Well. Today is day 37 "stable". "Stable". What a joke. I hate my version of "stable". Where I still struggle. Where I still have thoughts of suicide . . .
. . . which I did this morning. I was thinking about slitting my wrists, since I don't have access to any of my meds (hubby keeps them locked up). Rather than act on it I immediately told hubby what I was thinking and we talked about it.
I still want to cut though. God damn I want to cut.
Today, yesterday, and Friday have all been very difficult. They have been very rough. My mood has been, well, bad. And not just bad - I've been depressed, I've been irrationally angry, I've been lost. It is, quite frankly, not fucking fair.
On Friday I worked and I was irrationally angry (and then, of course, we were crazy busy to boot). I was doing a lot of counting in my head so that I wouldn't say something inappropriate (although several times I slipped and I did). At one point a pulse ox wasn't working right so I threw it on the ground and stomped on it while cussing loudly. I was snippy and rude to most everyone and I didn't enjoy any aspect of my job (delivering babies, in case you forgot).
On Saturday I woke up and knew it was going to be a bad day. I cried in the morning and wanted to give up right then and there. But I'm stubborn, you know, so I worked out and then hubby and I took our son to the penny arcade and out to eat. But I was snippy and quick to anger and overall just a big 'ol bitch. But I made it through the day.
Today has been more of the same. And I'm done with it. I'm really just so. Fucking. Tired of it all.
There's my rant for the day. Fuck I want to cut.
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