It's been a rough week, but I'm hoping that this is it getting better. Last time I wrote was Sunday, and by Monday night I was convinced I was on my way to another psych ward, I was a total mess. Constantly crying and having tidal waves of flashbacks and panic attacks, followed by genuine moments where I thought I was close to stabbing somebody. I'm never, ever, violent, not on anybody but myself and certainly not unless you scare me, because I can fight if I need to. But I've just been so, so angry. And it's taken me a while to identity the feeling, anger is not one I ever let myself experience, because I've seen the damage that it can do. I've witnessed the fall out from people dying due to an angry moment erupting into something far greater and truth be told, I'm petrified of anger, mine or anybody else's- it just seems too absolute a power and too great a force.
I'm more isolated now though, I'm back in Essex (anyone who can ever keep up to date with my moves up and down the country is a greater woman than I am. I genuinely get a few moments every day where I'm not sure where the balls I am) and I'm mostly alone. It's horrible, but in a different sort of way. At least while I'm alone I'm not lashing out at anybody else, I'm saving it all up for the person who deserves it; me.
Everything is too intense still, but it's starting to slow down, because I've given up on exams and that means I can take my medications more as they're supposed to be taken, rather than how they fit in with revision. I was so, so stupid. I got out of hospital quicker than originally planned, because I was released to go back to my mum's and rest. Instead, I got out and threw myself into revision and never got a chance to slow down, nor to take my Clonazepam especially, as I should have. Own worst enemy. But I'm counting on it only getting better from here, so that I can take exams in September.
I tell you what though, I'm still constantly on the verge of tears. Everything is still too heavy and hard and bright and quick and although I feel like I need to be isolated, to protect everyone else, it means I'm taking on a bit too much of the energy myself. Turning any positive energy I can possibly throw together into sounding bright in phone calls and occassional, desperate attempts at acting like a real person, socially. I'm quite the actress. The days are full of anxiety attacks and flashbacks, and the nights are full of nightmares. And I'm alone and I'm sick and I'm too scared to reach out to anybody because I feel like such a bad person, both for being so angry, angry at the whole world and angry at nothing, and for constantly expecting some sort of support that I can't give back.
Fuck this, I'm going home. First thing tomorrow, back to Scunny. I just can't handle this place, at all.