I haven't seen my therapist since I had a job, I couldn't afford it anymore. Plus, as much as I liked her as a person, it didn't seem to go anywhere. I was also on medications to help my mood and depression, but it made me brain dead so I finally stopped going to those appointments too. I feel guilty never calling the psychiatric nurse and letting her know I'd given up on meds or that I really couldn't afford to pay for them anymore. I wonder if she thinks I'm dead. Lol? 

Between the BPD and major depression, I have become one awful mess of a human. My guy only recently realized I'm "off my meds", which I found to be insulting. Medication doesn't make me and it certainly isn't a cure-all for bpd patients. 

His invalidating opinions aside, I really screwed up last night. Wow. I can haz undo button? 

I had a small stockpile of old prescription medications, mostly hoarding for another suicide attempt, but this time I decided to abuse them. I took a regular therapeutic dose of muscle relaxants with migraine medication, in a hopes to chill-the-f*ck out, be numb, devoid of emotion. The migraine meds have barbiturates in them,  so I actually got a bit euphoric. Even though I was sloppy on my feet, I was able to go eat a family meal with dude's family. 

After dinner I fell into a sleep devoid of dreams. It was after I woke up that the sinking feeling of my agony came flooding back. Like an idiot, I took more pills, crushing the muscle relaxants. I even threw in some ambien for good measure and washed them down with whiskey. 

I had recently begun cutting again, only a couple times, but deeper than I used to. It has been on my mind for a while that I'd cut really deep, 'pass out deep'  if you will. Ugh. In a medicated haze, i recut a healing cut, slicing slowly, feeling the jagged blade tear through flesh. Did it a few more times because I wasn't "bleeding enough", took pictures like a weirdo and bandaged it up. (Gives me chills thinking about it.)

 I fell asleep and awoke to severe pain and nausea. I ran to the kitchen and puked what is known as "coffee ground" vomit. Yuck. It really didn't remind me of coffee grounds,  but was certainly not normal. 

I spent the entire day sleeping, arm throbbing. I don't know if I have an ulcer or wtffff but I don't feel sick, at least not in my stomach. I ate pizza and ice cream just fine tonight. 

Do I fess up about what I've done to my dude? It will likely end in an involuntary stay at the crisis unit for less than 7 days, $200 out of pocket. I don't have a cent to my name and have collections on my ass 24/7.