from nuh? why? how? I feel too exhausted already. I just want to give up.
We just don't feel like doing it anymore. We really hate that we are still struggling to live while also hopping to die. Maybe we should really just do it and get it over with. Maybe weekends we can try again, instead of cutting, falling to death has a higher success rate.
Just now I took a lift to the highest floor on another block. I was surprise that the wall corridor wasn't as high as I thought. I could easily climb over them. I was also surprise that the highest floor was tenth and when I looked down, it didn't feel really high. I wondered if I would really die if I fall from tenth story.
I looked down for some time, just imagining myself falling to death.
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