2017-11-21

Had a referral to the secondary mental health team because I hallucinated. Appt next week. Apparently I have 'emotional disregulation'.

I'm frightened. I'm restricting, I'm regressing, I'm upset, I want to be sixteen again, and I want everything to vanish and to leave me alone. I have a choreography exam on Thursday and that means that I can't even cut myself at the moment because my costume is literally underwear.

I'm having an ED assessment with the primary mental health team soon and that means that I can't eat because I'm too FUCKING FAT to have an ED in the first place. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. I can't even restrict properly at the moment anyway because of all this choreography and I'm hungry and I need energy and I'm drinking too much to even consider calories and I am FAT.

I wish I could explain what's going on in my head. It feels like my whole universe is anxiety; my head is full of hundreds and hundreds of thoughts that won't stop going around and around and around all the time. I can't stop, I can't relax, I can't even be around people because any more voices than the thoughts that are already shouting at me is just too much so I have to step out and have a cigarette just to be able to focus. I'm so tired but I'm so panicked that I can't sleep properly. I don't want to hurt myself but everything I do makes me deserve all the pain anyway. And then there's hiding it from Dan, all the lying and covering things up and hiding in his arms because I've woken up and immediately had a panic attack. I hate this. I need the clouds and the whirring and the whizzing and the noise to stop and I can't make it go away and it's getting on top of me and I just need a break. I need a break. I need a break but I can't have one because I have university and a job and a partner and a household and a million other responsabilities and I need to escape and let go but if one thread goes then they all go one by one and then everything falls apart and it's all my fault for not being better than I am. For not being better. For being like this. And even then I can't make a fuss or ask for help because it's NOT THAT SERIOUS and I am FUNCTIONING and I get GOOD GRADES and I have a JOB AS WELL and I have a FUNCTIONAL RELATIONSHIP and I get up in the morning and fucking make myself coffee that I hate and read the news that makes me want to fucking die and check my emails and panic and in the evening I come home and I make a healthy dinner and I watch TV that makes me want to throw up and I look at the knives in the drawer and then leave them alone and I drink too much wine to make it go away and I do everything an adult should do so WHY DO I NEED HELP IN THE FIRST PLACE

I think I might be sick, Kitty. Am I sick? Am I imagining it? I have no fucking idea.

Make it go away.