I had hoped this holiday weekend would be a respite from the shitty life that is mine. It wasn’t. I enjoyed finally seeing the big kids after months, but that was overshadowed by all the other shit. I didn’t get my Christmas tree. I cooked way too much.
I had to take my dog to have her put down on thanksgiving day. And I can’t stop crying about her. I miss my baby. I hate that’s she’s gone, and I’m so sad about it.
Friday and Saturday were a blur. And Sunday and Monday I spent binging and purging countless times with a mind full of suicidal thoughts and paranoia. My mental health has been in the toilet, and I had to drag myself to two baby appointments already this week which was a fucking circus.
Now my body and mind are in shambles and I called out of work. I canceled 4 appointments. I don’t even care, even tho I need the money quite badly. I just don’t fucking care if I live or die at this moment.
I miss my life with friends and drugs and boys and all that. I feel like I was sad then also, but at least I self-medicated with things I found fun. Now I am sad and sober. Sans the weed and the stash of xan that I have been eating off of a lot the past couple days.
I don’t even care. I don’t care what happens to me.
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