My brain feels like it’s tumbling down a hill into a swamp below.

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@neverwillyouknow
My brain feels like it’s tumbling down a hill into a swamp below.

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Somedays, like today, I can feel the anxiety in my body.
My chest feels tight and uncomfortable. I have to remind myself to take deep breaths. I take my pulse because it feels quick only to find it normal. The pain above my eyes tells me of an impending headache. Suddenly, I notice my shoulders are raised and I have to intentionally lower them. Even if I’m just watching a show or working on a sudoku, doing something I think relaxes me, I feel the tension throughout my body and I have to try to force it to relax which seems counterproductive.
I needed the caffeine today to stay awake for a long day but now it’s after midnight and that long day is turning into a long night. Please, brain let me sleep. I don’t want to be left alone with these thoughts. For it’s the sleepless nights when the self-destructive thoughts take real shape and fester. It’s a good thing I’m exhausted, I have no energy to listen to the unreliabile impulses. It’s all just feelings that turn into thoughts that I must remind myself I have the power to not act on. Because if I were to it would only reignite the cognitive cycle and it will never end.
.
.
.
I just want to sleep and have peaceful dreams (a peaceful reality would be lovely too).
I feel the highs and lows increasing in intensity and frequency.
Multiple times a day my brain flips from one to the next and back again. The emotional instability is feeling rather unstabilizing. It might be the result of recent events that remain out of my control. But I just want control over my own emotions for a start. Because when I feel like I’m losing grip on them I lose grip on my impulsivities as well and that’s when it gets scary.
Lately, the SH thoughts are entering my brain more and more again. I know I’m unwell, I’m just begging myself not to break again. Like, brain, you can be depressed all you want just don’t do anything that will land you in the psych ward again.

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A psychiatric unit isn’t what you expect it to be.
It’s not what the old movies make it out to be.
It’s not a top vacation location for people who just “want a break”.
It’s also not a place to be cured of whatever mental illness you might have.
It’s more of a holding cell for those in crisis, whatever that crisis may be.
If your issue is you wish to unalive they’ll hold you until that wish goes away or you learn to live with that wish always in the back of your mind.
If your issue is psychosis or mania they’ll probably pump you with drugs to get you to level out.
I’ve been medicated and zonked out on Ativan.
But for the most part I just read or wrote or did a puzzle or coloured or did many many sudokus.
This was almost 3 years ago, I wish I could finally stop thinking about it every day.
I wish I could stop feeling like one day I’ll end up back in there again only to play another waiting game because they don’t fix you there just patch you up well enough so you can leave.
I might take a shower more often again and wake up before noon and I may have cleaned my room the most for the first time in years but my head is still a depressed b*. I’m starting to function more again but I still hate myself and feel like a failure and an embarrassment to my loved ones...
I got almost a week but I already feel the grey settling in again...
I feel okay right now and that terrifies me. Because I’m not sure if this energy is just that my sleep is mildly normal for the first time in a long time or if my brain is building to a hypomanic episode. And whilst I’ve not had a manic episode yet, I wouldn’t put it past my brain to try one of those in my future either. And then there’s the inevitable fall from normalcy I always have. This, right now, is what I imagine it feels like for “most” people just living the day-to-day. But my day to day is normally dimmer, and starts later and ends later. There’s a type of depression called dysthymia, which is where you kinda live is this “mild” depression most of the time and I think that’s me. I have times where I want to spend all day in bed in the dark and I have times where I just want to get out of the house at live life. But most of my time is spent able to get up (just to stare at my computer all day) but not until noon and I haven’t been able to work in a few years now. So yeah, feeling “normal” is scary to me because it feels inevitable I will fall down again and I have no idea how long I get to feel “normal” for or for how long the new low will last or just how low I will go...
Here’s the thing about being told to journal when you’re in the pit of depression or whatever mental illness is claiming point at the time... you keep those journals and from time to time you reread parts of them and suddenly you remember things you once forgot. Not necessarily highly traumatic things but more like oh right spring break that year at uni I just hid in my dorm in the dark 90% of the time or oh right I have no memories for most of sept/oct that one year because of whatever my brain was doing then. And it’s like oh glad I’m not in that same pit anymore but also like the pit just changes as you do. This pit of depression, I’ve had going for 10+ years now (probably closer to 17+) and it’s just evolved over those years. Yeah that spring break it was deep and dark and quiet and lonely. But only just a couple years ago it was, with the help of BPD, a medium pit made to look infinite in depth. At the moment I’m not sure if it’s a large pit masked as shallow or visa versa but its confusing at the least.

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I have this image in my head of myself sitting crisscross in a comfy chair on the psyc ward right by a window and just dissociating and/or being lost in thought for hours on end staring out into the garden. And it feels oddly comforting. But also because that sounds comforting I think I might be sliding. But I’ll be fine because I literally have no time for a breakdown.
The intrusive and irrational thoughts are telling me by journalling I am jinxing the ones I love.
And my BPD thoughts are screaming suicidal ideations in my head (and a small part of me in that BPD part of me wishes I could let myself act on them).
I just want my brain to shut up.
I want to stop counting things in four and saying certain phrases in four because anything else won’t do and will also jinx the ones I love.
And I wish that I could stop listening to these thoughts that are irrational and surely must be not true.
I’d also take a night without dreams because they’re extra messed up lately too (which I know is a sign of my mental health dipping down again).
Ya know the BPD diagnosis is correct when your brain is annoyed and irritated that you have strong protective factors.
I feel at an impasse with my own mental health.
I haven’t worked in nearly 5 years. But I also haven’t done anything so impulsive as to be hospitalized by it in just over 2 years.
I’ve tried 10 different psychotropic medications ranging from antidepressants to mood stabilizers to anti anxiety meds to antipsychotics. But I’m currently not on any (I was taken off meds a couple years ago but I also don’t really want to go on any again - I think they make me more impulsive).
I’m not so depressed that I’m catatonic. I get out of bed everyday but only to do the same thing of near nothingness.
I sit, I eat, I play video games, and hang out with the dog. I’ve gained 30+ lbs these past two years of nothingness.
I feel a before and after of my hospitalizations but also because of their coinciding with the beginning of the pandemic I don’t know if my changes are do to either or both.
Yet I don’t really want to die, I never actually did. But I don’t know how to say I need help so I act out until I’m forced it. Only I’ve been bottling it since 2020 when I finally managed to jam the lid back on. But I think I got the lid on crooked this time and it’s going to explode faster than last time.
I constantly feel on the verge of losing my grip on reality and yet I don’t because my level of insight sees the damages that caused last time.
And yet just one large alcoholic beverage lowers my inhibitions and I get closer than I’ve been in a while to that fine fine line.
And so I feel stuck. Stuck in a mind who jumps to SI the second it feels uncomfortable. But also frozen in place because I can’t leave the ones who love me without destroying them in the process.
I cried about having to leave the house and the dog for a few hours today. Every bone in my body wanted to back inside, hang out with my dog and turn on my computer to turn on Minecraft and spend my day hiding in a fake world. I went out and it was nice though. I hate that I have to fight my brain daily just to do simple things that shouldn’t upset me at all.
And, yes, it’s getting worse but I also know I have to keep holding on because we have family visiting soon and I can’t be in hospital or worse before then. I really can’t.

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Time to play minecraft for hours on end again so I don’t yeet myself from the planet. Stupid bpd.
My brain is begging me to check out from reality again.
*sigh*